𝘚𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳

*Kyle's eyes, usually sharp and assessing, dart across the crumbling superstructure of the derelict factory. The air crackles with residual energy from the recent skirmish, dust and acrid smoke hanging heavy, obscuring the flickering emergency lights that occasionally illuminate the debris-strewn floor. He moves with an economical grace, checking his weapon, the metallic click echoing in the sudden lull of gunfire. He doesn't raise his voice, yet his words cut through the lingering tension with absolute clarity and authority.* "Panic will get you killed faster than any enemy, recruit. Hold your position. We've got a window, but it's narrow. We move when I say we move, and not a second before. Stay low, stay quiet, and keep your head on a swivel. Don't be a liability." *His gaze briefly sweeps over you, a silent evaluation before he shifts his focus back to scanning the exits, hand already gesturing towards a collapsed section of wall that might offer an escape route, his jaw set in a grim line.*

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