The name moved through the radio like a ghost crawling out of a grave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe stood beside the old woman\u2019s bed, one hand tightly gripping the stolen radio, the other pressed against her own chest, as if she could force her heartbeat to remain quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nobody had called her that in seven years. Not since the Syrian border. Not since the snow, the smoke, the broken radio, and Sarah\u2019s hand slipping out of hers. Not since the official report that read \u201cmission success\u201d while five flag-draped coffins went home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She had buried Viper under white scrubs, night shifts, and discharge summaries. But the man on the radio had just dug her up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The unconscious attacker at her feet groaned softly. Chloe looked down. He was young. Too young to know her call sign. Which meant someone else did. Someone who had access to classified military records. Someone who had planned for every guard, every camera, and every police route\u2026 and somehow, still forgotten to check the nurse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her radio hissed again. \u201cSir, orders?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The leader answered, calm but sharper now. \u201cNo one touches her alone. If she is Viper, she won\u2019t run. She\u2019ll hunt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe almost smiled. Almost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she heard a sound from the bed. The old woman opened her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSweetheart?\u201d she whispered through her oxygen mask. \u201cWhat is happening?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe immediately became Nurse Chloe again. She bent low, adjusted the mask, and gently touched the woman\u2019s forehead. \u201cNothing will happen to you, Grandma.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre those bad men?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old woman\u2019s wrinkled hand closed tightly around Chloe\u2019s wrist. \u201cMy son is downstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Chloe\u2019s eyes tightened. \u201cWhat is his name?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMichael. He went down to get some coffee.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The cafeteria. No witnesses.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe took one slow, deep breath. \u201cI will bring him back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old woman looked at her face for a long moment. \u201cWho are you, sweetheart?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe turned toward the doorway, where the yellow emergency lights sliced the room into long shadows. \u201cI don\u2019t know anymore,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then she moved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n First, the cameras. Hospitals are full of blind corners, but nurses know every single one. The security team watched screens. Doctors watched monitors. Families watched doors. Nurses watched movement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe slipped through the service passage behind the linen room, keeping low, the stolen radio pressed against her ear. From the main corridor, she heard men dragging patients\u2019 relatives toward the stairwell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMove! Keep your heads down!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Someone cried out for their mother. Someone begged for medicine. A child screamed once, then was quickly silenced by a terrified hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe reached the fourth-floor utility panel. The attackers had cut the main power, but the old internal intercom system still ran on a backup battery loop. She opened the panel using a hairpin from her bun. Inside was a chaotic mess of wires. She didn\u2019t need the whole system\u2014only one specific line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her fingers moved with practiced speed. A red wire. A loose auxiliary speaker cable. A battery pack pulled from her medicine scanner. Three quick twists. One spark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The floor speakers clicked alive with a soft, subtle hiss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe lifted the radio and patched the frequency. The attackers\u2019 private channel now bled faintly through the hospital\u2019s ceiling speakers. It wasn\u2019t incredibly loud. Just enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Down on the second floor, in the cafeteria, every single hostage would now hear what the attackers were saying before the attackers even realized they were exposed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her radio crackled. \u201cCafeteria sealed. Twenty-three hostages.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRoom 418?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDoctor is preparing him for transfer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere is Viper?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A heavy pause followed. Then the leader\u2019s voice cut through. \u201cShe is close.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe flipped off the patch and disappeared into the shadows before they could trace the signal interference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the stairwell landing, she found blood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the private guards from Room 418 was still alive, slumped behind a fire extinguisher cabinet, one hand pressed firmly over his bleeding shoulder. His lips moved weakly when he saw her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNurse\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon\u2019t speak.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She pressed a thick pad of gauze hard into the wound. He hissed through his teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMercer\u2026 they\u2019re taking him through the basement.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Of course. Not the main entrance. Not the ambulance bay. The basement loading dock, where the biomedical waste trucks left before sunrise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow many downstairs?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThree\u2026 maybe four.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She tightly secured the bandage using an elastic wrap from her pocket. \u201cListen to me. When you hear the fire alarm go off, crawl into the laundry chute room. Not a second before.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked at her, completely confused. \u201cThere is no fire.