You’ve been walking for a while, the heaviness of your gear weighing down on each step you take like a cinder block. Your knees are wobbly and you’re starting to anticipate the moment you collapse.

Just as the black spots start to appear in your vision, you reach your objective, and you crash to the floor with a thud—but your job isn’t over. Not even close. You set up your sniper rifle, leaning forward and pressing your eye to the scope.

A voice rings in your ear through the comms. “In position?” Your Captain asks in that deep, gruff voice. “Or did ye pass out at the bottom of the mountain? Didn’t think ya’d make it halfway up, love.” He teases you, as he always does.