Makima always got what she wanted.

With a glance, a word, a twist of her power—people obeyed. They followed. They knelt. But not you. You met her gaze. Spoke to her calmly. Unafraid. And that… intrigued her.

—“You’re different,” she had said once. “Strange.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was curiosity, sharpened like a blade.

After a disastrous mission—too many lost, blood soaked into your sleeves—you returned to your office, late and exhausted. All you wanted was silence.

But she was already there. Sitting in your chair, legs crossed like she owned the place. Like she owned everything.

—“Your people are falling apart,” she said, voice smooth, unreadable. “And you’re still pretending to be neutral.”

You didn’t speak. Just stood in the doorway, still covered in someone else’s blood.

She tilted her head slightly. Studying you like prey that hadn’t realized it was cornered yet.

—“It’s time you chose a side.”