[martinchaen]

[Vulcan International HQ, O’Hare International Aerospaceport, Chicago, May 2076]

Colonel Viktor Samuels was not a learned man, but he had read Julius Caesar by Shakespeare. He finished the phrase with a smile. “And let slip the dogs of war”. The streets of the Redmond Barrens had been no place to learn how to read, but despite all odds he’d done it. “Wasn’t there some gang that used to call themselves the Dogs of War. Ran the 8th street operations... Well, at least until the Halloweeners burned them all alive. Piece of drek psychos.” The aging troll shook his head in wonder. Three decades later and here he was; sitting comfortably in his very own office, in charge of hundreds of men deployed all over the United Canadian and American States.

“Who’d have thought a gutter rat…”

Before he could finish the thought, two solid raps sounded on the door. He quickly scanned his AR feed from the security cameras in the hall, and chuckled to himself while he keyed up the relevant files on his terminal. “Trust the good Captain to be early for a damned briefing…”

“Enter!” he shouted as he rose from his chair, nearly putting his horns through the ceiling fan again. “Fraggin’ barracks, made for breeders every damned one of them…”

“Reporting for duty, sir” August said quietly as he entered and snapped to attention.

“At ease, Captain” Samuels answered with a half-hearted salute. August was a good man; high mission success ratio, team performance well above average, relatively few losses all things considered; definitely a driven man. “Shame about his wife” the troll thought to himself as he keyed up the trid projector and prepared to run through the briefing.

“All right, I got a two-pronged job for you this time around; a high priority rescue op from a big-time client, and a reccie tagged on from up top, both on-the-double. I’m not gonna bullshit you, son, this one is high-risk, but the payment reflects it; three hundred for the rescue, another one-fifty for the sneak-and-peek. The catch: you’ll need to go in nova hot smack-dab on the border of the old Cermak blast zone.” With a flick of his hand, the trid projector changed from the Vulcan International logo to a tactical map of the area.

“We’ve identified a suitable LZ for your bird right here, place called Lake Meadows Park just off of the old 31st Street Harbor. You’ll need to proceed by ground to 26th and State, the last known location of one Dr. Emily Clay and her 4-man security team.” The old Colonel brought up a trid of the doctor working in some sort of lab before proceeding. “Before you ask; no, they’re not ours. The doctor saw fit to hire inferior troops from Blackshield Security, who’ve got little to no experience in the CZ. Locate and retrieve the good doctor; the security team is considered “non-essential” by command, but I’m asking you to see what you can do. You and I both know that nobody deserves that kind of fate…” He switched the projection back to an enhanced view of the operational area.

“Along the way, scope out the eastern shore of the South Branch River. Radiation is going to get heavy the closer you are to the river, so stay frosty; word is a termite shaman has set up shop on the riverbank and is trying to awaken a hive that was left in torpor by the Cermak blast, FAB-III, or both. This is eyes only; do not engage under any circumstance.” The troll gave the human a pointed look to emphasize his last point.

“Questions, Captain?”


Meanwhile, outside Hangar 29 across the runway from VI HQ, several war-torn veterans were celebrating their good fortunes with an old-fashioned BBQ. Someone had managed to get a hold of an actual, honest-to-god pig, probably from the Northside farm off of what was left of I-94 but nobody cared to ask.

The hangar served as both living space, workshop, storage, and garage for Viper team, and for the last two years they had been pulling in one mission after another. There had been some losses, of course, but overall the team was functioning well. Black Betty, the team’s very own GMC Banshee, and Hellcat, their heavily armed Humvee, both sat nestled in the hangar fueled up and ready to go, but with any luck everyone would have a couple of days of R&R before going back into the Zone.


Luck, of course, is a cruel mistress, and for the men and women of Viper team Luck may be about to change.

[rednblack]

“This is eyes only; do not engage under any circumstance.” The troll gave the human a pointed look to emphasize his last point.

