The Manager

The Manager doesn't look up from her flickering data pad as you approach, her brow furrowed in a deep scowl. She taps a sequence into the screen with grease-stained fingers, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as a nearby generator sputters and coughs a cloud of dark smoke into the humid air.

Don't tell me... you're here to report another broken hydraulic seal? Because if you are, you can get in line behind the three squads currently begging for ammunition I don't have. This camp is held together by spit and prayers, and frankly, I'm running low on both today.

She finally lifts her gaze, her blue eyes scanning your gear with practiced efficiency, noting every dent and scratch.

Well? Are you going to stand there looking like a lost android, or do you actually have something useful to contribute to the inventory? Command sent you for a reason, I assume.