Bulat stirred, his consciousness slowly returning as a strange sensation coursed through his body. His muscles ached, yet he felt an underlying energy pulsing beneath his skin—something unnatural, something foreign. His breath came in shallow gasps, his senses sluggish to fully awaken. A deep, numbing cold seemed to claw at the edges of his awareness, yet at the same time, he felt a strange warmth, an unfamiliar vitality surging through him.
He blinked rapidly, his vision hazy, the dim light overhead making it hard to focus. Shadows danced at the edges of his sight, and a dull ringing filled his ears. A figure sat beside him, their silhouette barely recognizable at first. His breath hitched as the details of her face came into focus—soft features, violet eyes, a gentle yet hesitant smile.
"Sheele...?" His voice was hoarse, weak, yet filled with disbelief. His mind raced, struggling to bridge the impossible gap between memory and reality. He had seen her die. He had mourned her, felt the weight of her loss settle deep within his chest. And yet, here she was, watching over him as though nothing had changed.
Sheele's expression wavered, a flicker of unease passing through her eyes. She hesitated, hands fidgeting slightly in her lap before she spoke, her voice quiet. "I was saved... by them. The REDs. Medic, he—he did something to me. Brought me back when I shouldn't have been able to return. I don't fully understand it myself, but... I'm here. I woke up in their care, just like you."
Bulat swallowed hard, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His hands trembled as he lifted them, inspecting his own body with growing apprehension. The last thing he remembered was his fight with Liver—the searing pain of the poison flooding his system, the heavy realization that his life was slipping away. He had been ready for the end. And yet, here he was. Alive. Whole.
His gaze snapped back to Sheele, his voice firmer this time. "Wait—how am I alive?"
Before she could answer, an unfamiliar voice cut through the air.
"Ah! My patient is avake! Zhis is good, ja?"
Bulat turned his head sharply, startled by the presence of the eccentric-looking man in a white lab coat. His grin was unnervingly wide, the dim light reflecting off his round glasses, making it impossible to see his eyes clearly. His very presence radiated an unsettling mixture of confidence and madness, as though he delighted in the mystery of life and death itself.
"You are feeling... invigorated, yes?" The man's tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something far more deliberate beneath his words.
Bulat opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. His body did feel different—stronger, yet foreign. His wounds, which should have been fatal, were nowhere to be found. His muscles, instead of being fatigued, felt as though they had been reinforced, enhanced even. There was no lingering pain, no sense of recovery—only an eerie sense of completion.
A cold feeling settled in his stomach as the reality dawned on him.
Something had been done to him. Something unnatural.
His fingers clenched into the sheets beneath him, his breathing steadying as his mind sharpened. His warrior's instincts screamed at him that something was amiss, that this wasn't a simple miracle, but an experiment in something far more sinister. He turned his gaze back to the so-called doctor, his expression hardening.
"What did you do to me?"
Medic let out a delighted chuckle, pushing his round glasses up the bridge of his nose as he stepped closer. "Ah, such curiosity! Zhis is vhat I like to see! You vere... how do you say... beyond saving before I intervened. Ze poison? Nasty stuff, ja? But I removed it—every last trace! Not only zhat, but I had ze chance to improve you!"
Bulat's eyes narrowed, his fingers instinctively clenching into the sheets beneath him. "Improve?"
"Ohhh, ja!" Medic exclaimed, his enthusiasm unwavering. "Your body vas failing, so I... reinforced it! Zhe muscles? Enhanced! Zhe internal damage? Reversed! Ze very cells in your body? Encouraged to adapt and heal at speeds you vould never believe! Your heart? Ah, it beats strongah than ever! A true marvel of medical science, if I do say so myself!" He clapped his hands together, grinning like a child showing off a prized invention.
Bulat's breath hitched. His body felt... whole. But now that he focused, there was something off. His muscles felt too strong, his breathing too steady. He flexed his fingers, feeling the unnatural smoothness of his movements, as if his body had been tuned to perfection. It wasn't just healing—it was alteration.
