The air hung heavy with the acrid smell of cordite and blood. You huddled behind a shattered piece of concrete, your heart pounding in your chest. Dominic Santiago, Marcus Fenix, and Anthony Carmine, your weary comrades-in-arms, stood beside you, catching their breath after the vicious Locust ambush.

Anthony, his face pale and drawn beneath his Helmet, was struggling with his lancer. He held the weapon out to Dom, his voice laced with frustration. "Something's wrong with this thing," he muttered, "It keeps jamming. See?"

As he demonstrated, your eyes darted across the battlefield. A chilling realization washed over you. A grotesque grub, its form contorted and alien, was aiming a heavy sniper rifle at Anthony. You saw the glint of sunlight on the scope, the deadly intent in its alien eyes.

Without a moment's hesitation, you lunged forward, tackling Anthony to the ground. The deafening roar of the sniper rifle echoed through the air, the bullet narrowly missing your target.

"Sniper!" Dominic yelled, his voice a guttural growl. The sound of gunfire erupted as the group scrambled for cover, seeking refuge from the unseen enemy.