Off the Mission
1263 Words
Chapter Two—Off th
Nyra’s POV
I didn't know what he meant. Not at first.
The words hung there, clear as day, but my mind refused to accept them.
My system had crashed.
Gone into hibernation.
I stared at Director Hayes, my hand still limp in his. My breaths turned shallow.
“No,” I whispered.
He didn’t look surprised.
“Yes,” he said calmly. It had happened during their last mission.
I pulled my hand away slowly, as if his touch burned.
“What do you mean, *it happened*?” My voice rose. “I was fine. Extracting the data. I’ve done worse breaches than that.”
Director Hayes leaned forward slightly.
“Nyra, you weren’t fine,” he said, tone even. “The pressure on your Neuro-Core during the target company mission—it wasn’t safe.”
My chest tightened.
“I didn’t feel—”
“You wouldn’t,” he interrupted gently. “That’s the danger. You push because you *can*. You don’t realize you’ve crossed the line until the system breaks.”
My fingers twisted into the blanket.
“So what now?” I asked.
He hesitated. That pause chilled my stomach.
“What *happens now*?” I snapped.
Director Hayes exhaled.
“Your Neuro-Core triggered a protective shutdown,” he explained. “A survival response. If it had kept running under that load, it could’ve been permanently damaged.”
*Permanent.*
The word slammed into me. My heartbeat raced.
“So it’s… gone?” I whispered.
“No.” He leaned in, firm. “Not gone. Offline. Temporarily.”
I shook my head, panic clawing up my throat.
“You don’t know that. What if it doesn’t come back? What if—”
“It *will*,” he said.
I searched his face for reassurance. He softened, remembering I was still just a teenager beneath the training.
“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he promised. “Experts are monitoring you. They’ll bring your system back online.”
I swallowed hard. My hands trembled.
*I can’t be useless,* I thought.
“You’re not useless,” Director Hayes said, eyes sharpening. “You’re exhausted. There’s a difference.”
I exhaled shakily.
“I was on ops,” I muttered. “We’re not done. Another mission’s always coming.”
“You’ll return,” he said. “But not like this. Not broken.”
The word stung, even if he didn’t mean it to.
I forced my breathing steady.
*In. Out. In. Out.*
The chest pain eased, just a fraction.
Director Hayes watched me closely, like he expected me to shatter.
“Rest,” he ordered. “That’s direct from me.”
I nodded stiffly. “Understood.”
Maybe this wasn’t the end. Just a pause.
Then his phone rang, shattering the quiet. The screen lit up.
His face changed instantly. Calm vanished. Jaw clenched.
I’d studied danger in faces for years—I knew that look.
“What is it?” I asked.
He pocketed the phone. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His gaze hardened. “Rest, Nyra.”
“What’s *happening*?”
He stood. “I’ll check back later.”
“Director—”
“Please,” he said over his shoulder, “stay in bed.”
The door clicked shut.
My heart kicked up. Something was wrong. And he didn’t want me involved.
That alone made me restless.
Minutes dragged. No nurse. No doctor. Just the monitors’ endless beep and the ward’s heavy silence.
Then the intercom crackled: *“All enhanced cadets and Unit Zero trainees—report to the main briefing room immediately.”*
My stomach dropped.
All super teens. That included *me*.
I glanced at the door. No one came to stop me. No escort.
My body ached, but I couldn’t lie here while the world moved without me.
I shoved the blanket aside, ignoring the fire in my shoulder.
My bare feet hit cold tile. I stood, steadying against the bed as the room tilted.
Then I slipped into the hall.
Footsteps echoed distantly—boots, urgent voices, tension humming.
The briefing wing buzzed when I arrived. I edged toward the doors.
“Nyra.”
I froze. Turned.
Director Hayes, face thunderous.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard the summons,” I said, straightening.
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’m Unit Zero.”
“Rest *now*.”
“I can rest later.”
His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a debate.”
“I have a right to know.”
He stared, like he might drag me back himself. Then sighed, weary.
“Fine. Sit. Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
I nodded and slipped inside.
The hall filled fast—rows of seats, massive front screens, officers with tablets. Top brass clustered center: commanders, intel directors, senior spies.
Selene Voss sat front-row, eyes gleaming with hunger.
I ignored her. Took a back seat, low profile.
Director Hayes stepped forward. Silence fell.
An older intel officer spoke first. “We have a lead.”
The room shifted. Everyone leaned in.
“For years, mafia boss Silas Draeven’s been a ghost,” he continued. “No location. No associates. No patterns.”
A woman beside him nodded. “Like finding a needle in a haystack.”
Whispers rippled.
My focus locked. Silas Draeven. Even *I* knew that name. Untouchable shadow of the underworld.
The officer’s expression darkened. “Today, that changes.”
Silence stretched.
He raised a hand. “We’re not disclosing full details yet. Need verification first. No wild goose chases.”
Frustration flickered across faces.
Director Hayes took over. “Best operatives—back to dorms. Standby. You could deploy anytime.”
No arguments. Unit Zero filed out.
Selene rose with them, smirking my way.
I stayed put, mind racing. Silas Draeven. If they needed confirmation…
I could deliver.
Room cleared. I approached the front.
Director Hayes spotted me. “Nyra,” he warned.
“I can confirm it.”
A head chuckled, coughed to cover. “And how?”
I lifted my chin. “My system.”
Silence iced the air.
His face hardened. “Your Neuro-Core *crashed*, Nyra.”
“I can still try—”
“No.” His voice sliced sharp. “We don’t need tries. You’re out. Decision’s made. Selene’s on it.”
My gut twisted. “You can’t bench me. Selene leaves trails everywhere.”
“We can,” another head snapped. “We are.”
“Why?” I demanded.
Director Hayes lowered his voice. “You’re going off-grid. Rest area. Experts assigned.”
*Off-grid.* Isolation.
My chest seized. “That’s not necessary.”
“It is.”
I scanned their faces. Stone.
“Go to your dorm,” Hayes said sternly. “Team will notify for departure.”
Fists clenched. I wanted to fight.
But his tone said it was pointless.
I turned. Walked out.
Down halls, through Vanguard’s passages.
My dorm was steps away. I should’ve gone in. Packed. Waited.
But every footfall screamed wrongness.
A lead on Silas Draeven. *This* mission.
And they were sidelining me. Not because I couldn’t. Because they *wouldn’t let* me.
That thought burned until the outer gates.
Evening air cooled my skin. City lights glittered beyond the walls.
I stopped. Glanced back. No watchers.
Then I veered toward the road.
A cab cruised by. I raised my hand.
It braked. Window down.
Driver eyed me. “Where to?”
I leaned in, voice steady. “Nearest club.”
- Writer
