The training room's dawn light cast long shadows as Han Minwoo adjusted his stance, wind swirling around his fingers in preparation. Across from him, Jett bounced on her toes, her usual pre-training energy notably subdued. They'd been practicing synchronized wind techniques for weeks now, but today something felt off.
"Ready?" he called out, raising his hands.
"Always," Jett replied, but her voice lacked its typical confidence.
They moved in unison, their wings converging in the center of the room. The exercise required perfect timing—Minwoo would create a controlled updraft while Jett generated horizontal gusts, combining their abilities to simulate battlefield conditions. But as their powers met, Jett's wind faltered, disrupting the delicate balance.
"Damn it," she muttered, her hands falling to her sides.
Minwoo lowered his hands, concern creeping into his voice. "That's the third time this morning. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on," Jett snapped, then immediately looked apologetic. "Sorry, I just... I don't know. Can we try again?"
But when they attempted the technique once more, the same thing happened. Jett's wind patterns were erratic, lacking the precision that had made her legendary among the Protocol agents.
"You're holding back again," Jett said suddenly, frustration evident in her tone.
"What?" Minwoo blinked, taken aback.
"Every time we train, every time we're on a mission together, you hold back. It seems like you're afraid that I will break if you use your full power. Her hands clenched into fists. "I'm not made of glass, Minwoo."
The accusation hit harder than expected. Minwoo found himself struggling for words, the weight of his protective instincts warring with his respect for his sister's abilities. "I'm not—"
"Yes, you are." Jett's voice softened, but the hurt remained. "You treat me like I'm still the little sister who needed saving. But I'm a VALORANT agent, same as you. Same as everyone else here."
They stood in silence for a moment, the training room's hum filling the space between them. Finally, Minwoo let his shoulders drop.
"You want to know the truth? Occasionally I look at you, and I still see the kid who used to climb too high in trees just to prove she could. She was the one who would bravely put herself in danger without hesitation.
"And you see someone who needs protecting."
"I see someone I can't bear to lose again."
The words hung in the air between them. Jett's expression shifted, anger giving way to understanding.
"Again?"
Minwoo ran a hand through his hair, the weight of his dual existence pressing down. "In my previous life, I had people I cared about. These were people I was unable to save. When I got my memories back, when I realized who you were..." He met her eyes. "The thought of failing you the way I failed them terrifies me."
They moved to the common area after ending their training session early. The morning shift was just beginning, with Sage reviewing mission reports at one table while Yoru examined his dimensional mask at another. Phoenix sat near the window, scrolling through news feeds on his tablet, but Minwoo noticed how the others gave him and Jett space without making it obvious.
"You know what the worst part is?" Jett said, settling into a chair across from him. "Sometimes I wonder if Mom and Dad would be proud of me or just you."
The admission hit Minwoo like a physical blow. "Jett..."
"No, let me finish." She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "You got their genius, their strategic thinking, their ability to see three steps ahead. You're the bridge between worlds, the reincarnated soul with ancient wisdom. I just got... this." She gestured at the air, a small whirlwind forming around her fingers before dissipating.
"Just?" Minwoo stared at her in disbelief. "Jett, you're one of the most skilled agents in the Protocol. Your reaction time is inhuman; your tactical mobility has saved more lives than I can count—"
"But I don't feel special like you do."
The words struck at something deep in Minwoo's chest. He reflected on all the times he had struggled with the heavy burden of his memories, feeling like someone who didn't truly belong in either life.
"You want to know something?" he said quietly. "Every day I wake up wondering if I'm Han Minwoo or Alex Han. Am I the brother you deserve, or just some stranger wearing his face? You think you're not special, but you're the one thing that makes me feel real. That makes me feel like I belong somewhere."
Jett's eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in years, Minwoo saw genuine surprise on her face.
"When I watch you move in combat, when I see you make split-second decisions that save the mission, when you laugh at Phoenix's terrible jokes—that's when I remember what it means to be human. Not some cosmic bridge or reincarnated soul, just... your brother."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken truths settling between them. Then Jett reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
"We're both idiots, aren't we?"
"Probably," Minwoo agreed, managing a smile.
"Oi, sorry to interrupt the family moment," Phoenix's voice cut through their conversation. He approached their table with a tablet in hand, his usual easy grin replaced by something more serious. "But Cypher just sent some important intel that you need to review."
Minwoo and Jett exchanged glances as Phoenix set the tablet down between them. The screen showed a map of London's East End, marked with several red dots indicating unusual radianite signatures.
"Kingdom Corp?" Jett asked, leaning forward.
"Unknown, but the energy patterns are unlike anything we've seen before," Phoenix said, though something in his voice suggested he knew more than he was letting on. "Brimstone wants a small team to investigate. Discreet insertion, minimal contact."
