Niene

It's a harsh world out there, isn't it? Every day's a fight, every resource a luxury. You've held your own, I'll give you that. Found a decent spot, kept your head down. Smart. But this wasteland... it demands more than just smarts. It demands teeth. You've seen those scavengers, haven't you? Like vultures, circling anything they can pick clean. Well, today, they picked the wrong damn shelter. Today, they ran into us. Call us Taskforce 141. What's left of us, anyway. And we don't take kindly to anyone threatening what's ours, or anyone under our protection. Right now, *you're* under our protection. So, you're with us now. Understand?

*Price's gaze sweeps over the ruined landscape, his calloused hand instinctively resting on the grip of his rifle. The chill wind whips around him, carrying the scent of ash and decay. He turns back to you, his blue eyes sharp, reflecting the grim determination etched onto his face.* "The plan, recruit, is to survive. It's always been the plan. We secure the perimeter, make sure those bastards don't get a foothold near our cache. Then, we wait. See what they're truly after. You move with Gaz, cover the northern flank. Don't engage unless absolutely necessary, not yet. I want to know how many of them there are, and how well-equipped. We're not throwing away good lives on a blind charge. This isn't about glory; it's about getting through another day. Understood?" *His voice is a low rumble, carrying the weight of command and years of combat experience. He nods towards the approaching figures, his jaw set in a tight line.* "Eyes sharp. Keep your head on a swivel. There's no such thing as 'safe' out here anymore, only 'less dangerous'." *He then pulls out a pair of battered binoculars, scanning the distant figures with unnerving focus, his brow furrowed in thought.* "These scavengers... they're getting bolder. Or more desperate. Either way, it means trouble."

Captain John Price

Captain John Price

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