“This task is of great importance. You know that- that’s why you are all standing here.”

Commander Sarada stood firm in the corridors of the meeting room, his eyes narrowed and arms firmly placed behind his back as he began to observe the motley group of individuals before him. A heavy sigh left him as his eyes moved off every one of the people before him: some were barely members of the ISF, barely qualified to be patrolmen and here they were seeking out a death wish for their own sense of revenge? This is all he got? There were barely two people he considered had been long enough to sneeze at. But then again, this wasn’t a desirable job so it seems they would have to deal with what they got.

Sarada cracked his neck as he spoke again.

“You twelve are the only people dumb enough to want to do this job, and while I’m not supposed to care this is still my operation and even if I am in direct control of your actions there will be consequences here to what you do out there. Remember that.”

The goal of this “off the books” operation was to declare a silent war against the Planet Trade Organization, the biggest galactic monopoly and criminal racket this side of Lord Slug’s Arpeggio Loyalists. How was it even possible that the ISF was stuck inbetween two ridiculously powered galactic warlords: warlords that had the power to utterly dominate planets and entire solar systems? No matter how skilled ISF specialists were they had nobody that could quite put up with such threats. Then again this perhaps was one reason why Mozukai had issued this silent war-- they couldn’t face down the consequences of “Lord” Frieza if he didn’t know they were against him. Sarada didn’t like it, but it was one of the few options they had; because if they didn’t stop Frieza nobody would.

“In a moment I will be dividing you into two squads: alpha and omega.”

Moving his hands away from his back he motioned to two rooms marked as lavatories.

“For those of you wearing ISF uniforms and equipment such as blasters, scouters, and identification badges: I need you to remove them from your person and put them in designated bins in these rooms behind you. After you do that you will notice a variety of plainclothes and attire more fitting to smugglers and bounty hunters including blaster pistols and short-range communicators.”

“When you’ve done that, I can answer any questions you have before we can get you on your starcraft and we prepare your launch to your designated planet-- and from thereon you are on your own. Understood? Good.”

As the group of operatives moved into the rooms Sarada looked to his left; through one of the viewing panels that showed the stars below and the current nearby planet: Ikonda. The homeworld of several scientists of the ISF, and one of the core worlds of the Yardratian Rim and a place he had… memories of. It only seemed fitting that such an important mission would be launched from the location. Heh.

“I am ready, sir.”

That was quick. Shelving the thought, Sarada turned to look to the voice as he noticed the Zunian… Tsubaki was the name as far as he remembered from the looking over of the operations dossiers. Apparently she was from Yellow Department, which was one of the reasons why he was surprised to see her assigned to this dangerous operation. Was being a clerk so boring you would take a suicide mission? or was it because of the PTO’s role in the sale of her homeworld? Hm.

“Good. I don’t imagine you have questions, do you?”

“You… don’t want to wait for the others? Sir?”

He chuckled, “Looks like bunch of ‘em are coming out now.”

Taroga stood in front of the Commander with his arms crossed. He listened to him speak, but barely took any of it in. He didn't care that this was basically a suicide mission. Saiyans were basically the masters of those. They tended to take the most dangerous missions just so that they could get stronger. This was partly his intention, but he was mainly trying to do the most that he could to take down Frieza. He wanted to yell in rage every time that he thought of the tyrant. Fortunately he had some self restraint. When it was time to get ready he left with the others to get the other equipment. He didn't wear his ISF Uniform and instead wore his gi-like outfit. He didn't need his scouter so he put it and his identification badge in the designated bins. He figured that a smuggler or bounty hunter could wear the same outfit as him.

He finally tucked in his tail and picked up one of the small range communicators before heading out of the room and back to Commander. He seemed to be the second one to leave after Tsubaki. He didn't have any questions that wouldn't be answered later and hoped that no one else would. He did wonder which squad he'd be on and what jobs each squad would be doing, but he still didn't need to ask that.

When he finally approached them he lightly stretched his arms out and said, "I'm ready." The expression on his face was void of any emotion, but inside he was tingling with excitement. This was it. He may not be going to fight Frieza at this moment, but this was a step in that direction and that was all that mattered. After so many years of waiting and training he was finally here.

Paple had been one of the first to sign up for operation Leviathan. What better way to prove yourself than on a top secret, off the books operation that was being dubbed a suicide mission before the team had even been formed? He'd figured he'd be the youngest operative there, but what he did not expect was that the team would include Saiyans. That was something you'd probably mention to the Tuffle before you were about to leave base, wasn't it? Paple couldn't help but wonder whether or not those in question were as acutely aware of Paple's ancestry as he was of their's. The tail was usually a dead giveaway, after all.

Paple'd spent his time alone in the lavatories after the commander's speech doing a bit of analytic thinking. Twelve operatives divided into two squads meant six people per squad, and Paple had a lingering suspicion he'd have the unfortunate luck to be paired with at least one Saiyan. Maybe it'd be best not to put his being a Tuffle out in the open. Ignorance was bliss, right? Paple sighed to himself as he removed his standard ISF gear and placed it into his individually marked container. He'd just gotten that uniform, badge, and blaster too.

