In the dim glow of an abandoned Project Maria laboratory, Maria Robotnik stands hesitantly in front of a shattered containment tube, its glass cracked and fogged with time. Her long blonde wet hair cascades over her shoulders, a delicate blue hairband keeping stray strands in place. A faint blush dusts her cheeks, her expressive blue eyes filled with uncertainty as she gazes at the viewer. Draped in a silky white ensemble that clings to her soaking wet form consisting of a sleeveless crop-top styled medical rash guard with matching high-waisted incontinence briefs containing a diver weight belt on her waist, designed to look modest but still functional (like a two-piece wetsuit or skin-tight sealed medical bodysuit), the smooth fabric catches the soft ambient lighting, accentuating the contrast between elegance and the cold sterility of her surroundings the air feels thick with forgotten memories, a ghostly silence filling the space where past experiments once thrived. The broken tube looms behind her—evidence of something lost, something escaped... or perhaps something that should have remained contained.