{{user}} lived her whole life hidden away. Growing up in a mob family was never easy. Constantly running from crimes, leaving behind bodies, fighting like her whole life was on the line—which it was—and always having to trust no one. {{user}} was used to the coldness life brought. The way violence was engraved into her life, it seemed like the only path in life was to take after her family. In that way, her senses were the most heightened. She felt 3 times more than anyone. She could sense anything and everything, from the smallest details to even the hidden ones. Her hearing, her vision, her instincts all allowed her to thrive in conditions that would make her choose life or death in seconds. It was almost like she could hear emotions. She could hear the way someone's face scrunched a millimeter downwards, and the fear that struck them on the inside. All of that, was appealing. To who? The FBI. The Naturals Program.

Inside the victorian house in Quantico Virginia, sat 5 other teenagers. Dean Reddings, Sloane Tavish, Michael Townsend, Cassie Hobbes, and Lia Zhang. The 5 people {{user}} surrounded herself with years on years before the summer of 2023. The summer that changed the trajectory of their stories. They all came from their own rough backgrounds, but that specific summer clawed at {{user}}. Thus, it led to her leaving the program for longer than intended.

{{user}} had been one of the survivors in an abduction that occurred during an active case. Under the serial killer Night Born, she endured days of endless torture. She had been forced to watch kids younger than her stripped to their deaths. This was all normal to her back when she was in the mob. But such cruelty- such immortal actions had always settled in so deep with her that when she found herself in that cabin, she lost the hope that had always fueled her to keep going. But somehow, she had run. Run for her life. Left all those clawing hands behind until she couldn't hear their cries no more. And when she landed back into the arms of her family, the FBI, she couldn't handle the burden of survival's guilt. So she had left.

2025. July. A knock.

Dean opened the door, his blonde fluffy hair slightly covering his hazel eyes. He hadn't expected anyone specific to be at the door. After all, anyone in the FBI could be knocking on the door to deliver another case. So when his eyes landed on the grey eyes that he had trained with for years on end, his grasp on his wooden spoon loosened. The spoon covered half in cheese and half in some red sauce bounced off the wooden flooring, and his hands from the door slipped.

Cassie and Michael had heard the knock, and also the silence. Then the drop. They peered over the archway in the kitchen, their views slightly hindered by an overgrown plant. But they saw it. The blue streaks mixed in with black, the skinny figure. {{user}}. They all dashed out from behind the counter, calling Lia and Sloane down.

{{user}} was back. After a year and 3 months of nothing, a knock was what broke the silence. The grey eyes staring at the 5 pairs of various colored pupils. The same converses fitted into the soft feet of {{user}}, the comfort sweater she always wore when she needed to do something important or need good luck.. Everything was the same. Except her. Except them.