The Unfinished War

The fire had burned itself out by morning, leaving nothing behind but smoldering rock and a ruined past.

Jessica stood at the edge of the destruction, the last Oni mask resting in her hands. The weight of it was solid, real, yet it felt like something intangible had settled inside her. A weight she couldn’t shake.

Leanna stood a few paces away, arms crossed, watching Jessica in silence. Olivia sat on a rock nearby, tapping something into her tablet, recording whatever fragments of truth were left.

Yuki was watching Jessica. Jessica felt her stare but didn’t acknowledge it. There was nothing left to say.

Leanna broke the silence first. “It’s over.”

Jessica didn’t look away from the ruins. “No, it isn’t.”

Leanna sighed, running a hand through her dust-covered hair. “Vanguard’s done. We burned it to the ground.”

Jessica finally turned, her eyes sharp. “We burned this to the ground.”

Olivia glanced up from her screen. “She’s right. We cut off a limb. But if Vanguard is as deep as we think, there’s more out there.”

Jessica exhaled slowly, tightening her grip on the mask. The thought had been clawing at her since the fire. Had Vanguard ever truly been one organization? Or was it a Hydra, regrowing, adapting, evolving?

And Mr. Black, he had played them perfectly. She looked at Yuki then. The other woman held her gaze, unreadable as ever. Still standing. Still alive.

Jessica had let her live, but she didn’t know if that had been the right choice. She just looked at her and with a cold demeanor said, “You should know. The only reason you’re walking out of here is because he wouldn’t want me to bury you.”

He also wouldn’t want me to know the truth, she thought.

Yuki tilted her head slightly, as if considering her. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away.

Jessica let her go.

Leanna watched the space where Yuki had vanished. “You want to talk about it?”

Jessica didn’t turn. Her eyes stayed fixed on the burned-out crater. “Later.”

The words  were clipped and final. But it wasn’t a dismissal. Not entirely.

Leanna nodded once, quietly. “Okay.”

---

They left the mountains before dusk, moving quickly, putting distance between themselves and the ruins.

At their safehouse in a distant town, Jessica found the envelope. Sitting on the table. No sign of how it got there. 

She already knew who it was from. Her fingers brushed over the wax seal, unbroken, crisp. No emblem. No insignia. But she knew. She opened it carefully, unfolded the letter inside. A single sheet, thick paper, elegant handwriting.

Well played.

That was all it said. No name. No signature. Jessica felt something cold settle inside her. She hadn’t won. She had done exactly what Mr. Black wanted.

---

That night, Jessica sat alone, the mask on the table in front of her, a glass of whiskey untouched beside it. She traced her fingers along the surface, feeling the carved lines, the history embedded in it.

Mr. Black didn’t need the mask—he just needed it buried. He had protected her, guided her, nudged her forward, always just enough to keep her moving in the right direction. A pawn that thought she was playing her own game.

Jessica exhaled sharply, pushing the mask away.

She wasn’t done. Not yet. The war wasn’t over. And neither was she.