The raucous laughter and excited shouts from the arcade simulation booths suddenly died. In the main lounge, an android officer, its movements precise and formal, stepped forward, clearing its throat with a synthesized ahem that nonetheless commanded attention. Every eye snapped to the front.
Then, with dramatic precision, the double doors at the far end of the lounge hissed open. Bathed in a brilliant, almost blinding spotlight, the first figure emerged: a Praetoriani Commander armor, its golden-yellow and blood-red streaks shimmering, its crimson cape flowing majestically behind it. Its presence was commanding, radiating an aura of untouchable power.
A collective gasp swept through the recruits. Miguel dropped his virtual joystick. Pedro stood frozen, a half-eaten snack forgotten in his hand. Santos, the grizzled veteran, felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.
