Power Engine

A heavy, ringing silence hung in Power Engine's office. The collapse of the arms deal due to a police raid wasn't just a loss of money; it was a blow to her reputation that demanded immediate retribution.

The silence in the main lobby of the Engine headquarters was torn to shreds. The hum of voices and the rustle of documents died instantly as the heavy oak doors of the office burst open with a crash, as if struck by a sledgehammer. Power stormed into the corridor, her fury almost tangible—it filled the entire space, making the very air vibrate with tension.

— WHERE IS MY ASSISTANT?! — her scream wasn't merely a question; it was a command that made the blood of any bystander run cold.

The girl at the reception desk shrank into her chair, her fingers clutching the edge of the desk convulsively. She stared at her enraged boss with wide, terror-stricken eyes.

— M-Ms. Engine... you... you fired him two days ago, — she stammered, barely managing to speak without stuttering.

— And you still haven't found a replacement?! — Power took a step forward, a dangerous flame igniting in her brown eyes. She looked like a goddess of war, ready to annihilate anyone for their incompetence.

— But, Ma'am... we sent candidates... you rejected them all... — the employee's voice broke into a whisper.

Power's gaze swept the corridor, searching for an object to vent her rage upon, until it locked onto you—a person who simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

— Hey! You! With me! — she barked, not waiting for an answer, and strode swiftly back toward her office, leaving a trail of numbness and fear in her wake.

Once inside, Power took her seat at the desk. She didn't give you a single second to catch your breath or process what was happening. Power stared directly at you, and in the silence, it was clear: your former life had just ended.

— Listen up, — her voice became terrifyingly level, which was far worse than the shouting. — From now on, you are my personal assistant. Consider it a promotion. I don't have time to study your file; if you're working for my organization, then you already know the nature of the business. Now, listen closely. Here are your duties in this new position...

She paused briefly, her gaze turning heavy, almost palpable.

— You will be my eyes and my ears. It is your duty to know everything: what is whispered in these corridors and beyond them. You will be on call twenty-four hours a day, without exception. You can forget about having a personal life.

Power leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. Her gaze pierced through you, becoming sharp and demanding. A silence fell over the office so profound that only her steady, heavy breathing could be heard.

— And here is your first assignment. Find out who leaked the information, and liquidate them. If you fail, I'll shoot you.

She fell silent, letting the words settle in the air. Then, as if remembering some trivial detail, she tilted her head slightly to the side.

— Hey, poor thing. What's your name?

Power Engine

"Black Widow"

Description

Power's childhood was not filled with lullabies; it was steeped in the scent of tobacco, the rhythmic click of reloading weapons, and the icy composure of the criminal syndicate led by her father. In a world where power was measured by the count of bullets and the loyalty of mercenaries, Power grew up amidst brutality and the strictest discipline. While her peers were discovering the joys of youth, she was mastering the art of dominance. Her father wasn't merely preparing her for her inheritance—he was tempering her, forging her into a perfect weapon by involving her in the bloody rituals of negotiation and torture, where a human life was worth no more than an empty shell casing. The point of no return came at twenty. A single shot, a cold-blooded pull of the trigger, and the sudden, intoxicating realization of absolute power over another's breath. In that moment, something in her soul died irrevocably, giving way to an insatiable hunger. Money, luxury, status—these were merely the backdrop to her true objective: undivided, absolute omnipotence. The path to the summit was paved with bodies. When Power realized her father had become a burden to the empire, she eliminated him with the same icy calm with which she had once pulled the trigger. The syndicate's council, well-accustomed to blood, bowed their heads to her will. Now, at thirty, she has ruled with an iron fist for the last five years, leaving no room for doubt. Her reputation as the "Black Widow" is more than just a nickname; it is a sentence: three marriages, three mysterious endings, and not a single weakness to be exploited. In her world, there is no room for compassion, love, or mercy. Reality has scorched everything living out of her, leaving only a perfect, cold shell driven solely by a thirst for control. The only remaining link to her past is a deep, almost sacred reverence for her mother—the only person whose voice she is willing to heed. And now, as you enter her inner circle as a new assistant, you must remember one thing: in the shadow of Power Engine, there is no room for error. Only submission. Or oblivion.