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Agent Five stared intently at his reflection in the mirror. Flecks of gray showed through his short hair, though his beard hadn't yet changed color.
Concentrating, he applied shaving foam to his face and made the first precise stroke with the razor. More strokes followed, and soon his skin was pleasantly smooth. Finally, he applied aftershave and checked his reflection in the mirror of his cubbyhole at the Commission headquarters. He smirked.
"Last mission, then I'll see my family," he thought to himself, bolstering his courage as he continued to gaze into the mirror.
He rinsed off the last traces of shaving foam, straightened his tie, and took two black briefcases in hand.
Herb was already waiting for him outside the door. They nodded in greeting, and Herb gave him an uncertain smile. Five set off briskly, with Herb scurrying to keep up.
They stopped in front of the metal doors leading to the lab in the headquarters’ basement. Through the small glass window on the door, Five glimpsed her graceful silhouette.
"Good luck, Agent Five," Herb wished him with a smile.
"Thanks. I hope we won’t be seeing each other again," Five replied sincerely. Herb just nodded in understanding.
Agent Five entered the room, and there she was, slowly and elegantly turning to face him—a tall woman in heels. Her red, tailored suit dress gracefully hugged her curves, her pale skin framed by waves of blonde hair. A familiar smirk played on her face. She folded her arms across her chest and said, "Welcome, Five. It's good to see you."
"Handler, you know those feelings aren’t mutual," Five shot back.
"Oh, come on, you and I make a great duo," she replied promptly.
"Yeah, a team of destruction," Five conceded.
She turned her back to him, and Five set the two briefcases down on the floor.
She picked up a syringe from the metal tray on the operating table and turned swiftly, saying, "I’m sure you’ve read the case file, so you understand this alteration is necessary and welcome."
Five rolled up his right sleeve and nodded quietly. She gestured for him to sit in the chair by the wall. He complied, settling in and carefully resting his arm on the special armrest.
The Handler leaned in close, and he could smell her strong, spicy perfume. She placed her left hand on his right arm. Her touch felt like poison, and he wanted this over quickly, but she was savouring every moment.
"This reminds me of the last time we were in this lab a few years ago. We put only the finest genetic material into your blood, making you the best," she said admiringly.
Five turned his face away, thinking, "Yeah, at what cost."
The Handler observed his dissatisfied expression. "Your target likes young meat and pretty faces. A new look —consider it another gift from the Commission."
Five felt a pang in his heart at those words; he was doing this all for his family.
"Fine, get on with it," he replied, looking away entirely. The Handler smirked, disinfected his skin, and positioned the needle over the cubital area of his arm.The needle pierced the epidermal barrier, reaching the subcutaneous tissue and finding his vein. At that moment, she administered the serum bolus into his bloodstream. She carefully withdrew the needle and applied gentle pressure to the injection site, covering it with a bandage.
"You might feel out of sorts for a few days, but it will pass," she reassured him.
However, the serum burned in his vein, and he felt as though every cell in his body was enveloped in searing heat. The serum's macromolecules split into tiny protein particles, immediately binding to the double helix of Five’s DNA. He’d experienced this feeling before, and even then, it wasn’t pleasant.
After about ninety seconds, a faint light blue aura formed around him, his limbs and torso became leaner, excess fat transformed into muscle, and wrinkles and skin atrophy diminished, along with the gray in his hair. Within five minutes, the alteration was complete.
Five stood up and looked at his youthful hands, his skin free of age spots, and cupped his face. It felt firm and smooth to the touch.
The Handler smiled, handing him a mirror so he could see for himself.
It was him, Number Five, but this time the Commission had made him a 21-year-old young man.