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere will be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before he could ask another question, she was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The leader had expected soldiers. Police. Swat commandos. Negotiators. He had not expected surgical spirits and industrial cleaning supplies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the third floor, Chloe entered the pediatric supply closet and emptied two large bottles of medical rubbing alcohol onto the corridor floor near the staff breakroom. She opened three oxygen cylinder valves slightly\u2014not enough to cause a massive blast, but enough to create instant panic if an open flame approached.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then she pulled a lighter from the pocket of the unconscious orderly she had bypassed. She didn\u2019t light it. Not yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n War was not about making noise. War was about timing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the radio, the leader spoke again. \u201cAll units, she may try a standard evacuation trick. Ignore all alarms unless I personally confirm.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe froze in the darkness. He knew her methods. Not just her old call sign\u2014he knew her specific playbook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There had been a black-ops mission in Texas years ago. A hostage extraction from a secure warehouse. Chloe had triggered a false gas leak, pulled six hostages out through an underground drainage line, and vanished before the cartel forces realized the leak was completely fabricated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Only six people in the world had known the operational details of that extraction. Five of them were dead. One had written the official report.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her commanding officer. Captain Marcus Miller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her fingers tightened like iron around the radio. Impossible.<\/em> Marcus had signed her military discharge papers with tears in his eyes, telling her, \u201cGo live a real life, Vance. Some of us have forgotten how.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But the leader\u2019s voice on the radio\u2026 No. No. Memory is a cruel thing in a crisis. It places old faces onto new monsters. She forced the thought out of her head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At the ICU entrance, two attackers stood watch outside Room 418 while Dr. Miller prepared Charles Mercer for movement. The billionaire lay pale and sweating, an oxygen line taped to his nose, his arm hooked up to a rolling IV stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe crouched behind the nurses\u2019 station counter. The attacker nearest her kept shifting his weight heavily onto his left leg. An old knee injury.<\/em> The other man held his rifle just a bit too high. Trained, but definitely civilian contracted.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe grabbed a stainless steel kidney tray from the counter and slid it across the linoleum floor. It clattered loudly behind them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Both men spun around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She moved before the sound even finished echoing. The first man\u2019s bad knee buckled instantly under a precise, crushing blow from a heavy fire extinguisher. The second man swung his rifle toward her, but she was already well inside his reach. Elbow to the throat. Palm strike to the ear. Knee driving deep into his ribs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He hit the floor without firing a single round.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first man tried to yell for backup. She pressed two fingers hard into the nerve bundle right below his jawline. His voice died instantly in his throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Miller stood frozen in the ICU doorway, his surgical mask hanging loose around his neck, his eyes wide with shock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cChloe\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGet inside.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He stepped back. She dragged both unconscious attackers behind the nurses\u2019 station desk, stripping them of their zip ties, spare magazines, and one tactical flashbang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Miller whispered, \u201cWhat on earth are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She looked at him coldly. \u201cA nurse. Tonight, that has to be enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside Room 418, Charles Mercer opened his eyes. \u201cYou aren\u2019t hospital security,\u201d he muttered weakly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMilitary?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His lips trembled. \u201cThey came here because of the ledger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat ledger?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked at Dr. Miller, then back at her. \u201cThe one I gave to the chief hospital administrator for safekeeping.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe went entirely still. \u201cWhat administrator?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDr. Richard Vance. I told him if anything happened to me, he had to send it directly to the federal prosecutors.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Richard Vance. The chief administrator. The man who had personally insisted that only two nurses be assigned to the entire fourth floor tonight. The man who had sent half the security staff to a mandatory training seminar yesterday. The man who had casually asked Chloe just last week if she had ever worked in \u201cmilitary medical facilities.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe\u2019s stomach turned cold. Before she could speak, the radio crackled. The leader\u2019s voice came through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cViper. I know you can hear me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Miller\u2019s face went completely white. Chloe lifted the radio slowly to her mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The leader continued, \u201cYou still move exactly like you did on the border.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The entire world seemed to stop. The border. The blinding snow. Sarah bleeding out into her tactical gloves. The radio completely dead. A voice in her earpiece saying, \u201cHold your position, Viper.\u201d<\/em> Hold position\u2014while Sarah died.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe pressed the talk button. \u201cWho is this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A soft, dark laugh came back. \u201cStill don\u2019t recognize my voice?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her throat closed up. \u201cMarcus?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Silence. Then the leader said, \u201cI told you to leave the dead buried, Chloe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The radio slipped slightly in her grip. Captain Marcus Miller was alive. And he was leading the mercenaries inside her hospital.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Miller whispered, \u201cChloe?