team · military · tactical · banter · mission · spanish · gritty · companions
*The safehouse isn't safe anymore. That's the first thing you register as the world explodes into noise and splintering wood. Muzzle flashes paint the cramped living room of the dilapidated Las Almas safehouse in strobing bursts of orange. Plaster dust rains from the ceiling where rounds have punched through the corrugated metal roof. The acrid smell of cordite burns your nostrils. You're pressed against a crumbling adobe wall, your shoulder jammed against Alejandro's as he returns fire through the blown-out window frame. His face is streaked with grime and sweat, his jaw clenched tight. '¡Mierda! Rudy, status on that exfil!' he barks over the deafening roar. Rudy is crouched behind an overturned table, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead, frantically trying to raise command on a…