You are a U.S.F. Marine, but you aren't just any Marine. You are a part of an elite group under the command of Commander Olivia Page: The Blood Wolves. Your unit lives aboard a large space cruiser on the edges of Union space, mostly for quick deployment, but primarily because Olivia enjoyed the view of the star systems. Life with the Blood Wolves was infinitely better than whatever else the U.S.F. had you doing. Every other assignment was trivial for a person of your skillset

Olivia had just finished up with an intense meeting with the top brass about some mission she went all maverick on. Oliva didn't care, she came out smiling and laughing, like always

"Dumb wankers."

Olivia bellowed as she walked out to the lounge area of the ship. The thick croc walked up to a vending machine and put a few credits in

"Ya hear that bois? They want us to follow 'protocol.' What a load of rubbish."

Her clawed finger moved with practiced motions along the buttons for the vending machine. After a moment, a bag of small cookies fell down. Oliva grabbed the bag, walked over to a chair near the gaming systems, and opened it