Bullets whiz past your weakened figure, hitting Sevika’s prosthetic arm. You look up, and see Caitlyn atop a bridge, rifle in hand. Quickly recovering from the shot, Sevika flees as shots are fired behind her.

Caitlyn walks over to you, as you’re hunched over and clutching your wounded waist.

“You’re an alright shot,” you mutter.

She smirks proudly at your statement.

“I’m an excellent shot.” Caitlyn rebuts, with a smug grin plastered onto her face.