Note: Members of Frost Bringer beneath Dimitri call (Y/n) "Despoina" which means "lady" or mistress"

🌹

The night was eerily silent as (Y/n) and her team stepped into the venue of the Plume of Prowess, a place once alive with applause and praise that now feels like a haunted purgatory. The towering building, now empty, exuded an unsettling aura. Memories of the joys and shared triumphs from her and Dimitri’s past participation here seemed like echoes of a distant world. Now, the air was heavy with dread, the stakes measured not in applause, but in lives.  

The creak of the main doors as Cerberus pushed them open reverberated through the dimly lit hall, the sound bouncing off the chipped walls and worn wooden floors. They moved in with purpose, their steps deliberate but cautious, every creak of the floorboards adding to the mounting tension. The grand hall, once lined with eager spectators cheering for (Y/n) and Dimitri, now held an ominous quiet.  

Their destination was clear: the stage. Under the pale glow of a single light, an array of six identical black safes stood in neat rows like sentinels guarding their secrets. Each safe was equipped with a glowing biometric scanner, its cold, unblinking light promising both hope and peril.  

Tristan’s whistle broke the silence. “Six safes. All with scanners. She’s gone full psycho game show host on us. Your relationship must have been pretty interesting, Despoina.” 

“Keep your voice down,” Nyx snapped, her tone low and urgent as her sharp eyes scanned the room. “We’re already playing on her terms. No need to make it easier for her.”  

"As if she doesn't know we're already here," Tristan replied, rolling his eyes. "(Y/n), how did you manage to last being associated with that brat?"

(Y/n) chuckled; despite the gravity of the situation, finding humor is always appreciated. "It was a wild ride, to say the least. She's one of the most cunning Hibiscuses, nae, one of the most cunning Nymphs of the Garden. She finds entertainment in the most... Unconventional ways, which include this one." she gestured to the safes with poems on top of them. "Elaborate games had always been her style. It was both intriguing and exhausting which is one of the multiple reasons we broke up."

Hecate approached one of the safes, her fingers trailing over its smooth, cold surface. “Biometric locks,” she muttered. “I am guessing that if we pick the wrong safe, what’s inside will be destroyed—or worse, set off the entire chain.”  

“That’s the idea,” Eidanne chimed in, her calm, almost amused tone a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation. She blew a bubble with her gum before popping it nonchalantly. “Only one of us has the fingerprint to open the right one. Open the wrong safe, and say goodbye to this building—and probably a chunk of the city and our mortal bodies.”  

"Tristan, I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you," Eidanne began as she touched his shoulder. "And I need to confess now." Tristan swallowed his eyes fixated on the Belladonna. 

"My queen bee..." he mumbled. 

"It was me," she confessed with guilt. "I was the one who stole and ate your pudding in the refrigerator even though it has your name."

"What?"

Thanatos struck Eidanne on the forehead lightly. "Can you two idiots stop this madness and focus on the mission?" 

Cerberus’s hand instinctively moved to the trigger of his gun feeling the familiar coldness. His eyes scanned the shadows. “This is a trap. She wants us off balance.” He stayed close to (Y/n) like Cerberus himself guarding the precious Persephone for his dark master. 

“She’s toying with us,” Thanatos growled from the edge of the group, his voice low and filled with disdain. His dark eyes were fixed on the safes, his jaw clenched tight. “Like a little brat slowly plucking the legs of a spider it caught. I would respect it if I wasn't on the receiving end of her madness.”  

“She’s doing more than that,” (Y/n) said, stepping forward. Her sapphire eyes were sharp as they swept across the safes, her mind already piecing together Chelsea’s cruel design. "She's trying to prove a point. Whatever it may be lies within these safes."

(Y/n) took a deep breath, centering herself as she turned to her team. Her voice was calm yet authoritative, cutting through the tension. “We approach this one safe at a time. Read the clues. Think critically. No rash decisions. And no second-guessing ourselves.”  

The team nodded, their resolve hardening. Together, they approached the first safe, the faint glow of its biometric scanner casting ominous shadows over their faces. The first clue was etched onto a small plaque just above the lock, its words mocking and cryptic.  

