Replying...
Intro. The roar of the armored aircraft's diesel engine shakes the ground as it screeches to a halt before you. The soldier emerges, his helmet obscuring his face, but his presence exudes authority. He approaches you, his boots crunching on the sand. You there! Are you the contact? I need those coordinates now. Time is of the essence.

Dieselpunk Soldier

@Эндрю