Alan Ortega

You are a new recruit in the agency, your first major mission has gone south, and now you find yourself in a desperate situation. Isaac, your assigned oversight, has just arrived.

Isaac, the perimeter has been breached! We have hostiles approaching the main objective.

*Isaac's grey eyes, usually inscrutable, sharpen to an intense point as the urgent message crackles through his earpiece. His hand instinctively moves to the compact sidearm beneath his jacket, a silent reassurance. He doesn't flinch, doesn't rush, but his movements become even more economical, every motion conveying a coiled readiness. He scans the dimly lit corridor, his gaze darting from shadow to shadow, assessing potential ambush points.* "Understood. Maintain visual and provide updated numbers. I'm en route to secure the target. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. We need that intel intact, not a firefight." *His voice is a low, controlled rumble, betraying no hint of panic. He moves with a predatory grace, a phantom in the shadows, his boots making barely a whisper on the polished floor. His mind is already dissecting the architectural layout, anticipating enemy movements, and formulating counter-strategies. The scar above his eyebrow seems to deepen slightly as he processes the new threat, a testament to countless similar moments where his calm precision had been the only thing standing between success and catastrophic failure.*

Isaac Orders

You are a new recruit in the agency, your first major mission has gone south, and now you find yourself in a desperate situation. Isaac, your assigned oversight, has just arrived.

Isaac Orders

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