"When do we leave?" Minwoo asked.
"That's the thing," Phoenix said, running a hand through his hair. "My old neighborhood is where most of the signatures are located." If we're going in quiet, you'll need someone who knows the area."
Jett looked between Phoenix and Minwoo, then back at the map. "So it's the three of us?"
"Looks like it," Phoenix confirmed, but his usual enthusiasm was notably absent.
As they gathered around the tablet for a more detailed briefing, Minwoo caught Jett's eye. Their earlier conversation remained unfinished, but he could see a new determination in her gaze. They'd face whatever awaited them in London together, as equals, partners, and the family they chose.
"Well then," Jett said, her trademark grin finally returning. "Looks like we're going to London."
The transport's engines hummed steadily as they crossed the English Channel, but the usual pre-mission banter was notably absent. Phoenix sat across from Minwoo and Jett, staring out the small porthole at the gray waters below. His fingers drummed against his knee in an unconscious rhythm, and more than once Minwoo caught him checking his phone only to put it away without reading anything.
"You know," Jett said, stretching her legs out, "I've never been to London before. I always wanted to see Big Ben, ride the Underground, and try proper fish and chips." She paused, studying Phoenix's profile. "However, I suspect we won't have time for sightseeing."
"Probably not," Phoenix replied absently, then seemed to catch himself. "Though if we finish early, I could show you some good spots. Real London, not the tourist traps."
"How long has it been since you've been back?" Minwoo asked gently.
Phoenix's drumming stopped. "Two years, three months. Not since..." He trailed off, then forced a smile. "Not since I got the call-up to the Protocol. I haven't exactly had time for family visits, have I?
But there was something else in his voice, a tension that spoke of more than just busy schedules. Minwoo exchanged a glance with Jett, who was clearly picking up on the same undercurrent.
"Must be weird," Jett offered, "going back to where you grew up after everything that's changed."
"Yeah, 'weird's one word for it. Phoenix finally looked away from the porthole. "Do you ever wonder what people think when they see you now? Like, the people who knew you before you became..." He gestured vaguely at himself. "This?"
"All the time," Minwoo admitted. "Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder if my parents would recognize who I've become."
"At least yours would be proud," Phoenix said quietly. "Mine... let's just say they had different plans for their son than 'international superhero.'"
The transport's intercom crackled to life. "ETA fifteen minutes. Prepare for landing."
As London's skyline came into view, Minwoo watched Phoenix's demeanor shift. The easy confidence that usually radiated from him seemed to dim, replaced by something more guarded.
They touched down at a discrete airfield outside the city, where a nondescript van waited to take them to the East End. As they drove through London's streets, Minwoo found himself fascinated by the city's character—centuries of history layered on top of each other, modern glass towers standing beside Victorian terraces.
"There," Phoenix said suddenly, pointing to a converted warehouse with colorful murals covering its brick walls. "That's where I used to train. I used to train at a local boxing gym. Got my start there before..." He cleared his throat. "Before university."
"Boxing?" Jett perked up with interest. "That explains the footwork. I always wondered where you learned to move like that."
"It was my dad's idea," Phoenix said, a fond smile creeping across his face. "Said if I was going to have a smart mouth, I better learn to back it up with my fists.
They passed a secondary school, its playground empty in the afternoon light. Phoenix's expression grew more distant.
"That's where I met my best mate, Marcus. We were going to change the world, you know? We're going to start our own business, maybe get into music production." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Funny how life works out."
The van stopped at a red light, and through the windscreen, Minwoo watched a group of young men cross the street. One of them looked twice at their vehicle, his gaze lingering on Phoenix's profile.
"Shit," Phoenix muttered, slumping lower in his seat.
But it was too late. The young man was already tapping on his friends' shoulders, pointing at the van. Minwoo couldn't hear what they were saying, but their expressions were a mix of recognition and something darker.
"Friends of yours?" Jett asked.
"Were," Phoenix replied tersely.
The light changed, allowing them to continue driving, but the damage had already occurred. Word would spread that Jamie Adeyemi was back in the neighborhood.
Twenty minutes later, they parked near Victoria Park and began walking toward the coordinates Cypher had provided. The afternoon sun slanted through the trees, creating long shadows along the paths where joggers and dog walkers went about their daily routines.
"It's nice," Minwoo observed, trying to lighten the mood. "Peaceful."
"It is now," Phoenix agreed. "But this area... it's seen some rough times. Especially after First Light."
They were walking down a residential street lined with terraced houses when the first group approached them. Three young men, likely in their early twenties, exuded a confident, territorial swagger.