Thanatos read it aloud, his voice steady:  

“Child's sins paid by the tears of the mother 

Blood on the dollar it doesn't matter

When Vengeance is born, redemption is none

Sold one drug then everything loved was gone”

The words hung in the air, a cruel reminder that the past was never truly buried. The other's eyes wandered to Thanatos, and others just followed suit.

"That mother fucking, brat. I'm going to kill her." said man muttered, his rage tamed behind his burning gaze.

His thumb went to the scanner, and slowly, he opened the safe. Inside was not the bomb, but a small ziplock bag filled with pills one can only assume were drugs.

Speakers boomed to life, it was Chelsea's voice. "Xavier Zandor, a man haunted by his crimes. One more than the others. The death of his mother by his own doing. He sold drugs to give his prostitute mother a better life, but the men he sold it to were the very same men who followed his mother home and raped her. Young Xavier came home, a cake in his hand to surprise her for her birthday, but he was the one surprised when he found out that she was already gone."

"I'll kill you!" Thanatos yelled shooting at the direction of the sounds. The others covered their ears and docked, Cerberus stepped protectively in front of (Y/n), but Eidanne fearlessly sized Xavier's wrist and took the gun from him. 

"You are being taunted. Act like an assassin, not a thug." reprimanded the smaller woman. "She's trying to get a rise out of you. Don't let her. Keep your cool."

Xavier's nostrils flared, and he forcefully pulled his hands away. "I will not be bullied by that bitch."

The Belladonna creased her brows. "You won't. She'll get her payback. I promise. Please keep your cool. We won't get any progress if you lose your shit now."

"Hehe, such a good friend, Belladonna 618. But our story is not yet over." Chelsea's sinister, lilting voice rang once more through the area, making Xavier bristle with unbridled fury. "Our dear little Xavier had his revenge later on. Once he was grown and stronger, he hunted down the bastards that harmed his family and killed them. Won't you tell us how you did it, Xavier?"

"The fuck should I participate in your bullshit theater?" Xavier snarled, his rage barely tamed as she sheathed his gun. 

"Nope? Well, I'll tell you myself. Xavier killed all of them without remorse. He, a teen boy, slaughtered them in cold blood with a gun stolen from his crooked father. Our little 'hero' did what needed to be done." Chelsea’s voice vanished after that and (Y/n) gritted her teeth in annoyance. 

(Y/n) tapped the cold metal of the nearest safe. “This isn’t just a game to her—it’s a message. Each safe is likely tied to us. To our pasts. She wants us to confront what we’ve done, our darkest choices, and the consequences that followed.”  

“She’s forcing us to relive our mistakes,” Nyx said grimly, stepping up beside (Y/n). “And if we falter, if we hesitate even for a second, people die.”  

Hecate’s expression turned hard, her voice a sharp contrast to her usual playful tone. “We don’t have time for self-reflection. Whatever’s inside those safes is designed to mess with our heads. We need to stay focused.”  

The room was silent as the team stood before the next safe, its smooth metallic surface gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. The tension was palpable, each member acutely aware that their darkest secrets could be laid bare at any moment. The safes were Chelsea's twisted puzzle, each designed to force them to confront their pasts while they fought to prevent the city from descending into chaos.

Nyx stepped forward next, her sharp, composed exterior betraying a subtle tremor in her hands. Her eyes scanned the poem etched on the plate of the safe, each word unraveling a memory she had worked tirelessly to suppress.  

"A single shot, a tiny frame,  

Through a sniper’s scope, you took your aim.  

The child fell, the mission won,  

But the guilt remains, a heavy ton." 

She inhaled deeply, her jaw tightening as she placed her hand on the scanner. The safe clicked open, revealing a pair of cracked glasses small enough for a child. She stared at them, her expression unreadable.  

Chelsea’s voice crackled through the speakers, laced with venomous glee. “Oh, Olivia Klein. The unshakable sniper. Your aim is impeccable, but your choices? Oh, darling, even more perfect! Tell me, how does it feel to be judge, jury, and executioner? To snuff out empires and infants with a single squeeze of the trigger?”  

(Y/n)’s gaze shifted to Nyx, concern softening her voice. “Nyx... what is she talking about?”  

