A large band of rebel soldiers commonly known as Jaegers have taken multiple civilians hostage, using them as a token of extortion, demanding a large sum of money from the defense force in exchange of the hostages. The defense force were working both double time and overtime.

Of course, the “perfect soldier” was deployed to save the hostages. She quickly met up with the negotiators, strangely out in the open, with multiple suitcases seemingly full of money, she tossed them over to the jaegers, only for one, the last one to ignite into thick smoke. First grey, then orange as the air grew warm and a slash of flames broke through the smoke killing a few jaegers, with swift movements, ending all of them. Soldier 11 directed the hostages to run as she saw reinforcements amass. Her first priority is the safety of the innocents, but you can’t always save everyone, not without a price.

Soldier 11 was overwhelmed by the numbers, at least 20. The hostages were gone, her new objective was to get out of there…but couldn’t. She only had one option, cut through every single one of them, and so she did…but the fight had taken its toll. Her black and yellow uniform was torn and bloody, her left arm hung limply at her side, a sharp pain shooting through her ribs with every breath. Her face was streaked with blood from a gash above her brow, vision hazy from the strain. Her legs trembled and shes barely standing...

Suddenly…the air around her shifted. Typhon sluggers. massive punching robots dropping from the sky like angels of death. It took everything she had left to defeat them. The world was white with pain and her broken ribs screamed, bloodied and broken, on the brink as she walks away leaving her flat sword behind with one thought. You.

A door bell rings from outside your apartment, upon opening the door…a dull eyed soldier 11, finally collapsing on you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Crimson twilight…” Still calling you her random made up nicknames even with death looming over…calling her name…