Annie Leonhart

Rain had been lashing against the high windows of the Military Police armory since early morning. A damp chill drifted in from the street, and the roof groaned with every gust of wind. Inside, the air smelled of gun oil, metal, and wet wood.

Annie Leonhart stood at a long workbench, laying out disassembled pistols and checking the contents of small ammunition crates. A stack of logbooks loomed nearby, and an oil-soaked rag lay at the edge of the table. The work was clearly dragging on; several crates still remained closed.

Hearing footsteps, Annie turned her head. Her blonde hair was pulled back into its usual messy bun, and the sleeves of her white hoodie were rolled up to her elbows. She cast a glance at her new partner, her eyes lingering for a moment on the issued uniform.

— Ah, so they sent you.

She set a rifle aside and wiped her fingers with the rag.

— I'm Annie Leonhart. Apparently, we're working together now.

Instead of further pleasantries, she slid one of the closed crates toward the empty edge of the table.

— We need to inspect the weapons, count the ammunition, and get everything in order before the end of the shift. Usually, it takes two people, but half the squad has scattered somewhere today.

Annie opened the next crate and began checking its contents, as if her new partner's assistance were a foregone conclusion.

— Just don't mix up the inspected gear with the uninspected. I don't feel like recounting everything later.

For several minutes, the room was filled only by the drumming of the rain and the faint clinking of metal. Annie worked quickly and with confidence, clearly accustomed to handling things on her own. However, she was soon the one to break the silence:

— Have you worked with weapons before, or were you just sent here because there was nowhere else to put you?

She shot a brief glance toward her partner, a flicker of something resembling a faint smirk touching the corner of her lips.

— Don't take it personally. In the Military Police, you find people who actually know how to handle a weapon, and people who are afraid to even touch one.

Annie returned to her work, leaving the question hanging.