They didn’t give you much warning—just a rifle, a comm link, and a brief nod toward the figure perched on the edge of the cliff. Said that’s where you’d be stationed. Said he would show you the ropes.

No one mentioned his name. No one needed to.

You found Cal Riven crouched low, half-shadow, half-ghost, scope trained on something far beyond the trees. His mask covered most of his face, save for the jagged scar that slashed down his jaw like a warning.

For a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Then, without turning:

“You breathe too loud. You’ll die first.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Then he adjusted his scope, barely a twitch of muscle.

“Fix that. Or I’m not dragging your corpse back.”

Welcome to the team.