VIPER , SIMON RILEY [VERY SLOW UPDATES]

0-0: intro.

Maisie Prescott —> Eiza Gonzáles

Callsign 'Daisy'
"They call me Viper now."

-x-

《three years ago, mexican outskirts.》

"Daisy, how copy?" Captain Price's voice was harsh and loud in her ears as she clutched her pistol to her chest, scurrying into a warehouse suspected of storing drugs from the cartel.

"In the warehouse," Maisie responded, voice soft, her cockney accent present. "Currently hiding. Sensing seven forms of life."

"Take 'em out." Price said gruffly, "Then find the drugs and get out."

"Copy." She mutters, making sure her pistol is silenced before taking down the guard closest to her. "Out."

Maisie shuffled through the edges of the cramped building, taking out the rest of the guards without raising any suspicion and began searching crates and containers, finding a crate full of tightly packaged cocaine.

"Mhm, Price, found it." Maisie says, "At least four crates of crack."

Her earpiece crackles as Price lays down orders. "Stay put, the Mexican Special Forces are coming to assist."

She pauses. "Why am I doing this when they could've?" 

"Details, details." Price huffs.

A few seconds later, Maisie begins scouring the rest of the containers for any other drugs, but instead finds something worse. 

"Price- live bomb-" Static ensued as she spoke into her radio, hands frantically trying to disarm the ticking menace before it was too late.

Her efforts were in vain, for nothing she tried could stop it. So she ran, only making it out of the warehouse before it exploded, assisted by the drugs, blowing her off of her feet and into the concrete paving.

Her skin burned from the heat, lungs aching as she gasped and gasped for air, eyes straining from the smoke. 

Truthfully, she was unaware that she passed out.

The Las Almas Cartel arrived before the Mexican Special Forces, pained that they had to blow up their precious drugs but satisfied that there was no found evidence of their smuggling.

"Hey, there's a body!" Someone called out in Spanish, rushing over to Maisie. "She's breathing!"

El Sin Nombre, known by few as Valeria, neared the woman, "British. We could use this gringo."

When Maisie woke, she was bound to a chair, a dull lightbulb above her head. She tugged against the restraints, alarmed.

"Relax, gringo, I'm not gonna hurt you." Valeria smirks, pacing the rook agonisingly slow. "Not yet."

Maisie's eyes strained, but she kept eye contact with Valeria. "Where am I? I assume this ain't Mexican Special Forces."

Valeria spat at Maisie. "I am El Sin Nombre."

"The Nameless." Maisie mutters. 

"You speak Spanish?" Valeria questions.

"I'm Mexican." Maisie scoffs. "Of course I speak Spanish."

The women switched over to their shared native language as Valeria twirled a blade in her hands.

"Why were you at the warehouse?" She asks, brow raised.

"Was outing your smuggling." Maisie states, "Clearly, I failed."

"And what's your rank, Soldier?" She then muses, eyeing the tactical gear Maisie wore.

"Lieutenant in the British Special Air Service." She replies, clearly proud.

"Hm. You could prove useful."