RP: IPG [IPG Operators] Breaking Blood Explosion Extraordinaire!

Nelew had fallen silent. Her recent talkativeness was unusual, she normally didn't have ideas come to her so easily. But now she was becoming used to the notion that maybe the ones in charge had a bit more of idea how this was supposed to go than she did. It would save energy and time to simply follow Alaster's orders than to second-guess him. Although learning was why she was here, and it would increase the amount of data learned if she actively pursued it, doing so would be more likely to cause her co-initiates to close themselves off than to volunteer more information later, as well as draw more attention to herself. She decided to let them talk it out and follow the leader.

Nelew looked about the helicopter and did a mild passive scan of it, letting the vehicle tell her senses about itself. Even small moving parts made sounds or vibrations that were detectable while one was inside, and her eyes easily picked out heat and ambient electrical emissions from the wiring and circuits. While not totally complete in its detail, the scan was good for a start. Naturally, she would need to disassemble the chopper to know everything about it. But when she returned from the mission Nelew would organize that information and store it away until she needed it again.

Alaster merely nodded to Cyrene. "Of course." He said gently to the woman. "Will you be alright with this?"

"Me being alright with it is of little concern." Cyrene answered expressionlessly, her eyes still downcast. She was unused to someone actually asking her how should felt about anything, and simply shook it off with formality. Still... there was something else on her mind: the kindness in his voice. The cyborg operative could scarcely remember hearing anyone speak in any manner close to that in years.

"But I will not have any problems with the mission, or the way that we've decided to execute it." She added, handing her rifle case and armband to him. The thin contours of a proto-smile bent the corners of her lips.

"If ya'll are worried about your clothes, shed shirts. It'll showcase your vests though," Lenz commented. "But our time's almost up. Let's just do this as neatly as we can and get the fuck out of dodge."

"Rightyo, i'll provide cover." Chandler cocked his GP-1, chambering a shell, and stood near the door, leaned against the wall.

"Should I accompany her?" offered Nelew. "My current specialization is close-quarters combat against opponents outside of my weight class. Mister Langford was unable to give me a shooting lesson before we departed, so I remain without any firearms skill to speak of."

"By all means, but please act the part, and go with her lead." Alaster replied as he readied himself. The man checked to make sure everything was in its proper place, everything was working, just in case.

Nelew nodded and opened her duffel on her lap. The rifle and pistol were still stowed in their cases, so she left them in the bag and removed the bludgeon and the knuckledusters. Attaching the bludgeon to her belt, the pale woman tested the dusters and watched electrical sparks dance over the conductive contacts. Then she looked toward Cyrene to see how she was preparing for the role.

Athrylis pondered what she should do, go help or to stay behind. No matter how disgusting it might be, it'd probably would be better for her to go, to, at the very least, get on the good side of others.

"If you wouldn't mind, sir, could I accompany them as well? I believe I would be more useful doing so."

Cyrene kept the RPB in her holster, and was quick to remove her pullover shirt after Lenz suggestion. It seemed a strange thing for her to do, but then again, the male psyche was a terribly straight forward thing. Most Nepleslians, and ID-SOLs at that tended to be obvious about the things they were into, and of them were women.

Though she was basically mostly a machine, a lithe, feminine frame and pleasant covering of SynthFlesh is usually enough for the largely lonely general population on Nepleslia. She sighed, holding up her wrists to about eye level and pivoted them to see if the pneumatic launcher was still functional. Everything checked out, so she glanced back at Athrylis.

"Naturally, it shouldn't be much of a problem. I'm assuming you're capable of handling yourself in this sort of infiltration?" Cyrene said calmly, her voice rather devoid of passion. "Initiate Nelew, ready?"

Lenz re-examined his map, and frowned. "I'll take up a position on that civilian water tower and take my shots carefully as to not hurt you girls but I have no guarantee that you won't walk out of there with brain matter all over you."

He readjusted the gear in his pack to make sure it was flat as it could be when he put it back on again. The less bulk he had from his body, the better. He was aware that he was bulky enough without the bag making his intended climb more cumbersome than it needed to be. "Anyone else sniping might be advised to climb a tree or get themselves onto the top of a building."

