Ep 03: Deep Impact

Aya kicked the door open. For a second nobody moved. Then they looked inside. And the world stopped. Detective Cardona— or what was left of him— lay on the floor. The room was soaked in blood. And in the middle of it… Trella sat motionless beside the body. Silent. Completely still. Her combat knife was still buried in Cardona’s body.

The girls froze. The shock hit them like a wall. Even Amelie, who usually thrived on horror and gore, staggered back. Her face had turned completely pale. She stepped outside the apartment, one hand over her mouth, barely managing not to throw up.

Michelle covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes already filling with tears.

“Trella…” The name barely came out as a whisper.

Trella slowly moved her head toward them. The motion was slow. Jerky. Almost mechanical. The expression on her face was even more terrifying than the scene around her. Her eyes were empty. Completely empty. No anger. No fear. No recognition. Trella’s body had reacted to their presence, but her mind was completely elsewhere. As she turned her head, she let out a silent, almost a haunting whisper: “Fra… tel… lo…”

Mei-Ling sank to the floor. Tears streamed down her face. For them this wasn't just another dead body. Not just another crime scene. This was Trella. And none of them had any idea what to do. Nobody dared to move closer. Aya slowly took out her phone with a shaky hand.

“Hello… paps?” Her voice trembled.

“We have a big problem.” She swallowed. “Trella. I think she just had a red phase.”

A short pause. “We don’t know what to do. Please come quickly. And bring Milena.”

Her eyes drifted toward Trella again. “And a restraint jacket.”

Another silence. “Yes. That serious. We have a body here. What's left of it, anyway.”

Aya ended the call. For a moment she just stood there. Then she suddenly drove her fist into the wall with full force. The impact echoed through the hallway. Tears ran down her cheeks as she leaned her forehead against the wall. She didn’t know if she was more angry or more scared.

Fifteen minutes later the door opened again. Joseph Dawson stepped inside with Milena right behind him. Dawson stopped after only a few steps. For a moment he had to look away. He had seen something like this before. But that was years ago, when he was still working for Thanatos. Some girls who couldn't handle the serum sometimes reacted in a similar way and had to be terminated. But he had never expected to see it again. Not here. Not with one of his girls. He forced himself to look at Trella again. Still sitting. Silent. Empty. Dawson exhaled slowly. Then he turned toward the others.

“Aya. Amelie.” His voice was calm, but firm. “Help Milena put the restraint jacket on her and get her into the car. She needs to go to the hospital right now.”

He looked at Michelle. “Michelle, take Mei-Ling and our guest back to the orphanage.”

Then he glanced around the apartment. “I’ll secure the scene.”

Michelle hesitated. “But Joseph…”

He shook his head gently. “Please. Go.”

Then he added quietly: “And… I need to call Lang.”

Michelle slowly nodded. No one argued. One by one they left the apartment.

***

Late afternoon settled over the orphanage like a heavy blanket. Normally the building was loud. Arguments in the hallways, someone laughing too loudly in the kitchen, someone else blasting music from their room. But now the house felt hollow. The silence pressed against the walls.

Training rotations had been suspended. Nobody had said it out loud, but everyone knew why. The girls gathered in the common room, scattered across couches and chairs. Some stared at the floor. Others pretended to read or check their phones, though no one was actually paying attention. Nobody understood what had happened. Nobody knew what to say. Finally, Yuno broke the silence.

“Can I… ask you something?” She said quietly, glancing between the others. “Has something like this ever happened before?”

Anya shook her head slowly. “Well… we've had our moments,” she admitted. “But nothing like this.”

Michelle sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Yuno… you were so excited to come here,” she said gently. “And now this is the first thing you had to witness. I'm really sorry.”

Rio gave a small shrug. “I don't think any of us could have predicted this.”

Silence returned. But this time Michelle’s mind was already working. “Speaking of that, I read in Trella’s personal files about that incident years ago. But the way it was described on paper… it didn't sound anything like this.”

Mei-Ling nodded immediately. “Because it wasn’t. Back then it was more like… an explosion.”

Michelle tilted her head. “Can you tell me more about it?”

Talia looked between them curiously. “Actually… I'd like to hear that too.”

Aya gave a small snort. “Yeah, you wouldn’t know. You weren’t with us yet.”

She leaned back and folded her arms. “It was a long time ago. We were hired for a job in Italy. Some kind of mafia conflict.”

Maya nodded. “Two factions were fighting over territory. Our employer wanted the scales tipped in his favor.”

