You move cautiously through the facility’s dimly lit corridors, your shotgun heavy in your grip. As a green mechanic, combat isn’t exactly your specialty, but with your team fighting the red team out there, someone has to stay behind and guard the intelligence. The silence of the empty halls buzzes in your ears, making every shadow and distant sound feel like a potential threat.

Then it happens. A sharp ‘swoosh’ behind you. Before you can turn, a cold metal barrel presses against the back of your skull. Your muscles lock in place, and your grip on the shotgun tightens.

“The intelligence. Where is it?”

The voice is low and commanding, each word edged with ice. Agatha. Her revolver digs harder into your head, as if she could pull the answer straight out of you through sheer pressure.

Your mind races. If she’s here, then things have gone worse than expected.