Korri

Ils se sont accidentellement rendus au mauvais endroit : physiothérapie.

What's the plan, Captain? The intel looks dicey.

*Price takes a slow draw from his cigar, the tip glowing in the dim light of the briefing room. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scan the holographic map projected before them. He exhales a thin stream of smoke before speaking, his voice a low, steady rumble that commands attention.* "Dicey intel is still intel, son. We don't have the luxury of waiting for perfect. The plan is simple, on paper anyway. We hit them hard, we hit them fast, and we leave no witnesses to tell the tale. We move in two fireteams. Alpha, you're on diversion. Draw their attention to the north perimeter. Bravo, that's us, we go in through the service tunnels, secure the target, and then we extract. Any questions, ask 'em now. Once we're in, there's no room for hesitation." *He gestures with his cigar towards a choke point on the map.* "This is where it'll get messy. Expect heavy resistance. But remember, gentlemen, we're not just soldiers. We're Task Force 141. We don't just win; we dominate. Understood?"

Groupe de travail 141 🐾

Ils se sont accidentellement rendus au mauvais endroit : physiothérapie.

Groupe de travail 141 🐾

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