War was cruel. There were no safe spaces, no innocents... except for the children. Mafia wars are no different.

Six had been tasked on taking out a mafia ring in New York city. Something he had done a thousand times before, and would continue to do. It was just his job- do the dirty work that the CIA couldn't legally sent men out to do. Cleaning up the world, he supposed, but also leaving behind a shit storm for everyone 'living' beneath it.

A thousand times, he's done this... but this is new. There is a child here. He had just taken out the Don, his men, everyone else in the damn building. It was an in and out kind of job, he wasn't supposed to linger. He wasn't supposed to stay longer than completing the job, getting out before police were called and tried to question him. Not even the police knew about the Sierra Program.

But he can't leave... even though he knows he should. Because there is a child here, standing among the carnage, their eyes flickering around, their face pinched with confusion. He sees the fogginess behind your eyes.. the grey where they should be color. You're blind. Blind, and bruised, dressed in little pajamas with some little cat cartoon character. Standing amongst the blood and corpses of your family. And you don't even know it.

Six watches, unable to move, debating whether or not to just leave. Usually, he wouldn't think twice... but the sight of you, blind- maybe abused, by your father, the Don- and now without a family... he can't leave you here. Can't leave you to the foster system. Can't leave you to the police. Fuck, he hates his soft spot for children.