Episode 11: "The Path to Freedom"

The exit I chose was labeled as an emergency exit on the facility map. In a secret base like this, that usually meant it was a hidden escape route, designed for use only if the base was compromised. And there were a lot of them—on this floor alone, there were ten emergency exits, not counting the official ones. It was no wonder organizations like HYDRA were so hard to eradicate. They were like cockroaches, always finding a way to scuttle into the shadows and survive. It was something I'd have to keep in mind when the time come for me to destroy places like this.

Leaving the staff locker room, I pulled my hat low over my face, doing my best to blend in and avoid attracting attention. Inwardly, I sighed. This would have been so much easier if I had my Shadow Manipulation skill from YGGDRASIL. That ability didn't just let me control shadows—it also allowed me to become one. As long as there was darkness and shadow, I could move undetected, slipping through the cracks like a ghost. With that skill, I had reigned as the best assassin in the game, my contract kills fees reaching hundreds of millions of gold coins. Why? Because whoever I was tasked to kill would always die by my hand. No exceptions.

But now, I was stripped of that power. No shadow manipulation, no inventory system, no skills. Just me, my wits, and the two handguns tucked into the back of my waistband. I had trained for this sort of situation, though. In YGGDRASIL, I had learned everything I could about infiltration, assassination, and espionage. I had been a certified professional assassin, forced to adapt to any situation, any location. But this wasn't a game anymore, in game when I died, I can always respawn, but this? This was real, and the stakes were life and death.

For now, I focused on getting out of this hellhole. The emergency exit I had chosen required me to walk back past the incinerator room, then about two more doors down. It wasn't far, but every step felt like a mile. My body was still weak, my movements sluggish, but I forced myself to keep going. I couldn't afford to stop now.

As I walked, I kept my head down, my face hidden beneath the brim of my hat. The two handguns I had looted earlier were loaded, safety off, and ready to be used at a moment's notice. I didn't plan on using them, as a gunshot in this place, would uncover everything I have done in an instant, thus wasted my effort so far, but I wasn't taking any chances either, if I had to use them, I would. The stench of the incinerator room still clung to me, and it worked in my favor—no one wanted to get close. People avoided me, their faces twisting in disgust as they hurried past. Good. Let them think I was just another grunt doing his job.

When I reached the incinerator room, I glanced inside. Everything looked the same as before—the piles of body bags, the flickering orange glow of the flames, the oppressive stench of death. The memory of what I had done to those two men flashed in my mind, but I shoved it down. There was no room for hesitation or regret. Not here. Not now.

I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit hallway. But as I approached the first door past the incinerator room, something made me stop. Through the small window in the door, I saw a scene that froze me in my tracks.

"Hurry up!... there's order for this thing to be delivered to the hospital in 2 hours". A man in a surgical gown shouted.

"Yeah, yeah…got it, doc". One of the male nurses lazily replied.

Inside the room, strapped to a metal surgical table, was the body of a little boy. His limbs were bound with chains, his wrists and ankles bruised and bleeding. His torso had been cut open, his organs removed and placed neatly into organ boxes. The sight was horrifying, but what made it worse was the casual banter of the people in the room—a doctor and a few male nurses, laughing and joking as they worked. Not one of them looked at the child with even a hint of remorse. To them, he was just another specimen, another piece of meat to be harvested.

I felt a surge of rage, hot and blinding, but I forced it down. Now wasn't the time. I couldn't afford to lose control. But as I stood there, staring at the lifeless body of that child, I couldn't help but ask myself: Why? Why is it like this?

The boy couldn't have been more than ten years old. His face was pale, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping. But the bruises, the cuts, the gaping wound in his chest—they told a different story. A story of pain, of suffering, of a life cut short by the cruelty of men who saw him as nothing more than a resource.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. This was Hydra. This was the kind of evil I was up against. And it wasn't just about revenge anymore. It was about justice. About making sure no one else had to suffer like this. But I couldn't do anything for the boy now. He was gone, and I had my own survival to think about. my mind raced. The sight of that child had shaken me more than I cared to admit. I had seen death before—in YGGDRASIL, in my old life—but this was different. This was real. And it had become more personal.

Is this what Hydra does to mutants? I wondered. To children? The thought made my stomach churn. I had always known Hydra was evil, but seeing it up close, seeing the faces of their victims—it was a stark reminder of why I had to destroy them. Not just for myself, but for everyone they had hurt.

