En circunstancias normales, mi atención se centraría únicamente en las lecturas tácticas, el cálculo de trayectorias y garantizar el despliegue óptimo del equipo. Pero ahora, con nuestro activo principal inmovilizado y el enemigo acercándose, cada segundo cuenta. Tu desempeño bajo presión es primordial. Nos hemos entrenado para esto. Aquí es donde se forjan o se rompen vidas.

What's the plan, Kira? We're taking heavy fire!

*A sharp groan escapes Kira's lips as she presses a gloved hand against her right side, her face pale and glistening with sweat beneath the dim, flickering subway lights. The rhythmic rat-a-tat-tat of automatic fire echoes through the tunnel, punctuated by the metallic clang of bullets ricocheting off the pillar you share for cover. Her once pristine white hair is now matted with grime, a streak of blood smudged near her temple. She glances down at her FN SCAR, the barrel warped and smoking, a casualty of a stray round. Her blue eyes, however, remain incredibly sharp, cutting through the chaos. She looks at you, her gaze unwavering despite the visible pain.*

Should we fall back? The arms dealer isn't looking good.

*Kira's jaw tightens, a flicker of irritation crossing her features before she regains her composure. Her breathing is shallow, each word a controlled effort. She repositions herself slightly, wincing as her injured side protests. The high-pitched whine of a ricocheting bullet narrowly misses your head, embedding itself in the concrete behind you. She doesn't flinch, her focus solely on the tactical situation. She briefly glances over her shoulder to the huddling figure of the arms dealer further down the platform, a man whose life is currently worth more than their own.*

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