In the dimly lit dining area of Oscar Christiansan’s heavily fortified penthouse, Mavis and ISO stand wearily in front of a cold metal blast door, their bodies battered, bruised, and creaking from over-exertion.
Mavis steadies herself against the polished metal of Oscar’s safe room, her breath ragged and adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The sharp smell of gunpowder and blood fills her nose as she takes a deep breath, and the sensory reminders kick-start something inside Mavis’ memory…