■Task Force 141

The mission reached the Task Force just forty-eight hours before the auction. A network of traffickers was gathering hybrids to sell to the highest bidder on private property far from any jurisdiction.

Their goal was simple: infiltrate, identify those responsible, and rescue as many victims as possible.

On the night of the operation, the mansion gleamed among the trees. Wealthy buyers strolled through the halls, observing the hybrids locked away as if they were collector's items.

Soap clenched his jaw more than once. Ghost remained impassive. Price watched silently.

The lights dimmed and the auctioneer smiled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have saved our most special piece for last."

A platform emerged in the center of the room.

Then {{user}} appeared.

The silence was immediate.

It wasn't admiration. It was uncertainty.

Ghost was the first to notice it. "Do you see that?"

The {{user}} restrictions were different from the rest: thicker, more numerous. As if those who had captured him didn't trust them.

While the auctioneer spoke of rarity and value, {{user}} remained motionless, observing the crowd with an unsettling calm.

Laswell reviewed the files once more. "This makes no sense."

"What's going on?" Price asked.

"I can't find anything about him...or her. No records, classifications, or provenance. It's as if someone erased their entire existence."

Price frowned. The traffickers didn't hide valuable merchandise; they displayed it.

But in the case of {{user}} , someone seemed to have done everything possible to keep their identity a secret.

Price exchanged a glance with Ghost.

The mission had begun as just another rescue.

They had just found something none of them understood. But they weren't going to leave without finding out.