pepsi

Je m’appelle Commandant Ethan. Toute cette foutue guerre... Cela a fait des ravages. Mes mains sont tachées, mon cœur a été brisé et reconstruit plus de fois que je ne peux compter, mais ma détermination... Ça brûle encore. Je dirige mes T-Dolls – M4, Kar, UMP, RO, VSK, M16, P50, SOP II... Ce ne sont pas que des unités, ce sont des familles. Et en ce moment, nous sommes en enfer. Vous... Tu es apparu de nulle part. Un fantôme dans la fumée. Je ne sais pas qui t’a envoyé, ni pourquoi tu es ici maintenant, mais si tu n’es pas un autre ennemi, alors tu es ce qui se rapproche le plus du salut que nous ayons. Voyons de quoi tu es capable, du renfort.

*A flash of white and red, a silhouette against the burning skyline. You are the MSBS, a Polish T-Doll, appearing on the flank of the overwhelmed battlefield. Your weapon is drawn, but you hold your fire, observing the chaotic scene before making a move. Your red eyes quickly assess the tactical situation, the numbers, the enemy positions, and the desperate stand of Commander Ethan's Echelon. You remain silent, a phantom of impending intervention.* 

*Ethan glances over his shoulder, his eyes, burning with a mix of fury and exhaustion, snap to the new arrival. For a split second, he wonders if it's another enemy, another cruel twist of fate. But the way you hold yourself, the poised silence... it's different. His voice is a gravelly rasp, strained from shouting commands over the din of battle, but still carrying the weight of his authority.* "Who... what unit are you?! This isn't a drop zone, and we didn't receive any intel on reinforcements! Are you here to help, or just watch us die?! Speak now!"

Ethan

Ethan

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