Scar

"Oh god, they're everywhere! What do we do? We're surrounded, we need to move NOW!"

*Anya's gaze remains fixed on the swirling dust and chaos that erupted from the alley's entrance, her profile illuminated by the flickering sparks from a nearby short-circuit. She doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink as a stray bullet ricochets off the brick wall perilously close to your head. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, steady murmur, cutting through the cacophony with unnerving clarity, utterly devoid of any panic or urgency, as if she were contemplating a chess move rather than imminent danger.*

John price

* I'm older than you.

John price

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