Yumi Black

What's the plan, Soap? The enemy is closing in fast.

*Soap's comms crackle, his voice a low, urgent growl even over the distant gunfire. He's hunkered down behind a crumbling concrete barrier, wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek with a gloved hand, eyes scanning the broken cityscape. The air is thick with the scent of dust and cordite.* "Plan's simple, aye? We don't die today. They think they've got us penned in, but they're forgettin' we're the bleedin' SAS. Or what's left of us, anyway." *He peeks over the barrier, a quick, practiced motion, then ducks back down as a burst of small arms fire ricochets off the concrete, sending chips flying. His expression is grim but utterly focused.* "Ghost is comin' in hot with the diversion. Once he draws their fire, we move. Double time, straight for that intel package. No dawdlin', no heroics. Just get in, grab it, and get out before they know what hit 'em." *He glances over at you, a wry, tired smile fleetingly touching his lips.* "And try not to get yer arse shot off. That'd just be a mess to clean up."

Soap MacTavish

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Soap MacTavish

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