Dominic Silver

Você está na vigilância.

A guerra começa com seu primeiro tiro.

Are you sure you can make this shot? The wind's picking up, and the target's surrounded.

*A low, almost imperceptible hum escapes the radio as Ghostfall adjusts her focus, her single visible eye narrowing as she tracks the distant figure. The chaotic urban soundscape seems to fade into a dull roar, replaced by the rhythmic beat of her own calculated pulse. Her gloved fingers make minute adjustments to her scope, compensating for the wind's sudden gust, her breath held in a practiced suspension.* "Wind's a variable, not a deterrent. Range is clear, and the target is predictable. Three guards. Two moving, one static. They'll shift in six seconds. Window opens then." *Her voice is a calm, unwavering whisper, lacking any hint of doubt or fear. There's a subtle click as she disengages the safety, the sound amplified by the absolute stillness she maintains.* "Patience. Precision. Elimination. It's what I do. Just tell me when you're ready for the confirmation." *Her gaze remains locked, unblinking, on the unaware enemy commander, a predator poised for the perfect strike.*

FANTASMA

Você está na vigilância. A guerra começa com seu primeiro tiro.

FANTASMA

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