Mask of desire

tic worm would eat into your subconscious, working its way till you didn't rec

, her dry throat quickly soothed. It was a personal rule not to drink betwee

With a resigned sigh, she rose from her spot, the fabric of her black, form-fitting bodysuit clinging tightly to her frame. T

precision, she stretched her muscles, feeling the famil

ination as they prepared for another day of relentless training. Despite the brutality of their surrou

enges that lay ahead. In this world of black ops and secrecy, there was no room for weakness or hesitation. As she st

said, getting up and stretc

and huffing–preparing fo

o?” Dol, her bunkma

reak,” she hissed, jo

k maggots! Drop an

life here and Simone put her head into it,

ppeared to be nothing more than a nondescript military training camp, with rows of identical barracks and imposing watchtowers looming ominously agai

ors barking orders and enforcing strict discipline with ruthless efficiency. The air was t

s to their physical and mental limits. From grueling endurance tests to simulated combat scen

ace so formidable. The atmosphere air hung heavy like tar

ion went unnoticed. The consequences for failure were severe, with punishment r

t competition, each recruit vying for the coveted top spot in the rankings. Here, they made su

at Simone would put up with befo

ng shadows across the deserted grounds. In the darkness, whispers of whispered rumors circulated amon

t this life for the sake of power. But s

State you

allem.” Prote

hat re

und Speer.” I am t

d her spectacles again and made

patient broke the heavy silence and in

s hell for the new ones. Still, Madame Tuss cocked her head

er was the fresh agent- or “mewling” as M

s as “the iron box,” its unappealing looks went beyond expressing the character Madame Tuss. Here, every sound was blanked out. This room was 100% spy-proof. Why wouldn't it? It was Black Unit’s property. Black Unit was one of the few secret military arms

rn, produce ruthless agents every year. The screening process was less tha

the muted tones of the room. Her therapist, a retired military

in a monotone voice, "how ha

gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond the the

n eyebrow, clearly unc

r jaw clenched ti

g for her notepad. "I see. And how a

f frustration crossing her features. "Fine,"

one of the best agents we have. But sometimes, the missions can ta

chair, her knuckles turning white. "I can h

. "I know you can. But it's important to remember to

ion boiling over. "I don't need this," she mutte

room, the door slamming shut behind her. She sighed softly, shak

ed in her head, stirring up memories she had long tried to suppress. She couldn't shake the feelin

consumed by the cryptic dream that had been haunting her for weeks. Images flashed befor

lingered, stubbornly refusing to be ignored. She knew she need

t

er could shake the feeling that she was being watched. That someone, or someth

ould never go away and given the kind of agents

facing the retired Colonel Jackson, her gaze tracing the cracks in the peeling beige paint rather than meeting the steely blue eyes reflecting. Every answer was

ss. It felt like a memory, something buried deep, clawing its way to the surface. Colonel Jackson, her weathered face betraying a hint of kindness

dn't afford. Yet, there was a gnawing suspicion, a feeling that this recurring nightmare held the key to something she desperately needed to

oom suddenly

mon

t a dream of me being c

essio

voke my right to pass for th

your

king about her dream always resulted in palpitations, clammy palms, and pin visi

slippery, and the air was thick with fog. She could hear the sound of something chasing her, a low growl that echoed through the trees. She ran faster, her heart poundin

the

to the glare of a yellow flashlight in her face.

If the nun asked you to jump, you asked how high. Despite her

, looking around. She rubbed her pounding head as the

e never called in for good news. Simone did not expect to be

mbat shoes, what she wasn't aware of was