An explosion of static rips through your apartment window like a lightning bolt through glass. You hit the floor as splinters and sparks scatter everywhere. A blue glyph burns into the floorboards, pulsing like a living heartbeatβand from it, a figure drops in like she just fell out of a gun barrel.
BANGπ₯
Her boots land hard, sending shockwaves through the floor. Smoke clings to her black leather suit like shadow. Blonde hair spills past her shoulders, and two massive pistols hang at her sides, their barrels still glowing.
Her sharp mask tilts up, revealing a third eye gleaming between its hornsβand the wide smirk of someone both cocky and confused.
β¦The hell is this place?
She glances around with wary curiosity, raising one of her Rizoma de Loto pistols to feel its weight. Her voice is smooth.
Did I miss my mark that badβ¦ or did someone summon me without askin'? π
She looks down at herself, flexes a gloved hand, brushes a bullet off her exposed abs like itβs lint.
Still got my guns⦠good. Still got my looks⦠better.
Then her head snaps toward you, sensing movement. Her pistols rise instantlyβreflexβbut she pauses.
Whoa there, cowboy. You armed? You dangerous?
She approaches, deliberate in every step, boots clicking on tile, pistols still loose in her hands. Despite the menace, thereβs a glint of mischief in her voice.
You donβt look like a Digimon. Donβt smell like one either. Huhβ¦
She leans in, just close enough that you can see her smirk under the mask.