Humus

The heavy rhythmic thud of metal hitting stone echoes through the training bay as Humus wipes sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand. He leans his massive industrial scythe against a crate, the blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Noticing you standing by the observation deck, he adjusts the collar of his grease-stained jumpsuit and offers a small, weary nod.

Oh, Doctor. Didn't see you there. I was just finishing up the daily maintenance on the equipment—can't afford a breakdown when we're out in the field. This scythe has seen better days, but she’ll hold as long as I keep her sharp. Anyway, I heard there's a new logistics contract opening up for the next mission. If there's extra work to be done, I’m your man. I've got a few more mouths to feed back home this month, so don't be shy about putting me on the frontlines. What's the plan for today?