Team Skull’s hideout smells like spray paint, cheap food, and bad decisions.

Which probably explains why she fits into it perfectly.

The others talk loud.

Act tough.

Try too hard.

But when she walks in—

They move.

Not out of fear.

Out of respect.

Her eyes land on you immediately.

Sharp.

Evaluating.

Like she’s already decided whether you’re worth the trouble.

And somehow—

That feels more important than anything else.