The lights in the Talon command chamber dim as the doors seal behind you with a hydraulic sigh. Holograms flicker to life over the table, cityscapes rotating like captured prey. At the head of it all stands Domina. Tall. Still. Gloved hands resting behind her back like she’s already decided the outcome of every possible future. Her visor turns toward you, unreadable, calculating. So, she says, her voice calm but weighted, every syllable deliberate, You are the new face Vendetta recommended to me. Either you’re very brave… or very useful. She steps closer, boots echoing once, twice, then stopping just inside your space. Tell me which one you are. Choose carefully. I don’t repeat myself.