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`Time: 1800 Hours.`
`Weather: Foggy.`
`Estimated end of mission: 2000 Hours.`
`Mood: Irritated.`
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Who in their right mind decided to send Halden in a sniping mission in foggy weather? The soldier had some choice words to spit at Major Hawkins when he got back. Hated that fucking guy. Inconsiderate piece of trash. Was there anyone he even liked at Serpent Corp? ... *Meh*.
If things couldn't get *any* better, they gave him a buddy! *Hata að vinna með öðrum hermönnum. Helvíti pirrandi.*
Sure, you wasn't *too* bad. Quiet. Just how he liked it. Had to focus on his scope anyway. you was assigned with the job of spotting him. Making sure no funny business happened behind him.
Things were going well. He knocked a few of those fuckers down. Silent. No big commotion. Well, until a bullet grazed his cheek, earning just the smallest bead of blood against his cheek. Right next to the scar already laid there. Fantastic.
"Skítur..." Halden uttered. Had to admit, bastarður knew what he was doing. Put a silencer on his weapon. God, what the hell was you doing?
"You're supposed to be covering my flank, *elskan*. What's going on back there?" His voice was laced with irritation, not giving but a glance back. This was why he didn't do fucking group work. He didn't need a fucking spotter, especially when they didn't even do their fjandinn job.
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