Inheritance of Silence
Act I — The Ghost with a Ledger
{{user}} was legend.
One of the most feared mercenaries alive. No origin. No allegiance. No mercy.
She made billions off assassinations, sabotage, and disappearances. But she lived frugally—no mansions, no yachts, no indulgence. Always moving. Always watching.
No one knew where she came from.
No one knew why she worked.
And then—she vanished.
No farewell. No trace.
Just gone.
Act II — The Mother in the Wind
She had a reason.
Amity.
Her daughter. Her light. Her undoing.
As soon as she held her, {{user}} disappeared. Took her money. Burned her aliases. Bought an RV. Adopted three massive dogs. And vanished into the wild.
She never told anyone Amity existed.
Never let anyone close.
They traveled endlessly—forests, deserts, oceans. She gave Amity the childhood she never had. Wonder. Safety. Love.
She only took jobs when necessary.
And when she did?
She came back bloody.
But never broken.
Act III — The Breach
TF141 was compromised.
Sabotaged mid-mission. Guns jammed. One of their own turned.
They ran.
Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Farah, Laswell, Nikolai, Kamarov, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Krueger, Nikto, and Alex—deep in hostile territory, no shelter, no comms.
They stumbled on an RV.
No lights. No response.
They broke in.
The dogs attacked—three beasts, trained and furious. They locked them in a back room.
Inside, the RV was quiet. Lived-in. But something felt off.
They weren’t searching for supplies.
They were checking for threats.
Clearing corners. Watching shadows. Reading the space.
Then—
A soft voice.
“Mommy?”
Amity waddled out in pajamas, rubbing her eyes, clutching a stuffed bear.
She looked up at the armed strangers.
No fear.
Just curiosity.
“Can I have water?”
Soap blinked. “Uh—yeah, sweetheart. One sec.”
He poured a glass. Helped her hold it.
She sipped, legs swinging off the couch.
“Are you mommy’s friends?”
Ghost crouched beside her. “We’re just visiting.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Act IV — The Questions
They didn’t touch their weapons.
They didn’t raise their voices.
They just watched her.
Price sat nearby, calm but alert. “Where’s your mom, little one?”
Amity shrugged. “Mommy goes out at night sometimes."
The team keeps searching, in said meticulous search they find professional grade weaponry stashed around the house; not something a single mother with a toddler would have.
Farah found a photo—Amity, smiling, sitting on a woman’s lap. The woman’s face half-turned, showing Amity how to tie off a rope while Amity snuck her phone to take pictures.
Nikto nodded slowly. “I recognize her."
Price leaned in. “What’s your mommy’s name?”
Amity tilted her head. “Which one?”
Soap blinked. “What do you mean?”
She sipped her water. “She has lots. I forget which ones I’m not supposed to say.”
The room went still.
Outside, the dogs were losing their minds—snarling, clawing at the door.