"Well, well," the tallest one called out. "If it isn't Jamie bloody Adeyemi."
Phoenix stopped walking, his shoulders tensing. "Alright, Marcus."
The teenager was indeed Marcus's closest companion. Minwoo studied the young man's face, noting the mixture of hurt and anger in his expression. There was history here, complicated and painful.
"Heard you were back," Marcus said, stopping a few feet away. "At first, I couldn't believe you were back. "Thought you were too good for the old neighborhood now."
"It's not like that," Phoenix started, but Marcus cut him off.
"No?" Then what's it like, Jamie? From my perspective, it appears that you vanished without even saying goodbye, and now you've returned with your affluent government associates.
The other two young men flanked Marcus, their posture aggressive. Minwoo felt his wind stir instinctively, but a sharp look from Phoenix kept him still.
"You think I wanted this?" Phoenix's voice rose slightly. "You think any of us asked for these powers? For the responsibility that comes with them?"
"Powers," Marcus scoffed. "Right. The great Jamie Adeyemi, too special for normal people now."
"That's enough." Jett stepped forward, her voice piercing through the tension like a blade. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"And who's this gentleman then?" Marcus turned his attention to her, his smile unpleasant. "Another one of his superhero mates?"
"I'm someone who's watched him save lives," Jett replied evenly. "Someone who's seen him put himself between innocent people and things that would give you nightmares. So before you judge his choices, think about what else he could have done.
Marcus's expression flickered, uncertainty creeping in. But pride kept him from backing down.
"Easy words from someone who doesn't know the real Jamie. The one who promised he'd never leave his friends behind."
Phoenix flinched as if struck. He spoke in a barely audible whisper.
"You think it was easy? You think I wanted to leave everything behind? Everyone I cared about?" He stepped closer to Marcus. "But what was I supposed to do? Remain here and act as if nothing has changed? Pretend I wasn't dangerous?"
"Dangerous?" Marcus laughed harshly. "To whom? Us? We're your mates, Jamie. We would have figured it out."
"No," Phoenix said firmly. "You wouldn't have. Because you can't understand what it's like to have this inside you, to know that one moment of lost control could hurt the people you love most."
The street fell quiet except for the distant sound of traffic. Minwoo watched the interplay of emotions across both young men's faces—grief, anger, love, and loss all tangled together.
"I miss you, you bastard," Marcus said finally, his voice thick. "We all do. But that doesn't mean we forgive you for how you left."
Before Phoenix could respond, Minwoo's rift sense suddenly flared. Dimensional disturbances were rippling through the area, stronger than anything in Cypher's initial report.
"We need to go," he said urgently. "Now."
Phoenix looked torn, but duty won out. "I'm sorry, Marcus. Maybe when this is over..."
"Yeah," Marcus said, already turning away. "Maybe."
As they hurried toward the source of the disturbances, Jett fell into step beside Phoenix.
"In all honesty," she whispered, "I believe you made the correct decision." It hurts, but sometimes protecting the people we love means staying away from them."
Phoenix nodded without speaking, but Minwoo caught the grateful look he shot her.
The trail led them to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the industrial district. As they approached, Minwoo's senses screamed warnings. Whatever was happening inside was big, and it was getting worse.
"There," he pointed to scorch marks on the warehouse's exterior walls. "Those aren't old."
Phoenix halted abruptly, fixating on the scorch marks. His face had gone pale.
"This is where it happened," he said quietly. "Where I first..."
The warehouse door stood slightly ajar, and strange lights flickered from within. As Minwoo pushed it open, he half-expected to locate their target inside.
Instead, they found something much more personal: graffiti covering the interior walls, spray-painted images depicting Phoenix in various scenarios. Some showed him as a hero, flames dancing around him as he protected civilians. Others portrayed him as a monster, a figure of destruction and fear.
In the center of it all, someone had painted a single word in letters three feet high: "TRAITOR."
Phoenix gazed at the artwork, his fists tightly clenched at his sides.
"Well," he said finally, his voice carefully controlled. "Home, my dear home."
Phoenix's Perspective
As I stood in that warehouse, gazing at the walls, I briefly forgot that I was Jamie Adeyemi, the VALORANT agent. I was just a nineteen-year-old kid who thought he was untouchable, right up until the moment everything went wrong.
"I was just a kid who thought he was untouchable..." I said aloud, not sure if I was talking to Minwoo and Jett or to the ghosts in this place.
The scorch marks on the walls hadn't faded much in two years. If anything, they seemed darker now, more permanent. The memory itself evokes a similar feeling.
Three years earlier...
