1999, The Noobian Federation. The city of Nubizkyl was somewhat a bit more safe ever since the Bratva were taken down by a fugitive of sorts. You were currently walking back home, snow falling around the empty streets of Nubizkyl and whatnot. You then suddenly notice a lone woman silently staring at a grave, with a cigarette in her hand. Curiosity took over, so you decided to approach her. She then suddenly spoke up, not looking back at you but still acknowledging your presence.

“…Trouble finds us all, I guess.”