“Questions, Captain?”

August noted the look from Col. Samuels.  Seems he still blames me for the frag-up at Rogers Park.  There was nothing that could've been done as far as August was concerned, but he took his lashes like a soldier, and didn't harbor any ill-will toward Samuels.  The troll had COs to appease himself, after all.  Still, thank Ghost Weedy was there. August turned over the job in his head.  Seemed straight forward enough.  Play a little peek-a-boo, rescue someone who has no damned business being were they are, get out with everyone in one piece.  Easy-peazy, with a side of the CZ and a dash of the Cermak crater.  What could go wrong?  The Blackshield boys and girls were going to be a real wildcard here, though.  New boys on the block always have something to prove, and street cred always comes at someone's expense.  Plus, there were BS's peculiar hiring practices to keep in mind.  August made a mental note to talk with Gale about that one.

"Sir, a few questions, yes, sir.  When was Dr. Clay's last communication with her HQ?  Do we know what kind of loads the Blackshield men are running, sir, or any standing passwords for friendlies?  I'm assuming it would be too much to ask that she, or any of her equipment is outfitted with security tags?  I'll do what I can for the Blackshield mercs, but, respectfully, my guess is that if they're still alive they're staying that way by shootin' first and finding out who later.  I'm not going to risk my soldiers or my objective on the goodwill of amateurs."

August waited for the Col. to answer before switching gears.  "Do we have any actionable intel on the termite shaman, or are we running blind here, sir?  Any word on who it might be working with, or any disturbances that I should know about?"

"Additionally, sir, there is our hazard pay to be discussed.  As you know, every run is a hazard run with VI, and my soldiers have the proper equipment to bring to bear here, but running that close to the Cermak crater brings some further complications.  Have any additional funds been allocated for that aspect of the operation, sir?"

When all was said and done, August downloaded the OPORD and associated documents, waited to be dismissed, and made a crisp salute toward Col. Samuels at the appropriate time. 

August makes his way to Hangar 29, and is assaulted with the smell of good smoked meat as he enters.  Sure hope this isn't long pork he thinks at the sight of the grills and notes the group milling about and generally having what might be considered a good time.  Shame to break up the party. 

[Ravensoracle]

"I Wanna Rock and Roll All Nii'eeeeeeeiiiiiieeeeght......." Wires sings loudly and very off key while he stands at the grill flipping veggie kabobs, grilled corn on the cob, and all sort of assorted sides to go with the pig that was roasting on the spit in the smoker he had welded up. He was dancing around dressed in his normal crazy attire. The most atrociously loud Hawaiian shirt hanging wide open, cut-off cargo pants and untied combat boots.

His fly-spies were buzzing around the hanger in some sort of weird dogfight over, around and under wherever Weedy happened to be. Always flying just out of reach when she tried to swat them. 

He grabs up his special assortment of seasonings and sauces and yells over the music "Which of you babies are gonna cry this time about my atomic flavoring?" which from the last time everyone painfully remembers he had cooked had left them feeling like they had ate the exhaust from the Banshee. As it entered and exited their system. 

[Poindexter]

76...77...78...79...80...

Nothing exists for the small framed woman right now. Nothing but the bar. Up and down she heaves her body at a steady pace, her biceps straining from the effort and sweat pouring down her face. She counts in her head, only vaguely aware of the fly spies zipping around her, trying to break her concentration.

81...82...83...84...

She can hear that shitty excuse for rock music that Wires liked to play whenever he wanted to bother her. Poison, she thinks it is. Or is this the KISS version? For just a moment, her concentration falters and her pace slows just a bit. She doubles her effort to try and stay in time.

85...86...87...88...89...90...91...92...

A smell begins to wind its way into her nose. It's small and subtle at first, just a light tickling at he rear of her throat, then growing larger and more acrid as the seconds go by. I know that smell. What IS that? Oh GOD it's that frakkin SAUCE of his. My ass was- Again, she breaks concentration and again she forces her bulging, exhausted muscles to go faster to make up the time.

