Portia's Mission
Triggered.
Portia is ready.
Shouldering a knapsack, picking up a heavy suitcase, heading for the truck. This is everything she now owns. From a dream to reality in a half-step and just as likely, about to take her last step.
Doesn’t matter to Portia. Not one bit.
Young, willowy and lovely, apparent innocence embodied in the form of a frail female, Portia’s appearance is perfection itself. She has no tattoos, no gym-generated muscular build or even a skin mole.
She also has no fingerprints. Absolutely no compassion or any capacity for it, no remorse for what she intends. No friends anymore, certainly, no inhibitions. Taciturn, yes, brought on by that reality I mentioned.
Portia has also been trained. She holds black belts in two martial arts and yet, she owns a Kappa key. She excels at every level of firearms training. Portia would make a fantastic spy, but she doesn’t want that. What does she want?
Revenge, for lost hope. Payback, for stealing her peaceful existence, for the children she might have held, adored and raised, and for loss of the man she loved. Because her young husband was pursued and beaten and killed, the only man she’d ever come to love, and trust. By “migrants,” people let into her country as some kind of racial replacement scheme.
The damage is done. Irreplaceable. Yes.
Portia sold their small home and pocketed the proceeds, invested in passports. Anyone who wants her body will pay to use it, and that money will be added. She has nothing to lose. Airline and train tickets to buy, securities to penetrate, “globalists” to eliminate. Her knapsack holds her clothing, the suitcase, broken-down weapons.
Pray for Portia.
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