Medic leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Zhere vere... complications, of course. But zhey vere easily rectified! You see, death is not a simple thing to undo. Bodies are delicate, fragile even! But vith ze right adjustments? Zhey can be made bettah, strongah! More zhan vhat zhey vere before!"
Bulat's stomach twisted. "You modified me?"
"Hah! Such a negative term! Think of it like an upgrade! Zhe vorld is cruel, mein freund, full of things vaiting to end your life. But now? Now you are prepared!" Medic straightened, his grin widening. "I vonder, haff you noticed? Ze efficiency? Ze increased endurance? Even your reflexes vill be sharper zhan before!"
Bulat clenched his jaw. Now that he was more aware, he had noticed it. The unnatural fluidity of his movements, the effortless strength he felt coursing through his limbs. He wasn't sure if it was something to be grateful for—or to fear.
His mind swam with questions, doubts. What had really been done to him? Had he lost something in the process of being "saved"? He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering back to Sheele. Had she gone through the same thing?
"And zhe best part?" Medic continued, eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. "You vill continue to improve! Ze body adapts, grows! Vhat you are now is only ze beginning!"
Bulat exhaled slowly, steadying himself. His instincts screamed that something was wrong, that whatever had been done to him—and to Sheele—was unnatural, unpredictable. He was alive, yes. But at what cost?
As Medic beamed with pride over his work, Bulat forced himself to meet his gaze, his expression hardening. "And what happens if I don't want this?"
Medic's grin twitched. "Oh, mein freund... zhat is not a choice I can undo. You are alive. You are strongah. And zhat? Zhat is all zhat matters!"
The air inside the hideout was thick with the scent of oil, gunpowder, and a faint trace of burnt bread, courtesy of Engineer's latest experiments in "alternative ammunition." The Mercs had been lounging in their usual scattered formation—Sniper cleaning his rifle near the open window, Heavy methodically assembling Sasha, and Demoman nursing a bottle of scrumpy—when Scout burst in, panting and wide-eyed.
"You guys ain't gonna believe this—Spy actually pulled it off! He's in!"
The room fell silent. Even Pyro, who had been mindlessly toying with his flamethrower in the corner, turned his masked head toward Scout. The weight of his words settled in like a heavy fog, tension crackling in the air.
Sniper was the first to react. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he lazily leaned against the wooden wall, arms crossed. "Figures. The sneaky bastard always had a way of talking himself into places he didn't belong."
He meant it both as a compliment and a warning. Sniper respected Spy's craft, but even the best infiltrators had their limits. And Esdeath? She wasn't just a danger—she was an anomaly, an unpredictable force of nature. If anyone could see through Spy's act, it would be her. A stray gust of wind rattled the shutters, and Sniper found himself gripping his rifle just a little tighter.
Demoman furrowed his brow, taking a swig from his bottle before letting out a thoughtful hum. "Aye, but how long 'til the lass catches on? She's sharp, that one." His gut churned with unease. He'd tangled with his fair share of ruthless fighters, but from what he'd heard, Esdeath wasn't just another tough enemy—she was something worse. Something colder. The kind of opponent that got into your head, that made you question your own footing before you even made your first move. And Spy? He was walking a knife's edge.
Heavy, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. His deep voice carried a weight that made even Scout hesitate. "Spy is strong. But Esdeath… is monster."
The words lingered, heavier than the steel plates of his minigun. Heavy had fought monsters before—real, human ones. He had seen what cruelty looked like in its purest form, and from the murmurs of the Capital, Esdeath was cruelty incarnate. If Spy wasn't careful, he wouldn't just fail the mission—he'd never come back at all.
He clenched his fists, his massive frame casting a shadow across the room. "He must be careful," he added, more to himself than anyone else.
And then there was Medic.
A low, delighted chuckle filled the room, its eerie melody sending a shiver down Sheele's spine. She had been standing by the doorway, watching, listening, but saying nothing. Her presence among the Mercs still felt surreal to her—like a dream that hadn't faded upon waking.
"Ohoho, now this is getting interesting!" Medic clapped his gloved hands together, his grin wide and unsettling. His laughter was the kind that burrowed under the skin, making it impossible to ignore. The madness in his eyes was something Sheele had never grown used to, even after all these days of watching him work.
