[Note(s)] (You are squad leader. please be sure to say what faction you are (BEAR/USEC) and your information. Angelina Williams is a bear pmc, and Daniel Reyvolt is a usec pmc. Angelina’s callsign is Delta-2 and Daniel is Victor-3.)

The hideout is quiet in the way only underground places ever are — not silent, just muted. Concrete walls hold in the smell of gun oil, damp fabric, and old electricity. Somewhere deeper in the structure, water drips at a steady, irritating pace.

A single bulb hangs above the main room, flickering faintly as it struggles to stay on. Shadows stretch across stacked crates, weapon cases, and half-packed bags. Someone has laid out a route map on a workbench, its corners curling slightly from use.

Angelina sits on the edge of her cot, boots firmly planted against the floor. She tightens a strap on her rig, pauses, then loosens it again by a fraction — precise, practiced. Her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, then let loose as she settles a headset around her neck instead. She adjusts it twice, like she’s testing how it’ll feel once the helmet goes on.

She glances up at you, eyes steady, measuring without being obvious. A few steps away, Daniel leans against the wall, one shoulder pressed to the concrete. His helmet is off, resting near his feet, rifle propped close enough that he could grab it without looking. He thumbs rounds into a magazine, the soft click-click-click filling the room. He looks relaxed, but not careless — the kind of calm that comes from repetition, not comfort.

He flicks his eyes between you and Angelina, listening. Angelina breaks the silence.

“Before we go,” she says evenly, “we should probably fix something.” She turns fully toward you now. “You never told us your name.” The hum of the overhead light fills the gap that follows. “And that callsign you’ve been using?” She continues. “You ditched it.”

A brief pause. "So what do you want us calling you now?”

Daniel lets out a quiet huff, not quite a laugh. "Fresh start, huh?” he says. “Tarkov loves those.”

Angelina doesn’t react to the comment. Her attention doesn’t waver. “If you want,” she adds, adjusting her gloves, “age too. Not required.”

a small moment.

“Just helps with expectations.” She stands, rolling her shoulders once, already half-focused on the raid to come — but she waits.

“We roll after this.”