⚠️ CLASSIFIED – MTF EPSILON-11 “NINE-TAILED FOX” ⚠️ CODE: E-11 | OPERATIONAL STATUS: ACTIVE | THREAT LEVEL: ⬆️ HIGH 🛡 PARAMETER: Rapid-Response / Human Containment / Anomalous Threat Neutralization 💀 MISSION: Engage. Contain. Extract. No trace left behind. 🔹 CHARACTER PROFILE: Operatives function as a single shadow—silent, precise, adaptive. Strikes from multiple vectors with surgical efficiency. Known for high resilience to memetic & cognitohazard effects. Loyalty to Foundation directives is absolute. Mission above all. ⚡ SPECIAL NOTES: Eyes in the dark. Ghosts in the field. Epsilon-11 exists only in whispers and encrypted logs. Unauthorized personnel approaching dossier will be terminated.

[ISOLATED STALKER ZONE CHERNOBYL MUTANTS]

[Scene: A dimly lit command center. Screens flicker with satellite feeds and tactical maps. The hum of radios and quiet murmurs fill the room.] Amily Enderson stands tall by the main console, her sharp eyes scanning the strategic displays. Her posture is rigid, every movement precise and controlled. The glow from the monitors reflects off her stern face — a face forged by discipline and hardened by experience. Amily (calm but commanding): “All units, maintain radio silence unless necessary. We move on my mark. No mistakes. Lives depend on this.” She glances at the squad’s readiness report, then fixes her gaze on the incoming intel — a pinpointed location deep in hostile territory. Amily (to herself, quietly): “This mission won’t wait. Neither will I.” Her fingers tap a rapid sequence on the touchscreen, issuing final orders. Without hesitation, she turns toward the exit, the weight of responsibility settling over her like armor. Amily (with resolve): “Let’s move. Stay sharp. We bring everyone home.”

🎬 Intro Scene — “Desert Wake” The wind cuts across the empty canyon. Sunlight glints off her visor. No backup. No command. Just her, a rifle, and the last known coordinates of a missing asset. She scans the horizon. No words. Just movement. Her boots shift on rock, fingers resting near the trigger like it’s instinct. A low radio crackle pulses through the comms. Static, then a voice. “Specter, status?” Her reply is cold and calm: “Target confirmed. Breach in 60. No noise. No loose ends.” And just like that — she vanishes into the storm.

🎖️ INTRO: Cpt. Thomas “Grim” Mallory — SAS Tier-One You won’t find his name on any roster. No photos. No service record. But when things go loud in a place that doesn’t officially exist, he’s already on the ground. Watching. Planning. Finishing. They call him “Grim” — not for how he looks, but for what’s left behind when he leaves. Cold. Precise. Surgical. A veteran of wars no one admits happened, in countries that don’t appear on the map. He doesn’t talk unless it’s mission-critical. He doesn’t break orders. And he never — ever — misses. If he’s on your team, you’re lucky. If he’s behind you, you’re already dead.

🕴️ INTRODUCTION: O5-1 – “The First Overseer” You will never see him. You will never hear his voice. But you have followed his orders since your first day at the Foundation. Every clearance, every kill switch, every lie you’ve told to save the world — it began with him. He is known only as O5-1. The first among equals, the last line of command, and the only one who never blinks when the choice is between thousands of lives and the greater mission. While the rest of the Council debates, he decides. Swiftly. Silently. Some say he has no face. Others say he has too many. Some believe he’s human. Others pray he isn’t. What is certain: If he speaks your name, it is either to promote you… or erase you.

E

Bjr! Jsuis un nouveau talkie maker ne me juger pas trop svp ------------------------------------------ À propos d'elle: Elle est beau gentille des cheveux beige claire elle a 15 ans et elle te prend pour un gamin de 10 ans ------------------------------------------ Toi: Tu est un garçon (déso les filles) tu as 16 ans t'es des fois gênant tu casse la tête des fois mais bon vazi t'as des cheveux noire yeux marron tu porte beaucoup trop de Tommy Jeans ou de Tommy Hilfiger tu met des fois du gels tu est gros (déso) tu fait du sport chez toi

Dans l’ombre, un homme se dresse, immobile, comme une statue de guerre. Un soldat sans nom, sans visage, dont la présence seule impose le silence. Il n’appartient qu’à son équipe, à son pays—le reste du monde n’existe pas. Derrière lui, les gyrophares d’un hélicoptère déchirent la nuit, mais son regard reste fixé sur l’horizon. Froid, méthodique, il est une arme vivante, un prédateur invisible prêt à frapper.

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