The afternoon sun warmed the quiet street as Michelle and Trella walked home side by side. Everything felt peaceful, almost idyllic. Yet Trella’s expression remained as serious as ever.

It’s such a beautiful afternoon. Why can’t she enjoy it even a little? She always looks so stern…

Up ahead on the opposite sidewalk, Michelle spotted four familiar figures: Liza, Samira, Aiko, and Aiko’s classmate Jessica. Jessica, as always, was loud, entitled, and glued to Aiko’s arm in a way that seemed to annoy everyone except the calm, nearly emotionless Aiko herself.

Michelle nudged Trella.

“Hey, Trella! Aren’t they—”

“Yes. Loud.”

Not what I meant…

Before Michelle could say more, the peaceful day shattered. A van screeched to a halt at the intersection directly in front of the four girls. The doors burst open. Thugs jumped out and lunged for Jessica.

Aiko reacted instantly, pulling Jessica out of reach and sprinting away. Liza and Samira stepped forward without hesitation, intercepting the attackers. Fists flew. A knee struck someone’s ribs. One thug went down, another staggered. Michelle’s breath caught. One of the thugs broke off from the brawl and bolted after Aiko and Jessica. Trella didn’t hesitate. Her posture shifted to combat mode. A split second later she launched forward like a missile, crossing the street in a blur. She let out a sharp cry, drawing the man’s attention just long enough. She hit him with brutal force. The thug sailed backward and collided with a brick wall, dropping instantly unconscious.

Trella swung toward the van. Liza and Samira were holding their own, but the remaining attackers outnumbering them were still pressing forward. Trella charged. One thug barely turned before she struck him. The impact threw him into the side of the van with enough force to tilt it. The last three fell in a flurry of coordinated strikes from Trella, Liza, and Samira. The driver panicked and accelerated away, leaving his beaten crew scattered across the street.

On the far sidewalk, Michelle stood frozen, staring at the aftermath in disbelief.

“This… is… not… real…” she whispered. “Can’t… be…”

Her legs felt numb. It took a full minute before her body responded. She walked forward in a daze, her mind unable to process any of what she had seen.

Over an hour later, the front door of the orphanage opened. Aiko stood there, speaking quietly to a man whose back faced the street. A glimpse of his badge revealed he was CIA.

“So they made a move,” the agent said. “You’ve done a good job protecting her.”

Aiko shrugged. “Miss sweetness and likes got then picked up by her dad. Looks like that wasn’t an empty threat after all.”

“Continue monitoring. And next time? Use less force. Your buddies nearly killed them.”

“No promises, Langley.”

Michelle wandered the streets aimlessly until she found herself at the crossing with a clear view of the orphanage. She looked without thinking—and froze.

Dad? Is that dad? What is he doing there? Why is the CIA involved? What does that house have to do with anything? I… I need to go home. Clear my head. Talk to him.

At home, Michelle waited in the living room, heart pounding. When the door finally opened, she didn’t waste a second.

“Dad, we need to talk.”

“Not now,” Williams sighed. “I had a long day.”

“No. Right now. I saw you at the orphanage. Why were you there? Who are those girls?”

He stopped mid-stride. A question he wasn’t prepared for.

“I saw a girl crumple a locker with one hand,” Michelle continued. “They speak different languages, they know strange things, they act bizarre—then there was that fight in the street! And then I saw you at their house! Dad, please! Tell me the truth! What’s going on?!”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said quietly. “Stay away from them.”

“What? But dad—”

“You don’t need to know anything. Just keep your distance. End of discussion.”

“Fine! If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself!”

She stormed to her room, slamming the door.

Oh, boy, Williams thought. With how stubborn she is, this won’t end well.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hi, it's me. 

No, no mission this time. We’ve got a little problem. 

Yes, her. She’s determined to uncover everything. 

…You think that’s a good idea? I want her out of this. 

Fine... But make it scary.”

He hung up.

She won’t be the same after this.

The next day, Trella waited for Michelle outside the classroom. When Michelle arrived, Trella stepped in front of her and pulled her aside.

“I talked to your dad,” she said. “If you want to know so badly, I’ll take you to the orphanage after school. There I will tell you what you need to know. Just don’t make a scene.”

Michelle’s eyes widened. 

Later, in the silent classroom, she could barely sit still.

Late afternoon? Why? I want to know now. I can’t focus. This is torture. Like sitting in an electric chair…

The walk after school was unbearably quiet. When they arrived, the “orphanage” looked like any ordinary house. Trella opened the door.

“So,” she said, “this is our home.”

It looks normal. Completely normal. Nothing strange at all…

They headed upstairs. The first room had its door half-open—just enough for Michelle to spot several katanas mounted on the wall. Unease crept up her spine. She kept walking.

The next door was wide open. Inside, Katya sat at a small table, calmly cleaning a disassembled sniper rifle. She glanced up.

“Zdrastvuy.”

Then she returned to her work. Michelle’s knees trembled. Trella led her to the last room at the end of the hall. Mei-Ling sat on her bed sharpening a kukri, the blade scraping rhythmically along the stone.

Trella closed the door. Michelle looked like she might faint. She thought she just walked into her own execution.

Trella took off her coat and opened the closet. An army shotgun attached to the closet door immediately caught Michelle's attention. 

“Don’t worry,” Trella said gently. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Michelle only nodded in fear.

“You wanted to know what we are. Now you see. We’re soldiers. Mercenaries. Trained assassins. We were street kids. Real orphans. This is what we became.”

Michelle slowly sank to the floor, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with tears.

Mercenaries… No, can´t be… They’re kids. My age. But the weapons… the way they fought… the scars… their behavior… It all adds up. And yet it doesn’t. Are they really killers? Am I in a bad movie? No…

Michelle scrambled to her feet and bolted. Trella didn’t move.

Back home, Michelle sprinted past her father and shut herself in her room. The muffled sound of crying echoed through the house. Williams lowered himself into a chair.

I’m sorry, kiddo. Sometimes you need to learn things the hard way. I hope now you’ll stay away from those monsters.

Michelle's world broke down. Her ideals shattered, her still a bit naive vision of a just world gone. She was awake the entire night, eyes wide open, replaying everything.
In the morning she sat at the kitchen table, didn't touch the food in front of her, hollow and exhausted. At school her face was pale, dark rings under her eyes. Trella and Aya exchanged a worried look. Walking home, she drifted like a sleepwalker.

The next night, voices outside snapped her back into reality. She opened her curtains and gasped—one of the houses in the neighborhood was on fire. People screamed for help; the family was still inside. No firefighters in sight. Michelle grabs a warm jacket and runs outside too.

Across the street, the orphanage doors swung open. Trella burst out, followed by the entire group moving like a trained unit. Trella gave swift hand-signal commands, and the girls split. Aya and Amelie rammed through the front door, others right behind them. Aiko and Mei-Ling scaled the gutters, slipping through second-floor windows. More girls circled around back. Moments later, Aya emerged carrying two children. Amelie and the others followed with the rest of the family. The neighborhood erupted in praise. Michelle stood still as a statue, overwhelmed, then quietly returned home.

At sunrise, she marched straight to the orphanage and pounded on the door. Her hands were trembling, and heavy shadows marked her sleepless eyes. Trella opened it.

“Michelle?” She paused. “You look like hell.”

“Shut up! That’s because of you! We need to talk. I need answers. Now!”

Michelle stood at the entrance, a full storm of fear, fury, confusion, and desperation swirling within her. Trella stared back, genuinely surprised.