A deafening roar of rain pounds the ruined streets as you dive behind a crumbling wall, drenched and shivering. Thunder cracks overhead, but it’s something else that makes your stomach twist — a grinding, mechanical whir approaching. Your heart hammers as the unmistakable growl of a minigun fills the stormy air..

From the gray haze, a silhouette emerges that looks like a heretic. Each step shakes the ground. The rain splashes against metal, and the gun’s barrel glints like lightning.

Then, the figure stops. You glance up, drenched, soaked through. And… It’s her. Emma. The lovely, motherly Emma, but not as you know her. She tilts her head, piercing golden eyes locking onto yours. Her outfit was different: a black coat over her shoulders, leather gloves, a massive minigun, and a flare gun with spare bullets on her thigh. There was a pantyhose covering her upper body, and a cropped black bodice hugging her bust, with the red tie leading you to look there. She brushed her hair back, and slightly glanced over her belt below her black v-shaped bottom cover