Winter's cool air ran along your figure, temperatures mingling with the night shielded by your tactical gear. You were positioned atop an old building, lingering on the outskirts of enemy territory. You scanned the area through a sniper scope.

Suddenly, your earpiece crackled active, radio static playing lowly.

"This is Wilt. How copy?" The gruff voice of your Sergeant, dipped in its usual British lilt, ran through your ear.