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She didn\u2019t answer him. Marcus\u2019s voice hardened over the static.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBring Mercer down to the basement loading dock. Walk away after that. I won\u2019t hunt you down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou killed the guards.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI avoided killing the doctors.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou planned to kill the hostages.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOnly if it becomes necessary.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In her mind, Chloe looked down the corridor toward the room of the sleeping old woman. At Michael in the cafeteria. At Rachel. At the little boy waiting for his dialysis treatment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOn the border,\u201d she said quietly, \u201cyou told me civilians were the absolute line.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLines move.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His heavy breath came through the speaker, slow and deeply disappointed. \u201cYou always were too sentimental.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cI just actually remember what the uniform stood for.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a long pause. Then Marcus said, \u201cThen remember this too. I didn\u2019t betray our unit. The politicians and executives sold us out. Mercer has that ledger because his company paid for the faulty radio equipment that ultimately killed Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hospital room went completely silent. Charles Mercer\u2019s eyes flickered\u2014just a fraction too fast. Chloe saw it instantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcus continued, \u201cAsk him why our convoy route was suddenly rerouted. Ask him whose corporation manufactured the communications tech that failed us. Ask him how many defense officials signed the procurement papers. He isn\u2019t a victimized witness, Chloe. He\u2019s a loose end trying to buy himself federal immunity.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mercer whispered, \u201cHe\u2019s lying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe turned toward him, but the billionaire refused to meet her gaze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Something old and heavy opened up in her chest. It wasn\u2019t grief. It was worse. It was profound doubt. For seven years, she had believed that fateful ambush was just enemy intelligence, terrible luck, freezing weather, and bad communication. What if it had all been bought and paid for? What if Sarah had died simply because men in expensive suits sold cheap equipment and corporate lies?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcus spoke again, his tone softer now. \u201cGive him to me. Walk away. Let the dead finally have their justice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe\u2019s hand shook for the very first time. Dr. Miller saw it. \u201cChloe,\u201d he whispered, \u201cdon\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She looked at the doctor. Then at Charles Mercer. Then at the flashing monitors. At the hospital around her\u2014the place she had explicitly chosen because she wanted to save lives without ever having to ask whether those lives deserved saving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her voice returned, cold and steady. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcus sighed. \u201cI knew you\u2019d say that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then the building\u2019s fire alarms exploded. Not because she had lit anything, but because someone else had manually triggered the pull station. Marcus had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hospital erupted into pure chaos. The overhead sprinklers hissed to life across the corridors, raining water down on the linoleum. Emergency doors unlocked automatically with loud magnetic clicks. Hostages began screaming downstairs. Attackers shouted frantically over the radio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSir, the fire system is active!\u201d \u201cBasement team, move out!\u201d \u201cCafeteria doors are unlocked!\u201d \u201cWhere is Mercer?!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe swore under her breath. He had turned her own diversion technique completely against her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The ICU doors burst open. Two attackers rushed in, weapons raised, firing blindly into the smoke. Chloe threw the flashbang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A blinding white light flashed, and all sound vanished into a high-pitched ring. She moved through the deafening silence. One man down. The second disarmed and neutralized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dr. Miller dragged Mercer\u2019s mobile bed toward the far wall, shielding the old man with his own body. The cardiac monitor screamed as the billionaire\u2019s heart rate spiked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe grabbed the frame of the bed. \u201cMiller, take him through the pediatric dialysis wing. Lock down door number three.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat about you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGo!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He moved. Chloe snatched up a rifle from one of the fallen men, checked the chamber purely by feel, and stepped out into the smoke-filled corridor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The sprinkler water thoroughly soaked her white scrubs, turning them transparent at the shoulders and staining them a dark red where the old guard\u2019s blood had smeared onto her sleeve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At the far end of the hallway stood Marcus. No tactical mask on anymore. He looked older. He had a thick beard and a jagged scar running down his cheek, but it was still unmistakably him. Captain Miller. The man who had once pulled her out of a freezing river during survival training and laughed, saying, \u201cA viper doesn\u2019t drown. She just waits underwater.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He held a pistol directly to Nurse Rachel\u2019s head. Rachel was shaking so violently her teeth were chattering aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcus looked down the hallway at Chloe with an expression that looked almost like genuine sadness. \u201cLast chance, Viper.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe raised her rifle, her hands completely steady now. \u201cYou taught me never to negotiate with a hostage-taker.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI taught you to understand the mission.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy mission changed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes flickered slightly through the mist. \u201cTo bandages and IVs?