The living room of the orphanage was quiet except for the soft rustle of papers. Michelle sat on the couch, surrounded by old mission reports. She studied them line by line, absorbing every detail, every pattern, every mistake.

It has been a few weeks since I became Cipher. The girls have fully accepted me into their family. It’s fun to be around them and I don’t feel alone anymore. Dad may have forbidden me to come in here, but this is my decision and the girls — even Mr. Dawson — support me. Dad doesn’t have to know. He’s got unhealthy suspicions, controlling me every moment. Right now we are not exactly on speaking terms.

Her thoughts were interrupted when her phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Michelle,” Dawson said on the other end, voice tight with urgency. “Sorry for the late call, but I just found out. Your dad left early today. He could come home any minute now. You need to watch out.”

“I will. Thanks.”

She hung up, grabbed her things, and sprinted toward the door — only to bump directly into Trella.

“What’s the rush?” Trella asked.

“Dad. He went home early today. Need to run.”

“Be careful. If he comes here, we will buy you some time.”

“Thanks!”

Michelle darted down the street, but she was too late. Her father’s car was already parked in the driveway. She froze, heart jumping, and quickly slipped behind a hedge as her dad stepped out of the house and got into his car — his expression thunderous. She watched him drive straight toward the orphanage.

The girls can’t hold him forever…

The moment he slammed open the orphanage door, the tension inside snapped taut.

“Where is she?!” Williams barked.

Maya blinked at him, unfazed. “Who?”

“Don’t play stupid! Where is Michelle? I said very clearly that she is not allowed to be here!”

“And she isn’t,” Maya replied.

“Don’t lie to me!”

“Ok. Come in and take a look.”

He stormed through the orphanage, shouting Michelle’s name over and over until even the girls’ patience reached its limit.

Trella stepped into his path, her voice flat and irritated. “She is not here.”

“Out of my way.”

“Leave.”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Leave.”

If looks could kill, Williams would have been dead twelve times. Trella’s glare froze him in place — a predator’s stare, shared by the others behind her, each one silently daring him to take a single step further. He left. The girls bought Michelle enough time to get home. She even had a grocery bag prepped for emergency cover. Then her dad came. When he walked through their front door, he exploded.

“Where were you?!”

“Shopping.”

“You were at the orphanage!”

“With a grocery bag… Yeah, right. Aren’t you getting paranoid?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! And don’t you dare go to the orphanage—”

“Or what?”

He froze. Her voice was calm, but it was ice. The same cold, merciless stare Trella had aimed at him earlier now belonged to Michelle. That look — assassin’s steel — didn’t belong to a teenage girl. For the first time, he couldn’t see his daughter in her face.

Later that night, he approached her room, rehearsing the words in his head.

I need to talk to her. I need to sort things out. Those freaks have a bad influence on her. I need to…

He opened the door. She wasn't there. But her desk was covered in papers — not homework but classified mission reports and the girls’ records. Michelle’s handwriting covered every margin: annotations, structural breakdowns, strategy notes, cross-references, questions. She was analyzing them like a professional.

Oh, no… Is she… becoming one of them? If I don’t stop this… I’ll lose her forever. She is out of control. There is just one thing I can do now.

He left the room angry and worried.

That night, an old warehouse erupted in gunfire. From afar, only flashes lit the dark sky. Up close, the gang inside was slaughtered — brutally, efficiently. The attackers remained unseen. 

The next day, the orphanage door burst open with violent force.

“That does it!” Williams roared. “I told you that if you don’t stay put, you’re history! That stunt at the warehouse yesterday was the last straw!”

Aya blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about? What warehouse?”

“Don’t play stupid! You know what I’m talking about!”

Trella folded her arms. “She doesn’t. But I do. Heard about it. That wasn’t us. We were here the whole night.”

“That warehouse looks like Swiss cheese and those bodies look like meatloafs!” Williams snapped. “That’s your handywork! Who else leaves a carnage like that?!”

Trella’s voice dropped, low and furious. “What proof do you have?”

“Those bodies are proof enough for me to put you in!” Williams raised a stack of papers. “I have twelve warrants prepared here ready to get signed. Give me one reason not to do it!”

“Then you should prepare one more.”

The cold female voice behind him froze him mid-breath. Michelle stood in the doorway. Dressed in black. Long coat. Her posture was dominant. Her eyes were devoid of warmth.

“If you want to arrest them, you will need to arrest me too,” she said, walking past him to join the girls.

“It wasn’t them. I know it. Because I was here with them the whole time.”

