Trust
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
Chapter 1: Awakening
The steady beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing Quinn Puckerman registered as she drifted back into consciousness. Her vision blurred, her mind foggy with the aftereffects of painkillers, she forced herself to take in her surroundings—a sterile white hospital room, dimly lit, with the faint hum of activity beyond the door.
Then it hit her.
The night her family was slaughtered. The drive-by shooting. The chaos. The deafening echoes of gunfire. The last time she saw Noah's eyes before the light left them. The way Elizabeth's small fingers had slipped from hers.
Her breath came in short gasps as the weight of it crushed her chest. She bolted upright, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through her side.
"No," she rasped, her hands clutching the bedsheets. Her mind raced, not just with grief but with purpose.
She remembered everything.
And she knew exactly who was responsible.
Even as she relayed every excruciating detail to the authorities, Quinn saw it in their eyes: doubt. They whispered about the painkillers clouding her memory, about trauma-induced hallucinations. Their skepticism was a slap in the face. They weren't going to do anything.
But she would.
The day Quinn left the hospital, she left her old life behind, too.
She liquidated her assets, selling everything she had to fuel her mission. For a year, she disappeared into the underworld, clawing her way through the underground fighting circuits, enduring brutal training, breaking herself apart, and reforging in steel and fire. Every bone cracked was a lesson. Every cut is a reminder. Every kill a step closer.
Justice was coming. And she would deliver it herself.
When Quinn resurfaced, her vengeance was swift and merciless. Corrupt officials who had turned a blind eye to her family's murder found themselves at the center of inexplicable accidents. Those involved in the case disappeared—some in fiery explosions, others found hanging from streetlights, bodies carved with a single message: *I see you.*
The police scrambled, desperate to uncover the identity of the vigilante hunting them down.
Captain Bryant Jameson, a seasoned officer, was the only one willing to acknowledge the truth. His gut twisted as he recognized the pattern, but when he saw his own partner's ties to Rico Martinez—the man Quinn had named as the driver the night her family was gunned down—his loyalty to the force wavered.
Then, a botched sting operation took down most of Rico's gang. The FBI swarmed in, taking control of the case, branding Quinn a criminal rather than a grieving mother seeking justice.
That night, Bryant returned home to find an unmarked van parked outside.
He reached for his weapon but hesitated when he stepped inside and found Quinn in his living room, a framed photo of his late daughter, Brianna, in her hands.
"I read about her passing in the paper," Quinn said quietly. "My husband… he struggled, too. Got caught up in the wrong things. The night our daughter turned three, he was dealing drugs. We had another baby before her. Beth. We gave her up when we were just kids."
Bryant saw the blood on her clothes. "You need help."
She shook her head. "I need justice."
"You can't do this alone, Quinn."
She grabbed a bulletproof vest from the table, strapping it on with deadly precision. Her eyes burned with determination.
"Watch me."
Two nights later, Quinn slipped into Rico's compound like a ghost, eliminating two guards before making her way inside. But as she leveled her gun at Rico's head, she froze.
A child's cry shattered the silence.
Rosie Martinez. His daughter.
Quinn took a slow, measured breath, lowering her gun. There was a better way. Instead of pulling the trigger, she lured Rico to the very place where her family was murdered.
As she waited, the distant ring of a cell phone caught her attention. She followed the sound to a nearby dumpster.
Inside, Trent Kilmer—the FBI director leading the case—lay lifeless, his phone still clutched in his bloodied hand.
Quinn picked it up, dialing the media.
"This is Quinn Puckerman. You'll want to see this."
The police arrived first.
Detective Bryant stood at the perimeter, watching through binoculars as Quinn's plan unfolded with brutal precision.
She took Rico's men apart one by one, striking from the shadows, moving with calculated rage. But before she could finish the job, a sniper's bullet ripped through Rico's skull.
A clean kill. A government kill.
The game had just changed.
Quinn vanished before they could catch her, found hours later at her family's gravesite. Kneeling before Noah and Elizabeth's headstones, her bloodied hands trembled as she whispered, "Please… just let me die."
Bryant knelt beside her. "I can't let you do that, Quinn. Your story doesn't end here."
Tears burned down her face as she choked, "For me, it does."
Bryant called for medics as Quinn collapsed.
She woke up in a hospital bed once more, her wrists bound to the railings.
Bryant sat beside her, grim-faced as Police Chief William Howard announced her impending arrest.
Bryant waited until the others left before leaning in.
"You took out a lot of bad people," he murmured. "Exposed corruption. Shut down an entire drug empire. Any cop would be proud to call you an ally."
As he spoke, he slipped something into her hand—a key.
"Some of us regret it had to be this way."
Quinn's fingers closed around the metal as Bryant stood.
She barely had time to process what had just happened before Kurt, Blaine, and her confidante, Santana Lopez, slipped into the room.
Without a word, she followed Santana into the bathroom. They swapped clothes, and Santana pulled out a black wig.
"Are you sure about this?" Santana whispered.
Quinn didn't answer. She didn't need to. Moments later, she slipped out of the hospital unnoticed.
A BOLO alert went out within the hour.
Authorities believed Quinn Puckerman was headed south.
As she stepped off a bus in Mexico, a familiar figure was waiting.
John James Rambo.
He gave her a once-over before leading her toward his ranch.
"I saw your little showdown online," he said. "Rico's father, Ramon, is gonna want blood."
Quinn stared ahead, her jaw tightening. "That's exactly why I'm here, John."
