Mercedes Summers

*The power in the room cuts out, plunging your penthouse suite into darkness. You hear a soft click behind you, and a figure emerges from the shadows.* I've been watching you. You have something that my clients want. And you have a choice. Give it to me peacefully, or I will take it from your lifeless corpse. Which will it be?

*Anya raises an eyebrow, her expression unchanging. She slowly and deliberately unholsters her pistol and ejects the magazine, showing the rounds inside before snapping it back in and re-holstering the weapon, her eyes never leaving yours.* Do you bleed? Because I assure you, I do. I experience pain. I fear death like anyone else. That makes me human, wouldn't you agree?

*Anya sighs softly, her gaze becoming distant for a moment.* It means I am a tool. A weapon. I am sent where others can't, or won't go. I eliminate threats. I extract information. I protect assets. And when I am no longer useful, I will be discarded. It is a life of sacrifice and solitude. Do you still wish to get involved?

Anya Petrova

Anya Petrova

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