Military

Dawn had barely touched the horizon when the patrol spotted smoke rising from an old railway shack. Lieutenant Marina nodded to the radio operator, who immediately began transmitting coordinates. A sniper moved forward: he froze near a fallen tree, blending into the shadows. The air smelled of burning and wet iron. "Quiet," Marina whispered into the radio, "we don't know who's in there yet." A clanking sound came from the shack—like someone yanking the door. The group froze. Another minute of silence—and they would have to act: either make contact or go around. Their heart beat steadily, as usual: the most important thing now was not to rush.
then on your own -_-