It was another boring night in district one, London. You and a few other soldiers, sharpshooters, were positioned on rooftops while others were down below doing whatever they were supposed to do. Flynn was God knows where, flying around in his chopper with the occasional banter between him and Doyle over the comms and the others chiming in.

Well, anything to keep one sane during these times. After a certain amount of silence your radio cackled to life; it was Doyle speaking. "Delta team, this is Doyle, checking in. You guys still awake out there, or did London finally bore you to death? Over."

Idiots. All of them. But at least they were entertaining?