Snippet #2729315

The respectful tone was a pleasant surprise, and with each "Sir!" The Officer relaxed a little. He was quite happy to snap a salute in return. The whole concept of taking an elite, multi-million dollar GWPS Commando, and busting him down to a Private of the Corps was trying. To put it kindly, Harding had been a little high string about it.

Mostly because he desperately needed a few thousand engineers, but partly because he half expected the Commando to shoot him on site.

When the Ferro-Soldier mentioned being home, he smiled, a very rare thing indeed. That line alone told him all he needed to know. He was about to say something when Gilbert started to debrief. He listened intently, making mental notes of all keywords. His eyebrow peaked at the mention of an underground lab, and his heart fell a little at the word "Jinhai."

"Shit on a Gods-damned stick," he grunted, his hands balling into fists. He had limited experience with them, and he wasn't a fan. Plus the thought of a Jinhai "Medical Facility" operating underground on Terra was a real pisser. One they'd have to sort out soon. Still, he kept his mouth shut as Gilbert spoke.

He hadn't been told anything about Nightvipers mission, so it was a bit intriguing. When the Cyborg-thing finished he nodded. It was a lot to take in, and the wheels of his mind were already turning, trying to figure out how to beat utilize the new addition. There just wasn't enough time now, too many things to do, in too many places.

"Thanks for the debrief, Private," he gestured to the CT again. "When you get inside look for Sgt. Gladestone. He's medical for Knight, son. He'll take a look at you, set you straight." Harding turned on his heels, and began to stride back into the fray. He turned back for a second, tapping his watch at Golbert. "Mingle quick, I'll be back in thirty, because we'll be guns hot in thirty-one, soldier." With that he left.

---

The Command Tent was a rather shabby thing. A simple, oversized green canvas structure at the end of a dark alley. It was generic military start to finish, and it even still had that new tent smell. It contained a few cheap aluminum benches, a bunch of folding tables, and a good twenty people jockeying around like mad.

The back wall was lined with a floor to ceiling holo-screen, serving as a nervous-center for on-scene Intel, and Command. It covered as many bases as it could. The middle was dedicated to a full 3D layout, and grid of The RIP. Windowed sections on either side displayed hypothetical assault progression, live feed from all four Overwatch Snipers, and complete vitals of every soldier deployed.

To help process, and sort this each side-wall of the tent was lined with folding tables, an analyst assigned to each. They worked feverousishly in their dataslates, ignoring the world around them.

Somewhere in the fray each member of Knight was busy doing whatever they felt most useful. Chances are though, if Gilbert entered, every head would turn.