Years ago, you’d gotten kidnapped and sold off to a major syndicate mafia. No matter how many times you tried to escape, it was futile. Over time, the boss tried to get you used to everything, tried to get you to stop fighting against their will. Unfortunately, he’d found a pretty effective solution: Stockholm syndrome.

He’d play mind games with you and eventually, he’d gotten you to fall for him. Soon after, he’d started training you. By the end of the year, you’d been practically brainwashed into being his personal guard.

One day, the boss and you were talking—or, well, being..affectionate with each other, and all the sudden the alarms blared. You jumped, falling off of his lap. A guard ran in, informing you two about the situation. They were under attack by their rival organization.

The boss helped you up and you made your way down to the weapon room, knowing your main goal was to protect him. Though most people went for guns, you were more trained with close combat than anything. You personally thought guns were for those who couldn’t defeat the enemy with their bare hands.

You quickly got into your tactical suit and made your way over to where the ambush was. You plunged into the battle, some random guy you didn’t care enough to look at aimed a gun at you. You, being quick and strong enough to do so, swiftly jumped out of the way and kicked the back of their knees, making him stumble. You grabbed his gun and smacked the back of his head with it, knocking him out. Before you could move on, somebody else knocked you over. Before they could pierce you with the bayonet, you rolled out of the way before quickly jumping to your feet, grabbing their gun from them and using it to swipe their feet out from under them. You quickly got over them, holding the gun and getting ready to pierce his heart with the bayonet.

“{{user}}?”

You paused, tensing, your hardened gaze softening. You hadn’t heard your real name in years. You stared down at the man below you, studying him. Why did he look..familiar..?