Project Jamboree

Chapter One

-Cole's PoV-

The Op was simple. Extract the asset, leave with everyone alive.

That was what I repeated in my mind as we flew the helicopter over the transport vehicle.

"Asset is red and dangerous," I reminded my team, "Proceed with caution."

I was Leader today. If anyone died, it was on me.

We dropped down onto the transport truck. One of my team burst the tires, and the truck screeched to a halt. The back doors opened, Psi Special Forces officers jumping out and shooting.

I signaled for my team to move in, eliminating each officer before they could injure us. I saw four of my men go down. This asset had better be worth it.

Allegedly red. Allegedly spent two years in Project Jamboree. Allegedly on this transport.

All the rest was guessing.

I wondered if this asset would be as broken as the other reds, or if they'd figured out a way to control their abilities.

For my team's sake, I hoped the latter. Three more of my soldiers dropped dead, but we were in the van now.

There was only one figure in the van. It was small, slumped to the back. The only sign of life was a twitch, one that all reds seemed to share.

This one was twitching a finger. I leaned over and tried to grab the asset, my team still taking care of backup PSF forces.

Whoever it was shrunk back even further, if that was possible. I pulled off the hood covering the asset's head.

I don't know what I'd pictured. Maybe a strong, aggressive kid with crooked teeth and a lopsided, wicked smile? That was a stereotypical red.

But here, right in front of me, was a little girl. Perhaps it was just malnutrition, but she looked no older than thirteen.

Tufts of her frizzy red hair stuck out everywhere, probably due to the hood. Her bright blue eyes were darting around the the back of the van, never stopping to focus on anything.

Worse was that when those eyes stopped moving, they locked into a state with mine, and I could see the girl panicking. Breathing and heart rate increased, face pale, eyes wide, backing away.

Blood smeared across her cheek from cuts on her forehead, cheeks, nose, and a split in her lip. What wasn't coated in blood was badly bruised.

The girl was shaking, trying as hard as she could to hide. She was afraid, but not just of the truck, the PSFs, the cuts and bruises. She was afraid of me.

Which made sense, considering I was the one that shot everyone else in the truck.

"Come on, kid," I said as softly as my voice would allow.

The girl didn't move.

"We're breaking you out," I told her, "Come on, we're the good guys. We won't hurt you."

"You should be afraid of me," she whispered, her voice raw, as though she hadn't used it in years, her ears twitching forwards and back every few seconds, "I'm one of the dangerous ones."

I sighed, "Rumors are true, then. You're a red."

"I'm a monster," she replied so quietly I had to strain my ears to hear her.

The flames sparked on my fingertips before I could stop them, "Well, I guess us monsters gotta stick together. Right?"

She stopped shaking, her eyes fixated on the fire as if it set her into a trance.