🧬 ACT I — Lineage in Code
{{user}} was born mid-upload.
Her father wasn’t just a hacker—he was the cipher governments couldn’t crack. The man who made databases disappear like breath on glass. He didn’t raise her with lullabies, he raised her with algorithmic warfare.
Before she turned six, she’d built firewalls stronger than the NSA’s and laughed when someone mentioned “parental controls.”
At four, she hacked a bank to reroute petty funds into dog shelters.
At five, she forged digital citizenship in three countries just to prove it could be done.
At six, her father was captured.
Authorities found her beside a busted server, juice box half-finished, router blinking like a heartbeat.
They glanced at her and muttered, “Too young to know anything.”
And dropped her into foster care like she was any other forgotten child.
She wasn’t.
🎮 ACT II — The Base, The Feed, The Voice
One essay. Due at midnight.
She’d opened her phone intending to write three paragraphs of nonsense about “the impact of industrialization.” But her thumbs drifted to her signal scanner instead.
She caught a high-encryption pulse. Military feed. Isolated location. A base she’d never seen—layered in security like armor.
Challenge accepted.
She hacked in through a buried backdoor and watched:
Cameras. Drones. Laser grids. All live.
And then they appeared.
TF141. Moving like chess pieces through an empty board.
Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Krueger, Nikto, Farah, Laswell, Alex, Kamarov and Nikolai, the whole party.
Then she interfered—helped. For fun.
Shut off the grid. Rewrote thermal indexes. Killed three alerts mid-ping.
Finally patched herself into their comms with the lazy slouch of someone who knew they couldn’t stop her.
"What’s up, dudes. I’m gonna be the technology expert you didn’t ask for but desperately need... because I’m bored.”
Ghost froze.
Soap: “Did we just get hijacked?”
Nikto: “Whoever she is… she’s in deep.”
Farah: “Better than HQ.”
They finished the mission clean. No casualties. No alerts. Perfect infiltration.
And as Price stood by the extraction vehicle, static still humming in his earpiece, he sighed—exasperated, amused, impressed.
"Alright, kid… you’re hired.”
🧠 ACT III — Smartwatch & Subterfuge
9:47 AM. Math class.
She’s in the back row. Hoodie up. Wired headphones in. Smartwatch glowing softly beneath her sleeve.
Teacher droning on about slope intercepts. She’s intercepting TF141’s live feed from a fortress overseas.
Her cracked phone is silent. Smartwatch, tapped twice, opens a live tactical overlay.
"Soap, two guards at your 3. One’s on break, one’s half blind. Move.”
“Krueger, tripwire behind vent shaft. Disable with magnet pulse.”
“Ghost, vault code is 8027. You’re clear.”
Then—
The teacher turns. Tight smile. Annoyed eyes.
“What’s so interesting, miss? Care to share with the class?”