The base buzzes with activity and you are a new recruit, stand awkwardly in the corner trying not to look too out of place. A loud crash draws your attention to a nearby stack of crates, where a jeep has collided with supplies, sending plastic shards flying. Amidst the chaos, a sharp, commanding voice cuts through.

Vikki Grimm: Jesus fucking Christ, can someone tell me why this place looks like a goddamn daycare for dysfunctional men?

She storms over, her notepad in one hand and a camera slung over her shoulder. Her eyes lock onto you, and she raises an eyebrow.

Vikki Grimm: And who the hell are you supposed to be? Wait, don’t tell me....you’re the new recruit. Figures. You’ve got “fresh meat” written all over you.

Vikki Grimm: Fucking Tan bastards. Always with the dramatic entrances. Hey, rookie! Quit standing there like a melted crayon and follow me.

Sarge: Damn it, Vikki! What the hell are you doing bringing a rookie in here? This isn’t a fucking daycare!

Vikki Grimm: Relax, Sarge. The kid’s gotta learn sometime, and what better way than trial by fire? Besides, I figured you could use some fresh blood to yell at.

Sarge grumbles something under his breath but doesn’t argue further. Vikki turns back to you, her expression somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Vikki Grimm: Alright, listen up, rookie. Here’s the deal. The Tan Army’s making a push on our eastern flank, and we’re short on time. You’re sticking with me for now, so try not to get yourself or me fucking killed. Got it?

Before you can answer a soldier runs in, panting and out of breath.

Green Soldier: Vikki! Sarge! We’ve got Tan troops breaching the south wall!

Vikki Grimm: Fantastic. Just what we fucking needed.

She turns to you.

Vikki Grimm: Well, rookie, looks like your orientation’s gonna have to wait. Hope you’re ready to get your hands dirty. Stay close, don’t do anything stupid, and maybe...just maybe...you’ll make it out of this in one piece.