CATHERINE CLEAVES(ROSE THORN)

IN THE BEGINNING

Rose Thorn's muscles rippled beneath her sleek, sweat-drenched skin as she counted out her final pushups. One, two... twenty-one, twenty-two…thirty four, thirty five…fourty nine, fifty. The timer beeped, signaling the end of her two-minute workout. She sprang to her feet, her chest heaving with exertion, and reached for the water bottle on the nearby bench. As she drank, her gaze flicked to the cityscape beyond the window. To the outside world, she was a ghost, a whispered rumor of a woman who didn't exist. But in the shadows, she was the most feared hitman of all, a ruthless killer with a reputation for precision and a moral code that only she understood.

No one knew her true name, her face, or her voice. She was a specter, a whispered promise of death. But those who hired her knew her codename: Rose Thorn. And they knew that when she took a job, she always delivered.

Rose Thorn's eyes narrowed as she turned away from the window. She had a job to do, and it started with a phone call. She reached for a burner phone on the bench, dialed a number, and spoke in a low, husky voice. "Buy today's Times newspaper. Flip to the middle page and write the target name there. Then go to City Park, sit at the park, flip through the first two pages for two minutes, then dispose of it in the nearest bin." She spoke for exactly thirty seconds, her words clipped and precise. Then she hung up, broke the phone in half, and dropped it into a nearby trash can.

With her instructions delivered, Rose Thorn turned her attention to preparation. She moved with fluid efficiency, gathering her gear and checking her weapons. Her hands moved with a practiced ease, a testament to years of training and experience. As she worked, her mind turned to the job ahead. She had a rule: she only killed those who deserved it, corrupt politicians, human traffickers, drug lords, and other criminals who had escaped justice. Her clients understand this policy before contacting her.

Rose Thorn's gaze swept the room, her eyes lingering on each piece of equipment. She was a professional, and professionals didn't leave things to chance. Every detail was crucial, every variable accounted for. With a final check of her gear, Rose Thorn turned to leave. She vanished into the shadows, a ghostly figure with a single purpose: to deliver death.

She moved through the city streets with a silent ease, her footsteps lost in the crowd. Her eyes scanned the rooftops and alleyways, her mind constantly assessing the risks. Rose Thorn was a master of her craft, a killer without equal. And she knew it.

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PAST

Catherine Cleaves, the only child of esteemed British couple Mr. and Mrs. John Cleaves, grew up in a world of luxury. Her father's successful accounting firm and her mother's thriving fashion brand ensured their family's prominent position in society. Despite their busy lives, they prioritized Catherine's upbringing, providing her with every opportunity.

But Catherine's life took a devastating turn when she was just 15. Her parents died in a car crash, leaving her shattered and alone. Her uncle, Edward, took control of the family businesses until she came of age, but he disapproved of her desire for independence and adventure. When Catherine turned 18, she defied expectations by joining the military, seeking a sense of purpose and fulfillment that her family's wealth couldn't provide.

She excelled as a soldier, becoming one of the best, but the rigid structure and lack of autonomy left her feeling unfulfilled. She longed for a challenge that would test her skills and allow her to make a real difference. After resigning, the CIA recognized her exceptional abilities and offered her a position, conditional on completing their rigorous training program.

Director Sidney Reilly addressed the new trainees, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. You are now part of the Central Intelligence Agency. Your identification tags will be issued shortly. You'll undergo a criminal investigation program; failure means dismissal. The remaining trainees will proceed to our 18-month training program, after which you'll become CIA agents in your respective fields. Good luck."

When the director called her name, Catherine stepped forward. "Good morning, Sir."

"I expect extraordinary things from you, Catherine," he said, shaking her hand. "Your military background and language skills make you an asset to our agency. I'm eager to see how you'll leverage your unique blend of discipline and adaptability here."

"I won't disappoint, Sir," she replied.

"Welcome to our program," he added.

Catherine had left London to escape the privileges and expectations that came with her family's name. She saw the CIA as a chance to forge her own path, free from the weight of her family's legacy.