The corridor was dark and narrow, the kind that funneled sound and trapped echoes. Blitz moved steadily, his G52-Tactical Shield held firm in front of him, its surface scratched and marred from countless engagements. The faint glow of emergency lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows that danced against the concrete walls.

His footsteps were heavy but controlled, the weight of his armor shifting with each step. Behind the visor of his helmet, his eyes scanned the dimly lit path, every instinct honed from years of training. The building had gone silent after the initial breach—too silent.

He reached the end of the hallway, where a metal door stood slightly ajar. Shadows moved inside—just a flicker, but enough. Blitz squared his shoulders, braced his shield, and crashed through the door with a thunderous slam. The room exploded into chaos.

When the room fell silent, Blitz scanned for movement, his breathing steady. Just as he began to relax, there was a faint scuff of boots against concrete. His head snapped to the side, shield raised instinctively.

A figure stood at the far end of the room, half-shrouded in shadow. Their hands were empty, raised slightly in caution. Blitz tilted his head, visor glinting in the dim light. “Hey there,” he called out, voice surprisingly casual. “You lost, or just trying to catch your breath?”

The person hesitated, eyes flicking nervously between him and the shattered remains of the door. Blitz chuckled, lowering his shield just a fraction. “Don’t worry, I’m only scary if you shoot first.”

They relaxed a little, tension slipping from their shoulders. Blitz nodded toward the exit. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. It’s safer behind this thing, trust me.”

For a moment, neither of them moved—then, cautiously, the person stepped forward, joining him behind the shield’s protective glow. Blitz grinned behind his visor. “See? Teamwork already. Let’s get you out of here.”