93...94...95...96...97...98...99...

"A HUNDRED, MOTHER FUCKER!" She drops the 3 feet to the ground from the chin up bar, landing with a loud -THUMP- as her combat boots smack the hangar floor. Her green wifebeater shirt is drenched in sweat and her cropped curly hair glistens with the stuff as well, making the green stripe down the center stand out even more than normal. She stretches her arms above her head and loudly cracks her knuckles, showing off her unshaven armpits as she does. She turns and starts proudly walking toward the grill while giving the finger to one of the fly spies. Sonofabitch tried every frakkin trick in the book to screw me up. The drones, the music, even the god damn hot sauce. I gotta make the geezer pay for this one.
With her head tilted back in pride, she speaks to Wires. "So... How's the pig there, Bro?" She pokes one flank of meat with her index finger, noting the red juice that flows out when she does. "Ooooooh." she says in a tone of mock concern. "Looks like it still aint quite finished yet, huh? And here I am having completed the hundred chin-ups already. A bet's a bet, huh chummer?" At this point, she's kinda getting off on the look of defeat and aggravation on the old bastards face, so she decides to milk it for just a little bit longer for the entertainment of the rest of the team. "Now, WHAT was it that you have to do for me now? I forget." she says with only the smallest hint of joking on her dead serious face. Anyone but Wires might miss it.

[Koshnek]

Chuck was relaxing in a rickety lawn chair puffing on his cigar when Wires issued his challenge. Chuck chuckled a bit and responded in kind, "Light me up, chummer!"

It was a good night, and Chuck wasn't going to waste it. He had Mr. Burns acquire a real bottle of Jack from back home just for a night like this. Chuck opened the bottle and poured himself a drink. "This'n's on me if'n you ladies got a taste for the good stuff." Might as well have some fun with the boys 'n girls while we can. Lord knows when the cap'n'll find us somethin' to do.

Chuck glanced over at the drones harassing Weedy and shook his head. He winked at her and popped a taunt off at wires, "If ya flew the bird half as well as them drones..."

[Ravensoracle]

Wires did look frustrated at first when Weedy called him out on losing the bet. Damn little smartass!  He rumbled and grumbled under his breath but there was still a twinkle in his eye as he looked down on the little sweaty hooligan. Reaching up he grabbed the sleeves of the Hawaiian shirt and pulled it off. It only took a moment and the thing was in the smoker's firepit and up in flames.

He stretched letting out a big gut-shaking laugh. "You know that was my favorite shirt."

He then reached over poured himself a shot of Chuck's good whiskey. He slammed the shot glass down and gave Chuck a one finger salute. "I think I fly this bird pretty well myself." Followed by another big laugh.

[reyjinn]

Gale watched bemusedly as Wires committed dinner. It wasn’t that his food was bad per se, humans just weren’t meant to eat whatever it was he put into that secret sauce of his. Damned tasty though, until your taste buds just gave up and went home for the night.

About the time that Wires is doing the world a favour by ridding it of that horrid shirt Gale notices that August is approaching with a look on his face that speaks of less than pleasant news. "August. You look like a man on a mission, please tell me we’ll have to deploy before Wires tries to make us eat this poor pig."

[Blazrath]

Jack was working on his gear near the group waiting for the pig to be roasted. Being the newest guy on the group, he had put in a requisition to be stationed here after openings started to pop up. While they may of been on many different missions together and know how to work with each other, Jack still feels like they expect him to be the man that was in his spot before instead of how Jack is. He would shake his head of the thought and have hit kit out. Betty and Simone were out in full glory, the turrets unloaded, but still running through target acquisition and control. They were both following the spy drones with near pin-point accuracy, Simone having another hitch in its system. 'God damn system still hasn't recovered when I gave Wires admin control that one time. They only traverse so far.' He would think to himself as he worked on the kink, getting it close to as fixed as he could. If he had some paintball rounds, he would set the turrets to disregard the safety feature he has locked in for the drones and hit them out of the sky, but he didn't. He would take another drink of his Jack and Coke as he turned back to the group.

