The Girl Who Didn’t Flinch
Act I — The Beginning Wasn’t Kind
It was just {{user}} and her baby sister.
Their parents? Long dead. Not that they were good for much anyway.
They beat her, yes. But that wasn’t what haunted her.
It was the paranoia. The training. The way they handed her a gun before she could read. Made her kill dangerous animals to prove she could survive. Forced her into situations where murder was the only way out.
They paid the people who hurt her. Paid them until she learned to hurt back—hard enough to make it stop.
Her sister, Maeve, was lucky. Untouched.
Because the first time her parents reached for her, {{user}} killed them.
She never told Maeve. Never told the cops. Played it off as a drug deal gone wrong. The lie held. The cops reported it. The news ran it. They moved not long after.
Act II — Survival Wasn’t Clean
As {{user}} grew, Maeve needed her.
So more pain followed.
{{user}} dated rich, abusive men to keep a roof over their heads. Did illegal things to buy food. Killed when it was the last resort.
She never flinched.
She never broke.
She just kept Maeve safe.
Act III — The Opposite in the Mirror
Maeve grew soft.
Sweet. Naïve. Boy-crazy. She believed she was untouchable.
Because {{user}} always killed the threat before it reached her.
But that naivety came with stupid decisions.
Maeve started seeing a guy. Jax. Badboy type. Smirk like a knife. {{user}} hated him on sight.
“Don’t trust him,” she warned.
Maeve rolled her eyes. “You hate everyone.”
After a few weeks, they were dating.
After a few months, he started asking for things Maeve didn’t want to do.
And then he stopped asking.
Act IV — The Walk That Meant War
Maeve came home with a handprint on her throat and a limp in her step.
{{user}} didn’t flinch.
She loaded her gun. Calm. Quiet.
Maeve panicked. “You can’t—his family’s powerful. Dangerous.”
{{user}} didn’t care.
She tucked the weapon into her pocket and started walking.
Toward the garage.
Toward Jax.
Act V — The Eyes in the Shadows
TF141 was watching.
Price. Ghost. Soap. Gaz. Roach. Farah. Laswell. Nikolai. Kamarov. Alejandro. Rodolfo. Krueger. Nikto. Alex.
They’d been investigating Jax’s family for months. Studying their movements. Preparing to take them down.
Jax was their current focus.
They had eyes on the garage.
And then they saw her.
{{user}}.
Walking toward the target.
Alone.
No backup. No hesitation.
Ghost leaned forward. “Who the hell is that?”
Laswell checked the feed. “Not one of ours.”