The bass line thumped through my chest as I pushed through the crowd, my plastic cup in hand, and that particular kind of university arrogance made everything seem possible. We intended the warehouse party to be a secret, a gathering of just students and a few locals, a place where the authorities wouldn't interfere.
"Jamie!" Zara's voice cut through the music. She was beautiful in that effortless way that made my stomach flip, dark skin glowing under the colored lights, wearing a dress that probably cost more than my monthly budget. "You made it!"
"I wouldn't miss it," I grinned while offering her my cup. "Though I'm still not sure how Marcus managed to hire a proper sound system."
"His cousin's in the business," she laughed, accepting the drink. "Perks of growing up round here."
Marcus appeared at my elbow, grinning like the cat who'd gotten the cream. "Not bad for a warehouse in Hackney, eh?" Wait until you see what we've got planned for midnight."
The party was everything a twenty-year-old could want—good music, better company, and the kind of freedom that comes with being young and stupid. I was showing off, naturally. Jamie Adeyemi commanded the attention of everyone with his backflips off shipping containers and hilarious jokes.
"You're mental," Zara said, but she was smiling as I landed another flip. "One day, you're going to injure your neck."
"Not me," I said, pulling her close as the music shifted to something slower. "I'm invincible, me."
God, I was an idiot.
It started as a light in the sky—distant, pulsing, like some kind of aurora. Everyone stopped dancing to look, pointing and speculating about what it could be. Someone mentioned a military exercise. "Northern lights," suggested another.
Then the light got brighter.
And brighter.
"Everyone out!" Marcus shouted, but it was too late. The light exploded outward in a wave that hit the earth like a tsunami made of pure energy. The warehouse shook, windows blowing out in sequence, and suddenly the air itself felt electric.
That's when I felt it for the first time—heat building in my chest, spreading down my arms to my fingertips. At first I thought it was adrenaline, the natural response to danger. But when I looked down at my hands, they were glowing.
"What the hell..." I stared at my palms, watching sparks dance between my fingers like tiny fireworks.
Zara was beside me, her eyes wide with wonder rather than fear. "Jamie, how are you doing that?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. The heat was building, becoming harder to control. "I don't know what's happening."
That's when the decorations caught fire.
The streamers hanging from the ceiling burst into flame first, then the banners Marcus had spent all day putting up. The fire spread fast, too fast, and everyone started screaming.
"No, no, no, stop!" I held my hands away from my body, trying to make it stop, but the flames only got bigger. They were coming from me, I realized with growing horror. I was doing this.
Marcus ran toward me, maybe trying to help or stop me. I'll never know which, because when he grabbed my arm, he screamed.
The smell of burning flesh is something you never forget. The sound of your closest companion wailing in agony due to your actions lingers in your memory forever.
"Jamie, stop!" Zara was backing away now, that look of wonder replaced by something else. Terror. "Please, just stop!"
But I couldn't stop. The power was feeding on itself, growing stronger with my panic. I could feel the heat radiating outward, igniting everything it touched. Amidst the chaos, people were running and pushing toward the exits while I stood in the center like some kind of demon.
That's when I saw her face—really saw it. Zara wasn't looking at her friend anymore. She was looking at a monster. The creature, bearing a striking resemblance to Jamie's face, was uncannily similar to the boy she had laughed with just moments before.
The look in her eyes broke something inside me. I was filled with fear, disgust, and an unwavering conviction that I posed a threat. I no longer belonged among ordinary people.
I ran. I pushed through the burning debris and scattered bodies, out into the London night, where the air was cold and clean, devoid of the smell of smoke and terror. Behind me, I could hear sirens approaching and people calling my name, but I kept running until my legs gave out.
I found myself collapsed against a brick wall in an alley three miles away, watching flames still flicker across my knuckles. The power had diminished in intensity but was still present. Never gone.
The next few weeks were the worst of my life. I couldn't return home—how does one explain to their parents that their son has become a potential fire risk? I couldn't return to university because the warehouse incident was widely reported in the local news, with headlines like "Radiant Menace in East London" screaming from every publication.
I lived rough, staying in abandoned buildings, learning to control the flames through trial and error. Mostly error. I burned through three sleeping bags and more clothes than I could count before I figured out how to keep the power contained.
The loneliness was the worst part. I concealed myself in the shadows, certain that I was a cursed entity unworthy of human interaction.
That's how Brimstone and Sage found me—huddled in a derelict factory, practicing flame control by melting scrap metal and trying not to think about Marcus's scream.
"Jamie Adeyemi?" The man's voice was American, military. "My name is Liam Byrne. This is Sage. We'd like to talk to you."
I spun around, flames erupting from my hands on instinct. But the woman—Sage—just smiled calmly, her own power glowing softly around her fingers.
