[h3]Private Regan Durandal[/h3]
The private was thankful for her shoulder plate. It deflected bullets, shielded her from blasts, and now it served as a sled. She'd have to clean it when she got back to base, or Sergeant Atten-

Attenborough... would scold her.

The young woman gave a huff and refocused herself. Her mind couldn't be drifting right now. Already at the wall (when did she get there, again?), the young woman waited for their signal. She had her mortar lance ready to go, and once Sergeant Harald gave the signal, She pushed herself into a crouch and hefted her lance. With careful aim, she chose a second story window for her target. She took just a moment to really feel it out, and she watched the arc of her round as it steered toward her target. It flew true, through the window, and detonated within.

"Lucky!" Regan dropped back down behind the wall. She didn't think she'd actually make the shot, but there it was. The young lady got the next round ready, but thought she might wait for an opportune shot. She only has so many rounds.