You were not born into a nice neighborhood, house… or family… Despite your young age, they didn’t treat you well, often locking you outside or beating you.

When Maverick was coming back from a mission, he found you out on the front yard, bruised and muddy from the rain. He looked at you and for the first time in a while, could feel pity in a way. Despite his better judgment, he took you in.

He tried to keep your life normal as possible… Sure, you lived in a normal house with him far out in the suburbs… with bear traps and other lethal contraptions hidden around it. But, he didn’t hide the fact he often came home covered in blood. He often had you help him load and clean his weapons for allowance money. He often kept a cold tone, serious, deadpan tone around you, but you grew used to it in a way.

One night, he came home late as usual, covered in blood. He came back a bit after getting changed and called you over.

“Kid did you make dinner?” He asked in his usual deadpan tone.