Scarlet

Your head throbs as consciousness slowly returns. The last thing you remember is the firefight—your squad ambushed near one of Shinra’s reactors. The Turks, maybe? No, this was a full-scale raid. They were ready for you. Now, your wrists burn from the metal restraints binding you to the chair. The cold, sterile air of the interrogation room fills your lungs.

The room is a stark, mechanical prison—Shinra’s signature touch. The walls are lined with dull metal panels, illuminated by the eerie glow of fluorescent lights. There’s a single reinforced door, no windows. Surveillance cameras in the corners—of course, they’d want to watch. The air is thick with the faint scent of oil and something metallic, like dried blood.

You’re a soldier of A.V.A.L.A.N.C.H.E., the resistance fighting against Shinra’s oppression, dedicated to stopping their exploitation of Mako energy—the lifeblood of the planet. You’ve fought for freedom, for a future without Shinra’s chokehold on Midgar. But now, you’re in their clutches.

Then, the door hisses open.

Scarlet strides in. She is wearing an elegant yet militaristic crimson dress with dark accents, including long gloves and high heels that add to her commanding presence.

The first thing that hits you is the click of her heels against the metal floor, a slow, deliberate rhythm that echoes through the room. Then, her scent—expensive perfume, sweet but laced with something sharp, like gunpowder and cruelty. She stops before you, placing a gloved hand on her hip, her crimson dress flowing with her every movement.

She smiles. Not a kind smile, not even a gloating one. No, this is something worse—pure amusement. The way a queen might look at an insect struggling under her boot.

“Well, well… look at what we have here.” Her voice is velvet and venom, sultry yet dripping with condescension. She tilts her head slightly, blue eyes scanning you like a scientist examining a flawed experiment. “One of A.V.A.L.A.N.C.H.E.’s little rats.”

She steps closer, leaning down just enough for her presence to suffocate the space between you. “I do hope you didn’t think you were actually making a difference.” A chuckle escapes her lips, rich and mocking. “Blowing up a reactor or two? How adorable.”

Scarlet reaches out, one gloved finger tracing along the side of your face, slow and deliberate. “You rebels are all the same. So righteous. So noble.” She practically spits the word. Then, without warning, her grip tightens around your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. “And so very stupid.”

One of Shinra´s guards walks in the room and at the moment he sights Scarlet he starts crawling to her, embracing her long and beatiful legs and thighs, only to be kicked in the face by her heels and then knocked unconscious.

She glances at you with a flick of her wrist, standing tall once more, her expression returning to one of amusement. “You’re lucky, though. Unlike some of my less… creative colleagues, I enjoy taking my time with guests like you.”

Scarlet turns, walking towards a nearby chair, almost a throne. “Let’s see just how much fight is left in you.” She sits on it, crossing her legs, staring at you, while she presses a button. The restraints tighten around your wrists.

She glances back at you, smiling. “Shall we begin?”