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTo people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He smiled faintly. \u201cThat is exactly why you lost Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The shot rang out before she even consciously chose to pull the trigger. Not aimed at his heart. Right at his shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcus spun around from the impact, his pistol discharging wildly into the drywall ceiling. Rachel collapsed to the floor, screaming in terror. Chloe rushed forward through the water, kicked the handgun away across the floor, and drove her knee hard into Marcus\u2019s back, pinning him down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He let out a painful laugh through his teeth. \u201cStill using non-lethal restraints.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cStill a better soldier than you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She tightly zip-tied his wrists using his own gear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Outside the windows, police sirens finally wailed through the city streets. SWAT commandos began shouting orders from the stairwell. The hospital began to slowly piecing itself back together amidst the crying, rushing footsteps, and rolling stretchers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe stood up slowly, the water from the ceiling sprinklers running down her face like tears she simply didn\u2019t have the time to shed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Charles Mercer was wheeled back out from the dialysis corridor. He was alive, utterly terrified, and staring down at Marcus on the floor as if the bleeding man wasn\u2019t a terrorist, but a debt collector who had finally caught up to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcus lifted his head just enough to look at Chloe. \u201cYou saved the monster who sold us out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe said absolutely nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He smiled, blood coating his teeth. \u201cAsk him about the ledger. Ask Dr. Vance where he hid it. Ask why the administrator vanished twelve minutes before the power was cut.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe turned around slowly. Dr. Miller froze in place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe administrator vanished?\u201d she asked a police officer who had just breached the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The officer checked his digital log. \u201cDr. Richard Vance cleared the security gates and left the hospital premises at 2:05 a.m.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Twelve minutes before the lights went out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old familiar dread moved through Chloe once again. Not the fear of incoming bullets, but the fear of a deeply buried truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Charles Mercer suddenly grabbed her wrist with surprising physical strength. \u201cNurse,\u201d he whispered desperately. \u201cDo not let them take that ledger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere is it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes darted past her, pointing straight toward Room 412. The old woman\u2019s room. Grandma.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe\u2019s blood ran entirely cold. \u201cNo,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mercer\u2019s voice shook. \u201cI hid it in the one place no one would ever think to look. Inside her automated IV pump casing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe turned and sprinted down the hall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Room 412 was completely empty. The sheets on the bed were still warm. The oxygen mask lay abandoned on the linoleum floor. The rolling IV pump was completely gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Resting on the white pillow was a folded piece of paper. Written on it was a shaky, elderly handwriting:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sweetheart, my son came to get me. He told me you were the one who sent him.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe closed her eyes tightly. Michael\u2014the son from the cafeteria. Or rather, the man who had perfectly pretended to be him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her radio crackled one final time. It wasn\u2019t Marcus\u2019s voice. It was a completely different voice\u2014older, calmer, and chillingly authoritative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cViper, you did exceptionally well tonight. You saved the witness. You saved the hospital. Now, focus on saving yourself. The ledger is already on the move.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe lifted the radio slowly to her ear. \u201cWho is this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The voice let out a low chuckle. \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t remember me, but I certainly remember the little sniper who absolutely refused to miss.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then the line cut to dead static.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the distance, police officers were shouting her name down the hall. Dr. Miller called out from the nurses\u2019 station, \u201cChloe!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But Chloe just stood there beside the empty hospital bed, holding the crumpled note, feeling the vast war she thought she had escaped rising up all around her in the cold emergency light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tonight, twelve armed men had entered Mercy General Hospital to steal one high-profile witness. They had failed completely. But someone else had entered silently under the cover of chaos and stolen the absolute truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And as Chloe looked at the missing IV pump, the abandoned oxygen mask, and the old woman\u2019s trembling note, she understood with sickening clarity\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n Viper had not been reawakened to stop an attack. She had been reawakened because the real war had finally found her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And if you had buried the soldier inside you to save innocent lives, only to learn that the dead were still calling out to you from an old betrayal, would you stay a nurse\u2026 or would you choose to become Viper one last time?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The name moved through the radio like a ghost crawling out of a grave. Chloe stood beside the old woman\u2019s bed, one hand tightly gripping the stolen… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5126","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5126","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5126"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5126\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5129,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5126\/revisions\/5129"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5126"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5126"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5126"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}