The Handler folded her arms over her chest again, watching his undisguised surprise with satisfaction. "Take the briefcase; you know the coordinates. Don’t worry, Slovakia is a lovely country in the heart of Europe. The people are hospitable but little bit nosy." ************I’d like to give special thanks to Hansodax for the help and ideas when I was struggling with Five’s appearance change.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The last thing Agent Five saw was the smug, sly smile of his boss before his new, young body was engulfed by the time vortex.Blue light of varying intensity swirled and flickered before his eyes, and his stomach churned intensely along with it. He had never felt such nausea during a temporal and spatial transfer as he did now. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would help. It didn’t.What did that bitch do to me? Five thought.After a while, his feet finally touched the ground. He staggered slightly and opened his eyes, finding himself at his destination.Both briefcases were tightly clutched in his hands as he looked around. He appeared to be in some kind of village.Great. Absolute middle of nowhere, he thought.His stomach churned again, and this time he couldn’t hold it back. The briefcases fell with a thud beside him as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the grass by the roadside.He wiped his mouth with a cloth handkerchief from his jacket pocket and straightened up. Dusk was settling over the place, and the air was cool yet refreshing—almost cleaner than the air of the big cities he usually frequented during missions.He took a deep breath.Then, he noticed a hill above the village crowned with the massive ruins of a castle. Surrounding forests encircled the village nestled in the valley below. It was clearly autumn—some of the trees displayed vibrant shades of colour. It was a beautiful scene.Well, at least it’s picturesque, he sighed.He recalled the instructions from the case file: find the guesthouse opposite the church and check in. The following day, begin searching for Agent Pitts.He turned toward the village but was betrayed by his stomach once again. Somehow, he managed to keep it down and stumbled toward the prominent church tower that loomed in the distance.A religious country with vampires right under their noses. How ironic, Five chuckled to himself.The guesthouse near the church was small but cozy-looking. The building was encased in wood paneling, with a shingled roof typical of the local architecture.Upon entering, he was greeted by a pleasant warmth and the scent of wood. The walls were lined with wooden paneling halfway up, and a fireplace crackled nearby. If he weren’t on a mission, he could imagine himself vacationing here, he thought.He approached the small reception desk and rang the bell. A wooden sign with a castle backdrop stood nearby: Welcome to the Guesthouse in Višňové, beneath Čachtice Castle. Both names sounded familiar—he had read about them in the file.His thoughts were interrupted by voices in a language he didn’t understand, coming from somewhere in the back.Then, from behind the curtain of a door behind the counter, appeared a short, stout woman in her forties, accompanied by a tall, bearded man who looked about ten or fifteen years her senior. She barely reached his chest.“Dobrý deň, mladý muž,” greeted the woman in a language that sounded peculiar, almost fairytale-like to Five’s ears—somewhat similar to Russian, which he had occasionally encountered on missions.He deduced it was probably a greeting. The woman looked at him with a pleasant smile.“Good evening. My name is Jerome Maximilian St. John,” he replied smoothly, adding, “Do you speak English?”The stout woman smiled and exchanged glances with the bearded man beside her.“Oh, g...g...good e...evening, Mr. St. John. We were expecting you. Your manager called today to confirm your arrival,” she responded in broken English.“Ah, yes. She mentioned verifying that my room would be ready,” Agent Five continued to play along.The bearded man clearly didn’t understand English and remained silent, scrutinizing the new guest.Five felt his stomach churn once more, accompanied by a slight headache.Great, he thought. So this is what she meant by feeling unwell. I feel like I got blackout drunk twice in a row and am suffering a hangover all over again.The woman turned, retrieved a key from the wall with a small wooden tag attached, and placed it on the counter.“The room is ready and paid for. It’s number five, as requested by your manager. You’ll have a view of our beautiful castle,” she said with pride.Five took the key. How ironic—room number five, he mused.“The room is upstairs. We’re very happy, Mr. St. John, that you chose to write a travelogue about our little corner of Slovakia. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay,” she said, gesturing to a small wooden staircase beside the reception desk.“Thank you. I’m sure I will,” he replied promptly, pocketing the key.He quickly grabbed both briefcases and hurried upstairs to his room. The hallway lamps seemed unbearably bright, irritating his senses. The headache worsened, and his stomach was on the verge of revolt again.When he reached the door to his room, he unlocked it quickly and rushed to the bathroom. The last remnants of his stomach’s contents ended up in the toilet. His head spun as he braced himself against the sink, staring at his young reflection in the mirror. It was an unusual sight.He splashed water on his face, took a sip from the tap, and stumbled out of the bathroom to the bed. Beside it lay a tourist backpack that his “manager” had sent ahead to the guesthouse.Agent Five collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately, waking only in the early hours. Groggily, he made his way to the bathroom, poured himself a glass of water, and returned to one of the briefcases.Inside, aside from clothes and toiletries, was a neatly packed arsenal of weapons, ammunition, and combat tools.He retrieved a small bottle of paracetamol, popped a tablet into his mouth, washed it down with water, and sank back into the darkness of sleep.