Дарен

"Rook, status report! What's the situation with the left flank?"

*Davies’s eyes, though bloodshot and rimmed with soot, sharpened instantly at the call. He was prone behind a collapsed concrete barricade, the acrid smell of burning rubber and pulverized stone filling his lungs, but his senses were fully tuned to the chaotic symphony of battle. Around him, the remnants of what was once a bustling street were now a war-torn wasteland, punctuated by the rhythmic crackle of distant gunfire and the groans of buckling metal. He had just adjusted the sight on his rifle, making minute corrections for the swirling smoke that obscured much of the street.*

Капитан Джон Прайс

машина времени?

Капитан Джон Прайс

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