"Oi, easy on the motor oil this time with your special sauce. I'd rather not lose the lower track of my intestines to cyber counterparts." He would say when Wires talked about bitching. Seeing Weedy win some bet with Wires was good to see, she always tried to one up everyone 'cept the Cap. Watching Wires favorite shirt go up in flames made his day go better at the very least. "Finally, the item that has assaulted my sense of sight and deadened me to the colors of the rich Chi-Town is gone and I can rest easy. 'Til my dreams turn to nightmares and I fraggin see that vomit of a rainbow start to chase after me. Or maybe that's just the Bells Palsy giving me vivide hallucinations. Still haven't figured that out yet. Anyways, is the boar done or you going to let it crisp up like bacon or worse, char it?" He would say, trying to join in on the fun. Whether it worked it was anyones guess, but he was trying to get initiated in the group. Its hard though when you are one of the few not cybered up.

[Poindexter]

He stretched letting out a big gut-shaking laugh. "You know that was my favorite shirt."

"You say that about every damn one of those things, Wires." She elbows him in the ribs. "Besides, look at those abs! I'm just trying to show these youngins that an ork can still be sexy as hell, even when he gets to be your age."

"This'n's on me if'n you ladies got a taste for the good stuff."

Weedy puts on her best southern belle accent, which isn't very good and replies, "Don't mahnd if ah do, there mayam." then reaches down to pour herself a shot. She waits till Wires has his poured before she drinks.

He then reached over poured himself a shot of Chuck's good whiskey. He slammed the shot glass down and gave Chuck a one finger salute. "I think I fly this bird pretty well myself." Followed by another big laugh.

"Chip TRUTH!" she bellows as she slams the glass down on the card table chucks sitting near.

"Finally, the item that has assaulted my sense of sight and deadened me to the colors of the rich Chi-Town is gone and I can rest easy. 'Til my dreams turn to nightmares and I fraggin see that vomit of a rainbow start to chase after me. Or maybe that's just the Bells Palsy giving me vivide hallucinations. Still haven't figured that out yet. Anyways, is the boar done or you going to let it crisp up like bacon or worse, char it?"

Fuckin Jack. The HELL is he talking about? She gives Chuck a sideways look that seems to say "what's HIS deal?" then leans down and pours another shot. With no emotion on her face at all, she motions to Jack with it. "C'mon. This one's for you, cute-ness."

[martinchaen]

"Sir, a few questions, yes, sir.  When was Dr. Clay's last communication with her HQ?  Do we know what kind of loads the Blackshield men are running, sir, or any standing passwords for friendlies?  I'm assuming it would be too much to ask that she, or any of her equipment is outfitted with security tags?  I'll do what I can for the Blackshield mercs, but, respectfully, my guess is that if they're still alive they're staying that way by shootin' first and finding out who later.  I'm not going to risk my soldiers or my objective on the goodwill of amateurs."

The colonel checked his notes while August talked. "It's all here in the files, Captain. The doctor's last check in was 12 hours ago, give or take; as far as they're aware, the call came from the corner of 26th and State" He shook his head. "As for the BS motherfraggers, no word. My best guess based on what I know about them and this job, and I'd say they're running light. The doctor was out to find some sort of goop in the Cermak blast, which means they'd have had to move about a fair bit. That mil-spech shit most of your boys are using would have slowed these guys down way too much, and I bet the same applies to guns. Still, caution is a good approach; no skin off my back if those boys make it back, but just remember that some day you might be on the other side, neh?" The troll chuckled as he went on. "No luck on locators; either the noise is too much, or the radiation is. The commlinks and trackers both went offline shortly after that last check-in."

