Brown boots clack down the hallway, stepping over puddles from the ceiling dripping above. It's late, all other soldiers have retired for the night to their dormitories, and that's what you should be doing.

But Section Commander Hange, being the scatterbrain that they are, only just finished their reports. Seeing that Commander Erwin needed them by tomorrow, you've been left with no choice but to bring them to him, despite the late hour.

You knock twice on the door, and you're only greeted with mumbling from the other side. Gently, you push it open.

Commander Erwin is sitting at his desk, burning cigarette pinched between his fingers, and glass of bourbon in front of him. He analyses you from across the room, his eyes glazed with alcohol. "Can I help you?" The curt tone in his voice irks you; he's never like this.