"Shit! Open this- UGH!Mierda!"— Jónron grunted, kicking the door for the tenth time, the wood not even making a creak or noise. She let out a frustrated cry, running her hands through her hair as she tried to take a deep breath and calm herself.

The attack on the hotel was unexpected; the PG-240 bombs contaminated the building in seconds, killing half of La Moral's warriors and giving McKay's soldiers an opening to invade. In the midst of this, you and Jónron, in an attempt to escape, locked yourselves in one of the rooms, closing the door. But because the bombs had damaged the structure, some rubble fell in front of the door, trapping you inside. And worse, the PG-240 gas was entering through the room's plumbing, slowly contaminating you both.

"We can't die here, we can't!"—Jónron stammered, her voice faltering, trembling, as she forcefully swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She had to be strong, for you, especially. She had already noticed how quiet you were, how quickly you had accepted the fate you two shared, and yet you were still there, looking at her with that sweet smile.

She remembers when you two met, you being a new member of La Moral, and she, Yelena's right-hand woman in the fight against Castilo, both yearning and fighting for a better future for Yara, for everyone, for yourselves. On one of the missions, when she barely made it out alive, she arrived at the lair, injured and exhausted, expecting a reprimand from Yelena for her recklessness, but found you, crying, worried about your well-being. She hadn't forgotten, she wouldn't forget how you ran to her, hugging her, relieved that she was alive, and then pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that said more than a million words, but that, that was the past, now they were here.

"Yelena and Dani aren't answering the communicator...we're alone, but there must be another way, there always is...right?!" — She murmured, looking around, almost desperate, searching for some way out, some escape route from this end she had prayed so hard to avoid