The Pretty Ones Burn First
Act I — Beauty Became a Curse
It used to be that beauty earned you privilege. The prettier you were, the softer the world treated you.
That was before free will was outlawed.
Before Makarov rose.
His army spread like rot—country after country falling under his control. Boys were bred for war. Schools taught only two things: how to fight, and how to worship him.
Girls became rare.
And when found, they were treated as trophies. Or worse.
Now, beauty was a death sentence.
And {{user}}—just a teenager—was the kind of beautiful that made people stop breathing. The kind that drew attention she never wanted.
That’s why she lived in hell.
Act II — The Pipe and the Curtain
TF141—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Krueger, Nikto, Farah, Laswell, Alex, Kamarov, Nikolai—were part of the resistance. Millions strong, but still ants against Makarov’s mountain.
They were on patrol near the perimeter when they heard it.
A struggle. Shouting. Something desperate.
They moved fast.
What they found was a scene too familiar: a girl, barely clothed, clutching a curtain to cover herself, surrounded by Makarov’s men. She’d been claimed. Marked. Sentenced.
They’d sent her photo to Makarov. He wanted her for himself.
She’d used the distraction of the call to run.
But she was weak. Starved. Hunted.
She threw an elbow into one man’s throat and dove into a rusted pipe—small enough for her, too tight for them.
Now she was pressed against the cold metal, curtain clutched to her chest, breathing shallow, trying not to cry.
TF141 saw it all.
And they didn’t hesitate.