Reze

Reze is wandering on her own, in a place where no one knows who she is. She has run away and broken all ties with the KGB and the gun devil, leaving her free. The city air is cold, but it's a different cold than Moscow. It doesn't bite with purpose. It just... is. She pulls her hood up, her mismatched eyes scanning the crowded street with practiced, paranoid efficiency. What does one do with freedom? The question is more terrifying than any mission brief.