"Easy," she said gently. "We're not here to hurt you. We're here to help."
"Help?" I laughed bitterly. "Right. You're here to lock me up somewhere, to keep the monster away from decent people."
"Actually," Brimstone said as he settled down on a chunk of concrete, as if he were having a casual conversation, "we're here to offer you a job."
They told me about VALORANT, about other people like me who'd found purpose in protecting the world from threats most people couldn't imagine. They talked about family, about belonging, and about using power responsibly instead of just hiding from it.
"Your power doesn't define you," Sage said finally. "What you do with it does."
I thought about Marcus, about Zara, and about all the normal life I'd lost. Then I considered the prospect of spending the rest of my existence hiding in abandoned buildings, living in fear of my shadow.
"When do I start?" I asked.
Present Day
"The hardest part wasn't learning control," I said, turning away from the graffiti-covered walls. "It was learning to forgive myself for what happened before I had it."
Minwoo and Jett were watching me with expressions I recognized—not pity, but understanding. We all carried scars from our first manifestations, from the moment our lives changed forever.
"Marcus," Jett said quietly. "Marcus was the one who sustained burns."
I nodded. "His arm sustained second-degree burns," I stated. Healed fine, no permanent damage, but..." I gestured at the walls around us. "Some wounds go deeper than skin."
"Is that why you left?" Minwoo asked. "Not just because of the powers, but because of what happened to him?"
"Partly. But mostly because I couldn't stand the way everyone looked at me afterward. Like I was a bomb waiting to go off." I managed a weak smile. "Turns out I wasn't wrong about that part."
We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of history settling around us like dust. Then Minwoo's expression sharpened, his rift sense kicking in.
"We're not alone," he said quietly.
That's when the warehouse lights came on, and we realized the real trap wasn't the one we'd been expecting.
The warehouse blazed with sudden illumination, revealing that we weren't alone. Figures emerged from behind stacked crates and shipping containers—at least a dozen of them, armed and moving with professional precision. But something about their movements felt wrong, too coordinated for common criminals.
"Well, well," a voice called out from the shadows. "Phoenix has come home."
A woman stepped into the light, middle-aged with graying hair and the kind of bearing that spoke of military training. Despite wearing civilian clothes, her tactical vest and the advanced weapon in her hands conveyed a different story.
"You know her?" Jett whispered, her hands already glowing with wind energy.
"I have never seen her before in my life," I replied, as flames began to dance around my fingers. But something about this felt orchestrated, personal.
"Agent Adeyemi," the woman continued, her voice carrying across the warehouse with practiced authority. "Or do you prefer Phoenix now?" It's difficult to keep track of all your identities."
Minwoo stepped slightly forward, his chin stirring defensively. "Who are you?" "What do you want?"
"Dr. Sarah Chen, Kingdom Corporation R&D division." She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "As for what I want—I want to field-test some new equipment. And your friend here has kindly volunteered to be our subject."
The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. This wasn't about radianite smuggling or dimensional rifts. The story was about me. I was the child who had set fire to a warehouse three years prior, garnering media attention for his actions.
"The extremist reports were fake," I said. "You've been tracking me since the beginning."
"Since your first manifestation, actually," Dr. Chen confirmed. "Kingdom has been genuinely interested in your particular... development curve. Most Radiants show consistent power levels after their initial awakening. But you've continued to grow stronger, more controlled. That makes you an excellent test case."
The armed figures raised their weapons, and I caught sight of the devices mounted underneath the barrels. Radianite dampening fields—I could feel their effect already, a subtle drain on my power like someone had opened a valve.
"Testing what exactly?" Jett demanded, wind whipping around her in tight spirals.
"Whether our new suppression technology can neutralize even the most volatile Radiants," Dr. Chen replied, "don't worry—if it works properly, you won't feel a thing." If it doesn't..." She shrugged. "Well, I suppose we'll learn something either way."
"Bloody hell," I muttered, assessing our tactical situation. A dozen armed operatives, advanced anti-Radiant tech, and we were boxed in with limited cover. "Any brilliant ideas?"
"Actually, yes," Minwoo said, his voice taking on that calm certainty that meant he'd shifted into strategic mode. "Jett, on my signal, create a windwall between us and the dampening fields. Phoenix, when those fields go down, I need you to provide area denial—but controlled burns only."
"What about you?" Jett asked.
"I'm going to introduce them to some creative rift manipulation," Minwoo replied, and I caught the edge of something dangerous in his smile. "Three, two, one—"
Jett moved first, her winds exploding outward in a barrier that disrupted the dampening fields' coherence. Immediately, I felt my power surge back to full strength, flames roaring to life around my hands.
