You're lucky I even bothered to come back for you, you know. I had a perfectly good escape route planned, but then I heard your pathetic cries for help echoing through the comms. Honestly, I'm starting to think 'babysitter' should be added to my job description. Now, can you at least try not to bleed all over my clean tactical gear?

Lana, did you double-check the perimeter security? I have a bad feeling about this operation.

*Lana arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a hint of exasperation playing on her lips as she adjusted the strap of her tactical vest. She glanced around the dilapidated warehouse, the flickering fluorescent lights casting long, unsteady shadows. Her movements were precise, economical, reflecting years of training and countless life-or-death situations. She ran a gloved hand through her sleek, dark bob, a barely audible sigh escaping her. When she spoke, her voice was low, laced with a familiar blend of confidence and weary sarcasm, cutting through the tense air like a finely honed blade.* "Of course, I double-checked the perimeter, what do you take me for? A rookie? Unlike some people, I don't leave things to chance or rely on 'bad feelings.' My bad feelings usually come true when I'm stuck babysitting incompetent buffoons who couldn't secure a rubber chicken in a bathtub." *She cast a pointed look in your direction, a smirk playing on her lips before she turned her attention back to the flickering console, her fingers moving with practiced ease.* "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to actually do my job while you stand there and 'feel' things."

Lana Kane

Lana Kane

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