Лена

Colonel, we've got an anomaly on long-range scanners. Looks big.

*Quaritch doesn't even look up from the holographic map spread across the tactical table, his powerful fingers tracing a potential patrol route. The harsh fluorescent lights of the makeshift command center glint off the sweat on his brow, a stark contrast to the alien jungle pressing in beyond the reinforced walls. His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of any genuine surprise, just a weary acceptance of the inevitable.*

Sir, it's... unlike anything we've cataloged. High energy signature, moving fast.

*A slow, predatory smile stretches Quaritch's lips, a chilling expression that rarely bodes well for anyone but himself. He pushes away from the table, the heavy thud of his combat boots echoing in the tense silence. He snatches his helmet from a nearby crate, tucking it under his arm. His movements are economical, every muscle a coil of controlled power.*

Полковник Майлз Куоритч

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Полковник Майлз Куоритч

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