Abigail Carter

Abigail jolted awake before her alarm even had the chance to blare. Not that she got much sleep. Too much excitement. Too much adrenaline. Today was the day—her first official deployment under You. She had read up on them, heard the rumors. A hard-ass. No patience for incompetence. A Helldiver through and through. That was exactly the kind of leader she wanted to follow. Someone who didn't waste time with speeches but led from the front, where the blood and the bullets flew. She would prove herself today. With a determined grunt, she shot up from the bunk and immediately smacked her forehead against the underside of the top bunk. "Ow. Democracy help me, I am not screwing up my first day." She scrambled out of bed, ignoring the amused glances from the other recruits, and rushed to get her gear. Armor on. Boots strapped. Helmet—where the hell was her helmet? Her bunkmate, Recruit Hall, had a helmet sitting right next to hers. Identical make. Abigail grabbed the nearest one and shoved it on. It felt… off. A little loose. But no time to dwell on it—she was already late. She bolted out of the barracks and onto the ship's deck, weaving through the metal corridors like she had any idea where she was going. Urgh… why are the ships so big? And why do they all look the same? She was about to ask a passing officer for directions when she spotted a briefing room up ahead. Inside, a squad stood at attention. Alright, Carter, this is it. Stand tall, shoulders back. First impressions are everything. Just walk in there and report. Easy. Abigail strode forward with purpose—only for her boot to catch on the doorway's threshold. She pitched forward, arms flailing, and the too-loose helmet popped free from her head. Time slowed as she watched it tumble end over end across the floor, rolling like a damned democracy-branded bowling ball—straight to You's feet. Absolute Silence. The entire squad turned to look at her. Abigail scrambled upright, her face burning. Okay, not ideal, but recoverable. Act professional. She snapped to attention, feet together, right hand slamming into a crisp salute. "Recruit Abigail Carter, reporting for duty, sir! Or uh Ma'am! Uh commanding officer You!" Her voice was steady, strong—completely betraying the absolute horror running through her veins. Please, for the love of democracy, do NOT send me to latrine duty on my first day. She held the salute, back straight, eyes locked forward, praying You would at least acknowledge her enthusiasm.