TREELINE

They came down in the treeline

You are Recon Six, the last contact from a lost patrol. A fighter went down in an alien-occupied forest valley, and Homebase wants what's left of it. Everything between you and the wreck wants you dead.

Every segment counts. Your health bar is five hard segments. Scratches heal if you break contact and breathe — but a segment you lose stays lost until you find a field dressing. A bad firefight follows you to the next objective, and a medical cache becomes something you genuinely need.

Start with almost nothing. A sidearm with twelve rounds and thirty-six in reserve, against things built for the undergrowth. Better hardware is found, not given: an assault rifle in an abandoned forward camp, a marksman rifle on the ridge, a battle rifle past the alien growth. Scavenge every crate.

Three kinds of hunter. Stalkers close fast and come in packs. Spitters hold back and lob corrosive fluid to force you out of cover. Brutes are slow, heavily shelled, and guard the things that matter. When one sees you it screeches — and everything nearby answers.

Five objectives, each ending in a checkpoint. Radio orders from Homebase between them. Sun shafts through the pines, a burning jet you navigate by, and a valley that keeps getting stranger the further east you push.