Snippet #2307427

"It would be nice if I had a team competent enough for the task at hand," Locke said to Anthony, stopping to turn and look at him. "If you're going to be an arrogant prick like that, having some 'two cents' to pay into everything, then you might as well exclude yourself from the mission as well," Locke went on to say. He looked Anthony right in the eyes, not afraid of his physical stature.

"I've seen and I'm sure Aleksey can tell you what happens when idiots get consumed with themselves out on the battlefield; it's not about who did what or why, it's about what you're going to do. I don't need you, Anthony," he said, "going around an enemy outpost saying, 'haha, you can't touch this,' then ending up getting shot in the face. Because guess what? They didn't need tot ouch you, they shot you in the face!" Locke paused for a moment collecting his thoughts as to what the situation was at the moment. "As it is now, I have some infiltrator and an engineer who don't want to use a rifle, one of the most basic and efficient weapons of war, a drunk sniper, and a medic whose not an expert in combat, and I'll be charging into line after line of death with odds I don't like."

Locke was completely aware that his words ant attitude could come off as "disrespectful," "hurtful," "inconsiderate" or something of the sort, but he didn't care. This is how he saw the situation and his soldiers were adults, presumably, and could handle reality.

"Honestly, Anthony, what are you expecting this to be, a walk with your girlfriend down your old neighborhood street? Honestly!" It wasn't a rhetorical question.