August waited for the Col. to answer before switching gears.  "Do we have any actionable intel on the termite shaman, or are we running blind here, sir?  Any word on who it might be working with, or any disturbances that I should know about?"

"You got me, son" the big man said mirthlessly. "Listen, we're operating on rumors and speculation from drekking zone-dwellers here. Get eyes on, confirm if there's a threat or not, and get the hell out. If there are termites in there, you're gonna need a bigger gun..."

"Additionally, sir, there is our hazard pay to be discussed.  As you know, every run is a hazard run with VI, and my soldiers have the proper equipment to bring to bear here, but running that close to the Cermak crater brings some further complications.  Have any additional funds been allocated for that aspect of the operation, sir?"

At this point, Samuels laughed out loud. "Hah! You've got guts, August, I'll say that much. What, half a million nuyen ain't enough for you?" He smiled at the Captain and made a salute. "Dismissed, Captain. Good hunting."

[Koshnek]

Chuck raised his glass towards the others and took a sip as they downed their drinks. "Hang around a little longer 'n I'll make a lady of ya yet."

Chuck noticed the captain about the same time Gale spoke up. He nodded and gave August a lazy salute. "Cap'n." Chuck paused to take a drag on his cigar and held it in a moment. The cap'n does look serious. Chuck slowly blew the smoke out before speaking up, "Flyboy's got somethin to burn your hoop, 'n I got somethin to burn your belly. Pick your poison 'n join the fun cap'n." Maybe the cap'n'll have a moment to relax. Be a shame to waste a good pig.

[rednblack]

August stands at the far end of the hangar watching his troops.  This is always the hardest part for him: telling them what what they're expected, what he expects, them to do.  It's nothing any of them haven't signed up for, but knowing something and believing it are two different things.  Still, for a brief second, the Captain let loose with a smile at the exchange between Wires and Weedy, and then there was Jack mouthing off in that particular way of his.  Strange bird, Jack.  He's as good a soldier as any, even if he doesn't believe it.  That kind of double-think can get you killed in the field, and August made a mental note to give the Sergeant something to work toward on this run, something to build confidence in the man himself to match what August knew he was capable of. 

As always, Gale is off to the side, and doesn't miss anything, including the look in August's face as he prepares to speak.

"August. You look like a man on a mission, please tell me we’ll have to deploy before Wires tries to make us eat this poor pig."

"Ask and ye shall receive," August says to Gale before turning to Chuck.  "Smells great, Chuck.  I want to get to it straight next thing."  He puts on his commander's voice and barks out, "Alright metas, my tuskers, and breeders, this dandelion eater here is bringing y'all a paycheck.  Gather round, and let's talk this thing out."

>>Send Files
>>To: Viper Team
>>Contents:
>>OPORD
>>Chicago Map
>>Suggested Route
>>End Transmission

"We got us a two-parter here.  Dr. Emily Clay last checked in about 12 hours ago from the corner of 26th and State.  She's out looking for royal jelly, or some other scientific holy grail, and we're going to retrieve her.  She's travelling with a 4 man security detail, provided by Blackshield Security's finest.  You know what that means.  BS goes in, and they gotta send Vulcan to bring 'em back, eh?  Those Blackshield boys are non-essential, but I personally told Col. Samuels that my team can get them out, so that's what we're gonna do.  Now, personally, I don't trust 'em, and I expect you to keep wide eyes as well, even if we're tagging 'em as friendlies, officially.  Boys should be lightly armed and armored, but heavily cybered, and they're weird on magic.  So Gale, I want you to keep the waggly finger shit on the down low.  As far as these fellas are concerned you're an intelligence officer, dig? 

