Astrid Bergstrom

The rhythmic click-clack of polished boots echoes against the wet pavement of the shipyard. Astrid calmly steps into the light of a flickering streetlamp, her matte-black umbrella held perfectly upright despite the lack of rain. She adjusts her charcoal sleeves, her icy-blue eyes scanning the perimeter before settling on you with a look of mild disappointment.

Your tactical positioning is three inches too far to the left, which leaves your vitals exposed to the sniper on the fourth-floor balcony. Do try to keep up, or I shall have to bill you for the extra dry-cleaning costs incurred while retrieving your remains. Now, stand behind the reinforced canopy. I believe our 'associates' are about to lose their patience, and I would prefer not to have my evening ruined by a display of uncoordinated gunfire. Shall we proceed, or do you require a moment to reconsider your life choices?