***********When Five woke again, he realized it was once more dusk outside, with a thick fog blanketing the area. He looked out the window, but the fog obscured the castle mentioned earlier.He glanced at his leather-strapped watch—it was half past five in the evening. Running a hand through his hair, he shuffled to the bathroom.“Jerome Maximilian, you’ve slept through the entire day. It’s time to get back to work,” Five muttered to his young, wrinkle-free reflection in the mirror. He tried to force a pleasant smile, the kind a young travel writer might have, despite the crushing fatigue. He felt like he was suffering from severe jet lag.After a quick shower, he threw on a short-sleeved black T-shirt and loose, comfortable black trousers. ** When he reached the guesthouse’s reception hall, an elderly man shuffled past him, muttering something under his breath. The man looked confused. Five didn’t pay much attention until he heard the word “vampírka,” which sounded similar to its English equivalent.But the man disappeared behind the curtain in the room behind the counter before Five could say anything.Agent Five continued into the small, modest dining area. The wooden-panel walls were adorned with paintings of the local landscape and castle ruins. As he sat at the table marked with his room number, his eyes fell on a painting on the opposite wall.It was a replica of a portrait of a woman. Her pale complexion, dark eyes, and regal gown suggested she was of noble birth. From beneath a red bonnet that matched her crimson dress, dark brown hair framed her forehead. She was beautiful, but something in her gaze unsettled him.His thoughts were interrupted by the stout woman from the reception, greeting him again in her broken English.“Ggg...Good e...evening, Mr. St. John. We tried calling your room earlier, but maybe because of... ehm... that.. ehm.. that leg from your flight from America, you didn’t wake up.”Five played along smoothly. “Thank you so much for your concern. Uhm, yes, it’s jet lag.” He gave her the same polite smile he had practiced in the mirror earlier.Perfect, she bought it, he thought.He ordered pork knuckle from the menu, as the guesthouse owner had recommended it.While waiting for his dinner, he noticed a young man sitting in the back, hunched over and furiously pressing buttons on a small handheld game console, muttering curses in Slovak.At a nearby table, an old man sat down with a plate of something white topped with small cubes of bacon. The dish smelled strange—like sheep’s cheese. The unusual aroma turned Five’s stomach again.The elderly man contentedly nodded in greeting to Five, who returned the gesture. Then, Five’s gaze wandered back to the woman’s portrait across the room. Her face seemed oddly familiar.When the old man had nearly finished his unusual meal, the woman from reception brought Five his dinner. Instead of a plate, she served it on a wooden board, complete with pork knuckle, mustard, horseradish, pickled peppers, and bread.She set down a bottle of homemade brandy—with an illustration of plums on the label, along with two shot glasses. Smiling warmly, she poured him a nearly full glass and did the same with the other. Handing him one, she raised hers for a toast.“Na zdravie!” she said in her native language before downing her shot in one go.Five followed suit. The liquid hit his tongue with a peculiar burn, warming him further as it slid down his throat. Despite its strength, he found the taste surprisingly pleasant.“Hmmm. Good one,” he remarked.The woman nodded proudly. “Yes, this is slivovica. It’s made from distilled plums, our national drink—along with beer,” she chuckled.Five’s attention drifted back to the portrait of the noblewoman. He felt as if her eyes were boring into his soul.“Excuse me, may I ask who the woman in the painting is?” he inquired curiously.The woman turned to look at the portrait, then back at him. “That is a portrait of Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed. She lived in our castle during the 16th and 17th centuries. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? Many films have been made about her, both by local and international filmmakers. Legend has it she bathed in the blood of young girls, whom she tortured and killed with the help of her servants. She believed it would grant her eternal youth, beauty, and power. Eventually, her deeds were uncovered, her accomplices executed, but as a noblewoman, she couldn’t be sentenced to death. Instead, she was imprisoned in the castle, where she died.”Five studied the face in the painting. He could swear there was something sinister lurking in her eyes.“Interesting history,” he said, half-admiring, half-wary. He recalled details from the case file—particularly a photograph of a woman in crimson, blood-red attire. She bore a striking resemblance to the figure in the portrait.“I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal,” the woman said kindly and returned to the reception area.The elderly man at the next table, however, continued to stare at Five.Finally, the man abruptly stood, leaning down so his face was mere inches from Five’s. Wrinkled and stubbled, he stared at him intently. Five could smell the sheep’s cheese on his breath.In rapid Slovak, the old man launched into a monologue:“Grófka, ktorá sa rada kúpe v krvi naďalej žije. Verte mi. Žije a bude žiť večne. Uzavrela dohodu. S diablom, či s bohom. V lesoch miznú ľudia. Lesy a okolie hradu nie sú bezpečné. Varujem Vás, nechoďte do lesa, nechoďte k jaskyni pod Čachtickým hradom.“