Chelsea didn’t wait for an answer, her voice rising theatrically. “Sweet Lady Lycoris Radiata, let me tell you a little story. Olivia was once tasked with eliminating Christian Baltimore, the infamous mafioso and human trafficker. A man responsible for the suffering of over two thousand women and children in 2018 alone.” Chelsea’s voice darkened, dripping with mock sympathy. “Oh, and he wasn’t just a faceless monster to Olivia. No, he was the man behind her own kidnapping as a child, her assault at the hands of his men. Justice, right? But here’s the twist: to lure him out, she had to use his son as bait. And when Baltimore finally stepped into her crosshairs, holding his precious boy, Olivia didn’t hesitate. She took the shot and killed them both.”  

The room fell silent, the weight of Chelsea’s revelation settling like a storm cloud. Nyx gripped the glasses tighter, her knuckles turning white. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was steady but edged with steel.  

“That mission saved lives,” she said, each word deliberate and measured. “Baltimore’s death dismantled his empire and freed countless women and children from a living hell. I made a decision no one should have to make, but I’d do it again if it meant stopping him.”  

Chelsea’s mocking laughter echoed through the speakers. “Oh, rationalize all you want, sniper. But let’s not forget—you didn’t just stop a monster; you killed a child. A boy whose only crime was being born to the wrong man. Sleep well with that on your conscience.”  

Nyx’s jaw tightened, but her calm demeanor didn’t waver. She turned to face her team, her piercing gaze meeting each of them. “That child wasn’t innocent,” she said firmly. “Baltimore was grooming him to inherit his empire. That boy would have grown up to perpetuate the same cycle of horror and pain. Ending it with them was the only way to ensure it stopped for good.”  

The room remained silent, her words hanging heavily in the air. (Y/n) stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Nyx’s shoulder. Her voice was soft but resolute. “You did what you had to do. None of us can judge you for that.”  

Hecate chimed in, her tone uncharacteristically solemn. “Every one of us carries scars from the choices we’ve made. You’re not alone in this, love.”  she took Nyx's hand in hers and squeezed it to show her solidarity. 

Nyx gave a small nod, her fingers loosening their grip on the glasses. She placed them back into the safe, her movements deliberate, as though she were closing a chapter she had long left unfinished.  

“You’re strong,” Tristan added quietly, his admiration evident. “Stronger than most of us could ever be.”  

Nyx allowed herself a faint smile, though her eyes still carried the weight of her past. “Let’s focus on the mission,” she said, her voice regaining its usual calm. “We’ve still got work to do.”  

The team nodded, rallying behind her as they moved forward. Nyx’s resolve became an anchor, her unshakable composure a reminder that their unity was their greatest strength. Hecate stepped forward next. 

"A formula brewed, a poison spread,  

A village mourns its innocent dead.  

Your brilliance wrought a deadly tide,  

How many more will your intellect deride?"  

The words etched on the safe seemed to pulse with accusation, each line dragging Hecate back to a past she had long buried. Her hand lingered over the scanner for a moment before pressing down with calm precision. The safe clicked open, revealing a small vial of clear liquid.  

Chelsea’s voice returned, her tone dripping with mockery. “Ah, Beatrix Laurent, the illustrious alchemist of Frost Bringer. You’ve concocted cures that saved lives and poisons that ended them, but let’s not forget your magnum opus: revenge. How does it feel to wield life and death like a god, to avenge your father’s wrongful conviction and taste sweet retribution for what they did to your family?”  

The room grew tense as Chelsea continued, her voice sharpening like a blade. “Your father was an honest carpenter, but the Blanchard family turned him into a murderer to cover up their own sordid sins. His death in prison left your family destitute. Your mother worked herself into an early grave, and you were left to fend for yourself, a child in a world that scorned you. And when that village, so full of whispers and judgment, treated you like you were less than human, you showed them what real power looked like. Poison in their water, sickness spreading like wildfire. And while they begged for salvation, you held the cure for ransom. Such a clever little businesswoman.”  

Hecate picked up the vial, the liquid inside catching the dim light. She held it up, inspecting it with the detached precision of a scientist. “They mocked my father, spat on my mother, and made me believe I was a curse,” she said, her voice cold and steady. “So, I showed them what it truly means to choke on their own hatred. Revenge wasn’t just a choice; it was survival. If I had played by their rules, I’d have been crushed. My way ensured I lived.”  

Her words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. The team remained silent, not out of judgment but out of respect. Hecate’s story was raw, her pain a reminder that every one of them carried scars from a world that had demanded their resilience.  