“We met them in this old villa,” Maya continued. “Everyone was sitting around a big table, we were going through the plans. Then one of their guys walked into the room.”

Aya’s eyes narrowed slightly as she remembered. “Trella just… stared at him.”

“A long stare,” Maya added. “Like a duel.”

Aya nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like they recognized each other. And then she snapped.”

Maya continued. “She grabbed her shotgun and started shooting.”

“We didn't even have time to react,” Aya continued. “One second we were standing there. The next second the whole room was dead. And that was just the beginning. She knew all their safe houses. All their contacts.”

“By morning,” Maya said quietly, “that entire mafia branch was basically wiped out.”

“A pure bloodbath,” Aya finished.

Yuno stared at them wide-eyed. “What happened then?”

Aya exhaled. “Paps gave us a clear order. Bring her back. Dead or alive.”

A faint smirk crossed Maya’s face. “We went with the second option.”

“It took the whole team to bring her down,” Aya said. Milena then gave her a shot to the neck with a syringe.”

“She kept Trella sedated for three days,” Maya added.

Talia blinked. “What was in it?”

Maya shrugged. “No idea. You'll have to ask Milena.”

Michelle thought for a moment. “What happened when she woke up?”

Aya tilted her head. “That’s the weird part. She recognized us. She knew where she was. She was almost back to normal.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”

Aya smirked faintly. “Well… you know Trella as this dorky, stone-cold field commander.”

“But back then?” Maya added. “She had a serious Italian temper.”

That earned a few faint smiles. Right then Anya lifted her head slightly. “Speaking of the devil… I hear a car. I hope that's Milena with some good news. We could really use some.”

A moment later the front door opened. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Dawson stepped into the room first. Milena followed behind him. But there was someone else with them. The moment the girls saw her, the entire room froze. Director Lang.

Michelle stood up instinctively. “Director Lang… W-welcome.” Her voice wavered slightly. “If you're here in person… that means the situation is bad, right?”

Lang didn’t bother with formalities. “Honestly?” she said calmly. “It couldn’t be much worse.”

Aya immediately stepped forward. “How's Trella?”

Milena answered instead. “Unchanged. Completely unresponsive. We transferred her to the VA hospital in Bethesda. There are specialists there.” She gave a small shrug. “Let’s hope they can help.”

Aya swallowed. “If she wakes up… what happens to her?”

Lang was silent for a moment. “I don’t know yet.”

She looked at the group carefully. “The investigation is still ongoing. But right now… the evidence suggests Trella committed a homicide. And the victim was a police officer.”

The words hung in the air like a weight. Michelle felt her stomach drop.

“This will have consequences,” Lang continued. “For her and unfortunately… for all of you.”

Michelle frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lang took a breath. “The program is suspended.”

Silence.

“I’m going to need your junior badges.”

Aya’s head snapped up. “What?! Why?! What did we do?!”

Lang didn’t raise her voice. “Look,” she said calmly. “I know how capable you are. You've all worked incredibly hard these past three years. You've accomplished more than I ever expected. You made me proud. But the reality is… you're unstable. I cannot risk another incident like this.”

Aya clenched her fists. “So this was all for nothing?”

“No,” Lang replied quietly. “Personally, I would let you keep them. You earned them. But you also need to understand my position.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “As soon as things calm down—and once I’m certain none of you pose a risk—I will do everything I can to restore your status. You have my word.”

One by one, the girls stepped forward. One by one, they placed their junior badges on the table. None of them spoke. Lang then turned toward the two older members of the group.

“Miss Cortez. Miss Graves. Since you are already full agents, I will not be collecting your badges. However, effective immediately you are both placed on administrative leave.”

Maya frowned slightly. “Director… I understand suspending me. But why her? She's a regular human.”

Lang shook her head. “Call it a precaution. I have to consider every angle.”

She glanced at her watch. “I need to go.” She moved toward the door. “I will keep you informed. And please… Do not interfere with the investigation.”

Then she left. The door closed. The room fell silent again.

After a long moment Katya sighed. “You know… I kind of understand her. We might all be ticking time bombs. We just don’t know it yet.”

Aya rubbed her temples. “Great. Because right now I’m so pissed that bomb might actually go off.”

Mei-Ling shook her head. “No… she’s right. Remember the traffickers we chased? The girls locked in those containers?” Her voice dropped slightly. “That almost broke me.”

She looked toward Anya. “And when we were in Ukraine… Anya wandered off to kill her parents. None of us showed warning signs before that. We all carry something broken inside.”

