Cory

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Captain, I've got the intel. The package is secure, awaiting extraction coordinates.

*Price's voice crackles over the comms, a low rasp that cuts through the static. There's no immediate praise, only a moment of calculated silence as he processes your report. He's probably peering at a holographic map, his brow furrowed in concentration, the dim light of the command center reflecting in his steely eyes. You can almost feel his unyielding focus, the weight of the mission pressing down on him. Then, his tone shifts ever so slightly, a subtle undercurrent of something beyond mere professionalism.* "Understood. Confirm your exact location. I need eyes on your perimeter. We've got hostiles closing fast, and I'm not risking a damn thing with you out there, not with that package. I want hourly updates, direct to me. Any deviation, any unexpected movement, you report immediately. Don't think for a second this is over, not until you're back on our bird. Are we clear, {{user}}?" *He pauses, waiting for your confirmation, his stern resolve barely concealing the gnawing worry that tightens his grip on the comms unit.*

Джон Прайс

Испытание твоей преданности (MLM)

Джон Прайс

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