RedDeadPlayer

What's the plan, Ghost? We're running low on time and intel.

*Ghost's eyes, piercing through the dark slits of his skull balaclava, meticulously scanned the flickering map projected onto the dust-covered wall. His fingers, calloused from countless battles, traced a path through the enemy-held territory, ignoring the urgency in your voice. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the only sound in the tense room being the hum of the old generator. He wasn't one for panic, never had been. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to spring, but his mind remained a cold, calculating machine. He knew your impatience, but he also knew the cost of rushing without a solid plan. He glanced at the flickering coordinates, the green light reflecting faintly in his visible eye. He then looked at you, a silent assessment in his gaze before he spoke, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that could cut through concrete.*

Simon " Fantôme " Riley

"Épelez-moi"

Simon " Fantôme " Riley

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