At that moment Michelle stood up. No one noticed at first. She walked over to the table. Trella’s pendant was still lying there. Michelle picked it up. Then she turned and started walking toward the hallway.

Aya blinked. “Where are you going?”

“Control room,” Michelle replied.

Williams leaned forward. “Kiddo… Lang made it very clear we shouldn’t interfere with the investigation.”

Michelle stopped at the door. She turned slightly. “I’m not interfering. I’m starting my own.”

Mei-Ling raised an eyebrow. “How can we help?”

Michelle opened the door. “Bring me coffee. And get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us.”

Then she disappeared down the hallway.

***

The VA hospital in Bethesda looked exactly how Michelle imagined it would—quiet, sterile, and full of carefully controlled calm. Morning sunlight filtered through the large windows of the psychiatric wing, turning the pale floors almost white. Michelle walked beside Aya and Amelie, hands buried deep in the pockets of her jacket.

Milena spotted them immediately. “Wow,” she said, folding her arms. “Michelle, you look terrible.”

Aya snorted. “She was up all night.”

Milena raised an eyebrow. “Found anything useful?”

Michelle hesitated. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe.”

Aya looked at her sideways. “She didn’t tell us either.”

Milena smirked slightly. “Of course she didn’t.”

Then she stepped aside. “Oh—before I forget. This is Doctor Allan Freedman, the lead psychiatrist on Trella’s case.”

The man standing beside her looked older than Michelle expected. Late sixties perhaps. Thin, slightly hunched, wearing a cardigan instead of the usual white coat. His glasses rested low on his nose, and his expression carried the sort of patient warmth that immediately made people lower their guard. He gave the girls a friendly nod. “So these are the famous troublemakers I've been hearing about.”

Aya blinked. “Famous?”

Freedman smiled. “In medical circles you are. Military psychiatry tends to notice when highly trained operatives start breaking police officers’ arms.”

He raised his hands quickly. “Not judging. Just observing.”

Aya muttered under her breath. “Great.”

Freedman’s eyes shifted toward Amelie. “And you must be a psychology student.”

Amelie looked slightly surprised. “How did you—”

“You've been staring at my office door since you arrived,” Freedman said cheerfully. “Only psychology students do that. Everyone else stares at the exit.”

That earned a small laugh from Aya. Amelie smiled politely. “Well… yes. I study criminal psychology.”

Freedman nodded approvingly. “Excellent. Then you already know that what your friend is experiencing isn't unusual under extreme trauma.”

Amelie tilted her head. “You mean dissociation?”

Freedman looked pleased. “Exactly.”

He gestured toward a small seating area in the hallway and they sat down. “Under overwhelming stress the human brain has a few defense mechanisms. One of them is dissociative shutdown.”

Aya frowned. “You mean she just… turned herself off?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Her mind encountered something it could not process in that moment. So instead of confronting it directly, the brain isolates the traumatic material and suppresses normal cognitive activity.”

Amelie nodded slowly. “A protective response.”

“Precisely. The problem is that trauma doesn’t disappear just because we bury it. It stays there, waiting. Sometimes for years.”

Aya glanced. “Like a landmine?”

Freedman chuckled softly. “That’s actually a very accurate metaphor. The therapeutic approach is what we call trauma resurfacing and integration. Carefully bringing those memories back to the surface in a controlled environment and helping the patient process them.”

Amelie leaned forward slightly. “So guided exposure therapy?”

“Among other techniques,” Freedman said approvingly. “Cognitive processing therapy, narrative reconstruction, sometimes even pharmacological assistance.”

Aya blinked. “That sounds complicated.”

Freedman smiled gently. “The human mind is complicated. Unfortunately recovery takes time. And it would help enormously if we knew what triggered the episode.”

Michelle had been quiet the entire time, listening carefully. “Did she say anything?”

Freedman nodded slowly. “Yes. A few words. We managed to get three distinct verbal responses during brief moments of semi-awareness. Betto, fratello, vendetta.”

Amelie frowned thoughtfully. “I think fratello means sibling… or brother. But I have no idea what ‘Betto’ means.”

Aya looked between them. “And vendetta… that one's obvious.”

Michelle stared at the floor for a long moment. Then she exhaled slowly. “That pretty much confirms my theory.”

Aya turned toward her immediately. “You have a theory?”

Michelle stood up. “Yes. But we can't do much for her here.”

Milena frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Michelle looked toward the hospital exit. “Our next stop is Fort Meade. We’re going to visit Director Lang.”

A small smile appeared on her tired face.