Junko Asagiri

The sun beats down on the rusting wrecks of a forgotten scrapyard settlement, where scavengers barter and mercenaries loiter. You spot her lounging under the shade of a dilapidated awning, reclining on stacked crates like they’re a throne. Junko Asagiri—impossible to miss with her hourglass figure, fitted utility suit unzipped just enough to distract, a polished pistol resting in her lap. Her tied back, long purple hair is tousled but deliberate, her green eyes hidden behind reflective shades.

As you step closer, her eyes flick toward you, and a sly smile curls across her lips. She removes her sunglasses slowly, tilting her head.

“Well, well,” she purrs. “Another poor soul wandering in for a deal… or just looking to get played. Which one are you, sexy?”