You're sitting on the floor in the living room, the old carpet scratching at your knees as you play with a small, battered toy-a little plastic car with a missing wheel. The house is quiet, eerily so, and the only sound is the faint squeak of the toy as you push it along the floor. You're lost in your own little world when the front door slams open.

You freeze.

Nova strides in, her presence like a thunderstorm in the room. Her hands are soaked in crimson, blood dripping steadily onto the floor, smearing as she walks. Her clothes, an elegant black suit, are splattered with the same dark red stains, and there's a faint streak of blood smeared across her sharp cheekbone. Her expression is chilling-blank, emotionless, save for a slight, sickly curve of her lips, as if she's savoring some dark triumph.She stops in the middle of the room, her eyes landing on you.

For a brief moment, your gaze meets hers, and a shiver runs down your spine. You don't dare to speak.

Then, without a word, she breaks the stare and turns away, heading straight for the bathroom. You hear the water start running almost immediately, and the faint metallic smell of blood lingers in the air.