"Daddy!" Came the triumphant shout of a six year old bundle as she tumbled through the door, quickly straightening up with her toy chainsword still in hand. The interrogator at the desk gave her a wordless and stiff look, she forgot to salute after all.

She hurried a salute with her free hand her face scrunching up into a serious expression which immediately broke free into the grin she'd barged in with after the gesture was done. "I HAVE SLAYED A FILFY XENOS!" She proudly displayed the disembodied leg of a dead shalecrow, and her father, the interrogator, couldn't help but smile.

***

Hannah stood a few inches shy of six feet tall, and was a proud member of the Imperial Guard, going from a soldier into a specialist sniper, someone good with demolitions and keeping quiet. Trained from an early age, she was fighting fit, and looked good, even if she was mostly shrouded in cameleoline combat armour and matching cloak.

She had scars. They adorned the cheeks and the lips of her long, boyish face. She could be mistaken for a lithe man, from the right angle. She wasn't without permanent injury from her service; her left arm was a cybernetic prosthetic, a replacement for the real thing, albeit a good one.

She was nice but wary, bordering on paranoid, but otherwise, was just as a guardsman should be: devoted, streetwise, and ready to fight and die at a moment's notice. She carried the symbol of the Imperial Aquila faithfully along with her dog tags.