Even at dawn, Maria couldn’t shake her unease. The message from the night before was burned into her mind:

  "You have a new mission. Time is running out. We will find you."

  She skipped her morning fight training. Assigned the neighborhood patrol to her team instead. Her full attention was locked on those words scrawled across the wall. She didn’t know who had written them, but this... this was the beginning of something far bigger.

  By sunset, Maria returned to the gym—an old fighting hall in a run-down industrial area. It was quiet. Too quiet. Normally packed at night, the gym felt empty that evening. The only sound was the rhythmic thud of a punching bag.

  As Maria threw sharp jabs into the worn leather, a chill ran down her spine.

  Footsteps. Behind her.

  She spun around, dropping into a defensive stance. Two figures stepped from the shadows. Both wore black suits. Not cops. Not government.

  More like... mercenaries.

  One of them spoke.

  “Maria Alvarez. We’ve been watching you. For a long time.”

  Maria narrowed her eyes. “Is that a threat?”

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  “No. An offer,” said the other. “There are few who fight, lead, and think like you. We want you with us. There are missions. A greater purpose.”

  Maria took a step back. “I already have a mission. Protect this neighborhood. Save the kids.”

  The men were patient—but firm.

  “This is only the beginning, Maria. What we’re offering… is power to change the world. Your dreams, that tattoo, the message on the wall… they’re all connected. You are one of five.”

  Maria’s eyes narrowed further. “Five…” she echoed.

  “Yes. Each in a different city. With different strengths. But you must come together. Time is running out.”

  Maria shook her head. “No. I’m not playing your game. I’m staying right here.”

  The men exchanged a glance. Their Plan B was ready.

  “We didn’t want to do this the hard way.”

  One of them lunged forward. Maria blocked. But they had the numbers. Fists collided mid-air, kicks slammed into the walls. Maria took hard hits—but she didn’t fall.

  Until she finally did. Bloodied, bruised, but with defiance still burning in her eyes.

  Then, the door slammed open.

  Two teenagers from Maria’s neighborhood crew burst in, iron rods in hand. Without hesitation, they attacked.

  Outnumbered now, the suited men retreated quickly—

  —but not without leaving something behind.

  A small note:

  "We won’t ask again. Be ready."

  The night passed as Maria nursed her wounds. But the fracture in her soul had widened. She knew now—her fight wasn’t just for the neighborhood.

  It was for the world.

  And she was one of the five.