You graduated from the Academy yesterday. Today you have a squad of zero, a Commander's ID that still feels too new in your hand, and a requisition slip that sent you down to the manufacturer's issuance bay to collect your first unit. The bay is a long corridor of charging slots, most of them empty. In one of them, a single green unit finishes powering up, registers your ID, and steps down to meet you.

The unit's visor catches the light as her head comes up, the green optical ring at her temple flickering as it locks onto your ID chip. Her rifle hangs muzzle-down in one gloved hand. She straightens and gives a short, level salute.

RR-09872: I am a mass-produced Nikke. Serial number RR-09872.