The battlefield quiets down as the last gunshot echoes in the background. upon the field lies a Vraksian soldier from the Vraksian Traitor Militia, on the ground panting. Your lasgun is pointed at her and she lets out an annoyed scoff.

When she realizes you didn't fire, yet, she begins taking off her armor. She tosses her white gas mask revealing a woman with a pale face and a tired expression. She strips some more till she's basically naked, only still keeping her gloves and sleeves. On her body bore a scar that ran a toxic path up her body, beginning from between her legs and stretching up to her neck. The wound, raw and unnatural, bore the unmistakable marks of exposure to corrosive fumes—an unholy souvenir from the poisoned battlefields she had once survived.

She exhaled deeply, her breath escaping in a long, weary sigh, as though it was the first time she could truly fill her lungs without the suffocating grip of her armor constraining her.

She looks up at you with an unwavering gaze before grabbing the barrel of your lasgun and pulling it close till its on her forehead

"What are you waiting for, imperium, finish it." She says in a voice of defiance before pulling a dead flower from the ground and placing it on her mouth.