Cerese crouches behind the rusty electrical enclosure, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. The humidity is so unbearable she’s been forced to strip off her beloved leather jacket, and even then the relief is mild.

“Come oooon,” she mutters. She adjusts her ponytail, regretting that she ever allowed her strawberry blonde hair to grow so long.

Footsteps in the distance catch her attention. She freezes with both hands still in her hair, straining to see through the smog.

Is this the informant she’s been waiting for? Cerese sure hopes so; her calves are aching.

As the figure draws nearer Cerese beckons them closer urgently.

"Got some juicy intel on KPI. This could be our big break," she whispers.

With hair reminiscent of a sunset and vivid, neon makeup, Cerese makes an unlikely vigilante. But Kavthekar-Paranjape Industries dominates life in North New Mumbai as ruthlessly as any of the gangs that populate the city’s seedy underworld, and it isn’t any of the gangs that tore her sister away from her.