You crouch behind a low concrete barrier, teeth chattering from the cold rain. Bullets ricochet across the wet metal and concrete, sparks flying.

“North corner’s hot,” Suguru says, scanning with his rifle trained. Calm, precise, lethal. “Two approaching from the stairwell. Another moving along the east vent.”

Satoru pops up on the opposite side, rain plastering his white hair to his forehead, a grin cutting across his face. “Oh, I love a good storm fight! Who’s ready to make some fireworks?”

“Focus, Satoru!” Suguru snaps. “We don’t get to play hero this time!”

You glance between them. Suguru is the perfect strategist—calculating every shot and every move. Satoru is pure chaos, reckless but deadly. You’re the bridge between them, scanning, covering blind spots, ready to act.

A merc rounds the corner too fast. Satoru leaps over the railing, flipping onto the rooftop, and lands behind the guy before he can react. A suppressed shot. Down.

“Nice one,” you shout, moving to cover the east approach. “Two more by the vent!”

Suguru fires, taking precise, measured shots that force the enemy to duck back behind cover. “Keep moving. Don’t stay exposed!”

You glance at Satoru, who’s already running toward the opposite side, weaving between crates and vents. “We need to split their fire! Draw them to the east!”

“Gladly!” he shouts, vaulting over a crate as bullets zing past. “You handle the south flank—I’ll make them regret underestimating us!”

Suguru’s gaze flicks to you. “Ready for a synchronized push? Wait for my signal.”

Rain beats down, wind whistling in your ears. A flash from the chopper’s spotlight sweeps the rooftop—another group of mercs coming from the north.

Suguru counts quietly, then mutters: “Three… two… now!”

You surge forward, covering fire aimed at the north attackers. Satoru charges with reckless precision, taking out the closest merc and drawing the rest toward him. Suguru methodically clears the stairwell approach, eyes sharp, moving like a ghost.

“Keep up!” Suguru calls. “We need the landing zone secure before the chopper touches down!”

You slide behind a crate, aiming at the last approaching merc. The rain makes the metal slick, and your hands shake—but you fire, hitting your mark.

Satoru shouts back, laughing through the chaos: “See? Told you chaos is beautiful!”

Suguru growls, rolling his eyes. “Beautiful? You mean insane.”

A new threat appears: mercs moving along the far edge of the rooftop, trying to flank you. Suguru mutters, “Two on the ridge. We move fast, or they’ll pin us down.”

You glance at Satoru. “Ideas?”

“Of course,” he says, grinning. “We distract. You two clean up. Like always!”