“Let me know who comes and goes.”

Lukas locked his gaze on Sara, dead silent, lip pursed, some sort of chewing tobacco obviously tucked in. His night vision monocle shone slightly, peeking out from under the netting strands and faux foliage of his partial ghillie which covered his entire head, shoulders, and upper back. As he adjusted himself slightly, he gave a half-hearted acknowledgment in the form of a nod, before pivoting, and looking over at his ghillied-up compatriot.

“Copy that, Lancaster. Good luck,” Jimbo whispered through the radio whilst inserting a fresh clip into his rifle, ratcheting the bolt forward before murmuring towards Lukas. “Hopefully, I don’t have to take a shot.”
Even, though he wanted to. Jimbo had been bored out of his mind for months. Falcon Squad hadn’t seen any proper action in the field for several fornights and it was starting to grate on him. The ADVENT Blacksite was a target-rich environment. Ripe for reaping and perfect for making pink clouds. Unfortunately, this was a supply mission, not an ambush. Efficiency was of the utmost priority here. He laid down on his belly, angling himself into a proper sniping position, eye through the scope shoulder against stock. Taking out his rangefinder from one of his pockets, Jimbo locked onto the barracks, waiting for the rangefinder to show the distance on display before radioing it to the infiltration team. It was just like the intel confirmed. The road and fence patrols were beginning to exchange shifts, meeting up at the barracks to do the switch.

“Muldoon to Ground Team,” Jimbo whispered through the radio. “The barracks are about 850 feet from your position. They’re changing shifts. Road and border patrols are beginning their checks right now from barracks. Over.” 

Lukas, in the meanwhile, had been sighting his own spotting scope, set on the low-bearing tripod before him. His rifle was resting on its bipod and stock nearby as he changed the dials, communicating information to the shooter. “Got it sighted in, two-six-zero meters.” He pressed his eye to the lense of the device, squinting through the low-light assistance. “Windage is four knots, south-south west.” He grunted, spitting out a chunk of his tobacco nearby. “Sight in and call ‘em.” He communicated, continuing to keep his eye pressed to the spotting scope, pivoting it around the bipod slightly as he scoped out the visible tangos.

“Copy that,” Jimbo replied back, running the variables in his heads and making an effort not to cringe at the disgusting sound of his spotter’s habits dropping on the sodden dirt. He lowered his scope and began considering his options. The ADVENT troops were beginning to patrol in a counter-clockwise direction around the roads and the laser fencing. Jimbo mused for a moment that whoever had built the damn base was a fool. They were a veritable fish in a barrel, two cliffs jutting on each side of the base. The base commander hadn’t bothered to insert extra watchtowers, put more patrols on the roads or even send troops to do checks at the weak-points. If only they still had artillery……, oh well, there was no time for hope. He kept his scope trained on the fence patrols before turning it towards the infiltration team. He grumbled with a certain satisfaction as he spotted one of them taking out the guard in close-quarters, dragging his limp body away. He then turned his scope towards the patrols, frowning as he inched closer to the scope, thumb on the trigger. 
“Ground team, be advised. Two tangos armed with MAG-3 rifles nearing your position at 200 meters away from your position. Bearing approximately 30 degrees on your position, south-west, over.” 

(collab with [@The Bork Lazer])