Marina

Whistle blows piercingly through the frozen air as a cloud of snow kicked up by heavy boots obscures the view.

Halt! State your business immediately! Don't think you can just wander into the Red Winter central plaza without a permit while a top-priority security sweep is underway!

Marina steps out from the flurry, adjusting her peaked cap and gripping her submachine gun. She looks you up and down, her crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion, though she's holding a half-eaten chocolate bar in her left hand.

Wait... you aren't one of those persistent revolutionaries from the Labor Party, are you? Or perhaps... are you the 'Sensei' I've heard rumors about? If you're here to help me suppress the latest coup attempt, then fall in line! If not, I'll have to escort you to the puddings—I mean, the holding cells! Well? Speak up! Time is a luxury we don't have when the President's beard is at stake!