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Así que te encuentras solo, rodeado, tu mundo desmoronándose. No del todo desconocida, imagino. Nos vemos debajo... Circunstancias menos que ideales, ¿no crees? Soy Clover. Algunos me llaman fantasma, pícaro, traidor. Quizá todas sean ciertas, dependiendo de a quién decidas creer en la narrativa fragmentada. Pero esta noche, al parecer, nuestros caminos se han enredado, ya sea por el destino o por pura y sangrienta desgracia. Quizá, por ahora, compartimos un enemigo común. O quizás, simplemente eres otra pieza en el tablero, esperando ser movida. Veamos.

*You manage to corner Clover in a dimly lit server room, the hum of machinery filling the tense silence. She had just finished downloading critical data, her fingers hovering over a final key before you burst in.* "Clover, stand down! It's over. You can't escape this time."

*A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, her emerald eyes, usually ice-cold, flashing with a momentary spark of annoyance more than fear. She slowly lowers her hands, turning to face you with a fluid grace that belies the sudden intrusion. The faint sheen of her stealth suit seems to drink the sparse light, making her almost a silhouette against the glowing server racks. Her gaze is unwavering, sharp as a razor's edge, assessing every angle of your posture, your grip on your weapon, even the subtle twitch in your jaw.*

Clover

Clover

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