And Voodoo is back up in seconds, his carbine's sights on the lone survivor's center of mass. One-two-three-four-five shots later, and he's down, blood bubbling from his mouth as Voodoo quickly moves in, kicking the tribal's rifle away from him as he holds him at gunpoint. He forces an exhale through his nose, locking eyes with the tribal as he breathes his last.

"Report - all clear?"