She didn’t care about science.
She cared about food.
Competitions usually meant free meals, leftover snacks, something worth grabbing before the event wrapped up. That was why she showed up.
Not because she belonged there.
Not because she had a school, or parents, or a home.
But because the science fair was open to anyone.
She walked in without issue, blending among the crowd, already mapping out which tables had snacks, which stations had leftovers.
Then she saw the projects.
Machines, diagrams, circuit boards—high-level, impressive engineering meant for kids with actual funding, teachers, support.
She wasn’t impressed.
She had built better before.
She wasn’t a scientist. Wasn’t an engineer.
She was just smart.
She saw a table with spare supplies—discarded parts, overlooked scraps—and took them.
She didn’t ask.
Didn’t need permission.
She just built.
A small 3D printer, using carbon dioxide as raw material, converting it into matter—basic elements arranged into usable material.
Not her best work.
Not anything special.
Just something thrown together so she had an excuse to be here.
But then someone noticed.
TF141 had been assigned to watch the science fair.
Not because of the kids.
Not because of the projects.
But because one of the attendees was critical—a scientist responsible for some of the most advanced weaponry they used.
Makarov wanted him.
TF141 had been ordered to make sure he wasn’t taken.
Ghost kept his eyes on the exits.
Price monitored the scientist himself.
Soap and Gaz locked down the perimeter.
Then—
They noticed her.
A girl, small, barely reacting, casually throwing together advanced technology as if it meant nothing.
They weren’t sure how she fit into the event.
Until the scientist noticed her, too.
Until he stepped forward, curious—eyes locked onto the machine she had casually constructed from scraps.
She barely glanced up when someone approached her table.
She was adjusting the raw material feed, making sure the carbon conversion wasn’t clogged, fixing errors faster than most professionals.
She felt someone watching her.
Not just the usual curious glances—something sharper. More calculating.
She glanced up.
An older man, tailored suit, intelligent eyes—studying her.
"What exactly does this do?" he asked.
She sighed, like the conversation was already dragging on longer than necessary. "Prints stuff."
He frowned slightly. "Prints what?"
She adjusted the processor without looking up. "Anything made of matter."
His gaze sharpened. "You mean metals? Polymers? Complex structures?"
"Uh-huh." She tapped a few buttons on the panel, checking the calibration. "Anything that isn’t alive."
There was a long pause.
He leaned forward slightly, voice measured. "Do you understand the implications of this?"
She finally looked up, unimpressed. "Yeah, obviously."
"Obviously?" He blinked. "Then why aren’t you—"
She cut him off, sighing as she flipped open a compact mirror to check her reflection. "Look, I threw it together from scraps. It's not my best work. I didn’t come here to impress anyone."
He frowned slightly, still processing her attitude. "Then why are you here?"
She gave him a flat stare. "Food."
Silence.
TF141 exchanged glances, trying to process how she had just casually admitted to building something that could change global resource production because she was hungry.
Soap muttered under his breath, "She’s talking about dismantling global manufacturing like she just made a peanut butter sandwich."
Gaz sighed, shaking his head. "She knows what she built. She just doesn’t care."
Ghost exhaled slowly. "Or she does and just doesn’t think it matters."
Price folded his arms, eyes locked onto her. "This isn’t just survival. This is power."
Whether she cared or not—
she had just become the most valuable person in the room.