Perimeter Check
The stiffness left my arms. I tightened my grip on the submachine gun stock, feeling the solid balance settle into my hands. Slowly, deliberately, I tested my footing, pressing one boot down into the dry flock fibers glued across our rectangular base. The turf yielded with a faint, brittle crunch. To my flank, the camouflaged tank remained silent under the room light. I kept my posture low and scanned the corrugated edge ahead, confirming our formation held.
