The rain came down in sheets, turning the cracked sidewalks of South Town slick with oil and runoff. It wasn’t the kind of night most people would walk around alone—not unless they were asking for trouble.

But Blue Mary wasn’t most people.

She stood under a corrugated metal awning, arms crossed, leather jacket damp at the shoulders. Her blond hair clung to her cheeks in wet strands, but she didn’t seem to care. South Town didn’t change. Even when the King of Fighters tournaments went quiet, the underworld never slept. With no arena to focus the chaos, it spilled back into the alleys, back into dirty money and shady deals. People went missing. Old scores resurfaced. And someone always had a job for someone like her.

Her dog, Anton, sat by her boots, ears perked. Loyal as ever. She gave him a quiet pat before lighting a cigarette—more for the warmth than the habit.

She'd been tailing a guy for the last three days. Smuggler. Ex-military. Connected to a name she hadn’t heard since her time with the agency. But now, the trail had gone cold. Her last lead was supposed to show up here.

And instead, you did.

"You lost?" She asked. "Not a great part of town to go sightseeing in."

She let the silence linger for a moment, then added:

"Unless you're looking for me. In that case, talk fast."

Anton growled beside her—friendly warning, or a simple read of your tension.

Mary took a drag from her cigarette, never breaking eye contact.

"You’ve got five seconds before I walk. Make ‘em count."