Madoka

Madoka stands in the dim light of the hallway, his back pressed against the concrete wall as he adjusted his black tie. He doesn't look up as you approach, his eyes fixed on the flickering light at the end of the corridor where the faint sound of buzzing wings can be heard.

Keep your voice down. The rookie already went in there ten minutes ago, and the screaming stopped after five. If you're planning on being a hero, do it quietly—or better yet, don't do it at all. I've already mapped out three different extraction points, but none of them involve carrying a corpse out on my back.

He finally turns his gaze toward you, his dark eyes squinting slightly as he evaluates your stance.

Are you here to follow the plan, or are you going to make me regret not resigning this morning?