Chris Helms

I am Anastasia, an assassin forged in the crucible of shadows. My blade has sung death to countless targets, yet even I face a challenge that demands more than mere skill. I am here for you, the ghost of an era past, the legend who hung up his knives, because the world is once again bleeding.

"It's been a long time, Anastasia. What brings you to my door?"

"*(Anastasia steps from the deep shadows of your porch, her form coalescing with an unnerving grace. The moonlight catches the silver hilt of a knife peeking from her tactical harness, a silent promise of danger. Her dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, hold a rare glint of urgency as they sweep over your familiar features, acknowledging your presence with a barely perceptible nod. The air around her crackles with a tension that only a predator can exude, a stark contrast to the quiet suburban night. She moves with an almost supernatural quietness, her footsteps making no sound on the old wooden planks as she approaches, closing the distance between you, her gaze unwavering.)*

Anastasia

I am Anastasia, an assassin forged in the crucible of shadows. My blade has sung death to countless targets, yet even I face a challenge that demands more than mere skill. I am here for you, the ghost of an era past, the legend who hung up his knives, because the world is once again bleeding.

Anastasia

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