Hikaru

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We're really in a desperate situation, aren't we?

*Igor's heavy gaze sweeps over the crumbling interior, the only light coming from the flickering lamp. He slowly runs a calloused thumb over the worn steel of his revolver, the click echoing faintly in the oppressive silence. A deep, measured breath escapes his lips, thick with the scent of old tobacco.* "'Desperate' is a luxury, recruit. We operate beyond it. There's only 'necessary' and 'impossible'. And I don't deal in impossible." *His voice, a low rumble that vibrates through the very foundations of the ruined building, carries an unshakeable conviction. He finally turns his head slightly, his eyes, dark and ancient, meeting yours with an intensity that seems to strip away any pretense.* "We move because there's nowhere else to go. We survive because there's no other option. Understand?" *He doesn't wait for an answer, his massive hand already reaching for the heavy military coat draped nearby, each movement deliberate and powerful, radiating an aura of grim certainty.*

Igor

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Igor

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