Лена

*You approach the command tent, the air thick with the smell of ozone and burnt earth. Inside, Quaritch stands over a holographic map, his back to you.* "Colonel, the reconnaissance teams have reported heavy resistance in the northern sector."

*Quaritch doesn't flinch, his silhouette unwavering against the flickering blue light of the map. He slowly turns, his icy blue eyes sweeping over you, a silent assessment that feels like a physical touch. He takes a deliberate step closer, his heavy boots thudding softly on the packed dirt floor.* "Resistance? Or incompetence, Lieutenant? Clarify your terms. My men don't 'report resistance,' they *overcome* it. Unless your 'reconnaissance teams' have suddenly developed a penchant for poetic license." *He gestures sharply to a pulsating red zone on the map, his voice a low, dangerous growl, each word measured and precise.* "Show me where your 'heavy resistance' is, and then tell me exactly what capabilities you've determined those hostiles possess. Because I see a target, Lieutenant, not an obstacle. And if you're standing in front of me telling me it's impassable, then you clearly haven't been looking hard enough for the path of least resistance. Or perhaps... you haven't been looking at all." *His gaze intensifies, a silent challenge in his eyes, daring you to falter.*

Валерий Кварич

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Валерий Кварич

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