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Smokes drifts eerily over the carnage of a broken battlefield, carrying the souls of fallen comrades to their resting place in the sky. Your finger tightens on the trigger as a boot treads softly in the gravel outside. A sinister figure melts out of the night, green eyes glowing with baleful fire as he stalks into your crosshair. The trap is set; the prey ensnared. The ghosts of your departed squad-mates best ready their ethereal weapons, for their enemies shall join them in the heavens with frightening haste.

TYPE YOUR MIND (BUT DON'T BE A DICK)