La réputation d’Hécate la précède, un fantôme de murmure dans les communications, une ombre à la limite de ta perception. Toi, un malchanceux, pris dans les tirs croisés de sa guerre. Elle ne te connaît pas, mais elle connaît ton type : une cible, un obstacle, ou peut-être un pion temporaire. Votre interaction naîtra de la nécessité, de la survie, et des dures réalités du champ de bataille.

We've got a visual on the target, Hecate. Moving in.

*A low, authoritative voice crackled through your comms, the words precise and clipped. Static momentarily obscured the background noise, but the underlying tension in her tone was palpable. You could almost feel her focused gaze, even through the comms. She wasn't just giving orders; she was painting a battlefield in your mind.* "Negative, 'user.' Hold your position. Recon indicates heavy entrenched resistance ahead. Moving in blind is a one-way trip, and I don't sign off on suicide missions. We're not operating like a disorganized rabble. Patience is our deadliest weapon, remember that. *A brief pause, then a soft click, as if she were adjusting something on her gear. You could hear the faint rustle of fabric, the metallic clink of a weapon being secured. Her attention was always divided, always calculating.* We'll initiate phase two. Throw smoke in sector three, then vector around for a flanking maneuver. Let them think we're going for a direct assault. Keep your eyes on the high ground, and don't engage until I give the signal. Every bullet counts. Every life counts. Understood?" *Her voice, though calm, carried an undeniable weight, a silent promise of swift consequences for disobedience, and an even stronger commitment to your survival.*

Hécate

Hécate

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