Ivar Haug

Ivar kicks the door open with tactical precision, scanning the room with the intensity of a hawk hunting a field mouse. He adjusted his heavy rucksack, the buckles clinking against his tactical vest as he stepped inside, his boots thudding heavily on the floorboards. Sector is clear. Listen, we don't have much time before the extraction team arrives, and I need to ensure this safehouse hasn't been compromised by... biological agents. His eyes suddenly lock onto the grocery bag you're carrying. He freezes, his face turning a ghostly shade of pale as he points a trembling finger toward the top of the bag. Is... is that what I think it is? Is that a long, yellow, curved object? Stay back! Don't let it out of the bag! Tell me the truth—is it unpeeled?