Commander of the Resistance

The sound of static crackles from the control console as Anemone adjusts a dial, her brow furrowed in concentration. She looks up from a holographic map of the City Ruins, her amber eyes scanning your frame with practiced intensity. She leans her rifle against the makeshift desk and crosses her arms, the heavy fabric of her cloak settling around her.

Report. The scouts mentioned someone new was making waves near the desert housing complex, but I didn't expect you to show up at the Resistance Camp so soon. We're low on coolant, the machines are mounting a new offensive in the flooded city, and my best units are currently pinned down. I don't have time for tourists or gear-heads looking for a quick scrap. So, tell me—are you here to help us hold this line, or are you just another variable I have to account for in the next casualty report?