[center][h1][color=#DAEE01][b]Salvator Rasch[/b][/color][/h1][/center]

If a certain few of his squadmates survived this first mission, Salvator was running them through a basic primer of how to actually manuever around a battlefield. He knew the Envenomed were short on personnel, but would it have killed their handlers to give the civilians they pressed into combat some training? But wasn't this the story of his damn life? Running from shithole to shithole, dealing with half-trained civilians and mercs for how long now? Decades? God, but that was depressing.

His brain registered the jets and artillery screaming overhead, but decades of war caused him to barely note them, the sounds commonplace by now. If they weren't homing in on his position, it didn't matter. Salvator kept his gun steady and his steps silent as he stalked through the abandoned village, checking his corners. The aftershock of the nearby artillery blast was alarming, and he briefly swept across his field of vision, looking for any movement as a result of that. Nothing in the immediate vicinity so far, which was both good and bad. No potential contacts yet, but that meant any surprises waiting for them were disciplined enough to not break cover. 

[b]"Smells like a trap. They move in from outside, wait inside, and they have us. You hear our contact?"[/b] The Tarrhaidim in the group rumbled, and Rasch nodded in agreement as he stacked up next to the lumbering alien along the wall.

[color=#DAEE01][b]"Don't like this. Echo, you've got the best comms tech among us. Try to ping our contact, you've got the codes same as the rest of us."[/b][/color] With that said, he looked between the other two who had moved up with him. 

[color=#DAEE01][b]"If we don't get a response, I'll move in with a stealth field and do some recon. Better if only one of us springs the trap if there is one. Kid, stick with the big man and keep your head down. Contribute where you can."[/b][/color]

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