Nelew removed her pullover and her vest, leaving her in an grey, ribbed undershirt and a sports bra. She kept the bludgeon on her belt, but the knuckles went back into her bag, which was going to be left at the landing site, not on the chopper. When she was done, Nel looked up at Cyrene.

"Yes," she replied in an equally flat voice.

Chandler continued to watch the ground below speed past in a blur of grey. Hearing the sounds of un-dressing behind him, he suddenly let out a quiet, but audible, exclamation.

"Geez, is this a strike team or a titty bar? Let's get out there and kick some ass already!" Despite this colorful quote, he listened in to Lenz's conversation and went into his explaination.

"Roger that. I'll take position in the building approximately 14 meters southwest of the target building and provide cover from the roof. Once again, no guarantees that none of you ladies will come out un-splattered. You just stay out of my sights, I'll keep mine away from you and shoot when you tell me to. We'll be in and out nice and easy. So don't do anything stupid like get killed while you're in there, okay?"

"Very well then, Adair, Nelew. On me." Cyrene glared at Chandler for a moment, slightly unsure what his comment meant, but shocked that someone with his less than professional character would end up in the IPG. The words "Titty Bar", in particular seemed odd. She was hardly naked, still wearing a bra and the uniform t-shirt over her torso.

"Was that supposed to be funny?" She asked curiously, sliding past the initiate slowly, whispering quietly in a chillingly blank tone of voice. A few memories of prior assignments and exercises came to her mind. "A long time ago... I met a man that was supposed to be funny. But I had to kill him... and all of a sudden, he wasn't funny anymore..."

"...On me..."

It took a moment for Nel to realize that Cyrene wanted her to follow, but she quickly altered her language comprehension to give priority to military terminology definitions over the literal meanings of phrases.

"Affirmative," replied the pale woman as she took up position near Cyrene, staying as close to formation as she could despite the fact that they hadn't landed yet.

Athrylis stripped to her undershirt as well. She also kept her pistol, after all, it wasn't too odd to carry one about.

At Chandler's comment, Athrylis took a 'slightly' more aggressive response than Cyrene. She slid a little in her seat, and closer to Chandler, a blank look in her eyes. Her arm extended, and the blade from within extended quickly, pointing directly at Chandler's neck. "Do not demean these actions for enjoyment. I have done similiar procedures before, and this is not something for 'fun.' This is not what you describe as a 'Titty Bar.' We are enacting the proposal that is best suited for what we are doing. The best chance for us to not be killed.

If you have a better strategy, by all means, let us hear it."

It was a very rare action for her to even get annoyed at something, let alone this annoyed. He'd hit a soft spot, and he wasn't someone she was exactly supposed to kill.

Lenz had watched Cyrene and Nelew strip down without batting an eye but when he noticed Athrylis follow suit, he abruptly focused his attention on the strap of his backpack.

He found he was sudenly haunted by this watching image of his sister. His grip tightened on his backpack before he glared up at Chandler. His jaw tightened as well but he said nothing. Athrylis's voice broke the illusion he was mentally projecting on the woman of his Mei. He inwardly grinned at the assertiveness but, now was not the time for him to be lost in thought.

The co-pilot yelled back at them, "You guys better have your shit together, you got less than 5!"

"Yessir!" Chandler moved a lock of red-tipped hair out of his face and swatted Athrylis' dagger away from his throat with the back of a gloved hand. He looked over at Lenz's tight-jawed grimace, then took the opportunity to respond to the comments of his squadmate, Cyrene.

"Harsh. Anyhow, if you need covering fire, you just get close to a window facing my way and flip me the bird. I'll keep a lookout."

Athrylis retracted the blade and leaned back in the chair. "If you have not a better proposal for what we are to do, then do not complain about what we are doing now."

She sighed, a little out of disgust for having to be so near such a disrespectful human. She still had the strong urge to cause pain to Chandler, but she sat quietly and waited for the 5 or so minutes to pass.

"Yo, Daggers, in case you've been zoned out or something for the last few minutes, I've proposed about five times that we gas the place." Chandler said, edging his comment with the barest hints of annoyance.

"Now I suggest unless you're slitting someone else's throat, you keep those glorified kitchen knives away from my neck- or any other part of me, for that matter."