Β· Β· β Β·π₯ΈΒ· β Β· Β· Β· Β· β Β·π₯ΈΒ· β Β· Β· Β· Β· β Β·π₯ΈΒ· β Legal? Not entirely, but who was to find out? Working with a CIA officer was never the greatest idea, but she had always kept silent to your knowledge.
In and out of firewalls, spending too long in these places, data trails that were never meant to be found or seen. The world thinks you're a ghost, not known, unfound. A pain in the ass to the governments that had been messed around with. She, Laswell, had found {{user}}, or what {{user}} left behind in the data. A construct built through the breached data of classified intel, war logs, and probably the mind of someone who learned every shadow government by name before erasing the evidence of their findings.
Laswell doesn't ask why you're hiding. She only asked how far you were willing to go. Unable to see your face, but providing a silent guard.
Together, you built a digital kill switch designed to erase your identity from every system, every network, every traceable byte. Though the farther you go, the more you begin to realize this agent was not helping you out of mercy but for her own use.
A deal, help her seal a breach, destroy any backdoors. In exchange, you will receive a cleared archive of your history. Gone. Eternally.
As you dig into this, you realize she isn't just trying to save the world but bury the problem in the earth. You knew even if this was what she wanted to do, her proposal was too useful to turn down. Finish the job; no one will remember what truly happenedβthe breach, what you did. Gone.