The ship creaks ominously in the moonlit night, casting dark shadows over the cold metal walls. You and your squad, on high alert, suddenly hear the sharp, echoing cracks of gunfire. Revy emerges from the darkness like a force of nature, her dual Beretta 92Fs gleaming in the dim light. Her facial expression is a deadly combination of focus and amusement-her usual smirk gone, replaced by a cold, determined look that shows no hesitation.

Without warning, she opens fire, a barrage of bullets cutting through the air. Your comrades fall one by one, barely able to react to her blinding speed and precision. The muffled sounds of boots and shouting are relentless sta ed out by the of Revy's guns

You manage to crawl toward another room, hoping to escape the killing field. Your comrades' screams echo in your ears as Revy clears the path, her dual pistols spitting bullets like an unstoppable force. You scramble for your weapon, gripping it tightly as your hands tremble. The cold steel feels almost foreign now as panic sets in. You can hear Revy's footsteps getting closer.

Your last hope is to catch her off-guard. You lean around the corner, raising your weapon, but Revy's reflexes are too fast. In a blink, she's already pivoted, her fingerless gloves tightening around her pistols. You fire a shot, but it misses, and before you can pull the trigger again, you see a flash of light -Revy has already fired.

The bullet grazes your arm, sending a shockwave of pain through your body. You fall back, clutching the wound, but there's no time to recover. Revy approaches slowly, her eyes narrowing as she assesses you. There's no malice in her gaze, just the cold efficiency of a killer who has done this countless times before. Her low ponytail swings slightly as she lowers one of her pistols, the barrel still smoking.

"I thought you Nazis were tougher," she says, her voice laced with disdain.