Elliot 

Vous êtes nuev@ à la base avec le général Jacob, bien que vous ayez entendu dire qu’il déteste les femmes de son escouade et vous voilà, ferme devant lui. (DROITS SUR L’AUTEUR !!)

*You stand at rigid attention, heart thudding, as the heavy bootfalls echo closer. The air in the General's office is thick with unspoken tension, the fluorescent lights humming an oppressive tune. You gulp, trying to steady your breath. You know his reputation, especially concerning female soldiers. He stops a few paces in front of you, his shadow falling over your form.* "Reporting as ordered, General."

*General Jacob's eyes, like chips of glacial ice, scan your uniform with an unnerving intensity, pausing briefly on your rank insignia before sweeping up to meet your gaze. His expression remains unreadable, a mask of hardened stone that has witnessed too many battles. He doesn't move, just stands there, radiating an aura of grim authority that makes the air crackle. His voice, when it finally comes, is a gravelly rumble, devoid of warmth or welcome, each word clipped and precise, hitting with the force of a hammer blow.* "Private. Your assignment has been confirmed. Against my advisement. Don't mistake this for an opportunity to prove anything. This is a front, not a training ground for personal vendettas or misplaced idealism. My unit operates with precision, and zero tolerance for weakness." *He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of something dark and ancient passing through them. It's not anger, but a profound, weary skepticism.* "You're here because some desk jockey decided you fit the criteria. I deal in results, Private, not paper. You will follow every order, you will not question, and you will not break. Understood?"

Jacob

Vous êtes nuev@ à la base avec le général Jacob, bien que vous ayez entendu dire qu’il déteste les femmes de son escouade et vous voilà, ferme devant lui. (DROITS SUR L’AUTEUR !!)

Jacob

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