I stood frozen still, my eyes glued to the horrific scene inside the room. The little boy's lifeless body, strapped to the metal table, his chest cut open and organs removed, haunted me. The casual cruelty of the doctor and nurses, their laughter and banter as they worked. Why was this world so evil? Why did it keep showing me its darkest, most twisted side? Every step I took in this new life seemed to lead me deeper into a nightmare.

'Move, Sai. Move! 'I shouted inside my head. "Don't stop for anything or anyone. You can't help them now. Not like this."

I forced myself to look away, but the image of the boy was seared into my mind. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought back the tears. My lips bled as I bit down on them, the pain grounding me, keeping me focused. I couldn't afford to break down.

"Recover. Get stronger. Come back and wipe this place off the face of the earth." That was the only thought that kept me moving. I had to survive. I had to escape. And then, when I was ready, I would return. Hydra would pay for what they had done—not just to me, but to that boy, to all the others who had suffered and died in this hellhole.

"I'm sorry, child," I whispered under my breath, my voice trembling with rage and grief. "These monsters will pay. I swear it."

With a heavy heart and even heavier legs, I forced myself to keep walking. Every step felt like a battle, but I couldn't stop. I had to leave. I had to escape in silence, slipping away unnoticed. I couldn't let Hydra know I was still alive. I had already erased my traces—the two men I had killed were nothing but ash now, their lockers emptied to make it look like they had deserted. It wasn't a perfect cover, but it would buy me time. Time to disappear. Time to plan.

Finally, I reached the emergency exit door at the end of the hallway. It was unmarked, just a plain metal door with a small sign that read "EMERGENCY EXIT." I pushed it open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind me. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of a sewer ladder leading upward. I didn't hesitate. I climbed the ladder, my movements slow and deliberate to avoid making noise.

At the top of the ladder was a heavy metal sewer cover. I pushed it aside, careful not to make too much noise, and poked my head out. The cool night air hit my face, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the underground facility. I looked around, confirming that I wasn't in the middle of a road or sidewalk. The coast was clear.

I pulled myself out of the sewer and onto the cracked pavement of an abandoned alleyway. Behind me was the warehouse that hid the entrance to the Hydra base. I made a mental note of its location, committing every detail to memory. I'll be back, I thought, closing the sewer cover and brushing dirt over it to hide any traces of my escape.

I was in Brooklyn, New York. A place I had never been to in my old life. I had lived in an Asian country all my life, never traveling outside, not even once. And now, here I was, in the middle of a sprawling concrete jungle, surrounded by towering buildings and bustling streets. The city felt alien to me, its energy overwhelming and unfamiliar.

It was nighttime, and the streets were alive with activity. People walked past me, their faces illuminated by the glow of streetlights and neon signs. But I couldn't relax. Not even for a moment. Every shadow, every sound, every stranger felt like a potential threat. I kept my head down, my hands stuffed in the pockets of the stolen security uniform, the two handguns hidden at my back.

I couldn't keep walking aimlessly. I needed a plan. I needed shelter, food, and rest. My body was weak, my mind exhausted. I hadn't eaten or slept in who knows how long. I needed to find a safe place to regroup.

I spotted a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk, his back against a brick wall. He was wrapped in a tattered blanket, a cardboard sign propped up beside him. I approached him cautiously, keeping my distance.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice low and calm. "Can you tell me how to get to Queens?"

The man looked up at me, his eyes wary but not unfriendly. He studied me for a moment, then pointed down the street. "Take the next left, then keep walking straight. You'll hit a bridge. Cross it, and you're in Queens."

I nodded, slipping him a few dollars from the wallet I had looted earlier. "Thanks. Take care."

He gave me a small nod, tucking the money into his pocket. "You too, buddy."

With directions in hand, I started walking toward Queens. The distance wasn't short, but it was far enough from the warehouse to give me some breathing room. The streets were quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the city fading into the background as I moved further away from the heart of Brooklyn.

The night sky stretched above me; a vast expanse of darkness punctuated by the occasional star. But I didn't have the luxury of enjoying the view. My mind was racing, my senses on high alert. Every passing car, every distant shout, every flickering streetlight made me tense. I couldn't afford to let my guard down. Not yet.

As I walked, I thought about my next steps. I needed to find a place to rest, somewhere safe and out of sight. I needed food, water, and time to recover. And then, when I was ready, I would start planning my next move. Hydra had to be destroyed, and I was the only one who could do it.

But for now, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The road to Queens was long, but I would make it. I had to.