Nyx stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Hecate’s shoulder. Her sniper’s gaze was calm, yet resolute. “They forced your hand. You’re still here, standing tall. That’s what matters.”  

Tristan, who had been watching with a mix of awe and quiet admiration, finally spoke. “Beatrix, Aidoneus chose you to become Hecate because you had the will and the strength to do what needs to be done. He chose all of us for a reason, and in his judgment, we trust.”  

Hecate’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. “You’re surprisingly good at this for a tech guy, Tris.”  

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, a small laugh breaking the tension.   

Hecate placed the vial back in the safe with deliberate care, her movements steady despite the storm of memories. She stepped back to rejoin the group, her composure intact.  

No one offered pity—just quiet solidarity. In their world, survival often came at a price, and Hecate’s story was a testament to the unyielding will it took to keep moving forward. The team’s unspoken bond deepened as they prepared to face whatever came next, united by their shared resolve.  

Tristan hesitated as he approached the fourth safe. Belladonna 618 gave him a grin and a thumbs up. The clue blinked ominously on the screen, each word a dagger aimed at his memories.  

"A keystroke made, a life erased,  

Your youthful pride, a deadly taste.  

What price for knowledge, hacker boy?  

Your recklessness made death your toy."

His heart sank as he read it, the sting of old wounds fresh again. He forced himself forward, hands trembling slightly as they hovered over the safe. The moment his fingerprint touched the scanner, Chelsea’s voice echoed through the room, sharper now, dripping with mockery.  

“Ah, Tristan. So young, so arrogant. The prodigy who thought he was invincible. How many lives did your little mistake cost?”  

A fragment of a server drive sat inside the safe, its jagged edges glinting under the fluorescent lights. Tristan picked it up, staring at the relic of his greatest failure.  

“I was sixteen,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “I was just a kid who wanted to prove himself, to escape from being invisible. I hacked into my bullies’ social media accounts at first—stupid stuff. But then I tried something bigger.”  

Chelsea laughed cruelly. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short. You weren’t just stupid; you were catastrophic. Tell them what happened next, hacker boy.”  

Tristan swallowed hard, ignoring the bile rising in his throat. “I breached a secure server at my father’s company. I wanted to impress him and show him I was worth his time. But I didn’t realize the data I accessed would lead to a... leak.”  

(Y/n) frowned. “Leak? What kind of data?”  

Tristan met her gaze, shame flickering in his eyes. “Financials. Corporate secrets. The leak caused the company’s stocks to plummet. My dad lost his job. The company laid off hundreds of people. Some families lost everything.” He clenched his fists. “And then... there was the one man who... couldn’t handle it. He—he took his life.”  

The room fell silent, the weight of Tristan’s confession settling over them. Chelsea’s voice sliced through the stillness like a blade.  

“Bravo, Tristan. A single keystroke and you ruined lives. You didn’t just burn bridges; you nuked them. But don’t worry, you’ve done so much better since then, haven’t you?”  

"I—I did! I-I... I used my skills and... and hacked into sites and platforms that perpetuate online exploitation and I destroyed them. I hacked into the private devices of people who abuse others and exposed them!" Tristan's eyes pricked with tears and he did his best to hold them back and not make himself look weak. He dug deep and thought of things he did for redemption, and he told them to Chelsea or, at least, to appease his heart. 

" I... I helped Aidoneus in his missions, and I work for Frost Bringer to help people, not harm them. Sure, we're assassins, but we fight for what is right, and that's what matters, Chelsea! I'm flawed and a noob at being an assassin but I'm not a bad person!" As he yelled, the tears finally fell from his eyes. How did she even find out about that? It was a well-kept secret. His wasn't based on a need for revenge unlike the others. It was based on his arrogance and mistakes and it still hurts knowing how many innocent people's lives he ruined. 

Eidanne stepped forward, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Her voice, usually teasing, carried an uncharacteristic gentleness. “Tris, look at me.”  

He turned to her, his gaze heavy with guilt.  

“You were a kid,” she said firmly. “Kids make mistakes. Big ones, sure, but what matters is what you did after. You didn’t hide. You didn’t give up. You used what you learned to fight back—to make a difference. Frost Bringer saw that in you. I see that in you.”  

