"Fucking motherfuckers, fucking shit. Isn't this the shit what we have fucking drone starfighters for? Fuck. I always said I'd fucking DIE before doing space missions." Ran bitched and moaned the entire time, as he shut down his suit and climbed out of it, stowing his beret inside of the armor.
"Morrison, get those fucking boxes open immediately!" Fighting the urge to smoke a few cigarettes, less the smell of them on him would give away their position inside, the Chief tossed the box towards Fian. "Don't smoke 'em all. GAMMA, FORM UP."
The Chief then pulled out his datapad, pulled up schematics of a Hray gunship and held it out for Gamma to look at. "We're currently mid deck, in the hanger of the ship. As tactical and stealthy and shit as it sounds, we are not going to be using the hatches to enter the top floor, as I don't feel like getting my head cut off when I peek it out to check around me. Instead, we will exit the hangar and proceed towards the front of the craft, and enter up top using the stairways there. I want pistols and short weapons for the stairs going up first. Upon getting to the top, I want Morrison, Volkov, Weynolt and I to head down the right hallway, as the rest of the squad heads down the left."
"Don't clear your rooms by yourself, take a buddy with you and keep a buddy posted outside. Speed and aggressiveness is the fucking key to winning this, so try not to let the momentum of the group slow down with shit. Any questions?"
Right after, the Chief stopped himself for a minute, holding a hand up to the squad so that they'd ask him after he asked the Master Chief a question. "MC, if you all are gonna have a little picnic in here, mind if I borrow your shooters?"