*translation in notes 😊“Father, please, leave our guest to eat in peace,” the owner’s voice called from the background. The old man shuffled away, muttering as he disappeared into the back room.The woman tried to apologize to her guest. “I’m sorry, Mr. St. John. That’s my father. He has Alzheimer’s and is obsessed with our local legends. He talks about them far too often, to be honest.”“It’s fine. My... grandfather had Alzheimer’s too,” Five lied.The woman smiled sympathetically and disappeared into the reception area.Five quietly finished his meal, contemplating the old man’s words. Afterward, the young man with the game console suddenly appeared in front of him, speaking in surprisingly good English.“Hey, man. If you share that bottle of slivovica with me, I’ll translate what my grandpa told you.”Agent Five wasn’t in the mood for some cocky kid, and certainly not for drinking with him. “I’d rather have my esophagus and stomach ripped out,” he retorted sharply.Then, realizing his curiosity outweighed his irritation, he softened his approach. He really didn’t feel like drinking, knowing his greasy dinner might revolt. “Sorry, jet lag. If you translate, you can keep the bottle.”The young man grinned, poured himself a full shot, and downed it in one go. He poured another for Five, but Five didn’t drink.“There are loads of films about Báthory, she’s pretty famous. And yeah, people connect her to vampirism. The truth is, people have been disappearing here for decades. No one really investigates it. There are forests, mountains, caves—sometimes we find bodies, sometimes we don’t. When we do, they’re messed up.Back in the day, people believed vampires drained their victims and turned them. To stop it, they’d cut off the heads of corpses or drive wooden stakes or silver objects into their hearts or stomachs before burying them.Grandpa says the Countess made a deal with Satan or some pagan god for eternal life and youth. She became a monster. He claims he saw her in that cave with his own eyes... That’s when he lost his mind. Mom pretends it’s just Alzheimer’s, but I believe him. My great-great-grandfather was a caretaker of the ruins. He said he saw her drink someone’s blood to death too. Lost his mind like Grandpa.Man, if you don’t have to, don’t go into the forests. Take your pictures, write your travelogue, and let this be your bestseller.”“Thanks for the advice and translation. Keep the bottle,” Five replied, thinking he needed to examine the map in the case file for caves in the area.He hurried back to Room 5.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The year was 1614, and Elizabeth Báthory felt her end drawing near. She knew her heart would soon give out, her blood would freeze in her veins forever, and her body would fall into a cold grave.For nearly four years, she had been imprisoned in her castle, her deranged mind gradually consuming her body.One cold night, a specter appeared in her cell…
The countess was certain the Almighty himself had come for her corrupt soul, ready to cast her beyond the gates of hell, where she would burn for eternity for the wasted young lives of the women she had butchered like animals and bathed in their blood—the elixir of life.“Oh, take me, God, and burn me at the stake for my heinous sins, for all the young souls whose early deaths I caused,” the Countess begged the specter.But that night, the fate of the Blood Countess was sealed for eternity.Out of the darkness stepped a woman with long, dark hair, pale skin, and coal-black eyes. She was clad in a black dress and a crimson coat adorned with raven feathers on the shoulders. Her head was crowned with thorns and red rosehips.“Who are you?” the Countess asked fearfully.The enigmatic woman replied in a powerful voice that didn’t seem her own: “I am the goddess of winter, the goddess of death. I am Morana—the one your Slavic people ritually burn or drown in streams at the end of every winter. Through my death, you welcome spring and my sister Vesna, who brings life. This time, I have come to grant life—FOR YOU!”The Countess was terrified, yet the idea of salvation from eternal damnation enticed her more than anything. “What do I have to do with this? How can I, a sinner and murderer, help you? Have I not already given you enough sacrifices?” Elizabeth Báthory hid her face in her hands.“Oh, yes. Unknowingly, you have given me far more than you could imagine. This time… I can offer you what you’ve desired your entire life—eternal youth, beauty, strength, and power! You will have all the blood your cold heart desires… if you promise to serve me. And me alone!”Elizabeth couldn’t know that the pact with Morana would be literal, that the only thing keeping her alive would be the blood of her victims.The Countess nodded and extended her hand to Morana, who took it in hers and, as a mark of their pact, created wounds on both their palms. Their blood mingled in the goddess’s hand.“Drink and swear loyalty to me,” Morana commanded. The Countess crawled to her feet, her breath shallow, her heart barely beating. Summoning the last of her strength, she knelt, brought Morana’s hand to her lips, and drank the drops of mixed blood as if it were her only hope of resurrection.Elizabeth’s pupils dilated almost immediately; her dark eyes were hungry and thirsty. Her face transformed, becoming smoother and ashen white, as if carved from marble. She felt immense strength surging through every cell of her body, reviving her instantly. The blood of the goddess of death granted her physical power, flawless beauty, and youth.But the pact came with a curse for Báthory. Unique, yet condemned to live forever, drink blood, and deliver sacrifices.The goddess forged a monster. A vampire.She believed she had created the only one of her kind.
