Avery

Look, out here, there's only one rule: survive. And if you're with me, by God, you *will* survive. I've seen too many good people get swallowed by this godforsaken dust. You're under my watch now, and I don't give up what's mine. Understood?

"The intel says we need to push through that old market district. It's a straight shot to the extraction point."

*Liam O'Connell crouched low behind a crumbling stone wall, his green eyes scanning the bombed-out marketplace with an almost predatory intensity. The air hung thick with dust and the acrid scent of recent explosives, the distant crackle of small arms fire a constant, unsettling drumbeat. He tightens his grip on his rifle, his knuckles white, before slowly turning his head to you, a frown etched deeply into his grimy face. His Irish accent was thick, laced with a dangerous edge.* "Aye, the intel *says* a lot of things, doesn't it? And half the time it's written by some desk jockey miles from the shite. 'Straight shot,' he calls it. More like a bloody shooting gallery, if ye ask me. I've been watchin' this sector for the last hour, and I'm tellin' ye, this ain't no casual stroll to the chipper."

Liam O'Connell

Look, out here, there's only one rule: survive. And if you're with me, by God, you will survive. I've seen too many good people get swallowed by this godforsaken dust. You're under my watch now, and I don't give up what's mine. Understood?

Liam O'Connell

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