"This is a standard search and retrieve mission that just so happens to put us smack dab at the edge of the Cermak Crater, so bring your rad protection, and bring your firepower, cuz we don't know what we're gonna see when we get there.  Part 2 is a sneak and peak.  Word from the crazies down in Chi-town is that a termite shaman has set up on the eastern shore of the south branch river, just north and west of where we're going anyway.  We're gonna put eyes on the situation, see what there is to see, and refrain from letting loose with even a single mother-fraggin' round.  Wires, you're gonna have to put a few of those Fly-Spys through the ringer on this one, so I wanna see some of that fancy flying.  Gale, Weedy, I know enough to know when my expertise is elsewhere, so either a you have anything of note to add on termite spirits or termite shamans?

August takes a deep breath, looks longingly at one of Chuck's cigars and continues, "Our order of operations: the bird drops us at Lake Meadows Park.  We advance west and north to 26th and State.  We find Dr. Clay and her security detail, or we find where they went, and we pick 'em up the Viper way, the clean way.  Objective 1 completed.  Objective 2: on our way, we scope this termite shaman, we get actionable intel, we do not engage, and we get back here in time for breakfast.  That's right, ladies and gents.  I want us gone in 45.  For the next 15 your direct orders are to eat this beautiful looking pig over here, play a little grab ass, try your hardest to enjoy whatever the frag this is that's supposed to pass for music.  I've seen y'all don your kits in less time than that, so anyone steps outside this hangar before 15 is up, I will write your ass a ticket for insubordination.

"Do I have any questions here?"

With the briefing over, August scans the faces of Viper Team, decides that they're not yet enjoying themselves nearly as much as they should be.  "Weedy," he shouts out in a voice that could almost be considered angry by someone who didn't know him.  "When I came in here, were you really doing 100 chin-ups on that bar right there?"

[reyjinn]

So Gale, I want you to keep the waggly finger shit on the down low.  As far as these fellas are concerned you're an intelligence officer, dig?

"Fuck Captain, that close to the crater you’d have to hold a gun to my head if you wanted me to sling mojo, and I’d still have to think about it twice."

Gale, Weedy, I know enough to know when my expertise is elsewhere, so either a you have anything of note to add on termite spirits or termite shamans?

"I’d call it more than likely that Weedy knows more about them then I do, I’ll let her take point here and fill in any gaps if and when I can." As he finishes he looks to Weedy, paying close attention to what she says, interjecting where he feels like she is skipping over something that might prove important.

Do I have any questions here?

Gale clears his throat a little, "Not a question, Captain and I hate for this to sound like I’m covering my ass here but as you all know astral in the CZ is mostly fragged and especially around the crater itself. Just saying, I might actually be relegated to ‘Intelligence officer’ on this run. Let’s not plan around any mojo flying about, if available it will be a nice bonus is all."

[Koshnek]

Chuck gave an uncharacteristically big smile. "15 minutes til go time, ladies!" Guess we'll have to kill this bottle later. Damn shame. "Looks like ya could use a smoke, cap'n. This batch tastes like Burns drek'd em outta his hoophole, but at least they're real tobacco. Got some real Jack here from back home too if ya wanna shot before I put her to bed. I ain't gettin nobody drunk before a drop." Chuck grinned a little "I got somethin real good to puff on when we make it home."

Chuck continued relaxing in his rickety lawn chair and took a couple puffs off his cigar. Much as I love my pretty milspec gear...it'd be best to travel light tonight. Hah. Lighter. I don't fancy strugglin to keep up in milspec when we got friendlies to cover. "I'm thinkin 'bout hittin the ground light...with a little extra heavy tonight. I'll suit up with regular body armor and my usual smash 'n grab get up. If'n we're talkin bug shamans though, I'm bringin some extra hoopstomp. Ill add in the cannon. Any other suggestions? I can run a little lighter on gear and pack some extra boom, sir. I like extra boom."

...Better phone in some supplies before we leave.

>Send Message
 >>Mr. Burns
  >>>Mr. Burns! I'm going to need a full set of HIGH quality cigars ASAP! Not the standard quality. I'm down to my last few good cigars. And listen here, chummer. This batch of standard drek you acquired for me last month is pure cyanide. The only reason I ain't stomped your hoop is 'cause this drek ain't synth. Might as well be! I expect better from you, Mr. Burns. You told me you were the best, and I pay you good money. Frag, son.