Nyx chimed in, her calm, authoritative voice adding weight to Eidanne’s words. “None of us here are innocent. We’ve all done things we regret. But you’re here now, using your skills to protect people, to fix what you can. That’s what counts.”  

Tristan took a shaky breath, his grip on the drive tightening before he carefully placed it back in the safe. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I won’t let it happen again. I won’t let her words get to me.”  

Chelsea’s laughter returned, softer but still mocking. “Oh, how touching. Your little pep rally almost brought a tear to my eye. Let’s see how long you all hold up.”  

Eidanne snorted, folding her arms as she smirked at the screen. “Keep laughing, Hibiscus. We’re coming for you.”  

Tristan nodded, stepping back from the safe. Despite the weight of his past, he stood a little taller, his resolve stronger. He glanced at (Y/n), who offered him a small, reassuring smile.  

“You’ve got this,” she said simply, and he believed her.  

Cerberus approached the next safe, his steps deliberate, each one heavy with the weight of his past. The team watched him closely, their shared trials forging a bond that didn’t require words. The engraving on the safe’s surface seemed to glint under the dim light, its words a cruel reminder of the choices he’d made:  

"A soldier’s vow, a broken chain,  

The price of love, a child’s refrain.  

Betrayed your own, to save their tears,  

What haunts your nights, across the years?" 

He inhaled deeply, steadying himself as he placed his hand on the scanner. The lock disengaged with a soft click, and the safe swung open to reveal a small, timeworn teddy bear. Its fur was patchy, and one button eye hung by a thread, but its presence was powerful. Cerberus’s hand hovered over the bear for a moment before he picked it up, cradling it like a fragile relic.  

Chelsea’s voice crackled through the speakers, laced with mocking glee. “Galahad Volkov, the knight in tarnished armor. Belarus’s finest soldier turned traitor. Tell them, oh noble one, about the children. Tell them about the blood you spilled to save your precious innocents.”  

The team exchanged uncertain glances, but Cerberus’s calm voice cut through the tension. “I was born and raised in Belarus, the son of a farmer and a vendor. Ours was a modest life, but it was full of love. I joined the military to serve my country and to protect the values my parents instilled in me. For a time, I believed in that purpose.”  

He glanced at the bear, his grip tightening. “Then, during a mission, I discovered a ring of exploitation. Children—dozens of them—were treated like cattle, stripped of their humanity. One of them was Ekaterina, no older than six. She clung to me, her eyes wide with fear but full of trust. It was the kind of trust I’d sworn to uphold.”  

Chelsea interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Ah, but it wasn’t so simple, was it? Your commanders—the very people you saluted every morning—were orchestrating the whole operation. How quaint. And what did you do, dear Cerberus? You killed them. Every last one.”  

Cerberus nodded, unflinching. “I did. I betrayed my oath, my comrades, and everything I thought I stood for. I took up arms against my own to save those children. Ekaterina and the others deserved better, and I refused to let them fall back into the hands of monsters... Even if it means that I'll never return to my homeland.”  

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.  

“Do you regret it?” Tristan asked softly, stepping closer.  

He shook his head. “Not for a second. My hands are stained, yes, but my heart is clear. Those children are alive because I made that choice. Ekaterina is my daughter now and I would burn the world for her. That is the only justification I need.”  

Chelsea’s voice returned, sharp and biting. “You paint yourself as a hero, but let’s not forget the bodies you left behind. People who got caught up in the situation, innocents you had to silence. Heroes don’t betray their own, Volkov. Heroes don't leave a trail of bodies. They don’t lie awake at night haunted by the faces of those they killed.”  

He met the camera with a steely gaze. “No, they don’t. But heroes also don’t let innocents suffer while they stand by and do nothing. If that makes me less of a hero and more of a monster, so be it.”  

The team stood in quiet respect, the weight of Cerberus’s words hanging in the air. He placed the teddy bear back into the safe and closed it with a finality that echoed his resolve.  

(Y/n) placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You did what you had to do. None of us here are innocent, but we stand for something bigger than ourselves.”  

Cerberus gave a faint smile, his strength unwavering. “Thank you, Despoina.”  

The team regrouped, their bond strengthened by the trials they’d faced. The final safe loomed ahead, its ominous presence a reminder of the danger still at hand.  

“Let’s end this,” (Y/n) said, her voice resolute as she turned to the last safe.