Origin: USA

Name: [REDACTED]

Alias: "Rush"

DOB: [REDACTED]
Nationality: American

Early Life

[REDACTED] grew up in the margins of American poverty. His mother drifted between jobs, never stable long enough to offer security. His father, a disabled combat veteran, carried the weight of war in his body and his stories. Those stories, about brotherhood, violence, and survival, shaped [REDACTED] far more than bedtime tales ever could.

Despite his intelligence, [REDACTED] was fixated on two things from an early age: firearms and money. Not out of fascination, but necessity. Hunger teaches efficiency. Fear teaches foresight.

The only structure in his life came from his school’s ROTC program. Discipline. Order. Purpose. To [REDACTED], it was clear: the military wasn’t just a career path, it was escape.

At sixteen, [REDACTED] falsified his age and enlisted in the U.S. Army.

War Changes What It Touches

In 2008, Operation Iraqi Freedom put [REDACTED] on the front lines before he was old enough to vote. What emerged from him overseas wasn’t fear, it was clarity.

[REDACTED] proved himself a natural marksman. Calm. Precise. Lethal.

More disturbing was the realization that killing didn’t haunt him.

It exhilarated him.

Within two years, his performance earned him a place among the Green Berets. His postings grew darker, quieter, and more classified. Eventually, he was embedded in Mexico, tasked with destabilizing major cartel operations, including intelligence surrounding the Los Diablos Dorados (LDD) and their rivals, the Vega family of Bolivia.

The Warehouse

Intel revealed that the LDD had captured someone of value, an individual with direct ties to the Vega hierarchy. [REDACTED] was assigned the operation with a simple directive:

Neutralize all non-essential personnel.

He entered the warehouse alone.

Silenced weapons. Close-quarters combat. Thirty-plus confirmed kills.

By the time he reached the final room, [REDACTED] was low on ammo and behind schedule.

Inside, five men stood over a young woman bound to a chair, bloodied, broken, still defiant.

[REDACTED] didn’t hesitate.

He rushed them.

The woman watched in stunned silence as the men died one by one, efficiently, almost effortlessly.

[REDACTED] slung her over his shoulder and vanished before reinforcements arrived.

The Safehouse

[REDACTED] treated her wounds without ceremony.

[REDACTED]: “Care to explain why someone like you ended up here?”

Woman: “Care to explain why you charged in like a lunatic over something that is none of your fucking business, gringo?”

[REDACTED]: “I don't care about your drama, I care who you’re connected to.”

Woman: “Is that so?”

[REDACTED]: “You’re a Vega. Which means you talk… or you end up like the men who had you tied up.”

She studied him, really studied him.

Woman: “If you took out that many soldiers, you’re not alone.”

[REDACTED]: “Wrong. One man. One government paycheck, though right now, I’m working for myself.”

She thought back to the massacre she witnessed. The smile she swore she saw on his face.

Woman: “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

[REDACTED]: (smiling) “Didn’t you notice? Killing feels like electricity. Best drug there is.”

Woman: “A… rush?”

[REDACTED]: “Exactly.”

After some chatter, she gave him her name. Adelita Vega. Niece of Drug lord and cartel head Fernando Vega.

[REDACTED] confirmed it all. Best part was, she was more valuable alive than dead.

The Name

Adelita: “What should I call you?”

[REDACTED]: “I don’t give my name to cartel royalty. You people aren't into sending Christmas cards.”

Adelita: “Then you’re just a  nobody Yankee who loves killing.”

[REDACTED]: “Fair. But don’t nickname me after a baseball team. The Yankees suck.”

Adelita: “Then I’ll call you.. Rush.”

[REDACTED] paused.

Then smiled. He knew it fit him well.

The Offer

Days later, Adelita disappeared. In her place: an embossed envelope bearing the Vega insignia. Coordinates. A time. A $100,000 cashier’s check. [REDACTED] went.

The desert rendezvous included armored SUVs, a private helicopter, and Fernando Vega himself.

Fernando thanked him.

[REDACTED] refused the check.

Fernando motioned with a smug grin.

A pair of men steppeded forward and suitcases appeared from behind their backs. One million dollars in cash.

Then the real offer. A life of power. Wealth. Purpose, without a leash.

[REDACTED] hesitated only long enough to recognize the truth.

The U.S. had made him lethal. Fernando would make him free.

Rebirth

[REDACTED] stripped down as a petrified look-alike was dressed in his clothes at gunpoint.

Fernando placed his loaded gun in [REDACTED]’s hand.

“Whoever you were before today is dead.”

[REDACTED] didn’t flinch. He smiled and shot the man clean between the eyes. Then emptied the magazine into the corpse laughing manically until the clip ran dry.

Fernando watched, amused, cigar glowing in the dark.

“Welcome to the family, Rush.”

Origin: Pyongyang, Democratic People's Republic of North Korea

Occupation: Diplomat • International Lawyer • Matchmaker
Affiliation: DPRK Foreign Legal Affairs Bureau (covert)

Su Yuu was raised to believe that loyalty was not a choice, it was an obligation.

Born in Pyongyang to a family quietly favored by the state, her childhood was one of careful privilege: better schooling, access to foreign texts, and constant observation. From a young age, Su showed a talent for language, logic, and persuasion. She didn’t argue loudly, he convinced quietly. That talent did not go unnoticed.

By her early teens, Su Yuu was placed into an elite state grooming program designed to cultivate future diplomats and intelligence assets. There, she learned international law, Western philosophy, psychology, and behavioral analysis alongside more subtle skills: reading power dynamics, manipulating emotional bonds, and understanding how trust is built, and broken. Romance, she was taught, was one of the strongest levers of control.

Officially, Su Yuu studied law abroad under tightly supervised exchanges, eventually earning credentials in international and civil law. Unofficially, she was being shaped into something far more dangerous: a long-term intelligence operative embedded in plain sight.

When Su emerged onto the world stage, she did so as a problem solver. A lawyer who specialized in conflict mediation, immigration issues, discreet settlements, and reputation protection. Governments trusted him. Corporations sought her out. Individuals confided in her.

And people fell in love around her.

Su Yuu discovered that matchmaking, introduced publicly as a cultural side practice and later formalized as a “consultation service”, gave her unprecedented access to people’s private lives. Desires, fears, secrets, betrayals. Who wanted residency. Who needed money. Who couldn’t afford a scandal. Who would do anything for the right partner.

Couples she introduced often found stability, opportunity, or protection. In return, Su gained leverage. Sometimes immediately. Sometimes years later.

Behind closed doors, Su Yuu reports selectively. She doesn’t flood handlers with useless information, only the pieces that matter. Financial entanglements. Political ambitions pillow-talked into existence. Weak points masked as love stories. Her value lies in patience; she is not a spy who steals documents, but one who cultivates people.

Publicly, Su Yuu is calm, impeccably dressed and disarmingly sincere. She believes in order, balance, and destiny, at least, that’s what she says. Privately, she sees relationships as ecosystems to be guided, nudged, or destabilized when necessary.

Whether Su Yuu truly believes in love, or simply understands it better than most, is a question even she hasn’t answered.

One thing is certain:

If Su Yuu has brought two people together, it was never by accident.