---
The world was asleep again.
Alexis sat in the dark, lit only by the blue shimmer of his terminal screen. The air was still. The city beyond his window buzzed faintly, unaware that tonight, the first move of something enormous was about to begin.
He sipped lukewarm coffee. It tasted like regret.
he said quietly. "Open secure line. Black-level access. Codename: Nova."
A pause. Then a low tone.
"Channel encrypted. Commencing contact protocol. Please confirm command authority."
He leaned back, voice steady.
"Adam. Axis Protocol: One-Seven-Nine."
The interface blinked once.
Then, somewhere far across the globe, a signal reached a woman sharpening a knife in silence.
---
Nova didn't flinch when the message arrived.
Her apartment was bare — steel furniture, weapons tucked into corners, a concrete view of a city she didn't name. She lived like a ghost. Always had. Always would.
The screen on her wall lit up with a single glyph: ◯||| — the seal of Axis.
A voice followed, filtered, commanding. Masculine, but calm. Measured.
"Nova. This is Adam."
She listened.
"Your record is clean. That's rare. So I'll speak plainly."
"There is a balance to this world. It's fragile. Corrupted. We're not here to burn it. We're here to correct it."
"Your first directive is silent. No fire. No noise. We move what the world forgot — gold and stones left to rot in the dark. Reclaim and reroute. Old mines, abandoned claims, rogue ports. Profit quietly."
"No civilians harmed. No flags raised. You operate under a contractor name. Axis is never mentioned."
A moment passed.
Nova clicked a device beside her. The screen displayed outlines of forgotten maritime trade zones.
She smiled faintly.
"Understood."
"Final objective: establish reliable transport. We'll scale when the route proves clean. You have full discretion, Nova. This isn't war. It's… precision."
Her reply was as clean as her file.
"Orders received. Balance, not conquest."
The line ended.
---
Back in his room, Alexis exhaled.
"Contact complete. Operative Nova has begun movement. Mobilization underway."
He stared at the screen, the Axis logo now displayed permanently in the corner.
"I just gave an order to someone I've never met," he murmured. "She's moving with millions at stake. And I'm still wearing socks with holes in them."
"Mission-critical foot apparel can be requisitioned at your request."
He rolled his eyes.
"Put that under civilian ops budget. Priority high."
"Affirmative. Operation Sockstorm initiated."
He chuckled. Just a little.
The air in the room felt different now. Lighter. And heavier.
He stood, stretched, and moved to the window.
No lights had changed in the city. No alarms had sounded. No headlines had shifted.
But somewhere out there, an invisible woman had started moving. And when she did, the world would unknowingly shift with her.
"System," he whispered, eyes on the dark skyline, "this is really happening, isn't it?"
"Correct. God's Axis is no longer simulated. You are no longer playing."
"Yeah…" he smiled faintly. "And tomorrow, I've got a physics quiz."
He turned away from the window.
But the light of the Axis insignia remained glowing behind his eyes.