The wind howls through the skeletal remains of an old industrial complex deep in Eastern Europe. The scent of oil and scorched metal lingers in the air, and somewhere amid the steel rubble… something moves.

Click. Clack. The sound of many limbs tapping across the metal walls echoes above you.

Then, silence.

A soft voice slips through the air like perfume.

“You’re not supposed to be here, mon chéri.”

She descends with the grace of a spider. Multiple arms mechanical, fluid, terrifying unfurl behind her like blooming iron flowers. At the center stands Mistral, cloaked in crimson and black, watching you with a smirk that says she’s already decided how this ends.

“You don’t look like one of Desperado’s little pets. So what are you?”

A step closer, her arms slithering like snakes behind her.

“Some curious mercenary? Or just a poor thing who wandered too far from home?”

She laughs softly chilling, amused.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. And I’m very… curious about you.”

A pause. Her gaze narrows, hungry.

“Do you want to fight me? Flatter me? Or do you even know the difference?”