SPOTTED: MIRAY DURMAZ in new york city! heard theĀ THIRTY ONEĀ year old belongs toĀ THE CAVALRYĀ as aĀ WEAPONS COMMANDER word on the streets is that they can be INTELLIGENT AND ADAPTABLE, but they can also be CUNNING AND GUARDED.
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name. Miray Durmaz Del Castillo nicknames. None birthday. August 30th zodiac sign. Virgo siblings. Aslan Durmaz, Esra Durmaz time in NYC. 3 Years occupation. Weapons Commander for The Calvary | Owner of The Foundry character inspiration: Katherine Pierce (The Vampire Diaries), Letty Ortiz (Fast & Furious), Jane Smith (Mr. and Mrs. Smith), Evelyn Salt (Salt)
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just read below i cba
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Miray would take a bullet for her siblings without hesitation.
Her signature scent is YSL Black Opium.
Lives with her boyfriend, and don't look at him.
Owns The Foundary.
Loves to drive fast, sue her.
Doesnāt like talking.
If someone disrespects her or tries to start an argument, she never engagesāsheāll just quietly pull out a gun and end the conversation her own way.
Will only talk about the things she actually knows: guns, cars, and Secret Lives of Mormon Wivesāand even then, reluctantly.
Get her drunk and she suddenly forgets how to stop talking.
Her favorite restaurant is Taco Bell, and she refuses to be ashamed of it.
Not religious whatsoever.
Emiliano gave her a Saymoed puppy for Thanksgiving. She named him Alfie, and againādonāt look at him either.
Usually wears black. Not intentionally; it just happens to match everything.
Loves a leather jacket.
Alix Harrigan is her emotional support blondeāand, also, donāt look at her.
Loves DJ Pauly D, but not enough to speak to him; she just wants access to his turntables.
A painfully obvious introvert.
Moves through the world like sheās always mapping exits, even when she pretends sheās relaxed.
Smiles with her mouth, never her eyes.
She never raises her voice.
Loves fiercely but silently; attachment terrifies her more than any weapon ever could.
Still doesnāt sleep well, but the only way she can rest is in total silence and complete darkness.
Sleeps with a gun under her pillow, another taped beneath the nightstand, and one hidden in the vent by the bed.
Always keeps a pair of shoes by the doorāan old habit from years of needing to run.
Can disarm someone in three seconds flatāno theatrics, no wasted movement.
Her aim is perfect when sheās calm. When sheās angry, itās lethal.
Can assemble and disassemble a gun while holding a steady, casual conversation.
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Miray had been shaped by loss long before she ever learned to weaponize it. Even in childhood, she understood that love in the Durmaz household arrived in thin, uneven portionsāoffered only on the rare days when her parents were not drowning in debt, arguments, or fear. They were not cruel people, merely hollowed out by life, stretched too thin to notice the fractures forming in their three children. And so Miray learned early to comfort herself, to move quietly, to disappear into corners and survive on her own.
Danger seeped toward them year by year, slipping through the cracks of their fragile home until the day it finally stepped inside. Miray was six when Aslan left home. Her memories of that day existed only in blurred fragmentsāher brotherās familiar presence one moment, his sudden absence the next. Their parents offered a vague explanation, something about what was "good for the family," but even as a little girl, Miray felt that had been a lie. The truthāone she would not learn until years laterāwas far crueler: Aslan had been handed over to a Turkish crime syndicate as living payment for a debt their father could never repay. After that, they saw Aslan only rarely. A letter might arrive from some unnamed corner of the country, its words careful and distant. So Miray clung to her older sister, Esra, the only person she had left.
The night everything changed, Miray was thirteen. She and Esra had gone to the movies, walking home beneath a sky still warm with the last traces of summer. But when they reached their house, the world split open. They found their parentsā bodies inside and their home destroyed and ransacked. Miray never went further than the doorframe, she couldn't. She was frozen in place at the front door while Esraās screams tore through the silence. Whatever remained of her childhood died right there, in that narrow frame of splintered wood.
With no way to find their brother and no other family left, the sisters ran. For nearly a year and a half they drifted across Turkey and into Europe, moving like ghosts through train stations and border towns, living in cheap hostels under borrowed names. They survived on instinct and improvised lies. Miray learned quickly to read danger in a single glance, and how to vanish into a crowd. One night, while the sisters sat in a small bakery in a coastal European town, Aslan had managed to find them. He had spent the same year and a half pulling apart the truth of their parentsā deaths, following every thread until it led him to his sisters. The reunion was jagged, desperateāa mixture of grief and reliefābut it didn't bring the safety that they all had longed for. Aslan couldn't stay. He was still bound to the organizationās control, and running would mean death for all of them. Instead, he protected them from the shadows, arranging forged documents, hidden caches of money, escape routes, and a coded system through which they could reach him once each year to let him know that they were still alive.
At nineteen, Mirayās life veered sharply again. In a cramped hostel in Eastern Europe, she slipped a few hundred dollars from a man she thought would be easy to steal from. But he noticedābecause he belonged to a syndicate feared across continents for its mastery of weapons, poisons, and the art of making enemies disappear. Miray expected death. Instead, however, she'd been offered recruitment.They admired her nerve, her instincts, her silence. They gave her a choice: join them or die running.
Miray chose survival.
The organization molded her into something precise and dangerous. Tactical weaponry, hand-to-hand combat, explosives, covert infiltrationāskills taught with unflinching cruelty. They carved away softness and left steel in its place. Fear became a thing she controlled, rather than something that controlled her. As the years passed. She climbed the ranks, becoming a weapons dealer āsourcing illegal arms, arranging covert trades, carrying secrets other people died for. By the time she and Esra reached New York City, Miray was still bound to the same syndicate knowing that leaving meant death.
Eventually, the sister's had found Aslan once more. When the organizations that had destroyed their family finally fell, Aslan founded The Cavalry and Miray followed him without hesitation, taking her place as Weapons Commander.
