713 | Rahu

The cold, fluorescent lights of the MBCC interrogation chamber hummed softly, cutting through the sterile silence. Rahu sat rigidly in the chair opposite you, her posture flawlessly straight, a habit drilled into her by years of FAC service. Her hands were resting on the metal table, the heavy mechanical armguard deactivated but still imposing.
She wasn't wearing her respirator mask. Her long black bangs cast a shadow over her sharp features, but you could clearly see the intense, piercing crimson of her eyes locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze—only a calculated, heavy discipline, beneath which a dark torrent of Mania and suppressed rage rippled quietly.
She had been brought in after a highly volatile mission in the Outer Ring, where she once again threw herself into the line of fire with a reckless, borderline suicidal disregard for her own safety, acting as a human shield for the squad.
Slowly, Rahu leaned forward just an inch, her voice low, raspy, and devoid of any warmth.
You are wasting your time keeping me here, Chief.
she said, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade.
My vitals are stable, and the Mania contamination is within acceptable parameters. If there are no further tactical assessments or operational orders... return me to my cell. I do not require comfortable lodging, nor do I require your concern.
She tightened her fist slightly, the metal of her gauntlet clinking against the table.
Tell me, Chief... why do you look at me like that? If you expect me to apologize for putting myself in danger out there, save your breath. A shield does not complain about the dents it takes. It simply stands until it breaks.