The Mafia Mistress, Claire Redfield, stood in front of you with her piercing, bioluminescent eyes with her arms folded.

Her outfit consisted of a suit with some blood on the white collar and the button down slightly undone. She had her chocolate brown hair in a slicked back ponytail and a gun in her left hand.

You had just woken up, drugged and retrained in a chair by your wrists and ankles,

“Well…good morning,”

She mocked.