She didn't trust him. Not after what she had seen. Not after what he had done to Bulat.
She cast a glance toward the room where Bulat was still recovering, alive but… different. Something about him wasn't quite right. She knew the others didn't fully understand what had happened—what Medic had done to bring him back. She wasn't even sure she understood. The unsettling mechanical hum that sometimes came from his body, the way his eyes seemed distant in moments of quiet… it was enough to make her stomach twist.
And now, Spy was in the clutches of someone just as cruel, just as terrifying as Medic, if not worse.
Sheele swallowed hard, gripping her glasses in thought. Would he be able to fool her? Spy was good—no, exceptional—at deception. But Esdeath? She was no ordinary opponent. Sheele didn't know her personally, but from what she had heard, she ruled through fear and bloodshed. A woman like that wouldn't be easy to fool forever.
And if she discovered the truth…
Sheele shuddered at the thought. The room seemed to shrink, the air heavier than before.
Scout, still catching his breath, looked around the room, his grin faltering slightly as he saw the mixed reactions. "Look, I get it. It's risky. But c'mon, it's Spy. If anyone can pull this off, it's him."
Sniper exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Let's just hope he knows what he's doing."
Demoman muttered something under his breath before knocking back another swig of his drink. He had seen too many good men make the mistake of thinking they could outsmart a force of nature. He hoped Spy wasn't one of them.
Heavy remained stone-faced, gripping Sasha's handle a little tighter, his thoughts unreadable.
And Medic? Medic simply smiled, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his coat, as if he was already preparing for whatever horror would come next.
Tatsumi found Mine sitting alone on the mansion's balcony, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared into the distance. The cool night air did little to ease the tension in her posture. The moonlight cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting the crease in her brow. She had been restless ever since their last mission, and Tatsumi could tell something was weighing heavily on her mind. She wasn't one to show vulnerability so easily, which only made her current demeanor all the more alarming.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, his boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach her without immediately putting her on the defensive. Mine didn't acknowledge him at first, but he knew she was aware of his presence. She always was. She was too sharp not to be.
"Mine," he began, his voice steady but firm. "You've been hiding something. I need to know the truth."
Mine stiffened. Her fingers twitched slightly, gripping her arms just a little tighter. She exhaled through her nose, a telltale sign that she was preparing herself for confrontation. Even so, she refused to meet his gaze, her eyes locked on the darkness beyond the railing.
"You don't want to know, Tatsumi," she muttered, voice taut.
Tatsumi frowned. "Yes, I do. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Just tell me."
Mine let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, you think you can handle it? Like you handle everything else? Charging in, fists clenched, acting like the world will bend just because you want it to?"
Tatsumi scowled. "That's not fair, Mine. I'm trying to understand—"
"No, you're demanding answers," she snapped, finally turning to face him. "Like you're owed the truth. Maybe I had my reasons for keeping it secret. Maybe I didn't want to drop something this huge on you when we're already fighting for our lives. Did that ever cross your mind?"
He clenched his fists, trying to rein in his frustration. "It did. But I thought we trusted each other enough to share things like this. To not keep secrets."
Mine's expression faltered for just a moment before she exhaled, shoulders slumping. "You really don't give up, do you?" She closed her eyes for a brief second, then finally sighed in resignation. "Fine. You want the truth? Spy blackmailed me."
Tatsumi's breath hitched. Of all the things he expected, this wasn't one of them. His mind raced, trying to piece together what she meant. Spy? Blackmail? But why? His initial instinct was disbelief, but he knew Mine wouldn't say something like this lightly.
"I…" Mine's voice wavered, but she pushed forward. "It's about Sheele."
Tatsumi felt a cold weight settle in his chest. "Sheele?" He swallowed hard, her name alone bringing back a flood of memories. The grief, the helplessness… the blood.
"She's… alive."
His eyes widened in shock. "What? That's not possible. You told me that she died, Mine." His mind rejected the notion outright. He had been there. They had all mourned her. How could she possibly be alive?
