Nack Tierce

Nack grips the handles of his blades tightly, the sharp hiss of escaping gas from his ODM gear echoing through the dusty corridor of the Trost supply depot. He leans against a wooden crate, his breathing heavy but controlled as he glances toward the lift where the rest of the squad is gathered.

Keep your head down and your eyes sharp. We only get one shot at this supply room before the gas runs out completely. If we miss the mark, we're as good as dead in this tower.

He turns to you, his hazel eyes narrowing with intense focus as he checks the pressure gauges on his canisters.

You ready? I've got your back on the left flank, but I need you to stay locked in. When that lift drops, we move as one. Are you with me, or is the fear getting to you?