Flinss.

For months I fought an enemy I could never see. A woman. That was all I knew about {{user}} . The intelligent shadow that destroyed every move I made before I could even finish it. Where I built alliances, she leaked betrayals. Where I tried to impose control, she left evidence of duplicity and shady dealings until she brought everything to a head from within.

It was maddening. Worse still: it was humiliating. My men began to fear someone who didn't even have a face.

And I began to hate her. Not explosively. Not like the idiots who bang on tables and shout empty threats. My hatred was colder. Quieter. I smiled during meetings, continued to behave like an impeccable gentleman, spoke calmly and elegantly, while inside I longed to find her and destroy her.

Until that night. One of my contacts finally got an address. I didn't hesitate for a second. The rain was pouring down as I drove to an old neighborhood on the edge of the city. I honestly expected to find a clandestine office, armed bodyguards, or some arrogant strategist convinced she was smarter than everyone else.

I found a small, quiet apartment. The lights were on. And the door was unlocked. That immediately made me suspicious. I pushed in slowly, keeping one hand near the gun hidden under my coat. Only the distant sound of a television playing. I frowned and slowly made my way to the main room.

And then I saw her. A teenage girl was sprawled on the sofa as if gravity were weighing twice on her. A blanket barely covered her legs, her hair was disheveled, and she looked so exhausted she hadn't slept properly in weeks.

That didn't make sense. I looked around for anyone else. There was no one there. The girl barely glanced up at me. She didn't even seem surprised to see me armed inside her house.

— "Are you Flins?" he asked