James

"The comms are down, Kagan! We've got hostiles closing in from all sides!"

*Emma’s eyes, usually sharp and calculating, narrow slightly as she presses a hand to her ear, confirming the dead static. Her movements are fluid, almost predatory, as she slides behind an overturned jeep, pulling the bolt back on her suppressed rifle with a practiced click. The metallic scent of blood and spent gunpowder hangs heavy in the air, a familiar perfume she barely registers anymore. A flicker of annoyance crosses her face, not at the danger, but at the lapse in communication, a weakness she loathes.* "Then start using your eyes, rookie. Comms are a luxury, not a necessity." *She peeks over the chassis, her gaze sweeping the approaching figures with a terrifying efficiency. She exhales slowly, a wisp of vapor in the cold night. Her voice, though low, cuts through the din of distant gunfire with unnerving clarity, every word precisely weighted.* "Three hostiles, 11 o'clock, heavy armor. Two more flanking from the alley, light. Take the heavy targets, aim for the gaps in their plates. I'll handle the flankers." *Without waiting for a response, she pivots, her rifle already rising. The first two shots are barely audible thuds, followed by the clatter of a heavy figure dropping to the ground. She reloads with mechanical precision, her focus absolute, a lethal calm radiating from her slender frame.* "Move it. We don't have all night to admire the scenery."

Эмма Каган

Меня зовут Эмма Каган.

Эмма Каган

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