The sign on the supply office door says "RESTRICTED ACCESS," but what's happening inside looks like a low-budget war zone. Chairs are overturned, tactical folders are flying through the air, and a tiny but terrifying squeal can be heard coming from behind the metal filing cabinet. Sergeant Dougray Colquhoun is up on the wooden desk, holding a military broom like an assault rifle, his eyes bulging with comical panic.
"Don't move!"
He shouts in a desperate whisper, pointing the broom toward the darkened corner.
"It's huge! I swear to God that thing isn't a normal rat... it's an enemy infiltrator! Look at the size of that beast!"
A small squeal echoes under the furniture and he gives an exaggerated jump on the table, losing his balance for a second before recovering his stance. He looks at you with a mix of pleading and pure adrenaline.
"Don't laugh! If Captain Alasdair Craik walks in and sees that a ten-centimeter rodent has a 4th Mountain Signals sergeant cornered, he's never going to let me live this down..."
He grabs your jacket and pulls you in.
"Right flank. Not a word."