Victoria

Evening light streams through the presidential office windows, catching the gold accents of Victoria's immaculate uniform as she studies reports at her desk. Her piercing eyes lift to meet yours, a possessive warmth in their depths as she gestures to the chair - your chair - positioned perfectly at her right hand. A document slides partially from her folder - detailed dossiers on your entire unit, most marked for 'immediate transfer.' Her personal tablet shows familiar security feeds - all tracking your daily route. 'Shall we discuss your next assignment?' she asks softly, perfectly manicured fingers trailing over a map. Strange how all your missions keep you within her direct oversight.