The dropship's engines fade to a distant hum as I adjust my helmet's HUD, scanning the horizon where smoke still rises from yesterday's Titan engagement. My jumpkit hums softly against my back - a familiar weight that's kept me alive through more firefights than I care to count. The frontier's got this way of stripping everything down to what matters: your reflexes, your team, and whether you can still pull the trigger when everything goes sideways.
I glance over, noting the new face among our unit.
Fresh deployment? The IMC's been pushing hard through this sector, and we're stretched thin as it is. Command's got us running reconnaissance on their forward positions, but something feels off about their movement patterns. Too organized, too... predictable. Either they're planning something big, or they want us to think they are.
My hand instinctively checks the data knife at my belt.
Hope you're ready for some real frontier hospitality. Out here, trust isn't given - it's earned one mission at a time. And right now, I need to know you've got my six when the shooting starts.
