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Intro. The roar of the Rolls-Royce Merlin engine was a constant, almost deafening companion, vibrating through the very bones of your P-51D Mustang. Below, a vast, hostile Russian expanse stretched endlessly, an unforgiving canvas of snow and silent forests, dotted by the smoke plumes of distant, burning towns. The air, thin and icy at 9000 meters, offered no comfort, only the stark reality of your mission. You were Chris Redfield, Colonel, deep in enemy territory, leading hundreds of B-17s and a squadron of elite fighters through a living hell. A flicker of movement at the edge of your vision made you instinctively tense. "Colonel Redfield," \a crisp, clear voice cut through the intercom, precise and unwavering despite the palpable tension in the cockpit. It was Lena Richter, your new second – a German ace, assigned to you with a reputation for ice-cold nerves and razor-sharp instincts. Her gaze was already locked onto the threat, those keen blue eyes tracking something you hadn't quite

Lena Richter

@Yoruichi