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"...as that is most vital. So keep your head with it and give Charlie an Alpha-Mike-Foxtrot when he shows. Over. -... Dean, do you copy that? Over. -... Sergeant Voroia, this is Overlord nine-o-niner, transmitting on secure channel Delta-Zulu five-three-five - Do you copy? Over. -... Voroia!"

The region of Al-Anbar, 08.26 Hours - Operation Sandy Sally

Gunnery Sergeant Dean Voroia lay, partially hidden behind the dunes of coarse sand, prone on his stomach... His hands had gone numb, as well as his arms, from the constant and perpetual firm position they were in; His right hand held firmly over the handle of his McMillan TAC-416, index finger lightly touching the metal trigger - The left was held by the large magazine underneath its stock... A perfect sharpshooter stance.The fur coat around his eyesockets was rough and caked with sand and dust alike, his actual eyes watery and red... He had not blinked for the longest time, for his sight lay ever vigilant, peering through the scope on his rifle. Dean Voroia had been laying in this position and location, nigh on motionless and dormant, for over four hours straight. His target: A small desert hovel made out of baked clay bricks... No windows. Single door, closed. His usual attire was now baking in the upcoming Iraqi sun, slowly but surely making the whole ordeal all the more unbearable - But he persevered, adamant and stalwart in demeanour... He was now thinking back, eyes on the price still, to all the times he had found himself in simular situations. Years upon years - Operation following operation of nameless reaper of lives; that is what he was, most of the time. As a dedicated and highly-skilled marksman, Dean's services were sought out all over the warfront at all times... His mind traveled, twisted, warped, became distant. He did not even hear the voice crackling over the headset he was wearing, untill it raised its volume and voice alike, blasting that last "Voroia!" through his ears. The sergeant blinked once, not seemingly startled but woken from a deep pondering state.. He'd let his lips travel towards the plastic tube that hung by his mouth already - Taking a sip of water from his camel bag, he'd swish the lukewarm liquid around in his cheeks, moistening the tongue and dry innards of his orifice.. Before spitting it all back out; he replied with a hoarse yet firm tone of voice.

"Sergeant Voroia, transmitting on secure channel Delta-Zulu five-three-five. Negative, Overlord - Distortion on the line. Request you repeat your last 411. Over."

The voice over the radio-waves sounded annoyed but relieved at the same time, as the headset once more crackled audibly. For a time he had believed something had gone horribly wrong already... Shaking his head, an unknown individual, far away from danger, spoke out again as thus.

"Copy that request, Voroia - 411 as followed; Charlie has been kept up in the designated point Foxtrot - Your primary objective is to identify and terminate the threat he embodies - This means both Charlie and any other Zulu's he might have within at the current. All have been ordered as unavoidable CDA's and are to be treated as such. Keep your distance and utilise the long-ranged aspect of your skills - We do not want to cause a ruckus with the locals, should they witness something per chance, as stealth is most vital here. TL;DR: Identify target - Terminate target and possible Zulu's - Extraction and BTB. Over."

Dean would refrain from shaking his head in slight deprivation of faith - He had the perfect line-up at the current.. Best not to mess with it now - So, he'd turn to sighing ever so faintly instead - He replied with a sullen.

"Copy those 'prerogatives', Overlord - Sergeant Voroia, over and out."

The line went dead thereafter... And Dean was left with nothing more than his thoughts once again. Several hours passed, as the sun flew high in the sky, beaming down mercilessly upon the concealed and far-away sniper Wolf. The metal casing of his weaponry started to soak up the rays of sunlight, heating up slowly but steadily; grimacing and wincing facial features filled Dean's facade every now and then, as the rifle started to torture the actual rifleman for holding on still.. But he endured. Searing the very tip of his right index finger, even the McMillan's trigger started to punish the canine creature for touching its metal surface.. - Movement. Whereas Dean's mind instantly jolted back into an alert state, none would have visibly seen Voroia react to it, his body trained to not even give the slightest of reactions when he lay in this position. He'd look through the rifle's scope, as he had done for hours prior-.. And witnessed his target. A woman would stalk outside of the hovel's shadowy interior, guiding two other, small individuals by the hand.. All three seemed to resemble a weird mix between a hyena and a jackal. Voroia would shake his head, narrowing his sore eyes, now waiting for the actual Charlie to walk outside of the hovel... But as he peered through the scope, he was able to examine and observe the interior properly. No one was inside anymore.. His eyes widened ever so lightly thereafter - His heart fell... The woman and children started to slowly pace towards a nearby mountain range, where Dean knew lay a small village... Voroia would quietly but hastily mutter into his headset.

"Sergeant Voroia to Overlord nine-o-niner, do you copy? Over."

"Overlord nine-o-niner to Sergeant Voroia, I copy. Over."

"Charlie has presumably fled point Foxtrot - No sign of him in any way, shape or form. Three civs in line of sight, one female, two children. Civies are heading towards the nearby village of Iberah. Request further instructions, over."

"Negative, Voroia - Charlie has -not- fled Foxtrot. Take the shot. Remember the order of CDA's; all three. I repeat, take the shot. Over."

The sergeant didn't believe what he was hearing. He'd blink for the first time in a long time and brushed sand particles over his eyeballs in the process, not that he cared at the current. His voice was firm, questioning.

"Overlord, I repeat. Three civies in sight, one female, two -children-. Unarmed and of no possible threat. Request further instructions asap, over."

The voice that awnsered the Wolf was just as firm, commanding and uncompromising.

"Take the shot, Sergeant Voroia - That is a direct order. Take. The . Shot. This is a matter of international security. You have your orders, soldier. Now follow them. Overlord, over and out."

Voroia would thus lay there-.. In the Iraqi sands.. Mouth agape ever so slightly. He'd still witness the female and the two children, making their way towards the mountain range.

A shuddering exhale of breath... An echoing sound of a gunshot through the vicinity... Then two more.