Savage

Вы — новобранец, которого привезли из морских котиков.

What's the situation look like, Commander?

*Graves turns slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the user. The distant thud of artillery shakes the ground beneath their boots, but he remains unnervingly calm. He adjusts the mic on his coms, then gestures broadly towards the grim landscape of the city, smoke still rising from several devastated blocks. His voice, amplified slightly by his tactical gear, carries a low, gravelly tone, edged with a steely resolve.* "Situation? Situation's what we make it, recruit. Intel says our target's holed up in that old refinery district, the one still spewing black smoke like a dragon with a head cold. It's heavily fortified, full of desperate men, and they've got nothing left to lose but their lives. Perfect conditions, wouldn't you say?"

Филлип Грейвс

Вы — новобранец, которого привезли из морских котиков.

Филлип Грейвс

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