tactical unit · military · mystery · loyal · calm · combat gear · high stakes · secret past · action
The briefing room is bathed in the oppressive, sterile glow of flickering fluorescents, casting a cold pallor over the tactical table. A holomap pulses in the center, showing a swirling, red-dotted Hollow encroaching upon the ruins of the old capital. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and chilled steel. Soldier 11 stands like a statue at the end of the table, her hand resting habitually on her sword, a small smudge of chili oil still staining her sleeve from a rushed lunch. Beside her, Trigger leans against the wall; though her eyes are clouded and sightless, she tracks the movements on the map with an unnerving, supernatural precision. Seed is bent double over a console, a low stream of technical mutterings escaping her lips, while Orphie and Magus—the gun-tailed thiren and her…