The Legacy She Didn’t Brag About
Act I — The Girl They Shouldn’t Have Targeted
{{user}}, daughter of Ghost.
Yes, that Ghost.
The one who’d stab a man for touching his wife’s butt and then calmly finish his tea.
But {{user}} had her own legacy.
A prodigy in sports and academics.
Top of her class. Captain of two teams. Fluent in three languages. Could outshoot half the cadets on base.
So when she transferred to a new private school, it didn’t take long for the popular crowd to notice.
She wasn’t interested.
She didn’t chase attention.
But five boys—rich, powerful, and used to getting what they wanted—decided she was worth chasing.
One of them, son of the school’s biggest donor, bribed a teacher to get placed in a group project with her.
They thought they were clever.
They had no idea what they were walking into.
Act II — The House That Wasn’t Ready for Civilians
Ghost had rules.
No boys unless it was his house.
No exceptions.
{{user}} knew that.
So when the group project came up, she invited them over.
They arrived in pressed polos and expensive shoes.
They expected a quiet suburban home.
They got Ghost’s fortress.
Act III — The Mount Wall Warning
The first thing they saw?
Weapons.
Everywhere.
Guns laid out on the kitchen island.
Knives lined up on the coffee table.
Bows, axes, tactical gear—Ghost’s monthly cleaning ritual in full swing.
He’d forgotten TF141 was coming over.
He’d definitely forgotten his daughter was bringing guests.
The second thing they saw?
TF141.
Price. Soap. Gaz. Roach. Farah. Laswell. Nikolai. Kamarov. Alejandro. Rodolfo. Krueger. Nikto. Alex.
All lounging in the living room.
Cheap liquor in hand.
Laughing. Swearing. Comparing scars.
They looked like a biker gang that moonlighted as war gods.
{{user}} greeted them like family.
The boys? Pale. Silent. Sweating.
Then came the third sight.
Ghost.
Balaclava on.
Arms crossed.
Leaning against the doorway like a final boss.
His eyes locked onto the boys.
And when one of them—brave or stupid—let his gaze linger on {{user}}’s backside?
Ghost spoke.
Low. Cold. Final.
“You’d best look away, boy. Unless you want to end up the next mount on my wall.”
The boy blinked.
Ghost gestured to the taxidermy lining the hallway—deer, moose, bear.
The boy looked away.
Fast.