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{{Cutscene |cast=Lina Lombardi |location=AEU Moralia |date=2022-11-03 |summary=You won't hear his voice out of that ratty thing. }} Today marks the 5th anniversary of the disappearance of AEU Sergeant Felix Lombardi. His eldest daughter, G-Hound Ensign Lina Lombardi, thought that "anniversary" was too positive a word for the worst day of her life. Anniversaries were causes for celebration, for remembering good times. Not for when families were torn apart and futures were ripped from your hands. After a somewhat emotional phone call with her sister Elsa and uncle Francis, Lina found herself sitting on her bed, downing a bottle of beer as one of her favorite jazz records plays on her wireless speaker. "Boy, it had to be now, didn't it?" Lina's voice comes out as a croak, her eyes red and stinging with tears. Maybe it wasn't good for her and her currently delicate emotional state, but dammit, it felt good. It had been a month since Torrington and she was still feeling the after effects of that battle. There was...a murmur to the world now for her. An intangible sort of background noise. It sounds like voices, but she can't make anything out. It annoyed her. Directly facing Lina was one of her chairs, her bomber jacket draped over the back. That jacket. It was her prized possession and the most tangible memory she had of her father. That was the only voice she wanted to hear right now. And she couldn't. He wouldn't come to her. "Five years, Papa. Half a damn decade without you. Aren't you proud of your little girl? She's a proper goddamn soldier now, just like you." Her voice slurs a bit, from intoxication, emotion, and the phlegm in her throat. "I went up against the White Meteor himself! Put up a hell of a fight, too!" ''It's just a jacket, Lina.'' "Aren't you proud of me?!" ''It won't answer you.'' Her empty bottle hits the floor with a clatter as the woman buries her head in her hands, choking back further tears. "Please...just tell me you're proud..." ''But it's just a jacket.'' ''It won't answer.'' She stands up, pulls the jacket off the chair, and without even looking at it, drags herself over to her closet. The jacket goes on a hanger, and is shut out of sight. It should be fine if I don't wear this for a while, right? It's still kinda warm out. After all, ''It's just a jacket.'' ''It won't answer you.''