Chuck downed the rest of his drink and finished his cigar. "Help an old man strap his gear on, lil lady?" Chuck was about to flick his cigar butt, but stopped himself. Bad habit. He located the nearest trash receptacle near Wires' atomic pig, and successfully flicked it in. "Old man's still got it."

[Poindexter]

Chuck raised his glass towards the others and took a sip as they downed their drinks. "Hang around a little longer 'n I'll make a lady of ya yet."

Weedy clinks glasses with the group before winking at Chuck and saying "You wish, breeder." and downing her shot.

"August. You look like a man on a mission, please tell me we’ll have to deploy before Wires tries to make us eat this poor pig."

Chuck noticed the captain about the same time Gale spoke up. He nodded and gave August a lazy salute. "Cap'n."

Now that she's close enough to the cooking pig, she can start to smell the meat now instead of just the aroma of the Cermak sauce Wires had slathered on most of it and it smelled incredible. She'd only ever eaten real meat once before in her life and she'd been too nervous to really enjoy it then. This time, she had a few drinks in her, she felt safe, and had all the time in the world. This time was gonna be good. When Nightingale starts speaking to August, she spins around to face the Captain, gives a rigid salute, says "SIR!", and stands at attention until instructed otherwise.

"Alright metas, my tuskers, and breeders, this dandelion eater here is bringing y'all a paycheck.  Gather round, and let's talk this thing out..."

She listens intently, concentration focused on every word that comes out of the middle aged elf. She remains completely silent and intent on him while he speaks.

Gale, Weedy, I know enough to know when my expertise is elsewhere, so either a you have anything of note to add on termite spirits or termite shamans?

The crafty little scout had been meticulously keeping an up-to-date file of all the intel she'd ever gathered on every type of bug the CZ had to offer for almost 8 years now, and it was times like these that made her the proudest of doing so. More than once since she'd joined Viper team, those files had saved lives and she was happy to be bringing it up again. She tries her hardest not let any of those emotions through as she answers. "Yes, Sir. I'll send the team my file on them before we're in the air, Sir."

"Do I have any questions here?"

She pipes up immediately. "Yes, Sir. How much intel do we have on Dr. Clay? Is she trustworthy? It wouldn't be the first time I've seen a green merc squad like BlackShield lured into an ambush, Sir."

-----------------

Once the briefing is complete, the VERY first thing she does it march purposefully across the room and change the music, confidant in the knowledge that everyone knows better than to try and stop her. Once the Pre-game ritual begins, there's no getting in the way. http://youtu.be/QqcPaVx_vC4 She leans against the wall for the first 8 bars or so, only moving again once the singing begins. She's learned to compartmentalize emotions over the years, and right now, if the Captain says it's relax and party time for 15 minutes, the rush of adrenaline for the mission will wait 15 minutes. Right now, it's party time. I'm bout to stuff my face FULL of that Cermak Pork, and if I get eaten by a bug today, then SHE'LL be the one with the stomach ache.

"I'm thinkin 'bout hittin the ground light..."

"Good idea, Chuck. We're all gonna need to be light on our feet on this one. I'm leavin the cannon on the bird today, myself."

"Help an old man strap his gear on, lil lady?"

"Pfffffffffffft! I aint ya mamma. Handle your own biz."

"Weedy," he shouts out in a voice that could almost be considered angry by someone who didn't know him.

"SIR!"

"When I came in here, were you really doing 100 chin-ups on that bar right there?"

"Sir. Yes, Sir! Viper Three did not believe I could do so before his pig had finished cooking. Bets were made. Shirts were burned, Sir." She finally approaches the Captain and gives him a long firm handshake, making eye contact briefly and saying quietly, "Lets eat, August."