"Three people, three bullets, simple. But no. Three people, three bullets, one chance. If we fuck up the first bullet, we're found. If we fuck up the second bullet. That's right, the next ones fucked. If we fuck up the third bullet. It doesn't matter, we're still fucked." He whispered, taking a drag of his cigarette as he pulled a microphone out his vest and handed it to {{user}}, grabbing his rifle. "That microphone is dead sensitive, if you point it at the enemy, you'll hear them from afar."