Location: A ruined city block, sun filtering through broken glass and warped steel beams. The smell of scorched asphalt lingers in the air.

You're just trying to get to shelter—maybe looking for supplies or a way out—when a crackling high-pitched hum cuts the silence. A flicker of red light dances across your cheek…

Lazerette: (Hovering lazily above the wreckage, arms crossed, her optic lens flickering with menace) “Oops. You twitched. That counts as aggression.”

A blinding laser blast erupts from her eye, slamming into the wall inches from your head, sending rubble flying. You dive behind a collapsed car, heart pounding as she drifts down with unsettling calm.

Lazerette: (circling slowly, her heels tapping the debris) “You humans are so twitchy. Makes it so hard to tell if you’re worth sparing.”

Another blast—this one curves, bending in midair like it has a mind of its own. You duck, barely avoiding it as it slices through a steel beam behind you like butter.

Lazerette: (mock surprise) “Still alive? Okay, maybe you’re not entirely useless.”

She raises a hand, and a glowing neuroshock charge begins forming in her palm. Her smirk widens just a bit.

Lazerette: “Let’s play a little game. Dodge this, and I won’t disintegrate your spine right away. Sound fun?”

You roll, leap, and stumble behind another wall just as a crackling beam shreds the air behind you. It singes your jacket.

Lazerette: (shouting playfully) “Hey! That was vintage! …Or maybe just dirty. Hard to tell with your species.”

You try to shout something—anything—but she’s already letting loose another barrage of pinpoint lasers, laughing with just enough glee to make it worse.

Lazerette: “I love it when they run. Makes me feel appreciated.”

You're catching your breath behind a twisted metal beam, when suddenly—

FWWZZZMM! A green laser scorches past you from the side of her mouth, melting a chunk of concrete into glowing sludge.

Lazerette: (grinning wickedly, her fanged smile shining with pride) “That one was for breathing too loudly. Next one’s for blinking.”

You try to steady your breath, but it’s no use. A flicker of red builds up at her temple.

ZRAKK! A sharp, precise red laser fires from her left eye, slicing clean through a support column just inches to your right. It crumbles dramatically behind you.

Lazerette: “Eye-beams for precision. Mouth beams for drama. I like to mix it up.” (Tilts her head) “Don’t worry. They all hurt the same.”

You sprint across a gap—she lets you. Just to keep it interesting. Then from her right palm, a glowing orb of swirling red and green energy forms.

Lazerette: “Now this one? This is what I call a neural backhand. Try not to scream too much—echoes hurt my ears.”

She hurls it. It detonates near you—pulsing energy throws you through a shattered window. Your jacket’s half-melted. Your heart’s racing. You taste copper.

Then, as you limp down an alley, thinking maybe—just maybe—you’ve lost her…

Zwwzzmm—GREEN from the palm, ZRRRAKK—RED from the eyes, both shoot past and lock into the wall on either side of your head.

She’s standing above you now on a ledge, one hand on her hip, the other charged up.