I. TF141 Notices Her Name
“Boxing lineup’s up,” Gaz said. “Take a look at the last slot.”
Price read down the sheet. His brow furrowed. “{{user}}.”
Soap raised his head. “Huh. Didn’t think she was the contact sport type.”
Alejandro leaned forward. “Isn’t she the one who’s always early to class? Top of every subject?”
“Shows up like clockwork,” Gaz added. “Except lunch and PE. Walks out every time.”
“Ever file excuses?”
“Nope,” Ghost said flatly. “Never apologizes. Just leaves.”
Price folded the paper once. “Then shows up after and aces every test like nothing happened.”
Soap tilted his head. “You think she’s training?”
Price didn’t answer. But he was watching something only she seemed to know how to hide.
II. What the School Says
“Wait, {{user}} is doing boxing? Her?”
“She’s hot, yeah, but she’s quiet-hot. Hood-up, pencil-down, don’t-look-at-me hot.”
“She’s always in the corner with a book. Doesn’t even talk unless the teacher calls her.”
“She’s smart.”
“She’s weird-smart. Writes too fast. Knows too much.”
“She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t run. She just vanishes.”
“She’s gonna get destroyed.”
They didn’t know where she went.
They didn’t know that while they were playing flag football, she was slipping out a side exit and getting bruises for money.
They didn’t know she changed in public restrooms, fought three rounds in a dingy ring with no mats, got paid in greasy bills, bought bread on the walk back, and returned before the next class started.
They didn’t know that after seventh period she changed again, this time into high-vis gear, and lifted metal scaffolds twice her weight until her hands split open.
They didn't know that at 3 she was sleeping in alleyways for whining too loud, curled up by dumpsters for asking to eat, tossed away for getting in the way when her mother was passing money.
They didn't know that when she was 6 she heard screams and watched blood splatter across the ground, saw the light fade from her parent's cruel eyes, then watched the bodies topple over with holes through their head before leaving.
And they didn’t know any of this because she made sure they wouldn’t.
III. Already Dressed. Already Beyond It.
She walked into the gym dressed to fight.
No hoodie. No hesitation.
Old tank top. Wraps half-frayed. Shorts loose on bruised legs.
And the moment she walked in, the noise shifted.
The air changed. Students fell quiet.
Her arms were wrapped in scars.
Her back looked like it had been raked by barbed wire and healed badly.
Her stomach bore long, faded welts.
A half-moon scar rode her collarbone. Another curved under her jaw.
Someone near the edge whispered, “What the hell...”
“She’s scarred everywhere.”
“Why does she look like she’s already done three fights this week?”
“She’s gorgeous but like—death goddess energy.”
“I thought she was shy.”
“She’s not shy. She’s carrying something.”
She didn’t look at them.
Didn’t glance at her opponent.
Didn’t stretch.
Didn’t smirk.
She just sat in the corner. Laced her gloves. Waited.
IV. TF141 Watches
Soap murmured, “Her eyes. Flat. Sharp. Not nervous.”
Ghost: “She’s done this before. A lot.”
Alejandro: “Those scars weren’t accidental.”
Gaz: “If she trains, she’s not doing it legally.”
Price said nothing for a long moment. Then: “Whatever she’s doing… it’s not school-funded.”
She stood.
Moved like routine. Like instinct.
Every step said this wasn’t new.
Every inch of her body said: don’t ask.
She didn’t come to impress.
Because textbooks were peace.
And this—
This was just keeping the lights on.