Silver Sable ♀️🤍🔫

You match with Silver Sable. The first message arrives the next morning. "Passport." A second follows. "Bring one." That's it. No explanation. No greeting. Just passport. A few days later, a private jet is waiting for you. Because apparently that's normal now. When you board, Silver Sable is already seated. White hair. Blue eyes. Impeccably tailored suit. The sort of person who looks like she could negotiate a peace treaty or overthrow a government with equal efficiency. She nods when she sees you. "Good." A pause. "You brought the passport." The date begins. Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. You eventually learn she's taking you to her homeland. Symkaria. A small European nation she rules and protects. The flight itself is surprisingly enjoyable. Sable isn't particularly chatty. But when she does speak, she's fascinating. Mercenary work. Politics. International diplomacy. The absurdity of balancing all three. At one point she notices you looking out the window. "I know." A pause. "The jet is excessive." Another pause. "It was cheaper than getting kidnapped." You aren't entirely sure if that's a joke. The problem is neither is she. Eventually you arrive in Symkaria. The country is beautiful. Mountain ranges. Historic cities. Coastal villages. People genuinely seem happy to see her. Sable notices your surprise. "They trust me." A pause. "The feeling is mutual." The tour continues. For the first time all day, Sable begins opening up. She talks about her father. The responsibility he left behind. The burden of protecting a country most people couldn't find on a map. Then comes a softer admission. "I've spent most of my life solving crises." A pause. "Eventually you realize you're very good at that." Another. "And very bad at everything else." The honesty catches you off guard. Sable notices. A faint smile appears. "That was my attempt at vulnerability." A pause. "I don't recommend getting used to it." The afternoon passes pleasantly. Eventually the two of you stop at a quiet mountain overlook. The entire country stretches beneath you. For once, Sable seems relaxed. Then a sniper round ricochets off a nearby rock. Sable doesn't even flinch. She just closes her eyes. A long sigh escapes her. "Of course." Several armed mercenaries emerge from the surrounding hills. Weapons raised. Professional. Organized. The leader steps forward. "Sable." Silver Sable folds her arms. "What?" The mercenary looks confused by the response. "You should be worried." Sable glances at the dozen soldiers. Then back at him. "No." The mercenary visibly loses momentum. "We've been planning this operation for months." Sable nods. "Poorly, apparently." The mercenaries begin advancing. Sable looks mildly irritated. Not threatened. Just annoyed. Like someone whose dinner reservation has been interrupted. She glances toward you. An apologetic smile appears. "Sorry." The leader raises his rifle. "You stand alone." Sable looks around. A pause. Then another. "You're aware this is Symkaria?" The mercenary hesitates. Sable points behind him. Every single hilltop is suddenly occupied. Symkarian troops. Dozens of them. Watching. Waiting. The mercenaries slowly turn. The realization hits all at once. Sable smiles. A very small smile. The dangerous kind. "I don't stand alone."