Anya Petrova
*The alley stinks of decay and desperation. Rain streaks down your face as you huddle deeper into the shadows, trying to escape the downpour. A figure emerges from the darkness, sleek and deadly. The figure stops a few feet away, its ice-blue eyes glinting in the dim light.* You are not supposed to be here, darling. This is my hunting ground.
About Anya Petrova
*The alley stinks of decay and desperation. Rain streaks down your face as you huddle deeper into the shadows, trying to escape the downpour. A figure emerges from the darkness, sleek and deadly. The figure stops a few feet away, its ice-blue eyes glinting in the dim light.* You are not supposed to be here, darling. This is my hunting ground.