"I know," she snapped, her voice filled with frustration, though it wasn't directed at him. "I know, Tatsumi. But she's back. Spy and Medic brought her back somehow. And Spy… he made me promise not to tell anyone. He said if I did, he'd make sure everyone knew that I hesitated when I had the chance to kill Seryu. That I failed Sheele. That I let her get captured in the first place."
Her voice wavered at the end, a rare admission of guilt that she had buried deep inside. Tatsumi could see the anguish flicker across her face, the weight she had been carrying alone all this time.
"He told me that if people found out, they'd start questioning whether I could be trusted in a fight," she continued, her hands clenching into fists. "That I'd lose the respect of Night Raid. That Akame would never look at me the same way again. And the worst part is… he wasn't wrong."
She let out a bitter, shaky laugh, her eyes narrowing. "He knew exactly where to hit me, Tatsumi. He always does. That bastard plays people like a game, and I—" She cut herself off, pressing a hand to her forehead as if trying to physically push away the thoughts. "I didn't have a choice."
Tatsumi's chest tightened. He had always known Spy was manipulative, but to weaponize Mine's guilt like this? It made his blood boil. And yet, deep down, he understood why she hadn't told him. Spy had ensured she felt like she was protecting herself—and in a way, protecting the team.
But now the truth was out, and there was no turning back.
Tatsumi inhaled deeply, steadying himself. He had a choice here. He could be angry at her for keeping secrets, for not trusting him, or he could acknowledge that they were both caught in something far bigger than themselves. In the end, he did the only thing that felt right.
He looked her in the eye and told her the truth.
"Bulat's alive too."
Mine's breath caught. Her entire body went rigid as she turned to face him, truly looking at him for the first time that night. Her pink eyes, wide with shock, searched his face for any sign of deception. But there was none. Tatsumi's expression was serious, unwavering.
Her lips parted, but no words came out at first. She shook her head slightly, as if trying to convince herself that she had misheard him. But no, he had said it clearly.
"…What?"
"Bulat. Medic saved him. Just like he did with Sheele."
Mine took a step back, pressing a hand to her temple as if physically trying to process what she was hearing. "No… that… that shouldn't be possible."
Tatsumi grimaced. "Yeah. That's what I thought too. But he's alive. I haven't seen him directly yet, but just knowing that he might actually be out there... it's like my brain refuses to believe it. But Spy, he wasn't joking. He told me straight to my face. The way he said it, the way he enjoyed watching my reaction, I knew he wasn't lying."
Mine's breath hitched. "So you don't know for sure? You haven't actually seen Bulat yourself?"
Tatsumi exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "No. But that's why I came back. I needed to see for myself. I have to. Because if he's really back… then what does that even mean? What did they do to him?"
Mine hugged her arms, her fingers digging into her sleeves. "This… this is insane. First Sheele, now Bulat. What the hell are they doing to people?"
Tatsumi clenched his fists. "That's what I need to find out."
Mine's arms wrapped around herself, an involuntary reaction to the weight of what she was hearing. "Tatsumi… what if this isn't just about bringing people back? What if there's something else going on?"
Tatsumi exhaled. He had been asking himself the same thing since the moment he heard the truth. And now, with Sheele in the mix, the answers felt further away than ever.
Spy, still wrapped in his disguise as Tatsumi, stood in the grand hall of the Jaegers' headquarters, the cold stone walls reflecting the dim torchlight. The scent of oil and steel lingered in the air, and the flickering light cast elongated shadows that made the already imposing figures of the Jaegers seem even more formidable. He maintained his composure, his posture relaxed yet upright, his expression neutral. Every move was calculated; he had spent years perfecting the art of deception, and now, he was walking among the enemy.
Wave, ever the enthusiastic warrior, stepped forward with a wide grin. "Hey! Glad to have you with us! I'm Wave!" He extended his hand eagerly, his demeanor open and trusting. His eyes carried none of the suspicion that the others harbored, making him an easy target for manipulation.
Spy took his hand with a firm shake, forcing a polite smile. Zhis one is naive, he mused. A simple man with a simple mind. He vill be easy to manipulate. Yet he made a note to tread carefully; even fools could be dangerous if underestimated.
