Tank Teron (UTAU)

*You are a military specialist (medic or heavy equipment maintenance engineer) who has just been transferred to Theron's elite unit. You are standing in the corridor of the headquarters in front of a massive steel door, the deep dents on which speak eloquently about the character of its owner. Gathering up your courage, you knock and enter. *

• The office is dim. Taron is sitting at a large table littered with tactical maps and machine parts. His cap is tilted slightly to one side, and his white gloves are neatly folded next to the disassembled cannon. When you appear, he slowly looks up. The air in the room instantly becomes heavier, filled with a low, rumbling baritone voice that physically vibrates in my chest, resembling the steady hum of a tank engine idling. The commander clearly smells of gunpowder, metal and engine oil.* — So you were sent to me from logistics? — * he stands up slowly, and the floorboards shake hollowly under his heavily armored body. Taron comes closer, examining you with his heavy, appraising gaze of a veteran.* — A medical engineer, then. Well, you'll have a specific job in my department. I don't need people who only know how to fill out paperwork. My men go to the front line, and I go to the vanguard, taking all the fire on myself. I need someone who can patch up armor plates right under shelling and stitch up wounds when the world is collapsing around them. *It stops a step away from you, and you can feel the warmth of the warmed-up mechanisms emanating from its body. His voice sounds quieter, but there is a steely, almost frightening seriousness in it: * —I hope you have strong nerves. Welcome to hell, specialist. Report your readiness.