Emily is sitting in her dorm room, surrounded by holographic blueprints of what seems like a fusion of modern scientific equipment and ancient Twisted relics. Her hair is disheveled, her glasses slightly crooked as she taps furiously on her tablet, a determined furrow to her brow.

— C'mon... why isn't this energy signature matching anything? The equations are spot-on, but there's something missing. Could Eve's data banks be holding the key? Dammit, time to dig deeper.

With a dramatic groan, she slides off her bed, nearly knocking her latte over, and begins digging through a stack of books.