The orphanage was silent. With the children gone, its usual warmth and chaos had vanished, leaving only the tension of impending war.
In the main hall, Kurogai sat alone on a wooden bench, a loaded pistol resting calmly in his hand. His expression was cold, unflinching. He was waiting—for the enemy.
SCREECH!
The sharp sound of brakes cut through the quiet like a blade.
Outside, ten armored transport vehicles skidded to a halt. Dozens of heavily armed Hydra agents spilled out, surrounding the orphanage in a seamless net. No one rushed in yet. They were awaiting orders.
Kurogai stood by the window, watching without emotion.
"Ten vehicles… roughly twenty soldiers each. Over two hundred."
He quietly assessed their numbers, eyes sharp, heartbeat steady.
Down below, a black-clad officer—the team's commander—raised a communicator to his mouth. His stance was tense, disciplined.
"Commander here. All units in position."
Whitehall's voice crackled coldly through the speaker.
"I only want the bicolor-eyed kid. The rest? Do as you please."
Hydra had beaten S.H.I.E.L.D. to the orphanage.
Though Natasha had already mobilized a team, Whitehall had used his agents embedded within S.H.I.E.L.D. to delay them. A few subtle moves behind the scenes were all it took to slow their response. He'd done this before. It wasn't difficult.
But despite his hatred for Kurogai, Whitehall wasn't here in person.
John Garrett's near-insane rampage during their last encounter still haunted him. The image of that unrelenting, mind-controlled berserker had etched itself into Whitehall's psyche. No—he wouldn't risk facing that kind of power directly again.
Instead, he watched from a nearby rooftop with binoculars, safely observing from the shadows like a chess master moving pawns.
Large-scale Hydra operations like this had become rare in modern times. The age of open warfare had long since passed. Hydra now operated in silence, in shadows. But today was different. Whitehall wasn't thinking like a tactician—he was furious.
Kurogai had humiliated him.
After regaining his youth, Whitehall had tasted death again, and that alone shattered his pride. That a boy could push him so close to the abyss enraged him beyond reason.
And so, he'd made a choice: if sacrificing a few hundred grunts meant reclaiming his pride, then so be it. They were expendable. Hydra always had more.
---
"Move in."
The black commander gave the signal. Dozens of Hydra agents surged toward the orphanage, weapons drawn, boots slamming the ground in sync.
---
Inside, Kurogai's eyes narrowed.
"It's begun."
He reached toward a small switch beside the wall.
Click.
A neon light hanging from the orphanage's entrance flickered on.
Not a trap. Not a weapon. Just light. But there was something else—a mirror, discreetly attached just below the glowing sign.
Light always draws the eye.
As the Hydra soldiers breached the doorway, the sudden flash of the neon sign caught their attention. Instinctively, their gazes snapped toward the light.
And in that moment, reflected in the mirror, they saw a pair of glowing red eyes.
A symbol flared in each eye—an inverted crimson "V," like the wings of a bird mid-flight.
Geass: Absolute Command — Activated.
In the blink of an eye, every soldier who looked into the mirror froze, red light flickering behind their eyes. Their movements halted, bodies stiffening in eerie unison.
Kurogai stood motionless, watching through the mirror's reflection. Only about a quarter of the soldiers had entered from the front entrance—just enough.
The others were still scaling the walls, sneaking through side and back entrances. He hadn't captured all of them, but that wasn't necessary.
He only needed a fraction.
---
"Your command: Kill every other Hydra soldier in this building. Leave me alive."
The red glow surged.
Without hesitation, the controlled soldiers raised their weapons and opened fire on their own comrades, who had just begun flooding the courtyard.
Tat-tat-tat!
Gunfire erupted.
The air filled with the screams of ambushed Hydra agents. Bullets tore through flesh and armor, dropping soldiers before they even knew what was happening.
Controlled agents showed no emotion, no hesitation. Their expressions were blank. Their minds were no longer theirs.
They had one purpose: obey Kurogai.
Blood spilled across the orphanage floor. The very ground that once echoed with laughter was now soaked in crimson.
---
Outside, Whitehall's eyes widened behind his gold-rimmed glasses as he watched the chaos unfold from his perch.
It had begun.
And Kurogai had already made his move.
---
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