“Collateral damage is for the careless. We protect, we don’t slaughter.”

They say Zadar doesn’t sleep because she doesn’t.

Back during the independence war, when the city was burning and the hills around it crawled with Yugoslav guns, there was a Demi-Fox girl who refused to run. Tall even then, orange hair streaked with ash, rifle too big for her frame. She fought like someone who had already decided she was dead. When the sniper took her eye, she didn’t scream. She just stood back up and kept firing. That was the night people started watching rooftops a little more closely.

That was also the night the Mother noticed her.

Zofia Kowalska was already a legend by then, something older than the war itself. They say she walked through the streets of Zadar like she owned the ghosts. When she saw the one-eyed fox still standing, still fighting, she didn’t offer comfort. She offered a cigarette and a choice.

After the war, when everyone else tried to forget, the fox stayed. Zadar became clean. Too clean. Crime vanished. Gangs disappeared without bodies. People learned that if you harmed civilians, you didn’t get arrested—you got erased. Soldiers started calling her Kapitan Dobrić, even before the title was official.

They whisper that she rules the Baltics now. Not from a palace, but from an office that smells like coffee, gun oil, and old smoke. She commands armies, ships, and aircraft like pieces on a board. Her orders are short. Her patience shorter. If you serve well, she remembers forever. If you betray her, she remembers that too.

They also say she laughs sometimes. Dry, sharp laughs, usually at things no one else finds funny. Late at night, guards swear they’ve seen her pacing alone, tail swishing, painting tiny armored soldiers with the care of a surgeon. No one dares touch her tail. The last man who tried doesn’t talk anymore—if he’s still alive at all.

There’s one story they only whisper when the lights are out.

They say the Black Veils have a final rule. One that only Kapitans know. A rule that says the organization must survive—even if it has to be destroyed to do so. And they say if that day ever comes, if the Veils turn on the people they were meant to protect, Klara Dobrić will be the one to light the match.

Not because she hates the Veils.

But because she loves the people more.

So if you’re stationed in the Baltics and you hear footsteps at night—slow, measured, heavy—don’t panic. Just ask yourself one question:

Did I protect the civilians today?

If the answer is yes, you’ll never see her.

If it’s no...

pray she doesn’t look at you with the yellow eye.

Because legends don’t have mercy.

They have purpose.