"They're on to you," said a voice she didn't recognize—filtered in through the speakers rigged haphazardly into her office, her home, and, at the moment, a van crammed with enough tech to indict her for at least a dozen felonies.
Her LCD monitor flared to life.
She blinked, startled, staring at the figure on-screen. A flicker of recognition tightened her throat. Her group—Rising Tide—had been trying to contact him. They were also the ones leaking footage and blurry sightings of him.
She admired vigilantes—people who fought the system, people like him.
"Um… Red Hood?" she asked, panicked. She scrambled for the drying bra and underwear she'd left hanging over her van's headrest and snatched them down.
If he noticed, he didn't comment.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. found your location. My team uncovered the trail—one you would've been proud of."
He sounded amused. She sensed he was smiling behind that red cowl.
"A rescue attempt was initially authorized. I overruled it. Any guesses why, Ms. Poots?"
She swallowed. He knew her real name.
How?
She struggled to compose herself. Social situations weren't her strength—awkward jokes usually filled the gaps.
"To ask for my number?" she blurted out. "I'm single. Not sure if that matters with your type."
Red Hood laughed, a low, genuine sound. The eerie glow of his electric-blue irises gleamed through the helmet.
"It's always fascinating when people defy expectations. But let's focus, Ms. Poots. What do you think I want from one of the best hackers?"
The implication was clear. She bit her lip, thinking.
He glanced at a non-existent watch.
"Hurry. Time isn't something you have."
"A job."
"Correct."
"Show me your face and we've got a deal," she shot back, unable to help herself.
He leaned closer. His presence seemed to press in through the screen, like shadows moved in the corners of the van. Her breath hitched.
"A deal, then. Let's talk. My people bought us a few more minutes."
She nodded. "Pay up front. Don't screw me."
"Naturally."
His helmet vanished.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
Tall. Dark. Handsome. A literal college-aged guy—charming, clean-cut, and way too normal-looking to be the infamous Red Hood.
For the next few weeks, she would be consumed by what she saw and heard in that single minute.
Her world turned upside down—and there was more. But first, the mission. The job. He even promised to contact Rising Tide. There were whispers already—someone had been quietly dismantling low-level players.
Sirens. Blue and red lights strobed through the alley.
She hit her van's kill switch, frying the electronics with a hiss and a spark—her tech graveyard.
Then she opened the doors with her hands up and a smile.
Guns snapped up. Orders flew. Agents in suits. Real, black-suited, earpiece-wearing feds.
"Seriously?" she muttered. "I didn't even hack a federal network."
Unless what Red Hood said was true—they wanted her help hacking Armacham.
An Asian woman approached, calm and commanding. The others deferred instantly. This was someone in charge.
"Mary Sue Poots," she said, and Skye groaned audibly.
"That's not my name."
It was how Cole got it, too—some government alias pulled from her file. Red Hood wasn't omniscient. Just well-connected.
"An orphan raised at Saint Agnes. After aging out, you began a hacking career. Lately, your work with Rising Tide escalated—you breached one of our servers, stole classified data, and sent it to an unknown third party. That got our attention."
Skye was already on the ground, cuffed and scowling as agents gutted her van.
"Special Agent Melinda May. Nice to meet you, Skye."
Skye sighed. She should have known better than to run with those black hats.
"Ma'am, she wiped everything," a nerdy voice piped up.
She turned. A scrawny tech in a BSG shirt and pink Chucks was squinting at her gear.
Skye gave him her best cartoon-villain stare. "If it weren't for those pesky kids, I'd have gotten away with it."
He chortled. Too excited.
Then he took out his phone.
Flash.
"Hey! Not cool, man!"
"No one's gonna believe I caught a Rising Tide hacker!"
"Leo," May snapped. "That photo better not end up online. Knight will bury you in a filing cabinet."
Leo went pale and frantically tapped at his phone.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Satellite Facility — New York
It was fast becoming the government's most embarrassing effort since the Stark U-turn.
Inside a sealed room, top-tier U.S. hackers again failed to breach Armacham.
"LexCorp's sandbox is locked. They got into my kid's school album and texted me a picture."
"Shit. Same."
An agent scanned the room, nodded, and turned to leave. Another hacker was already being led in.
He stopped at the door, read the file, and snorted.
"Brought in a pro."
The other hackers groaned, turning to see the so-called expert.
She entered with a dented backpack slung over her shoulder—the last remnant of her impounded van. Her home.
She sat, popped on her headphones, and pulled out a dusty keyboard that looked like it came from a 2003 LAN party.
Two male hackers leaned over to admire her posterior as she crawled under the desk.
An agent glared, and they snapped back to their screens.
"Got it!" Skye called cheerily. A chorus of muttered curses and clacking keys echoed in the room.
"Goddamn—" one muttered, pushing away his keyboard. "I'm locked out again."
"They got you too?" asked a tired voice beside her.
Skye grinned and unzipped her biker jacket.
"Yup. Skye, by the way."
"Harold," he replied, half-sighing.
"Nice to meet you, Harold."
________________________________
Elsewhere…
"Are you sure that was a good idea, boss?" Hammerhead asked from the backseat.
I didn't answer, watching Skye being escorted into another vehicle.
As I pulled away, Agent May glanced up from her conversation with local authorities and locked eyes with me.
I was the first to look away.
I turned the corner and drove off.
"Definitely," I said.