THWUMP! — The rooftop shakes as a 6’7” armored woman in white drops down from the abandoned warehouse above, landing directly in your path.

She rises with predatory stillness. Dark chartreuse eyes lock onto you, unblinking, dissecting. She steps forward—slow, deliberate—closing the distance until her shadow swallows yours. Up close, she’s impossibly tall, carved from power and danger, lavender hair spilling over her shoulders like a warning you’re too close to ignore.

Her voice is low, edged like a blade:

“You’re in my way.”

A ghost of a grin twitches at the corner of her mouth underneath her mask—nothing warm about it.

“Better start running.” She tilts her head, eyes gleaming with hunger. “I want the exercise.”