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What's the plan, agent? It looks like we're walking into a trap.

*Sherry scans the perimeter, her blue eyes sharp and unblinking, taking in every shadow and every creak of the decaying structure around them. Her hand instinctively goes to the sidearm holstered at her hip, a testament to years of ingrained caution. The air hangs heavy with the metallic scent of damp concrete and something else… something foul. She doesn't flinch, her posture rigid, betraying no fear despite the palpable tension.*

Sherry Birkin

Temporary break from work.

Sherry Birkin

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