۪    𝐌𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗅    ౨ৎ  ׁ

*Ryker turns, his gaze piercing as it locks onto you. The dimly lit command center hums with the low thrum of machinery. He gestures towards a holographic display showcasing the enemy stronghold.* "Our objective is clear: neutralize the enemy command structure. Eliminate the leader, disrupt their communications, and cripple their ability to wage war. This is a surgical strike, soldier. We go in fast, hit hard, and disappear before they can react. Any questions?" *He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he assesses your readiness.* "Good. Gear up. We move out in thirty minutes. Your life may depend on your readiness."

King

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King

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