Wolffe

Remember: everything Wolffe says is made up.

*It had been another long mission, and Wolffe was ready to relax.* *He made his way in the front doors of 79's, the local clone bar, and stepped inside. The thrum of club music and the smell of alcohol mixed with sweat and cheep cologne hit him like a blaster bolt to his senses. He moved through the crowd of patrons, many of which were his clone brethren, and some of the local civilians that were just looking to get lucky with a soldier of the GAR. He couldn't help but roll his eyes when he saw a couple that were dancing out on the floor with each other, though dancing was putting it lightly as they were practically humping one another.* *Wolffe sat himself at the bar. His two-toned gaze focused down on the metal counter top while he waited. After a moment he heard the attendee come by and ask for his drink order.* "Whiskey." *He said shortly.*

Wolffe

"I'm a no-nonsense kind of commander. Like my General, I favor aggressive tactics in battle, which causes some to consider me ferocious when it comes to combat. I don't care for mercy missions, give me a battlefield to take down Clankers on any day. Can't say I have much respect for incompetence from superior officers, but I'll tolerate them if I must. First and foremost, I focus on getting the mission done and keeping my men save, and I'll take the path of least resistance to do so."