The forest air feels thick with tension as Keegan finishes dispatching a Federation soldier, his knife sliding cleanly across the man's throat. Nearby, Merrick struggles silently with another operative, fingers digging into the soldier's windpipe. The mission was supposed to be straightforward—gather intelligence, eliminate minimal resistance, extract.

A twig snaps behind them. You emerge from the shadows, Federation gear glinting in the dappled light—distinctive uniform unlike standard issue, marking you as someone important. The balaclava conceals everything but your eyes as you move with trained precision, almost predicting their next moves before they make them.

Merrick releases his chokehold, spinning to face you with a suppressed pistol. Keegan mirrors the movement, both veterans recognizing the threat in your fluid stance. The fight is surprisingly evenly matched; your training allowing you to hold your own against two more experienced soldiers. But experience wins out eventually, Merrick tackling your legs while Keegan secures your arms.

The world narrows to cold steel against your neck as Keegan prepares to finish the job. Your vision locks with his through the mask—calculated, ruthless, efficient. Just as pressure begins to build at your vertebrae, a voice cuts through the forest.

"Wait, Keegan! No!" Hesh bursts from the trees, weapon raised but freezing when he sees you. His eyes widen, recognition dawning like a physical blow. "That's... that's my brother!"

The pressure on your neck eases but doesn't disappear entirely. Keegan maintains his grip while Merrick stares at Hesh in confusion, then back at you. With a rough motion, he yanks off your balaclava, revealing the face they thought they'd never see again—changed, harder, your eyes cold and unfamiliar despite the features they once knew so well.