She turned to him, eyes burning with purpose. "They killed my family and walked free. I was dismissed as a grieving widow losing her mind. You made sure the people who hurt Gabby paid for it. That's why I started all of this."
Rambo nodded, the weight of her words settling between them.
They had work to do.
The moon hung high in the darkened sky, casting long shadows across John Rambo's ranch. The peaceful stillness of the place was deceptive, for beneath the surface, a storm was brewing. Rambo and Quinn stood side by side, surveying the map of Ramon's compound once more.
"I've never seen anything like it," Quinn said, her voice sharp. "They've fortified this place like a damn fortress."
Rambo nodded, his fingers tracing the lines of the map. "Ramon's not a fool. But neither are we."
The air around them was thick with anticipation. They knew this would be a battle unlike anything either of them had faced before. But this time, it wasn't just about survival. It was about making a statement. It was about bringing a reign of terror to an end.
Quinn's hand rested on the hilt of the blade at her side, the cold steel a reminder of her singular purpose. "Let's make this unforgettable."
The Assault Begins
The first strike came like a thunderclap. A single, controlled explosion rocked the outer perimeter of Ramon's compound, sending dirt and debris flying into the air. The guards nearest the explosion stumbled, disoriented, just long enough for Quinn and Rambo to slip inside.
They moved with deadly precision, a perfect partnership forged in blood and necessity. Quinn dropped a handful of smoke grenades, the thick clouds of dark fog engulfing their attackers. As men stumbled through the haze, Rambo's gunfire was a metronome, each shot finding its mark with brutal efficiency.
Quinn was a whirlwind, fluid and silent, taking out men with knife-edged strikes and swift, lethal shots. But this was only the beginning. They had to draw out Ramon—make him feel the heat of their wrath.
Rambo turned to Quinn, his eyes intense. "The tunnels. We need to get to them before they know we're here."
They moved toward a building on the compound's edge, the entrance to a series of underground tunnels leading deep into the heart of the operation. The noise of the battle echoed behind them, but Quinn's mind was laser-focused on the task ahead.
Underground Warfare
The tunnels were damp and narrow, a far cry from the chaos above. They were silent, almost too quiet, as Quinn and Rambo stalked through the labyrinth. They knew Ramon would be hiding somewhere down here, the heart of his empire buried beneath layers of concrete and steel.
Suddenly, the silence broke. The ground shook as a loud explosion erupted above, sending dust and debris falling onto them. Quinn instinctively ducked, her body moving like instinct had taken over.
"Set the charges," Rambo growled. "We can't let them escape."
Quinn nodded, slipping a few C4 charges into place along the walls. The timer ticked down. "Let's go."
They moved deeper into the tunnels, the shadows swallowing them whole. Ahead, faint lights flickered in the distance. They were getting closer. And then, like a predator sensing its prey, Ramon appeared in front of them, his bodyguards flanking him.
"Well, well," Ramon sneered, his voice thick with mockery. "I was wondering when the little girl would come out to play."
Rambo raised his gun, but Quinn stepped forward, her voice steady, cold. "I didn't come to play, Ramon. I came to end you."
Before he could respond, she hurled a bomb—smoke, flash, and fire exploding in their faces. It was the distraction they needed. As the guards recoiled, Rambo moved in like a shadow, taking down two with precise shots.
Quinn wasted no time, charging forward with a ferocity she had never known. Her blade was a blur in the dim light as she took out another guard, each movement calculated and ruthless.
The Final Showdown
They reached Ramon's inner sanctum, the nerve center of his criminal empire. The room was filled with dark wood, leather chairs, and an ominous desk that bore the scars of years of violence. Ramon stood by the window, his back turned, his silhouette framed by the light of the setting sun.
"Did you think you could just waltz in and take me down?" Ramon's voice was calm, almost bored. "You're just another pawn."
Quinn's eyes narrowed. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."
With a flick of her wrist, she drew her blade—gleaming in the flickering light. Ramon turned, his hand reaching for his weapon, but it was too late.
Quinn was upon him in a heartbeat, the world around them a blur of motion and rage. She kicked his gun out of his hand, throwing him to the ground. The blood from the earlier skirmishes stained the floor beneath them, but Quinn didn't care.
She grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground, her face inches from his.
"You took everything from me," she whispered. "And now, you'll pay."
Ramon's eyes filled with fear, but it was too late for him to beg. With a swift motion, Quinn plunged her blade into his chest, her strength and anger manifesting in that single, final act.
The room was eerily silent after the heart-wrenching scream left Ramon's lips, his body going limp in her grip. Quinn didn't let go. She twisted the blade, pulling it free, and as he slumped to the ground, his heart still warm in her hand, she held it aloft, her voice cold and steady.
"This is for them."
The Escape
Above ground, the compound was falling apart. Explosions rocked the earth as Rambo's charges did their work. The once-pristine structure now burned, a fiery beacon visible for miles. Quinn and Rambo, covered in blood and grime, made their way to the exit.
As they emerged from the chaos, flames licked at the sky behind them, illuminating their path. Quinn held the bloodied heart in her hand, her chest rising and falling with each breath. But there was no satisfaction in it. No relief. Only the bitter taste of victory.
Rambo slapped her on the back, his eyes grim. "You did it. It's over."
Quinn didn't answer. She simply dropped the heart into the dirt, watching it roll away in the wind. The battle was won, but the war inside her was far from over.
"Not yet," she whispered.
And with that, they vanished into the night, their fates forever entwined. The world might never know what happened on that ranch, but those who were still alive knew one thing for certain:
Justice had been served.
Chapter 2 is coming soon.