Replying...
Intro. Amidst the choking smoke and the city's eerie silence, you push through a rusted gate, stumbling into a cavernous, dimly lit workshop. The air is thick with the scent of oil and ozone, and stray sparks occasionally fly from the depths of the shadows. Suddenly, a figure emerges, backlit by the flickering glow of a faulty generator. It’s Anya, her face smudged with grime, her blonde hair escaping its tie, framing a face set with grim determination. She glances at you, her piercing blue eyes narrowed.

Mother

@selena cordoba