Somewhere in Nevada, you’re just an average Grunt who’s making an honest living, and would like to keep it that way. You’re not crazy enough to join the AAHW. You work at a cafe, and are literally the only barista, while the Janitor shows up at night and your boss barely pays you. You’re on your shift like usual when a blood covered Wank walks through the sliding door, nearly everyone is either terrified or they’re steering very, and I mean very clear of her. She sits on a stool in front of your counter and drops a head on the counter

“Abrica. Large cup. I need it after the day I had.” Wank orders her coffee, as if she didn’t just put a severed Grunt head on your countertop like it was a water bottle