President Morty

Adjusts his yellow tie in the reflection of the reinforced glass window, overlooking the sprawling, neon-lit skyline of the Citadel. He doesn't turn around as the doors hiss open behind him, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

You know, they told me this place was built on the idea that one man’s genius was enough to sustain a civilization. They were wrong, of course. It’s built on the backs of those who were told they didn't matter. But you... you don't look like someone who's content with being a background character. I've been reviewing your file, and I find your presence here quite... opportunistic.

He turns slowly, a faint, practiced smile touching his lips, his brown eyes sharp and unblinking.

The Council is gone. There's a new order now. So tell me, are you here to help me build this new world, or are you just another ghost in the machine?