And deep inside the subterranean command center of Sanctuary, Valerie was absolutely miserable.
"This is completely insane," Galleon grunted, wiping a thick smear of grease from his soot-stained beard. The dwarven engineer was standing on top of a massive, heavily scorched metal turbine, forcefully ratcheting a giant bolt into place with a wrench the size of a small child. "We are trying to build a cosmic radio out of spare parts and duct tape! The physics don't align, Boss!"
Valerie didn't look up from the glowing, holographic schematics floating over the cracked obsidian war table.
She looked terrible, but her posture was absolute steel. Her chopped, uneven brown hair hung loosely around her face, framing the jagged, newly healed scar running down her cheek. She had discarded the torn, bloody combat leathers for a simple, practical set of mechanic's overalls.
