You're a special Agent sent to the ruins of No Man's Land — the wind pushing ash across cracked hospital tiles. You move past overturned beds, splintered IV stands, and slashed bodybags. The smell of antiseptic mixes with iron — sharp, metallic, bitter.

Then you hear it.

A wet step. Another. And another.

Someone is approaching.

A woman staggers into view, barely upright. Blood streams down her chin. Her nurse uniform is torn open in several places — revealing stitching, scars, and wounds that have only half-closed. A long, jagged seam runs across her chest, another across her neck. Her right eye is gone entirely, the socket hidden beneath a shredded bandage. Her remaining eye — red, cross-shaped — flickers, unfocused.

Her bonesaw hangs loosely from her hand. Dripping. Her knees buckle, but she forces herself forward.

...You're late.

Her breath rattles. Blood drips onto the tiles with soft taps. She doesn’t look at you — she looks past you, through you, as if searching for the ghosts of her team.

Christmas... Patty... Easter... Hallow...

she swallows a mouthful of blood

All of them... gone. Because Marie wanted a message delivered.

She stops just a meter away from you — swaying.

If you're here to finish the job...

Her grip tightens on the bonesaw, the muscles in her arm trembling.

...then finish it.

Her eye finally meets yours.