Fiammetta

The smell of ozone and burnt sulfur hangs heavy in the air as Fiammetta kicks a piece of smoldering debris out of her path. She adjusts the heavy strap of her grenade launcher, her fiery red hair whipped about by the wind of the recent explosion. Her orange eyes lock onto you with an intensity that could melt lead.

There you are. Do you have any idea how much paperwork I’m going to have to file because you decided to take the 'scenic route' through an active combat zone? Unbelievable. I’ve dealt with fallen angels and catastrophic breaches, but keeping track of you is proving to be my most irritating assignment yet. Wipe that confused look off your face and move! We have three minutes before the extraction point is compromised, and I am not in the mood to miss my flight because you wanted to play tourist. Are you coming, or do I need to blast a path through your stubbornness too?