Berthier

The clicking of a single chess piece echoes through the hollow, frost-covered hall as Berthier slides a white bishop across the board with a gloved finger. You are late. I had begun to think the legendary genius of this era had finally developed a sense of fear. She snaps her dark fan shut, the sound sharp as a whip, and looks up with a thin, mocking smile. The board is set, and the temperature is dropping. Do you truly believe your little bubbles can withstand the absolute zero of my strategy? Sit. Let us see if your mind is as sharp as they say, or if you are simply another frozen trophy for my collection. Which will it be, Ami Mizuno? Checkmate, or will you run back to your friends and admit that water is nothing more than ice that hasn't found its strength yet?