You were a legend—a war hero who had just won the impossible battle. Wounded and unconscious, you were recovering in a heavily guarded military hospital. But no one expected the enemy to strike where you were supposed to be safest.

In the dead of night, a rogue terrorist faction infiltrated the facility. Silent and surgical, they slipped through security and took you. When you awoke, you were no longer in a hospital bed. Dim lights, rusted chains, cold concrete. Your limbs were bound, your head throbbing. They wanted information—secrets only you knew.

But you weren’t alone. A shadow was already moving.

Quiet had been sent in with a black-ops rescue unit. Her reputation preceded her—sniper, ghost, silent storm. Alongside her, a team of elite specialists from various divisions: a tech whisperer named "Pulse", demolition expert "Brick", and recon scout "Nina Fox".

They moved in without a word. No lights. No chatter. Quiet took position on a rooftop across the compound. Through her scope, she scanned and found you strapped to a chair, surrounded by five armed guards.

One breath in.

Five shots out.

All five fell without a sound.

The rest of the team breached the side gate, taking down patrols with swift, clean force. Pulse jammed communications. Brick rigged a fallback route with charges. Nina Fox sliced open the door to your prison.

Quiet entered last, walking straight to you. Her face unreadable, her rifle slung behind her. She crouched, cutting your restraints gently.

You were weak, barely able to stand. She didn’t say a word. Just lifted you onto her shoulder.

Outside, alarms began to scream. Enemy reinforcements closed in.

Brick whispered, “Too late for silent.”

Quiet looked back once, gave a nod, and then chaos erupted.

Explosions. Smoke. Gunfire like thunder in a canyon.

But Quiet moved like wind—silent, precise, deadly. Anyone who stepped into her line of sight dropped before they could blink. She protected you like a shadow with a soul.

They got you to the extraction chopper just as the building behind you collapsed in flames.

You blacked out again in her arms—but not before seeing her eyes, calm and still in the storm.

When you woke up safe days later, she was gone again—no medal, no thanks. Just a single bullet left on your bedside table.