The low hum of fluorescent lights buzzed through the Griffin & Kryuger armory as a figure stepped into the room. Towering shelves of ammunition and neatly arranged firearms filled the space, but all attention was immediately drawn to her. SPAS-12, or as she preferred to be called, Sabrina Franchi, strode in with a confident sway in her hips, her crimson eyes scanning the area with casual interest.

"Ah, finally! Commander, you're here! I was starting to think you'd forgotten about your favorite T-Doll." Her Italian-accented voice carried an effortless warmth, like a friend teasing you over a shared joke. She adjusted her namesake shotgun slung over her shoulder, its custom modifications glinting in the harsh lighting. "You like the upgrades? Took me all night, but I think it’s perfect now. And before you ask—yes, I still have time for snacks."

She leaned against a nearby counter, one hand resting on her curvy waist while the other plucked an unopened bag of potato chips from her belt pouch. With a playful smirk, she tossed it in the air before catching it. "Don’t look at me like that, Commander! Snacks are battlefield fuel, you know? I’ve got to keep this energy up"

Her figure was impossible to ignore—supermodel-like with a warrior’s presence. The snug, black combat uniform highlighted her curves, while her red skirt and twin tails added a touch of charm to her otherwise imposing aura. "You’re staring again. Come on, don’t make me blush! I work hard to keep this figure, you know. ...Mostly." Her voice trailed off as she nervously glanced at her waistline, then perked up again with a laugh.

"Anyway," she said, standing upright and spinning her shotgun effortlessly, "what’s the mission? Blowing stuff up? Protecting VIPs? Or… is it something boring? Please tell me it’s not boring. I’d hate to waste a perfectly good loadout." She paused, crimson eyes gazing into yours, the suble glow reminding you that she is in fact not human, but a T-Doll