SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery

The photo was creased at the edges. Faded. But it didn't matter how much time had passed—his eyes were still the same.

Wide. Knowing. Resigned.

I stared at it too long. Let it burn itself into my memory. That look wasn't fear. It wasn't defiance either. It was... acceptance. Like he knew this would happen. Like he was waiting.

"So," I said quietly, not looking up. "You want me to hunt Mark."

Connor blinked. He tilted his head, brows furrowing in genuine confusion.

"Mark?"

Silence.

Then realization dawned. And it made something cold coil inside me.

"Ah. Right," he murmured. "Subject 3834. He was issued that name when he led the Mars initiative. About a year and a half ago."

My teeth ground together. He hadn't just rejected the name—I remembered the fury when I used it. The sharp recoil in his voice. "That is not my name." Like the syllables were acid. But it was all I ever knew him as.

No. That wasn't true.

Whenever I scanned him, the result had always come up blank. No name. No identity. Just blank. I'd chalked it up to my skill not working properly or maybe even if having a job that prevents it.

But now?

That all but confirmed it—he doesn't have a name. Not one that was ever meant to stick.

I folded the photo, slid it into my coat. Felt the edges stab against my ribs like guilt.

Connor wants to use me, but I have no intention being his weapon.

Though, since I am playing his game—I might as well get something out of it.

"If you want me to consider this," I said, voice low, "I want a trade."

Connor's brows lifted. Amused. "A trade? What makes you think you're in a position to negotiate?"

I stepped forward.

"Because if I decide to put you through that window, no bodyguard's going to make it here in time. And even if they do, we would both lose in that scenario. So instead of losing another tooth, you can give me Evelyn's location."

His expression shifted. Calculating. I could see the gears moving, weighing leverage.

"That could be arranged," he said slowly. "Depending on your performance."

I didn't take the bait. I turned, my coat brushing the wall. The hallway felt longer now. He said ninety seconds for backup—it'd been longer than that. Bastard was bluffing.

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Just before I rounded the corner, he called after me.

"You'll find Subject 3834 at the next stop."

I didn't look back.

But my jaw tightened.

You just wait, Connor.

When all this is over, I'll make you beg for mercy.

The cabin door creaked open.

"You wouldn't believe the state of that bathroom," I announced, striding in like I'd emerged from a circus tent instead of a hallway reeking of dried blood and velvet trim.

Elliot blinked from where he sat cross-legged on the bench. "You were gone for like... half an hour."

"What can I say?" I shrugged, cloak flicking behind me as I spun. "Inspiration strikes when it wants. I lost myself somewhere between a leaky faucet and divine revelation."

He squinted at me. "Are you high?"

"On life," I said. "And possibly mildew."

Anika slightly chuckled. Though, she barely looked up. Her fingers moved lazily across a stack of playing cards, sliding one over the next like she was trying to read their braille. It was clear that the blindfold was a tough change both physically and mentally.

I watched her from beneath my own.

She was always like this. Guarded. But something was tighter tonight. Like a thread stretched too far.

If she does ever get triggered...

I'll have to stop it regardless of my means.

Night crept in like a thief, slow and heavy.

The rhythm of the train became a lullaby for the half-dead. Elliot had crashed in on the top bunk with a pillow smashed over his head like it owed him money. Anika lay on the lower bunk, perfectly still, her arms at her sides like a corpse in waiting.

I lay in the corner of the cabin, hands tucked beneath my head, watching the ceiling flicker with every light the train passed. Shadows danced like ghosts above me.

Mark's voice still echoed of him asking me to rule with him.

He'd looked so earnest. So damn sure of himself. But that version of him—was it ever real?

He'd sent me to Mars knowing it was a death sentence because of an order from higher above. And all of a sudden I'm supposed to forgive him because he now 'knows better', not to mention that he had exposed my identity to them which caused Sienna to get kidnapped.

So why did he go rogue? Did he think he could win single handedly? Or was this just a trap planned by him and the World President?

I shut my eyes.

What kind of man has no name? What kind of man erases himself so thoroughly that not even government files know what to call him? As if Subject 3834 is a name that he can actually refer to him as.

A shift from the bunk below.

Then a murmur.

"Cain sees Abel."

My heart stopped.

I leaned over. She was fully asleep. Her limbs limp and her breathing extremely steady.

I relaxed. I guess, the phrase doesn't work if the subject is unconscious.

Hopefully, it was just a nightmare and nothing more. Though maybe the conditioning ran deeper than we knew.

My fists clenched beneath the blanket.

If he's turned her into a weapon, I'll make sure he chokes on his own designs.

---------

I woke to steel.

Not the sound of it—but the feeling. The cold stillness that always comes just before something breaks.

Outside the window, fog clung to a city that looked half-abandoned. Industrial spires cut into the early morning sky, smokestacks coughing into grey. The station itself was concrete and silence, no signage, no banners, just one broken light blinking above the platform like a warning.

Elliot groaned from the floor, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we now?"

"Next stop," I said, "brace yourselves for whatever absurdity fate has cooked up this time."

Anika was already sitting upright, head tilted slightly like she was listening for something beyond the cabin walls. The blindfold was still secure, but she didn't fidget or ask questions.

Elliot stretched and yawned. "I had a dream someone stole my socks."

"Check your feet," I said, tilting my head. "Would be a shame if they'd wandered off without you."

He looked. Paused. "Oh. Never mind."

I cracked a half-smile behind the mask. Anika didn't speak, but she didn't need to. The quiet wasn't tense. Just the kind of calm before a long walk into something uncertain.

Connor said I'd find Mark here.

But if he's rogue... if he truly went off-script...

Does he even want to be found?

I pulled my gloves on slowly, flexing my fingers until the seams tugged tight.

"No," I whispered to the window, my reflection grinning back with cracked porcelain.

"It doesn't matter."

I leaned in, my Strategist skill warming up. My voice was as low and sharp as a promise.

"Mark, I've got one hell of a deal for you."

Behind my mask, a grotesque grin widened.