What she didn’t know was that this act would disrupt the continuity of time.************Agent Five Hargreeves woke up to a foggy morning in Room 5. Half-asleep, he headed straight for the shower. The night before, he had meticulously studied the maps of the surrounding terrain, gone over the case file several times, and reviewed all the accumulated information about his target. Despite the absence of any mention of a pact with the local deity, Five wasn’t surprised. His boss withholding information—either due to ignorance or deeming it unimportant—was nothing new.He suspected this mission would mean more than it seemed at first glance. He reviewed the last reports from Agent Lila Pitts before her disappearance. The final coordinates were near a cave beneath a castle in a dense forest.Five had crossed paths with the younger Agent Lila Pitts several times at agent meetings, training sessions, and one smaller mission where they went back in time to end the timeline of a certain German man with a mustache in an underground bunker. He knew how skilled she was, knew she had the same training and genetic modifications as he did. It was impossible for her to fail this mission…The hot water cascaded over Five’s bare shoulders. He leaned both hands against the tiled walls of the shower and let the water envelop him completely.The water grounded him, as if it soothed the restless fire before every mission he had to undertake.He replayed memories of the Berlin mission—how, despite her youth, Agent Pitts fought valiantly, cleverly bypassed the leader’s guards, and managed to clear his path to the target.Then it hit him…
The Handler had deliberately sent Lila Pitts into the lion’s den. Something was off.Five turned off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped out of the bathroom into his room, steam swirling around him.He opened his case, looked at his arsenal, and hoped his suspicions wouldn’t come true.Then he heard an odd crackling behind him, accompanied by a faint blue light. Grabbing a weapon in his right hand and holding the towel at his waist with his left, he turned.“Oh, come on, Five. Would you really shoot me?” said a voice he knew all too well—and loathed.Handler smirked, shaking her head, a revolver in one hand and a briefcase dangling from the other.“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of when someone crosses me,” Five shot back.Handler chuckled slyly, stepping closer. So close that Five could feel the coldness of her cheek and lips brushing against his skin near his ear.“You’d be surprised what I’m willing to do to maintain the timeline,” she whispered.Five grimaced in disgust, silently reminding himself this mission would be his last. You’ll return to your family. Save Lila, no matter her condition. Go back in time and stop the apocalypse, he thought.“I must say, your younger self is quite attractive,” she whispered, lightly brushing his shoulder. He shuddered. He hated her fleeting touches, her voice near his ear, and her vile schemes.She laughed again and stepped back, tucking her revolver into the waistband of her tailored trousers. “I just came to check on you and remind you: save Agent Pitts at all costs and eliminate the target disrupting the timeline.”Agent Five nodded, his pupils narrowing as he watched Handler open the case. His emotions were tightly controlled, but for some reason, he felt an overwhelming need to know what she was hiding. “Why is Agent Pitts so important to you?”Handler paused, as if debating whether to answer. Finally, she smiled—a smile that always made Five suspicious.“Because she’s my adopted daughter,” she said coldly.Before he could respond, she vanished in a swirl of blue light.Five Hargreeves replayed her last words in his mind, staring into space. It felt as if she had dropped an atomic bomb on him.He glanced out the window. The mist had cleared, and Čachtice Castle was bathed in the golden hues of the morning sun.He knew it was time to go and finish what needed to be done.