Badass in Disguise Chapter 270

Author's POV:

The helicopter cut through the air with precision, its blades slicing against the fierce Atlantic winds. Jade gripped the controls tightly as she approached the coordinates Night's people had given her. The ocean stretched endlessly below, dark and threatening, its waves crashing against each other in a display of raw power.

Night's team had been efficient, as always. After Ethan left, Jade had immediately begun preparations. Night had left some of his men near the villa, ensuring they only departed after confirming she was safely away. Twenty-four hours later, she found herself in England, where Night's contacts supplied her with weapons, equipment, and this helicopter—everything she would need for what might be her final mission.

According to the coordinates, Shadow Organization's headquarters—SPECTER's personal fortress—was located in the middle of the North Atlantic, near the Bermuda Triangle.

"Approaching target coordinates," Jade muttered to herself, squinting through the windshield.

As she drew closer, a speck appeared on the horizon, gradually growing larger. The island emerged from the mist like a mirage—lush green against the harsh blue of the ocean. Pristine white beaches surrounded dense forests, and nestled at its center, barely visible through the canopy, stood an imposing castle. It looked like something from a luxury travel magazine, a paradise getaway for the obscenely wealthy.

But Jade knew better. This paradise was hell disguised in beauty—a slaughterhouse where people like her were created, used, and discarded.

She guided the helicopter toward a small clearing near the beach. No defensive measures engaged, no anti-aircraft weapons fired. Either SPECTER was extremely confident, or he was looking forward to their meeting. Probably both.

The moment her feet touched the island's soil, Jade felt a sense of familiarity.

Twenty minutes of hiking brought her to a massive stone structure that looked centuries old, though she suspected it was a modern construction designed to appear ancient. Gothic spires reached toward the sky, and ornate gargoyles leered down from their perches. The massive wooden doors stood slightly ajar, an invitation she couldn't refuse.

Inside, the castle was eerily silent. The grand entrance hall stretched before her, marble floors gleaming in the light that filtered through stained glass windows. At the far end, on a raised platform, sat an ornate chair—a throne for the king of killers.

But it wasn't the throne that caught her attention. It was the figure suspended from the ceiling—a woman, hanging by her wrists, blood dripping slowly from countless wounds onto the pristine floor below.

"Selene," Jade whispered.

Selene's head lifted at the sound of Jade's voice, eyes fluttering open. Despite her injuries, she managed a weak smile.

Before Selene could respond, a voice echoed through the hall, coming from hidden speakers.

"A small welcoming gift," SPECTER's voice, smooth and cultured, filled the space.

The doors behind Jade slammed shut with a thunderous boom. From doorways along the sides of the hall, figures emerged—at least fifteen operatives, each dressed in the distinctive black combat gear of Shadow Organization. They surrounded her in a loose circle, weapons ready.

Jade didn't hesitate. The first one rushed her, knife in hand. She sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and used his momentum to drive his own blade into his throat. As he fell, she took his gun and fired two precise shots, dropping two more attackers.

The hall erupted into chaos. Jade moved with mechanical efficiency, each movement calculated and lethal. A female operative swung a baton at her head; she ducked and drove her knee into the woman's solar plexus, following with an elbow strike that shattered her jaw. Two more came from behind—Jade spun, sweeping one's legs while simultaneously firing at the other's chest. Gunshots echoed off the stone walls as she systematically eliminated each threat. Some managed to land glancing blows—a cut across her arm, a bruise forming on her ribs—but none could match her speed or precision.

When it was over, fifteen bodies lay scattered across the marble floor, and Jade stood in the center, breathing heavily but largely unharmed.

From his hidden monitoring room, SPECTER watched the carnage unfold on his screens, fingers tapping rhythmically against his desk.

"They're identical," he murmured to himself, eyes fixed on Jade's image. "Absolutely identical."

---

Thousands of miles away, Night sat in an armored vehicle, staring impatiently at his watch. The Nigerian heat was oppressive, sweat beading on his forehead despite the air conditioning.

"Sir, shouldn't we verify the hostages are inside before—" one of his men began.

"Did I fucking ask for your opinion?" Night snapped, cutting him off. "I said blow it. So blow it."

Without further argument, the team set the charges. Minutes later, the abandoned factory complex erupted in a series of explosions, flames reaching high into the sky. Night didn't even bother to watch.

"No signs of Shadow operatives, sir," his lieutenant reported.

"Of course not," Night muttered. "This was never about us."

Meanwhile, across the globe, Sloane and Maverick had successfully reached Canberra and met with their contacts. Chris Jensen had arrived in New Delhi without incident. Ethan Haxton had touched down in Poland, his expression grim as he coordinated with local assets. All exactly as SPECTER had planned—dividing their forces, isolating Jade.

---

Back at the castle, Jade cut Selene down, catching her as she collapsed. Selene's body was a roadmap of torture—cuts, burns, and bruises covering nearly every inch of visible skin.

"Can you walk?" Jade asked, helping her to her feet.

Selene nodded weakly. "I can try."

Jade handed her a knife from one of the fallen operatives. "Stay behind me."

They made their way deeper into the castle, following corridors that seemed to spiral endlessly inward. More operatives appeared, these ones more skilled than the cannon fodder in the entrance hall. Jade dispatched them efficiently, though not without effort.

"You know your way around," Selene observed as they paused to catch their breath after another skirmish.

"Somehow, yes," Jade admitted.

Before she could elaborate, two figures stepped out from adjoining corridors, blocking their path forward. Jade recognized them immediately—Onyx and Void, last two of Shadow Organization's elite operatives.

"We can't let you pass," Onyx stated, his voice devoid of emotion as he raised his sword.

Selene stepped forward. "You don't understand what they're doing. They're creating clones of us—of Shadow, of Dusk, of all of us. Once they have what they need, we're disposable."

Onyx and Void exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces.

"I saw Dusk's clone with my own eyes," Selene continued, her voice strengthening with conviction. She glanced at Jade, pain evident in her expression. "There was no failed mission. Shadow was harvested for her genetic material and then eliminated. That explosion in the Caribbean? That was our organization—the one we've faithfully served—disposing of her."

Seeing Onyx and Void's skepticism, Selene pressed on. "Come with us and see for yourselves. The truth is just beyond that painting."

"You won't get past us," Onyx declared, raising his sword to point at Jade.

"You think you can stop me in your condition?" Void scoffed, eyeing Selene's battered form.

"I'm fighting for my life," Selene said with grim determination. "I'll give it everything I have."

"Go," she told Jade. "I'll handle them."

Jade slipped past as Selene engaged the two operatives, the sounds of their battle fading as she continued down the corridor.

The passage ended at a massive oil painting that spanned from floor to ceiling. It depicted a surreal landscape of darkness and twisted figures, like a gateway to hell. Jade knew instinctively that this was the entrance to the underground portion of the facility.

As she approached, a figure detached itself from the shadows beside the painting. The Queen of Clubs.