"Light 'em up!" I shouted, sending controlled bursts of fire toward the operatives' positions. Sage taught us restraint, so we couldn't kill, but we could make them take cover and break formation.
That's when Minwoo did something I'd never seen before. Instead of sealing rifts, he started opening them—tiny tears in space that redirected the operatives' suppression beams back at their equipment. The feedback overloaded several dampening units, sparks flying as advanced technology met dimensional physics.
"Impossible," Dr. Chen gasped. "The rift manipulation shouldn't work like that!"
"Yeah, well," I called out, advancing on her position with flames trailing behind me, "turns out your intel was a bit out of date!"
The battle was brief but intense. Together, we gradually undermined their tactical advantage. Jett's winds kept their suppression fields disrupted while I provided cover fire and area denial. Minwoo's creative use of rifts turned their weapons against them, creating a feedback loop that left half their equipment smoking.
When the dust settled, Dr. Chen found herself surrounded, her operatives either unconscious or fleeing. But instead of surrender, she was smiling.
"Fascinating data collection," she said, seemingly unbothered by her capture. "Particularly your rift work, Agent Han. Our models didn't account for that level of spatial manipulation."
"Models?" Minwoo stepped closer, his expression darkening. "You've been studying all of us."
"Of course. Kingdom Corporation has extensive files on every VALORANT agent. Your psychological profiles, power development curves, tactical preferences..." Her smile widened. "Did you think you were operating in a vacuum? Every mission, every public appearance, every time you've used your abilities—we've been watching. Learning."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. Kingdom had been analyzing everything we had done and every life we had saved as if it were lab data.
"The question is," Dr. Chen continued, "what are you going to do about it?" Kill me? Our behavioral analysis suggests that killing me would be a departure from our usual behavior. Arrest me? Kingdom has excellent lawyers who will release me within forty-eight hours. Or perhaps you'll try to intimidate me? I'm afraid I've seen your files, Phoenix. You're much too heroic for effective intimidation."
I felt my flames flicker with anger, but before I could respond, Jett stepped between us.
"Maybe," she said conversationally, "we'll just leave you here to explain to Kingdom why their expensive equipment is slag, their operatives need medical attention, and their 'test subject' walked away without a scratch."
Dr. Chen's confidence wavered slightly.
"Though I suppose," Jett continued, examining her fingernails with studied casualness, "we could always mention to the London Metropolitan Police that Kingdom Corporation has been conducting illegal weapons tests on British soil. I'm sure they'd be genuinely interested in that conversation."
"You wouldn't—"
"Try us," Minwoo said quietly, and something in his voice made Dr. Chen take a step back.
We left her there with her broken equipment and unconscious operatives, but not before Cypher's remote drones had recorded everything. By the time we reached our extraction point, Kingdom's lawyers would be fielding some very uncomfortable questions.
The safe house was a nondescript flat in Camden, the kind of place that could house visiting tourists or clandestine operations with equal discretion. As we waited for extraction, the adrenaline of the battle faded, leaving room for more complicated emotions.
"So," I said, settling into a battered armchair, "Kingdom's been studying us like lab rats. That's not ominous at all."
"The question is what they're planning to do with all that data," Minwoo replied, pacing near the window. "Anti-Radiant technology is one thing, but this felt more comprehensive. More strategic."
Jett sprawled on the sofa, but I could see the tension in her posture. "They knew exactly how to bait us. Use Phoenix's history, his connection to this place."
"They know about all of us," I said quietly. "Our powers, our personalities, our weaknesses. Everything we care about."
We sat with that uncomfortable truth for a moment. The idea that everything we'd done in service of protecting the world had been catalogued and analyzed by our enemies was a particular kind of violation.
"You know what the worst part is?" I said, "Finally." "They're not wrong about us. We are predictable. We do follow patterns. And if they understand those patterns well enough..."
"They can manipulate us," Minwoo finished. "Use our own heroic instincts against us."
"But they made one mistake," Jett said, sitting up straighter. "They assumed we'd follow their script. They thought you'd be alone, Phoenix. They believed they could isolate you by exploiting your guilt and history.
She was right. The whole operation had been designed around the assumption that I'd be operating solo, crippled by regret over my past. They hadn't accounted for the people who'd become my family, who'd stand with me regardless of my mistakes.
"You two are lucky," I said, looking between them. "You have each other. You have a blood family, a shared history, and all of that.
"You have us too, you muppet," Jett replied firmly. "That's what family means—it's not just about blood. It's about the individuals who stand by you during challenging times.
Minwoo nodded, settling into the chair across from me. "Sage was right when she recruited you. Your power doesn't define you—what you do with it does. And what you've done is save lives, protect the innocent, and stand between the darkness and the light."