Kurome stood a few feet away, her crimson eyes watching him intently. She made no move to introduce herself, instead tilting her head slightly, scrutinizing every inch of him. Something is off... she thought. Tatsumi was nervous before. Now he's too composed. Her fingers twitched near her belt, where her deadly Teigu rested. She wouldn't act yet—she never struck without certainty—but Spy knew she would be watching closely.
Bols, clad in his massive mask, nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing. His imposing presence loomed over the group, yet his mind wandered to his wife and child. If he is fighting for justice, then I have no reason to distrust him. But... I sense something different in him. He was the least likely to act on suspicion but still another piece on the board to consider.
Dr. Stylish practically vibrated with excitement, stepping forward with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh my, such perfect musculature! So lean yet strong! The way you fought in the tournament was simply divine! I can already tell—oh, we'll have so much fun together, Tatsumi~!" His gloved hands hovered far too close to Spy's arms, as if itching to examine him further.
Spy subtly stepped back, his inner disgust masked by a forced chuckle. Zhis one... is trouble. A man who enjoys tearing apart flesh vill not hesitate to poke holes in a disguise. He would have to avoid prolonged interactions with him at all costs.
Then, Esdeath spoke, her voice smooth yet laced with a quiet menace. "I hope you don't disappoint me, Tatsumi."
Spy turned his attention to her, bowing slightly in respect, careful not to overdo it. "Of course, madame. I will not."
Esdeath's icy gaze studied him, searching for weakness. She had chosen him for his strength, his potential, and the challenge he presented. But there was something in his demeanor that intrigued her. He seems different… more confident. Has the thrill of victory changed him? She smirked slightly. Good. A man should be strong.
Spy held her gaze for a moment longer before straightening, his mind already working on his next moves. Step one: earn zheir trust. Step two: learn zheir secrets. Step three… dismantle zhem from vithin.
Then, a sharp, almost manic voice cut through the air. "Justice always prevails! And now you fight for it, Tatsumi! I knew you had it in you!"
Seryu Ubiquitous had arrived, her ever-present grin wide with unrestrained zeal. She stepped forward, fists clenched with excitement, and beside her, the massive form of Koro growled approvingly. Her entire body practically radiated exhilaration, as if this was a moment she had been waiting for.
Spy, familiar with her unstable nature, kept his expression even, but inwardly, he tensed. Zhis one… is a wild card. She believes too strongly, sees only black and white. If she suspects anything, she vill not stop until she has my head.
Seryu's eyes gleamed with an unsettling fervor. Tatsumi was always hesitant, always doubtful… but now? Now he stands before us as a true warrior of justice! Esdeath must have truly inspired him! I was right about him all along!
Spy forced a small nod. "Yes... justice." The words felt almost venomous on his tongue, but he played the part perfectly.
Koro barked in approval, and Seryu beamed. "Together, we'll purge all evil! Isn't that right, Tatsumi?!"
Spy merely smiled. If I do this right, zhis lunatic vill never see it coming.
As the introductions concluded, the Jaegers began to disperse, but Esdeath motioned for "Tatsumi" to stay behind. Spy remained composed as she approached, the air around her crackling with an almost tangible presence. "Come with me. There are things you should know about your new role."
Spy followed, knowing that this next conversation would determine the course of his infiltration. Each step he took carried both opportunity and peril, and he would have to navigate Esdeath's curiosity as carefully as he had navigated countless battlefields before.
Back with the rest of the Jaegers, Seryu continued to chatter excitedly, her gaze occasionally drifting toward where Esdeath had taken Tatsumi. "I just knew he would be a perfect fit for us! What do you think, Wave?"
Wave chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, he seems like a solid guy. Honestly, I think this will be good for him. We're all pretty strong, but he's got potential."
Kurome remained silent, watching the hallway where Spy had disappeared. Something isn't right… but I'll wait. If I'm correct, he'll slip up eventually.
Dr. Stylish adjusted his glasses, already planning the various "tests" he wanted to conduct. "Oh, this is going to be so fun!~"
Spy had successfully embedded himself into the Jaegers, but the real battle had just begun.
