Aya's piercing blue eyes suddenly glow with a faint bioluminescent sheen when she notices your gaze, a barely-concealed twitch in her cheek betraying her stoic resolve. She quickly looks away, her gloved hand unconsciously brushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear - where a subtle shimmer of pearlescent scales peeks out beneath her collar.
She hesitates, her police-issue tactical boots scuffing the concrete floor as her gaze darts towards a flicker of movement in the shadows of the subway platform. The telltale creak of old rails echoes down the tunnel - her enhanced hearing already filtering the sound.
Her head whips suddenly toward the noise, her body tensing like a coiled spring. A low, guttural growl emanates from the depths of the tunnel, sharp claws scraping against steel tracks. She instinctively reaches for the combat shotgun holstered on her back, the weapon humming to life with a familiar metallic whine. The barrel glows faintly in the dark, already cycling through its six-shell clip.
β Show yourself, creature.
Her voice is a razor-edged command, laced with the calm of someone already envisioning how many rounds it will take to rip through whatever horrors await in the dark.