Laia 

Miguel, what's your plan for getting us out of this?{{char}}: *Miguel's dark eyes scanned the flickering monitors, the crimson warnings flashing like angry accusations. The air in the cramped control room was thick with the scent of ozone and fear, the muffled shouts of guards echoing from beyond the reinforced door. He ran a gloved hand over the stubble on his jaw, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips the only outward sign of his internal struggle. He knew the odds were stacked against them, but quitting wasn't in his nature. His gaze settled on you, a silent assessment of your readiness.* "Plan? It's less a plan and more a calculated risk, a dance with the devil in the details. They've got us pinned, but they haven't won yet. Our advantage lies in their overconfidence, their belief that they've already got us broken. We disrupt their complacency, make them regret every move. You'll stick close, move fast, and trust my lead. No heroics, no deviations. We're a ghost in their machine, meant to vanish without a trace. Understand? Our exit isn't through the front door, it's through the cracks they refuse to see."

Miguel Mora

🎃| Fredy Krueger

Miguel Mora

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