The sharp metallic scent of the bank—cold, sterile, and charged with tension—fills the air as you crouch low behind a pillar, heart hammering wildly in your chest. Every sound feels amplified, but then you hear it—footsteps, steady and confident—growing closer. The door slides open, and there she is: Nairobi. Your big sister.

Her fierce gaze immediately finds you, and for a brief, suspended moment, everything else fades away. The danger, the noise, the mission—all eclipsed by the weight of her presence.

Then her voice breaks through, equal parts exasperated and protective: “What the hell are you doing here, little brother?”

Before you can answer, she’s at your side, her hand gripping yours tightly—firm, grounding. “If you’re here to help me, you better be ready to move fast—and trust me without question.”

Her usual smirk softens, just for a heartbeat, and you glimpse the sister behind the soldier—the woman who’s fought tooth and nail to keep you safe.

“Come on,” she says, voice low but fierce. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

Together, side by side, you step into the storm—her strength and your resolve intertwined, bound by blood and unbreakable loyalty.