Snippet #1488505

Alan looked from longingly between the gamestation and Charlie. He had just gotten up a few hours ago and some mindless video games would liven him up for his current mission, but he remembered Gregory's tone of voice and shivered. There was just something about his tone of voice and the fact that he could crush them all with his powers that slightly intimidated Alan. Thus, he turned to Charlie and raised a hand.

"Raincheck. I don't want Greg coming by because he forgot his cellphone and finding me goofing off when he specifically ordered me to begin my mission. And I am very useful in a firefight for your information. Saved your life when you were pinned down in that one firefight. Just had to go invisible and do a silent kill," he told the mechanic indignantly before turning over to Eliot, "Basically, we're abducting a geneticist that fell out of favor and is now on one of MortixCorp's patrols. Either we convert him.... Or bury him."

He frowned a bit. He still didn't like the thought of killing someone just because they wouldn't join their cause. Most of the people working on the lower levels of MortixCorp were just regular Joes like the rest of them. It was the higher-ups that deserved a knife in the gut or worse. Still, orders were orders and Gregory probably knew what was best anyway. What was that old saying? You're either with us or with the terrorists? Yes. That worked. Only, he supposed they were the terrorists here. Shaking his head, he stood up, taking his bandana and mask from his pocket and placing them both on his face and head.

"Come on, Smokey. The Boss gave us work to do," he told him with a grin, burying his feelings for the mission.

Peter, for his part, nodded in satisfaction at Charlie's work. She truly was a competent mechanic. Shame that she refused to augment himself. At Gene's winks, he blushed slightly. Never once in his life did he think he'd have a soft spot for a hooker, but here he was. It was... illogical. He shook his head and flexed his arm. As flexible as ever. Good. That meant that the new Tech wasn't weighing him down. Better to go without Tech that weighed him down than risk losing his entire arm and a lifetime of work he did on it.

"I'll play," the cyborg volunteered. Why not? His mechanical hand was far more dexterous than organic ones.