Chapter 1 He Runs, She Hunts
On a sweltering tropical island in the Baclan Ocean, the sun was brutal. A young woman in camo stood tall, twirling a slick black whip like it was part of her.
She snapped, “Welcome to District 21, newbies! Name’s Black Mamba, and I’m your drill instructor for the next three months.
“Trust me, you’ll be cussing me out in your sleep! Out here, you’re all just Rookies, got that?”
She faced a crew of giant guys—each one easily six-foot-three, decked out in matching fatigues.
Her baggy camo couldn’t hide her figure. A tight belt hugged her waist, making it look like one could snap her in half.
Her face was smeared with war paint, but sharp, striking features peeked through.
“Report, ma’am!” one rookie piped up, his Eordash so bad it was almost a joke.
“We can’t follow you. How ’bout some global lingo?”
Briar Shepherd let out a sharp laugh, eyes gleaming as she crooked a finger at the guy. “Step up, big shot.”
Clueless, the rookie swaggered forward. “Ma’am, this is the Strueze Region International Mercenary Training Base. Stick to the global lingo, yeah?”
Quick as a flash, Briar’s whip lashed out, aimed at his face. The guy was fast—dodged it like a champ.
But he didn’t see her boot coming. She kicked him hard, sending him sprawling in the dirt with a puff of dust.
Briar sauntered over, planting a heavy combat boot on his chest. “What’s that? Can’t keep up?”
“What—”That rookie was shocked.
“Out here, nobody’s holding your hand. No laws, no rights. Strength’s the only thing that matters.”
Her icy stare swept the group. “My fists hit harder than yours, so I suggest you brush up on Eordash in your downtime. Unless you wanna get smoked for not listening.”
With a lazy smirk, she shoved the rookie with her boot, sending him tumbling. “You. Translate what I said. In your precious ‘global lingo.'”
Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘These rookies? Total losers. Do they really think they could make me play their game?’ she thought.
She knew these guys were no scrubs—elite soldiers, fluent in a dozen languages. This was just their lame attempt to show her up.
The rookie, clutching his busted ribs, staggered up and mumbled a shaky translation.
The rest of the crew shut up fast. Nobody dared speak.
The base allowed a 25% death rate. Out of forty guys, Briar could drop ten and still be in the clear.
Unless someone was begging for trouble, they weren’t gonna cross her.
Briar grinned, loving the fear in their eyes, and flopped into a lounge chair under a huge sunshade.
“Alright, lesson one—sunbathing!” she drawled. “I love me some equatorial rays. Bet you’ll feel District 21’s heat in no time—”
Before she could finish, a piercing alarm screamed across the base.
Briar’s face hardened. She didn’t glance at the rookies as she leapt up. “Stay put! Don’t move a damn inch!”
She sprinted for headquarters.
The headquarters were a fortress of classified files, hit up monthly by wannabe thieves. But nobody had ever tripped the alarm. This intruder was legit.
Halfway there, she spotted a figure vaulting the ten-foot concrete wall.
A guy in black casuals, face hidden by a mask and cap. Snipers fired, missing every shot.
Instructors tried to block him, only to eat two quick bullets.
“Useless!” Briar snarled, kicking a sniper out of his cover at the HQ entrance and grabbing his rifle.
She dropped low, lining up her shot through the scope.
The guy seemed to sense her. He turned, his gaze locking with hers through the crosshairs.
Even from afar, she saw his eyes—sharp, cold.
She fired. A muffled shot rang out, and blood sprayed from his back.
The impact knocked him off the cliff, sending him crashing into the sea.
Briar exhaled, standing. “Go get him,” she barked at an instructor.
She had to know who this guy was—bold enough to storm District 21’s headquarters.
*****
Thirty Minutes Later, District 21 Headquarters, Head Instructor’s Office
A few instructors crept in, looking like they’d rather face a firing squad.
“Ms. Shepherd, we… lost him,” one muttered, eyes on the floor.
“Say what?” Briar’s eyes narrowed.
With a sharp clink, she dropped the bullet casing she’d been rolling in her fingers onto the desk.
A Dum-Dum round, tip blown wide. One hit from that, and one was either dead or done. No way someone just walked off.
‘How do you lose a guy hit with that?’ she thought.
The instructor shuffled his feet. “Must’ve had a getaway crew.”
Briar took a slow breath, keeping her cool. She knew whoever hit HQ wasn’t some punk—they’d planned every move.
“What’d they grab?” Her voice was low, dangerous. If they got out, they got what they came for.
“File SSS-cl140531,”that instructor answered.
Archive codes spelled it out: C for Cordanland, L for Limond City, numbers for the date.
File 531. The explosion case.
Briar’s gaze turned ice-cold, a spark of rage in her eyes. She had to snag that file before its encryption got cracked.
“Black Wolf’s back tomorrow,” she said, voice tight. “Stick him with the District 21 rookies. I’m headed to Cordanland.”
“Cordanland?”The instructor’s jaw dropped.
Cordanland was a death trap for mercenaries. Even the best got smoked by their cops.
Two years ago, Black Wolf—District 15’s top dog, a global top-five hitter—got tossed in a Cordanland’s jail for two weeks over a DUI.
“What’s that look?” Briar smirked, pulling an old ID from her desk drawer.
Five-year validity, with six months left.
She gave a sly grin.”I’m just a regular Joe catching a normal flight. Got an issue?”
“N-no, ma’am,” the instructor stammered.
Briar leaned back, eyes half-closed, like she was digging up an old memory.
“Y’know,” she said softly, “I’ve got some folks in Cordanland I haven’t seen in ages.”
