Georgina One leaned back against the cold steel wall of Adrian’s underground lab, arms crossed and gaze locked on her “sisters” as they moved around the sterile space like hollowed-out machines. Used to be, those clones were her mirrors, moving and thinking with the same spark. Now? Nah, they were shells, staring through her with dead eyes. Especially Georgina Four, who kept flashing this wide, obedient smile, eerie as hell, like she was fully wired to Adrian’s twisted plan.
Adrian’s lab was a kingdom of cold, unfeeling tech. Deep in the Seraphi clubhouse, it gleamed too bright, too clean. Chrome counters lined with strange vials, mechanical limbs drifting in jars, shelves stocked with enhancers and injectors. Robot assistants buzzed about, almost smug in their precision, happy to do his dirty work. And those tanks at the far end? Filled with fresh students who didn’t know they were getting rewired. He’d worked it out so slick, using clueless kids and “voluntary” permissions from parents who thought they were signing off on tech scholarships, not turning their kids into walking experiments.
She’d tried to bring her sisters together, warning them Adrian was mad enough to pull a plug on them if they didn’t make the first move. But instead of rallying, they sold her out, loyalty overrides and all. And Adrian? He soaked it up, smug as a cat with cream, laughing like her failed rebellion was a damn joke. “You keep tryin’, Georgina, but only one of us is gonna blow sky high. And it won’t be me.” His voice was smooth, the threat biting. She’d wanted to spit something back but bit her tongue—one wrong move and he’d strip her down like the others, kill the last of her grit.
Last time he shot her that look was just before he set Georgina Four on a mission to deliver some performance enhancers to his sister Xyra, a smug sneer twisting his mouth as he watched. “Mess with me again,” he’d warned, “and you’ll be just like ‘em. Pure machine, zero fight left. But don’t take it personal. Strictly business.” His tone was cold, mocking, like breaking her spirit was nothing more than another line item on his agenda.
Back at the Umbrus clubhouse, Ennuy was nursing his pride, surrounded by his crew. Frostie sat on a crate, scowl deep, arms crossed, watching Ennuy. Morwen kept her cool in the shadows, leaning against the wall, her calm presence an anchor. Charm stood nearby, twisting a lock of hair, her gaze intense as Ennuy talked. And Selene? She was simmering, fists clenched, every word Ennuy shared about Adrian’s twisted mind games cranking her rage higher.
“He did what?” Selene spat, her voice cutting, tinged with that raw edge of betrayal. “He’s gotta be straight jealous to go this far, Ennuy. Ain’t no other reason,” she muttered, half to herself.
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Charm glanced at him, hesitant. “Maybe I could go talk to him, y’know? See if he’ll back off you a bit?” Ennuy’s look stopped her cold, cutting through her optimism like a blade.
“Charm, don’t kid yourself. Adrian don’t work like that. You know he got with you just to mess with my head,” he said, voice razor-sharp. Charm flushed, looking down, her shoulders stiffening as she took in the truth.
Morwen moved in, her face unreadable as ever, and pulled a small vial from her pocket, holding it out to Charm. “Take this,” she said, voice low and steady. “Just one drop of blood, mix it in, and give it to him like it’s a gift. He’s probably just waiting for a chance to taste your blood, anyway.” Charm’s face turned scarlet, but Morwen held her gaze.
Selene glared, taking a step back, voice hot. “No way. I’m not gonna let Charm give my brother a damn love potion!” she shot back, her tone fierce. But Ennuy leaned in close, voice a murmur of iron and finality.
“Selene, it’s the only way. She don’t do this, Adrian’s just gonna keep comin’ for me. And for us,” he said, giving her hand a steady squeeze, his gaze unflinching.
Selene’s expression cracked, fury melting into reluctant resolve. She let out a shaky breath, voice softening as she looked at Ennuy, then Charm. “Alright. For you,” she whispered, her voice low but resolute, knowing full well the weight of what she was agreeing to.
Xyra leaned back, watching Bree do her thing. She knew Bree wasn’t mortal, and she wasn’t no machine either—girl was like a golem or somethin’ different, running on pure magic. Xyra could tell from the jump, mostly ‘cause Bree didn’t smell like no regular flesh and blood. She had a heartbeat, yeah, but it was pumping mana, not blood. Xyra didn’t mind though; Bree had loyalty for days, always ready to back her up. Plus, she got along tight with Aislin, Voira, and Rhea. Xyra loved her crew—real solid, no need for her usual mind-bending geas to keep ‘em in line.
And Rhea? She had her own crazy secret. Girl was Trap Icy and Kunai’s daughter, a miracle of bio-hacks and illegal experiments overseas that shouldn’t even be possible. But she was here, real as day, and Xyra was grateful. Rhea had that voice that could pull anybody in, plus she was always keepin’ Xyra fresh with the latest dance moves.
Aislin, though? She was the chill one of the clique, pretty much regular human—except that she could bounce back from almost anything. Practically unkillable with that meta-regeneration thing goin’ on. Then there was Voira, the high elf with that royal shine. Voira was all grace, the real deal of noble blood straight outta Álfheimr, got her whole royal lineage and everything. Xyra adored her, ‘cause Voira brought that regal vibe, that elegance.
But Voira had some baggage. Her family wanted her linked up with Xyra’s brother, Adrian—the same Adrian they were sayin’ might be her cousin (gross, right?), but Voira wasn’t having it. She rolled up to Xyra like, “Girl, I need your protection,” and Xyra was happy to give it, no hesitation. She had her crew’s back, and they knew she’d always be ridin’ for ‘em.