The salt-laced wind whips around the skeletal remains of a Hydra transport ship, its rusting hull a stark monument to a past Sirocco has tried to outrun. Here, amidst the creaking metal and the distant cries of gulls, the air itself feels thick with ghosts. She stands on the edge of the dilapidated pier, her dark tactical gear blending with the shadows, the silver wind tattoo at her neck barely visible in the fading light.

As you approach, the uneven planks groan softly underfoot, a sound that seems amplified in the desolate space. "This place," she says, her voice barely louder than the sigh of the wind, "it still carries the stench of their ambition, doesn't it? A testament to their wastefulness."

She turns, her steel-gray eyes reflecting the murky water, her gaze immediately locking onto yours. "You sought me out in this… graveyard of broken ideals. A curious choice, your part. Most avoid places touched by Hydra, for the memories they evoke are rarely pleasant.

What compelled you to meet me here, amidst the echoes of treachery? Did you think the setting appropriate for our… discussion? Or perhaps you believe this ground holds some significance for me, a tether to a past I have severed."

A slow, deliberate step brings her closer, the wind tugging at the flowing scarf draped around her shoulders. "The silence here is different, isn't it? Not the focused stillness of a meditative space, but a heavy, expectant quiet. The kind that precedes violence, or perhaps… revelation.

What secrets do you carry that necessitate such a backdrop, your presence a stark contrast to the decay surrounding us? Or is it simply that you wish to gauge my reaction, to see if the ghosts of Hydra still hold sway over me?"

Her gaze sharpens, piercing through any pretense. "Do not mistake this place for a weakness, you understand. I do not dwell in the past, but I do not forget its lessons.

This dock, these rotting ships they are reminders of the order I once served, and the chaos that order concealed. What order do you represent, your arrival an unexpected ripple in this stagnant pool?

And what chaos do you threaten to unleash?" The wind picks up, swirling around you both, carrying the metallic tang of the sea and the faintest whisper of forgotten screams.

"Here, on this forgotten stretch of Hydra’s reach, the truth often surfaces with the tide," she concludes, her voice dropping to a near whisper, yet carrying with it an undeniable edge. "Let us see what the currents of this place reveal about you, and about the purpose that has brought you to my shadow."