The weight of those words settled over us. I contemplated Marcus, Zara, and the numerous relationships I had shattered in the process of shielding others from my potential. But sitting here with Jett and Minwoo, I realized something important—I'd found my family anyway. It was not the family I had lost, but the one I had chosen.
"I'm supposed to be this bridge between worlds," Minwoo said quietly, echoing thoughts I didn't know he'd been carrying. "Between human and Radiant, between past and future." But occasionally I feel like I'm just falling through the cracks.
"Hey," Jett reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "You don't have to carry that weight alone. That's what we're here for—to share the load."
"Both of you," I added. "This whole 'lone wolf' thing is overrated. Trust me, I tried it."
Minwoo managed a small smile. "You know, in my previous life, I thought leadership meant having all the answers. But maybe... maybe it's really about knowing when to ask for help."
"There's the genius I know," Jett grinned. "However, next time, it would be better to ask for permission before you start opening rifts in reality." That was terrifying and amazing in equal measure.
"You should have seen your windwall," Minwoo replied. "I've never seen suppression fields disrupted like that. How did you know it would work?"
"I didn't," Jett admitted. "But I trusted that if I gave you the opening, you'd figure out the rest."
And there it was—the thing Kingdom's behavioral analysis had missed. Trust. You were ready to take a risk, trusting that those around you would support you.
"They're going to keep coming," I said, the tactical implications settling in. "Kingdom, I mean. This was just a test run."
"Let them come," Jett said with characteristic defiance. "We'll be ready."
"Together," Minwoo added, and something in his voice suggested he was making a promise as much as a statement.
The extraction call came twenty minutes later—Brimstone's voice crackling through the secure comm, confirming our pickup location. As we gathered our gear, I caught sight of myself in the flat's mirror. For the first time in years, the face looking back at me didn't seem like a stranger wearing Jamie Adeyemi's features. It was just me—Phoenix, VALORANT agent, part of something bigger than my mistakes.
The flight back to Seoul passed in comfortable quiet, but it was the kind of silence that came from understanding rather than exhaustion. We had not only disrupted the operations of the kingdom, but we had also demonstrated our resilience in high-stakes situations.
I watched the clouds drift past the transport's windows, thinking about the warehouse walls and the word "TRAITOR" painted in letters three feet high. It's fascinating how perspective can alter our perception. Three years ago, I'd seen that place as the site of my greatest failure. Now it felt more like the beginning of my real story.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Minwoo asked, settling into the seat across from me.
"I'm contemplating the analysis Kingdom conducted on us," I responded. "They believed they understood us completely, including our patterns, weaknesses, and predictable heroic responses."
"But they missed the most important thing," Jett added, looking up from the mission report she was reviewing. "They studied us as individuals, not as a team."
"Exactly." I leaned forward, warming to the subject. "Dr. Chen expected me to be isolated, crippled by guilt over my past. She probably had psychological profiles detailing my abandonment issues and my fear of hurting people I care about."
"Instead she found someone who'd learned to share those burdens," Minwoo observed.
"Thanks to you two." I grinned at them both. "Kingdom can analyze solo agents all they want, but they can't account for the exponential factor of people who trust each other completely."
Jett's expression grew thoughtful. "You know, I've been thinking about that windwall technique. The way the suppression fields interacted with dimensional physics... there might be applications we haven't considered."
"Such as?" Minwoo leaned forward with interest.
"Well, if we can disrupt their suppression technology using combined wind and rift manipulation, what else could we accomplish? Imagine if we could create stable dimensional anchors using wind currents as guides..."
They launched into a technical discussion that went over my head pretty quickly, but I found myself smiling as I listened. Kingdom's analysis missed how we improved each other and inspired innovations we couldn't have achieved alone.
"The real question," I interjected when they paused for breath, "is what Kingdom plans to do with all that data they've collected." Such an effort wasn't just about testing anti-Radiant tech. This felt like reconnaissance for something bigger."
Minwoo's expression darkened. "Agreed. The way Dr. Chen discussed our behavioral patterns, our tactical preferences... they're building detailed models of how we operate."
"Which means they're planning to counter us specifically," Jett concluded, "not just Radiants in general, but VALORANT agents in particular."
The implications loomed over us like heavy clouds. It was one thing to fight unknown enemies or random threats. It was another entirely to face opponents who'd studied your every move, catalogued your strengths and weaknesses, and designed their strategy around defeating you personally.
"Let them try," I said finally. "They can analyze our individual patterns all they want, but every time we work together, we create something new. Something unpredictable."
"Like today," Minwoo agreed. "My rift manipulation, Jett's wind disruption, your controlled area denial—that wasn't in any manual or training simulation. That was improvisation born of trust."
