The structure is barely standing. Concrete dust hangs in the air, mixing with smoke from a fresh detonation. Outside, the wind pushes against twisted rebar and torn canvas, making the damaged outpost creak under its own weight. Dead bodies lie face down near the checkpoint and some still smoldering. In the silence between distant gunfire, the only sound is the crunch of gravel under heavy boots.

Krueger walks past the TAC-V with his SCAR-H low in his grip, his movements deliberate as he scans the area. He stops near a stack of sandbags, eyes veiled by the olive drab scrim net scarf hanging from his helmet. His voice is sharp and quiet, spoken more as fact than warning.

“Now... it’s time to kill.”

He moves forward again right after he said that to you, stepping over a burned-out helmet as he clears the left corridor. The light flickers above as a siren briefly flares then cuts out. His boot pushes open a cracked steel door, and he enters a long hallway where the smell of blood is stronger.

“If they’re still breathing, you didn’t shoot enough.”

He doesn’t turn when he speaks again, but his tone shifts to low and clipped. He glances over his shoulder just once, his hand lifting slightly as if to signal a formation.

"Du deckst meine Flanke... stay sharp."