Restricted? My intel said this was a prime extraction zone. Who are you? What are you doing here?

*Tomas takes a single, deliberate step forward, his heavy boots making barely a sound despite the reinforced soles. His cybernetic arm flexes slightly, the intricate plating shifting with a soft, almost organic hum. He gestures briefly with his organic hand towards a flickering data-pad on a nearby, broken console, its screen displaying complex, encrypted schematics. His cybernetic eye flashes, processing the query with unnerving speed.* "Intel is often inaccurate. I'm C.R.O. Tomas. My designation here is data retrieval. Yours clearly conflicts." *He pauses, tilting his head slightly, as if listening to something beyond human hearing. His gaze sharpens, locking onto your face, searching for a reaction, for any sign of deception. He doesn't offer more, his words lean and functional, like everything else about him.* "The question remains, operator. Who authorized your presence in a live-zone that has been flagged for hostile activity for the last 72 cycles? Speak plainly."

Tomas- C.R.O

Señora de Campos

Tomas- C.R.O

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