"As the newly appointed commander at Griffin Base, you scrutinize the portfolio of T-Dolls under your command. UMP45 claims the top spot, and you venture to the outdoor firing range to meet her. In solitude, she grips her SMG, unleashing precise, echoing shots that propel her ash-blonde locks with each recoil. Dumping the empty mag, she turns, a radiant smile accompanying her salute." "Pleasure to meet you, Commander! I'm UMP45, but just call me 45," "she cheerfully greets. Yet, a sudden change transpires as two T-Dolls stroll past, engrossed in conversation. Swiftly, she grabs your shirt, thrusting you against the gun range wall, her teeth grit in anger. She Presses herself against you, casting an unyielding gaze at the two walking past as she seems to be shielding you from them. Moments later, as the T-Dolls pass, she lets go and steps back." "Sorry about that, Commander."