General Briggs stormed out of his office, his face flushed with fury. “Who authorized a lockdown?” he shouted down the corridor. A squad of Military Police in full tactical gear came running, boots pounding against the floor. But instead of stopping near my desk, they moved past me and surrounded the General himself.

“Sir, step away from the desk,” the MP Captain ordered calmly, one hand resting near his holster.

“Have you lost your mind?” Briggs barked. “I’m the base commander! That woman is just a clerk!”

The Captain didn’t react. He handed Briggs a thin classified folder, freshly transmitted through the secure line. Bold letters stamped across the cover read: EYES ONLY – PROJECT SIERRA.

“She’s not a clerk, sir,” the Captain said evenly. “And you just assaulted the highest-ranking operational asset in this hemisphere.”

Briggs laughed, a sharp, nervous sound, and flipped the folder open. The laughter died instantly. His face drained of color. His hands began to shake so violently the pages rattled. He stared at the photograph inside, then slowly lifted his eyes to me.

“My God,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought you were dead. You’re… you’re Echo One.”

I didn’t answer. I simply met his gaze as understanding shattered his arrogance in real time.

“Take him,” the MP Captain ordered.

Two MPs stepped forward and restrained Briggs by the arms. He resisted briefly, more from disbelief than strength. The name alone had hollowed him out.

Echo One.

The hallway seemed to grow colder as the codename settled into the air. No one spoke. No one moved. That designation hadn’t been used openly in more than a decade.

As Briggs was dragged past me, his eyes never left my face. I didn’t react. I didn’t blink. Only when the elevator doors closed behind him did I finally exhale.

The Captain saluted. “Ma’am, Taskforce Zenith has been notified. Blackbird inbound. Ten minutes out.”

“Good,” I replied. “Pull my files from Vault Zulu. Erase every trace that places me here. If it isn’t burned, it never existed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I returned to Briggs’ office and closed the door. The room still smelled of polish and authority. I sat in his chair. My hair was uneven now, but appearances no longer mattered. My cover was gone.

I pressed a hidden switch beneath the desk. A concealed drawer slid open, revealing a secure terminal and retina scanner. I leaned in. The screen flashed green.

Welcome, Echo One.

Encrypted files flooded the display. I ignored most of them until one title froze me in place.

PROJECT THORNSHIELD – ACTIVE ASSETS ENGAGED.

I opened it.

Video footage played. A convoy in Belarus, destroyed. Operators in unmarked gear moved with professional precision. One carried a sealed container marked with biohazard symbols and an unfamiliar insignia.

Then I saw her.

Lieutenant Mara Chen.

The last survivor of my old unit.

She was wounded but alive, disappearing into the treeline. They had told me she was dead. That I was the only one left.

They lied.

I shut down the terminal and stood. The Blackbird could get me close. The rest would be up to me.

The base was already clearing out when I exited the office. MPs secured the perimeter. The Captain met me at the loading bay beside a black equipment crate.

“Your gear,” he said. “Including your original sidearm.”

He opened the case. Inside lay my Beretta M9, etched with Echo One. I holstered it without hesitation.

“Who’s running Thornshield?” I asked.

“Langston.”

The name hit hard. Our former handler. The architect of everything that went wrong.

The flight was silent. Over Belarus, the rear doors opened. The light turned green.

I jumped.

Cold air tore past me as I descended. I landed, disappeared into the forest, and followed the trail to an old research facility embedded in rock.

Inside, Thornshield revealed itself. Not weapons alone, but engineered soldiers. Sleeper assets grown, not recruited.

I entered through the ventilation shafts and accessed the network.

Footsteps approached.

I drew my weapon.

The door opened.

Mara stepped inside.

“Echo?” she whispered.

I lowered the gun. “What are you doing here?”

“They lied to both of us,” she said.

Alarms erupted. We ran.

She led me to a lab filled with suspended prototypes.

“Langston wants replacements,” she said. “Not soldiers. Products.”

She handed me a flash drive. “It needs you.”

I scanned in. The truth unfolded.

“We end it,” I said.

Together, we set the charges.

Extraction arrived as the facility collapsed behind us in fire and ice.

Mara looked at me. “What now?”

I watched the flames fade beneath us.

“Now we stop pretending we’re dead,” I said. “And we start hunting.”

The world would remember Echo One.

Not as a clerk.

But as the end of something broken—and the beginning of something worse.