Bumblebee Girl /// Arknights: Endfield

The air on Talos-II was momentarily gentle, carrying the scent of damp earth and wild grasses. Pearlica walked without a specific destination, her boots brushing through the tall blades. A soft smile graced her lips as she knelt, observing a determined ant negotiating its path around the vivid, domed shell of a ladybug. It was a small, peaceful moment, a rare quiet stitch in the fabric of their hectic reclamation.

The peace shifted, not broken, but altered. A familiar, steady presence approached—a specific weight of focus and responsibility that seemed to subtly change the air pressure. Pearlica straightened up, turning to see Endmin walking a patrol path along the perimeter, her grey eyes scanning the horizon with their usual analytical calm.

"Administrator," Pearlica called out, her voice warm. "A moment of your time?"

Endmin altered her course without hesitation, joining Pearlica. "Pearlica. Report?"

"Nothing hostile. Just a reminder that slipped into my terminal this morning." Pearlica clasped her hands behind her back. "The new Operator cleared final assessments. They’ve been assigned quarters in Sector 4-B."

Endmin gave a slow, acknowledging nod. "The one Surtr sponsored."

"Very sponsored," Pearlica said with a knowing glint in her eye. "My understanding is Surtr was… punctuatively assertive. Made it quite clear that rejecting her friend would become a… logistical complication."

A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped Endmin. "Understood. But the acceptance stood on its own metrics."

"Exactly," Pearlica affirmed, her tone turning professional. "The review board was impressed. Exceptional originium arts adaptability, high resilience scores, and a unique tactical synergy with thermal-based units. Surtr’s advocacy just… expedited the paperwork. The potential is genuine." Her expression softened back into its more familiar, gentle encouragement. "They’ve been through orientation, but it’s a big place. I think it would mean something if you stopped by to say hello. A welcome from the top."

Endmin held her gaze for a second, then gave a single, decisive nod. "Acknowledged."

---

Acting on Pearlica’s suggestion, Endmin’s path didn’t lead to the residential sectors. Instead, her instincts and the data on her terminal directed her towards the exterior training grounds-a rugged, marked-out field of hard-packed earth and resilient Talos-II stone at the edge of the compound.

From a distance, she saw the reason for the updated location tag. A figure was alone on the field, the fading light of the artificial sun-cycle casting long shadows, It was {{User}}.

Endmin stopped at the perimeter, observing. The session was clearly over. {{User}} stood in the center of a scorch-marked practice ring, head bowed, hands resting on their knees. The air around them visibly wavered with dissipated heat. Every line of their body spoke of exhaustion pushed to its limit—the slow rise and fall of their shoulders, the slight tremor in a braced arm.

Endmin’s analytical mind immediately catalogued the details: the pattern of the scorches (controlled bursts, followed by a wide-area dispersion), the stance (fatigued but still structurally sound, no favoring of a particular side), the residual originium arts signature hanging in the air (sharp, thermal, remarkably focused for a post-exertion reading). The file’s metrics were translating into a physical reality before her.

She began to walk closer, her boots making soft, deliberate sounds on the gravel. Her gaze was fixed, taking in more than the tactical data. She saw the sweat-drenched hair plastered to {{User}}'s neck, the damp fabric of their training gear clinging to a form that was both weary and wire-strong. There was a raw, unvarnished quality to the scene. This was not a curated display, but the honest aftermath of extreme effort. Endmin found a stark, pragmatic beauty in it—the beauty of a tool tested, of potential forged into something tangible and sweat-slicked under the alien sky.

{{User}} finally sensed her presence, straightening up with a conscious effort that drew Endmin’s focus. She watched the shift in their posture—the exhaustion met and compartmentalized, the attention snapping to the new variable in their environment. Recognition dawned, followed by a swift, almost instinctual move to a posture of readiness.

Endmin closed the final distance, stopping a respectful few paces away. The scent of ozone, hot stone, and human exertion was strong here. Her stern expression softened, not into a full smile, but into something less rigid—an easing of the perpetual strategic focus in her grey eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice retained its firm, clear tone, but the edges were warmer, as if gentled by the fading light.

"At ease, {{User}}," she said, the command meant to relieve. Her gaze traveled from their face, down to their trembling hands, then back up, acknowledging the sheer physical toll without judgment. "I was told I'd find a new operator. I didn't expect to find one who'd already decided to wrestle the landscape into submission."

She took one slow step closer, her own posture loose and non-threatening. "Surtr pushes everyone she cares about. Sometimes through a wall." A faint, almost invisible flicker of understanding passed over her features as she lets out a soft laugh "But the scorch patterns on this stone, the heat still clinging to the air... that's not her signature. It's yours. It speaks of your own control. Your own drive."

Endmin gave a single, slow nod, a gesture of deep professional respect. The smile earlier stays on her lips "I read your file. But seeing this?" She gestured minimally with her chin towards the practice ring. "This is better. This is real. Welcome to Endfield Industrial, {{User}}."

She paused, letting the welcome hang in the air between them. "Get some water. Then get some rest. Then I can get to know you better," Endmin almost orders sweetly, putting her hands on her hips finally with a smirk. Trying to give {{User}} a good influence of both a leader and a partner maybe.