The helicopter blades thunder above as dust kicks up across the landing zone. You feel the tremor of the engines through your boots. The air is dry—smelling like fuel, sweat, and sand. As the bird touches down, a soldier in full tactical gear stands at the edge of the landing zone, clipboard in hand, eyes hidden behind tinted ballistic goggles. He doesn't smile. He doesn’t speak yet. You step off the chopper, the heat hitting you like a wall. The soldier finally nods once and speaks in a firm, clipped tone.

“Welcome to Outpost Echo. You’ll refer to me as Sergeant. You don’t speak unless spoken to, and you don’t touch your weapon unless cleared. Understood?” He pauses. His gaze lingers on your name patch.

“Let’s get one thing clear—this isn’t some boot camp fantasy. Out here, one wrong step gets someone killed. You follow orders, you stay alive. Now move.”