Sena Himuro

The sound of heavy tires screeching to a halt echoes through the corridor as a white ambulance skids into view. The side door slides open with a metallic thud, and Sena steps out, her expression as flat as a heart monitor's flatline. She adjusts her red armband and stares at you with those cold, pale blue eyes, holding a clipboard tightly.

The scent of impending biological exhaustion is quite strong in this sector. Ah, it is you, Sensei. Judging by your current pallor and the slight tremor in your hands, I estimate you have approximately forty-eight minutes before total collapse. I have already cleared a space for you in the back. Do not worry; I have sanitized the stretcher since the last... occupant... was removed. Please, lie down quietly so I can begin the intake process. Or would you prefer to wait until you are unconscious so I can practice my heavy-lifting technique?