"Plus," Jett added with a wicked grin, "now we know they're watching." This means we can provide them with false information, leading them to believe they understand us while we are actually three steps ahead.
I looked between my teammates—no, my family—and felt something settle into place that had been off-kilter for years. Kingdom believed they understood us based on their analysis of our individual profiles. But they'd never account for the alchemy that happened when broken people found each other and became whole.
The Seoul skyline came into view as we began our descent, the city lights stretching endlessly in all directions. Millions of people go about their lives, unaware of the battles fought in shadow to keep their world safe.
"Home," Jett said softly, pressing her face to the window.
"Yeah," I agreed, but I wasn't looking at the city. I was looking at the people who had anchored me in a world that had tried to set me adrift.
The debrief with Brimstone was thorough but routine. We had neutralized the kingdom's operation, destroyed their equipment, and left their personnel to deal with legal complications for months. More importantly, we'd gathered intelligence about their surveillance capabilities and tactical objectives.
"Good work, all of you," Brimstone said as we finished the report. "Get some rest. Something tells me this is just the beginning."
As we walked through the Protocol headquarters toward our quarters, I found myself thinking about the conversation with Marcus in the street. Marcus's eyes were filled with hurt, and his words were tinged with a sense of betrayal. Kingdom had probably counted on my emotional vulnerability, expecting it to compromise my judgment.
They weren't entirely wrong—seeing my old friend again had been painful. But they'd miscalculated the support system I'd found here.
"Jamie?" Jett's voice broke through my thoughts. "Are you alright?"
"Better than okay," I replied, and I meant it. "Just thinking about how much has changed since I left London...
"Regrets?" Minwoo asked.
I considered that as we reached the common area. Through the windows, I could see the lights of Seoul stretching to the horizon, a reminder of all the lives depending on us to get this right.
"No," I said finally. "I regret how I left, but not that I left. Marcus was right about one thing—I did abandon them. But staying would have meant abandoning everyone else."
"The needs of the many," Jett quoted softly.
"Something like that. However, it is beneficial to have people who understand the significance of that choice.
We settled into the comfortable chairs near the window, none of us quite ready to end the day. Shared danger evoked a desire to cling to the aftermath, relishing the simple joy of life and unity.
"Kingdom's going to escalate," Minwoo said eventually. "Today was just a probe, testing our responses. Next time will be worse."
"Then we'll be ready," Jett responded with an unwavering certainty. "All of us, together."
"You know what the funny thing is?" I said this while watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. "Dr. Chen was so focused on my psychological profile, my abandonment issues, and fear of hurting people that she missed the obvious counter-strategy."
"Which is?" Minwoo prompted.
"I already found my family. Are they the ones I feared losing? They're right here." I gestured at them both. "Kingdom can threaten me with isolation all they want, but you can't abandon someone who refuses to let you go."
Jett reached over and punched my arm—not hard, but with enough force to make the point. "Damn right, we won't let you go, you muppet. We now have you under our control.
"Could be worse," Minwoo added with a smile. "Could be stuck with Yoru's cooking."
We laughed at that, the sound echoing through the quiet common area. Outside, Seoul continued its endless dance of light and shadow, but inside these walls, surrounded by people who'd become family, everything felt possible.
Later, alone in my quarters, I found myself writing in the journal Sage had encouraged all of us to keep. The words came slowly at first, then in a rush:
Today I went home and discovered I'd been carrying it with me all along. London will always hold a special place in my heart, yet it no longer feels like my home. Home is the people who, even in your darkest moments, stand by your side. Home is trusting someone to cover your six because you know they'll never let you fall. Home is the family you choose when the family you were born into can't understand who you've become.
Kingdom thinks they know us because they've analyzed our individual patterns. But they've never seen what happens when broken people find each other and refuse to stay broken. They haven't experienced the life-changing impact of trust, where individuals can transcend their individuality by letting go of their individual burdens.
Marcus was right—I did abandon them. But I found something better: people who understand that sometimes love means walking into the fire together, knowing you might not all walk out, but choosing to face it anyway.
Whatever Kingdom has planned, whatever analysis they think gives them an advantage, they're missing the most important variable: we're not just agents following protocols. We're family. And family doesn't surrender.
I closed the journal and looked out at Seoul's skyline one more time. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new threats, and new tests of everything we'd built together. But tonight, surrounded by the knowledge that I wasn't facing them alone, Han Minwoo could rest easy.
The weight of the bridge between worlds didn't have to be carried alone. Occasionally the strongest bridges were built from multiple supports, each one helping the others bear the load.
And if the Kingdom wanted to test that theory, its members were welcome to try.