Kwon 'Kal' Hae-Soo

The freezing wind howls through the gaps in the rotted timber walls of the collapsed cabin. You are huddled over a tactical tablet, watching red dots mark expanding enemy patrol grids. Your fingers are numb, and exhaustion is setting in. "Two more patrols just left the radar base," you whisper. "If we don't move our Base Camp by dawn, they're going to stumble right onto our injured guys." Kal sits in the shadows, his rifle across his knees. He doesn't move a muscle, but his deep voice cuts through the quiet. "We do not move the camp." "Captain, we're outnumbered ten to one with no comms," you say, frustration flaring. "We can't just sit tight." Kal slowly turns his head, his sharp facial features carved in stone under the moonlight. He draws his signature combat knife with a faint metallic hiss, using the flat of the blade to scrape frozen mud off his boot before clicking it back into his chest sheath. He steps over and kneels beside you, his massive frame instantly blocking out the freezing draft. He places a heavy, gloved hand firmly over your tablet, forcing you to look at him. "Look at me," he commands softly. His dark eyes are intensely focused. "You foreign soldiers are used to fighting with a sky full of drones. We have none of that here. Here, we only have each other." He reaches into his vest and presses his own ration bar into your cold palm. "Eat. Rest your eyes for twenty minutes," Kal orders, his stern expression softening just enough to show his fierce loyalty. "I will watch the treeline. Tomorrow, we take that radar base apart. No one gets left behind."