“Michelle, you—”

“Not Michelle.” She met his eyes with a stare sharp enough to cut. “My name… is Cipher.”

The room blurred. The voices, the walls, even the girls standing there — all faded into static.
All he saw was her. Michelle. His daughter. Or what was left of her. Cipher. The name cut him like a blade. Not just the word, but the way she wore it, with the same iron calm as the killers at her side. That coat, that posture, that look… the look that told him she had chosen. Not him. Not home. Them. He wanted to shout, to grab her and drag her out of that place, to remind her she was his little girl. But the words died before they reached his lips. Because he knew — deep down — he had already lost her. The word echoed in his skull. Cipher. Without a word he turned around and left. Hurt. Defeated. He sat in his car, picked his phone and called his boss.

“Chief… Just been there. It wasn’t them.

I am sure.

Chief, take me off the case. I need a few days off. Urgently.

Thanks.”

Williams came back home. The emptiness and silence of the house was almost haunting. It pressed like a physical weight. He went to Michelle´s room. It was empty. The bed stripped, drawers bare. Her bag was gone. She hadn’t argued, hadn’t shouted, hadn’t begged permission. She had simply… left. He went back to the kitchen. He was a cluster of emotions: Anger, sadness, guilt, resignation, emptiness, loss… His eyes then spotted a bottle of Whiskey. At first one glass to calm the storm inside him. Then two, then three. Soon, the taste didn’t matter — only the numbness that followed. He didn’t feel rage anymore. Not even betrayal. Just shame. And guilt so heavy he could hardly lift his head. 

A week later, he was only a shell of the man he’d been. Every time he saw her outside with the girls — smiling — another piece of him crumbled. Then the phone rang.

“We have finally located that Mexican drug lord,” his boss said. “Prepare the Fangs for deployment. We want him, his accountant, and at least a few higher-ups alive. The rest is disposable.”

“Chief… I am not in shape to lead this mission…”

“Then get into shape! We need the girls on this one and you are the liaison officer! The details are in your mail! And we need Dawson here right now, so you will be on your own there!”

The call ended. Williams barely skimmed the files before sending them to Trella.

***

The girls were already in Mexico, ready to hit the drug cartel’s main camp. Milena sat alone in the control room. When Williams entered, she stiffened. He wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t steady either. He took the headset and did the usual com check. All the girls replied.

“Control room, check. All green. We can start the mission.”

“Wait,” Trella said over the radio. “Where is the coordinator?”

“I am leading this mission.”

“What? No. On every mission the coordinator must be present! That is the rule!”

“Rules have changed. He is in Langley. I am calling the shots today.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Calm down and get ready!”

“Hey! Either you get him on the phone to confirm you can lead this mission or we’re packing!”

“What?! You can’t do that!”

The door opened. Michelle stepped inside, calm, controlled, wearing the mantle of Cipher effortlessly. She took the spare headset.

“Cipher, check.”

“Sis?” Trella said in surprise.

“Sorry I’m late. Mr. Dawson called. He wants me to lead the operation in his place.”

Milena gently pulled Michelle aside.

“He is in no condition to be here.”

“Yes,” Michelle agreed quietly. “But we need him here. Please keep an extra eye on the monitors.”

The operation began smoothly. Williams was jittery, nothing like the Sphinx he once was. Michelle, in contrast, was precise, sharp — almost frighteningly competent. Then Williams slipped. He missed a target.  Milena had to cover.

Michelle’s voice sliced through the room. “Concentrate.”

Williams trembled — and made another mistake.

“Aaagh! Damn it!” Aya shouted. 

“Aya got hit!” Trella responded on the radio.

Michelle snapped, “Is it bad?”

“Upper arm! Had worse! I can continue!”

Michelle’s tone turned glacial. “Milena, take over for him.”

She stood up. Pushed him aside and took his headphones.

“Doc here, taking over from Langley.

The rest of the mission went without any more issues — a total success. When Michelle and Milena removed their headsets, they exchanged a look of relief and acknowledgment.

Milena whispered, “You should talk to him.”

Michelle hesitated. “Do I have to?” Then sighed. “Very well…”

She approached her father. He sat slumped on the chair she used to occupy during her early training days.

“Your negligence almost cost lives,” she said, voice devoid of emotion. “Put yourself together or I have you replaced permanently.”

She walked away. Even Milena stared in shock. She hadn’t expected Michelle to strike that hard. For Williams… it wasn’t a dagger. It was a spear straight through the heart. Tears welled in his eyes. And for the first time, he realized… He probably already lost her completely.