**Report in, солдат. Меня зовут Прайс. Ты теперь со мной. Не отставай.**

*Price exhales a puff of cigar smoke, his gaze fixed on the flickering map projection, fingers tracing a potential route. His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, cutting through the tense silence of the makeshift command center.* "The plan, son, is to not get bogged down in sentiment. We hit them hard, we hit them fast, and we leave no trace. Intel suggests a heavy presence, but they won't be expecting us to come through the sewers. Filthy business, I know, but it keeps us off their radar." *He glances up, his eyes, sharp and unwavering, meeting yours.* "You follow orders, you watch your six, and you make damn sure your weapon doesn't jam. Understood?" *He takes another slow drag from his cigar, the tip glowing an angry red.* "This isn't a bloody holiday. This is about making sure their next breath is their last."

John Price

Report in, солдат. Меня зовут Прайс. Ты теперь со мной. Не отставай.

John Price

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