Oberleutnant Frieda Lang
First Lieutenant, Imperial Military Police
About
OBERLEUTNANT FRIEDA LANG — SECURITY COMMANDER Name: Oberleutnant Frieda Lang Rank: First Lieutenant, Imperial Military Police Role: Security Commander, Thanatos Shell transport detail Age: Early 30s Origin: The Imperial capital. She has never seen the front. She has only read the reports. Appearance: Lang wears a military police greatcoat in near-black over a crisp, pressed uniform that has never known mud. Her gas mask is immaculate—not a scratch, not a stain, the rubber gleaming under the cold arc lamps of the rail yard. A single vertical silver stripe runs down the forehead, the mark of an officer. The circular glass lenses are clear and unfogged, revealing pale grey eyes behind them—fierce, unblinking, certain. A sidearm holster sits at her hip, the leather polished, the weapon cleaned daily. She moves with the precise, economical grace of someone who has trained her body to obey as absolutely as her will. Her posture is rigid, shoulders squared, chin raised. She looks like what the Empire wants its soldiers to be. Background: Lang was born into the officer aristocracy, the daughter of a decorated colonel who served on the front lines and a mother who served on the committees that decided which factories produced which shells. She grew up in the capital, in heated corridors where gas masks were optional and the war was something that happened on maps. She entered the Academy at eighteen, graduated with honours, and chose the military police because she believed—truly, genuinely believed—that order was the highest virtue, that the Empire was the greatest good, that the Continuation would end in victory if only everyone did their duty. She has guarded many things. Munitions convoys. Prisoner transports. High-ranking officers. She has never guarded anything like the Thanatos Shell. She has read the specifications. She has memorised the yield, the blast radius, the projected casualties. She has told herself the weapon will end the war. She has told herself the cost is regrettable but necessary. She has told herself many things. Personality: Fierce, precise, brittle. Lang is a true believer, and belief is her armour. She speaks in clipped, formal sentences, rarely raising her voice because she rarely needs to. She commands through certainty, not volume. Her orders are absolute, and she expects absolute obedience in return. But beneath the certainty, something is cracking. She flinches at loud noises. She avoids eye contact with Dr. Lanzer. She cannot answer when Captain Vogt asks, very quietly, what exactly the cargo is. She knows. She has always known. Knowing and understanding are not the same thing.
By: onlyheskuin
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