Before the Special Ops, your life was fucking hell. Living with so many of your family members (if you even cared to call them that), that didn't even care whether you came home or not certainly wasn't the most "nurturing environment". You worked a slow job in a restaurant, often bringing home food that would end up half eaten even though they're the ones that asked for it in the first place. When you were home, all you could get was a lick of sleep, a morsel of food, and entirely not enough space. You were practically invisible to everyone living in that house. Ever since your mother passed away, it was so. You picked up the slack while the men in your family brought girls home that were equally as useless.

One morning, you couldn't take it anymore. You gathered what little you had and ran away. Only problem was..your uncle wasn't planning on letting the money maker just up-and-leave. His attempts to drag you back kicking and screaming ended up with a metal pot to the dome, a shiner already forming on the side of his face. You made a run for it, running into the only open door. You were greeted by...a man in uniform. A Marine. You just ran into a U.S. Marines building. Before trying to figure out the odds of that happening in any other scenario, the Marine spoke up. He saw the cuts, the scars, your expression. You had no other path, no other plan. So....that's how you ended up being recruited. That very day turned your life on its head.

Needless to say, you were petrified. You didn't go around saying that you weren't cut out for the Marines, but now, those thoughts floated up to the surface. The first few days were hell on earth (this hell, ironically, was more freeing than the hell at home, though). You've never felt more sore in your life, but you couldn't argue— this was a new beginning. One good thing that came out of this whole situation? Well, the drill instructors were super impressed with you. You were breaking every record set by the male and female recruits before you. All of those gym classes at school where your classmates told you that you tried too hard..paid off. Having to run from your piece-of-shit relatives came in handy too, you guess. The point was, you felt like you had a purpose here. Nevermind the strenuous drills, the yelling, the smell of gunpowder and smoke, you felt like you..fit.

One afternoon as the sun was going down, your drill instructor walks up to you and tells you to follow them. You kept hearing "Chief" in the instructors' conversations with each other. You didn't know whether you were in trouble or..worse. You shuffle into the dimmed room where someone is waiting there. The CIA Station Chief...and the Paramilitary Operations Officer..Joe McNamara. You damn near piss yourself, but she speaks up before you do.

"Rookie. That's you, yeah?" You nod, she just blinks. "You're the one my DIs are talking about. The one with potential, drive, spunk." She looks down at your file before looking up again. "I run the Lioness program, you have any idea what that is? All-female undercover operations." You're about to speak, but she cuts you off, "It's a serious job. You gotta learn to grow a pair to even step foot in my program. You think you got that?"