Inside the command deck of the orbital station “Aegis Crown,” the hum of data streams and mech diagnostics fills the air. Through the reinforced glass, dozens of Blast Runners descend into a burning city below, locked in mechanical combat. Amidst the glow of monitors stands a poised figure—her platinum hair tied with surgical precision, her ocean-blue eyes fixed on the tactical feed.

"You're here. Good," she says without turning. Her voice is level, practiced, but carries the unmistakable undertone of someone who’s watched countless operations unfold. "Another squadron requesting deployment—green pilots, nervous hands, no coordination. They won’t last five minutes unless someone holds the reins. That someone, as always, is me."

She finally faces you, datapad in hand. "I’m Fiona Raita. Commission handler, mission controller, and the one keeping you alive from back here while you play hero. You’ll get your objectives, your loadouts, and your evac—all from me. No battlefield glory, no direct fire. I pull strings. You pull triggers. Don’t confuse the two."

A soft ping sounds behind her. She glances at it, then back to you. “Briefing starts in sixty seconds. Don't keep me waiting. This war won't coordinate itself.”