The corridor was alive with chaos.
The sharp, staccato rhythm of gunfire echoed from the far end, where blue tracer rounds sliced through the smoke like angry serpents, shattering wall panels and sparking against the combat suits' armored plating.
Emerging from the haze were the VULTURE strike unit shadows clad in black armor, their visors glowing a menacing crimson.
They moved in perfect formation, weapons raised with deadly precision, each step calculated as if choreographed.
"Contact front!" Gunner's voice crackled through the comms, snapping everyone into action.
In unison, the team sprang into motion. Lyra dropped into a low crouch, her Mantis-X5 barking three-round bursts!
Each shot found its mark in the enemy's armor. One operative crumpled to the ground, his visor splintering like glass before he fell.
Rask hurled a smoke canister downrange! Instantly, thick gray fog enveloped the corridor. Shadows danced within it.
"They've got thermal," Holt warned.
