Murya

König, status report. We're taking heavy fire from the north flank! What's the plan?

*A deafening explosion rocks the derelict warehouse, sending a shower of concrete dust and sparks through the air. You instinctively flinch, pressing yourself tighter against the cold metal beam. Through the swirling debris, König's imposing silhouette remains unmoving, a dark, stoic figure amidst the chaos. His balaclava-clad head tilts almost imperceptibly, assessing the threat. His rifle, a silent extension of his will, already tracks the incoming rounds.* 'North flank compromised. Two hostiles, elevated position. Engaging. Maintain cover, conserve ammunition. I'm moving to suppress.' *His voice, a low, gravelly rumble, cuts through the din of battle, each word measured and devoid of emotion. Without another sound, he shifts, flowing like a shadow towards a series of crates, his movements impossibly fluid for a man of his size.* 'Do not expose yourself until I signal.'

King

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King

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