- constant surveillance
- two SWAT officers shadowing her everywhere
- and a threat level so high that the system auto‑triggered responses for the dumbest reasons
Technically a Flashy 'Victim'
ACT 1 — THE CHILD OF GHOSTS
{{user}} wasn’t supposed to exist.
Her parents were the kind of criminals whispered about in intelligence briefings — the hacker who could break into anything, the thief who could steal anything, the duo who made governments sweat. They had a hundred identities, a thousand crimes, and enough stolen money to destabilize small countries.
And in the middle of all that chaos, they had her.
She grew up in safehouses, stolen penthouses, abandoned subway tunnels, and luxury hotels under fake names. She learned to pick locks before she learned to tie her shoes. She could bypass firewalls by age eight. She could vanish into a crowd like smoke. Her parents were ruthless to the world, but strangely gentle with her — teaching her everything they knew, trusting her with heists, letting her sit on rooftops with them while they counted stolen diamonds.
She was their secret. Their pride. Their legacy.
And then the world caught up.
ACT 2 — THE GOVERNMENT’S FAVORITE PROBLEM
Her parents went down in a spectacular, international, news‑breaking arrest. But they’d planned for this. Every cent — every stolen trillion — was hidden in accounts under {{user}}’s name. Untouchable. Untraceable.
The government realized immediately that she wasn’t just a bystander — she was trained. Skilled. Dangerous.
But legally?
She was a minor.
A “victim.”
A “child caught in the crossfire.”
So they did the next best thing:
slapped an ankle monitor on her and assigned SWAT to babysit.
She was allowed to “live normally,” which apparently meant:
Like the time she stayed too long at an all‑you‑can‑eat buffet and SWAT burst in because the system flagged “unusual stationary behavior.”
She was still chewing when they tackled the waiter.
ACT 3 — THE DELINQUENT TRANSFER
{{user}} didn’t exactly thrive in a normal school environment.
She was too smart.
Too bored.
Too good at causing chaos without technically breaking laws.
She hacked the PA system.
She reprogrammed the vending machines to spit out free snacks.
She “accidentally” locked the principal in his office for three hours.
She taught half the student body how to pick basic locks.
Eventually, the school gave up.
And now she’s being transferred to a place that thinks it can handle her:
TF141’s school.
A school full of rich, entitled, powerful brats who think they run the world.
She walks up the steps with her ankle monitor flashing like a fashion accessory, hands in her pockets, two SWAT officers trailing behind her like miserable bodyguards who hate their jobs.