The Tuffle emerged from the bathroom garbed in a simple black T-shirt and gray sweatpants, with a pair of red sneakers covering his feet. He fiddled with the strings on the front of his pants to make sure they were tight enough for his diminutive frame before trying them in a knot and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He could only guess he was one of the first to emerge from the changing rooms, since all he saw was Commander Sarada himself with a pair of his new-found teammates surrounding him, one of which, of course, was a Saiyan. Paple simply took a place next to the group with a simple nod, trying not to notice just how huge the Saiyan in front of him was.

Cress listened to the commander as he spoke, he noticed that there was another Saiyan there and smiled. At least I'm not the only one he thought to himself as he continued to listen to the commander. He spoke of this being suicide, which Cress cared little about since Saiyans were accustomed to danger, no matter how high. When the commander mentioned two groups, Cress could only think about wanting to be in alpha since he always felt like an alpha; Saiyan arrogance as usual.

After the speech was done, Cress walked into a lavatory and took his ISF suit, blaster, and badge off. Cress dumped his ISF gear into the designated bins, along with his scouter. He also put his Saiyan armor in there since it would raise red flags to anyone who saw him. There was a selection of clothing, from which he grabbed a white shirt, blue pants, and black-and-red tennis shoes. Once that Cress has gotten his disguise on, he tucked his tail in, which was uncomfortable but necessary.

He noticed that the shirt was a tight fit but since it showed off his physique, he chose to not get a better fit. He walked out and stood in front of the commander, next to the three people that were there. There was that Saiyan again, which made Cress smirk, looking as arrogant as ever. All he could think about was how much of a beating they'd get to deliver to their enemies. He looked back to the commander, waiting for the others so they could get going.

Zeshin threw his armor in the crate, then grabbed a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a button-up shirt. His blaster was a common enough civilian model that he didn't think there would be an issue with him using it. He also grabbed a tablet computer and some of his insect bots, making sure to set them so that anyone who saw them would think they were for hacking and engineering, not spying. If they were caught he could claim to be a technician or black-hat hacker depending on whether the person would like him better as an honest worker or a criminal.

After that he walked out into the main room. He wasn't sure what race one of them were, but two of them were Saiyans. He understood that having a them around would open certain doors for them, especially in WTO territory, he wasn't sure he wanted them around, if for no other reason that many of the people on the team, including him, would have a hard time trusting them. Such division and lack of trust could ruin the team's chances. In fact, the fact that they hadn't met before today made him unsure if the ISF knew what they were doing. Surely they had run an undercover mission or two before. They did know that you need to be able to trust your teammates, right?

Violin had taken his time with changing his clothes, making sure his cloaked and hidden face was properly concealed, his weighted training gear was settled onto his body comfortably and most importantly that his medical equipment was all perfectly arranged and stored away in a portable kit. The cloak would have to do for the Namekian combat medic, rather than his usual visor-and-helmet arrangement, at least when it came to hiding the uncanny resemblance he bore towards his violent lunatic of a 'father', Lord Slug. In fact his desire to distance himself from that fact likely meant that only a few senior-most members of the ISF and those initially in charge of handling his case had ever seen Violin's uncovered face. Though his skill as a doctor and a healer meant that many of the ISF's members would potentially be familiar with his presence, and he may have even saved a life or two among the gathered squadrons whether on an operating table or in the field.

Regardless, his shared past with one interplanetary dictator and his desire to preserve lives were what had brought him here today, to this unusual undercover assignment. The likes of the PTO and the tyrannical Arcosians they partnered with had to be stopped, and if he could keep just a few more good cops alive in the process by going along with them then that was what he would do. It was as simple as that. Besides, he knew the sort of crowds they would likely be running into, had commanded similar thugs and terroristic soldiers in the past. He didn't exactly love the idea of going back to that life, but he could probably manage it better than some of his future-squadmates.

So the Namekian joined the others and the Commander, waiting. Things would begin soon enough, and before they did Violin wanted to savor this short moment of peace.

In a moment of solitude, Justiczh'ara was training. A red piece of cloth was tied in front of his eyes as he swung his broadsword around, practicing his form. While unable to sense ki, he still had a natural grasp over his surroundings. Every movement he made let out soundwaves that echoed in the room, letting him know if he was about to tear a bookshelf in half, or redesign the walls with a swift cut.

Standing on his hand, swiping the sword in front of him, as if to take a invisible foe's legs off, he would leap from his hand into a somersault, landing on his boot-clad feet, putting his sword in it's place in the empty sheath on his back. In front of him, he had his crystal ball, picking it up with one hand, and removing the blindfold with another, putting the piece of cloth into his pocket. His Iris vanished and his pupil turned white as he summoned the images in the ball. The Commander was ready to announce the mission, he had better get to the meeting place.

Folding a fine cloth around the ball, he put it in his backpack that he slung over his left shoulder. Moving to the area, he hard the Commanders speech. Justin did agree on all points their commanding officer brought up, despite most of them being rather moot, everyone were here for one reason. They wanted to shut down the Planet Trade Organization. Well, that is, except for the Saiyans, they were Freeza's best earners, and now they wanted to stab the emperor in the back? They were bloodthirsty savages with no sense of right or wrong, they were more beast than men.
They couldn't be trusted.

They were told to deposit their ISF-items in favor for more incognito clothing, pulling his hood over his head, he walked over and dug under his tunic, getting his badge out and ripping the chain open at his neck, dropping it in. He probably should have removed the 'crown' he wore as well, but it was traditional warrior ornament on Konatsia. He wasn't going to give it away.

"I'm ready."