I should’ve been invisible. That was the plan.
When the Event hit, I thought it would give me an advantage—new body, new face, new cover. The Agency had spent years teaching me to weaponize invisibility. As a woman, no one ever looked twice when I played the secretary, the tourist, the nurse. Slip in, slip out. Information gathered. Target neutralized.

But overnight, that advantage disappeared.

Now, when I stepped into the Berlin safehouse, I caught my reflection in the window: broader shoulders, square jaw, heavier gait. A man stared back. No longer overlooked. No longer underestimated. Every move drew eyes like magnets. And in this line of work, attention is death.

I was supposed to meet the courier at Alexanderplatz—clean exchange, no drama. Instead, I spotted the tail instantly. Three men, staggered, pretending to shop, but I could feel the weight of their surveillance. Before, I could’ve ducked into a crowd, melted behind chatter and smiles. Now, my six-foot frame cut through the street like a blade. People stepped aside, making me more visible.

They moved on me. I ran.

Past a bakery, down the U-Bahn steps, boots hammering against the concrete. I slammed through the turnstile, the weight of this body slowing me in ways I hadn’t learned yet. My lungs burned differently. My muscles carried power, but they weren’t trained to my rhythm. Fighting felt strange—every strike too heavy, every motion unbalanced.

The first agent caught me at the platform. I pivoted, drove my fist into his jaw. He went down harder than expected, the sheer force startling me. The second swung a blade. I twisted, but my reflexes misjudged the length of my stride, and the knife grazed my arm. Blood sprayed across the tiled floor.

The train roared into the station. I dove inside, doors hissing shut as the third agent slammed against the glass. The crowd inside scattered, staring at the bleeding stranger in their midst. I pressed against the doors, chest heaving, blood dripping down my sleeve.

I had escaped—for now. But I couldn’t ignore the truth.

Spying wasn’t easier in this new body. It was harder. The disguises I’d relied on no longer fit. The instincts drilled into me were betrayed by muscle memory that wasn’t mine. For years I’d honed the art of slipping through shadows as a woman no one took seriously. Now, as a man, I couldn’t disappear. I was seen. Always seen.

And in this world after the Event, being seen could get me killed.