---

"Thank you Ava, I will not be needing it." Atticus got up out of his bed and checked his assignment on his left arm control pad, Not that he didn't trust the A.I. Just simply to get used to it when she wasn't around. Sure enough he was to head to the Training room, just another robot training. 'Hand-to-Hand, Lockdown Paint, Then lifting and the daily run. Light morning.' He thought to himself as he read.

Szabo cleared his daily activities around 730 hours and decided to take a look at the leaderboards. He passed this morning's activities with perfect scores. Hand-to-hand was 278 hits delivered - 0 taken, Lockdown paint was 31 enemy eliminations - 0 Spartan eliminations. His results today didn't move his rank. Still #14. Which was still good because there were over 300 spartans in the same facility.

It was nearing 800 hours so Szabo headed out to the mess hall. Speaking of the 300 Spartans in the Facility, they all seemed to be here. Atticus stopped for a second by one of the spartans he had worked with before, "What is this?" "They are combining us into squads." she replied. "They said we all have a squad mission right after this, We all are going to be flown to one of the surrounding islands, giving us the orders of what to do once we get there." Szabo nodded and continued to the seat that had the numbers 179 on the back and on the table just in front of the seat. He stood behind it, looking around. None of the other Spartans had their power armor on. Which was good, because neither did he. Atticus wondered if they were going to need their armor for their Mission. His thoughts were cut off by the loud speakers turning on and telling all Spartans to be seated and that they were about to start.

The announcer started listing about 6 spartans in each squad, each by serial number. After each spartans number was called they stood up and walked to the front, They were directed to spots on the stage that had labels. Captain, Pathfinder, Special weapons, Tactical, Ranger, Stalker, Vehicle Specialist, and Brute. Most squads had a couple spartans that could fill more than one spot, maybe not as well, but Could. After about 2 and a half hours of waiting and watching teams be assembled he finally heard it. "Spartan 179." He stood up shaking the sleep from his legs he paced quickly to the stage "Step here please." Said the man directing them to their positions. 'Captain. I can do it."

---

Cynthia rose from her bed with a loud yawn. "Morning, Ava..." Training room, hand-to-hand, lockdown paint, the usual. Cynthia was not looking forward to the lockdown paint. After her morning routine, Cynthia started making her way to the mess hall. She didn't bother looking at the leaderboard, in her opinion it really didn't mean much, compared to others who saw the leaderboard as some sorta hierarchy. When she made it to the mess hall, it was like everyone in the facility was here.

She sat down by her serial number and asked one of the others what was going on. Apparently, everyone was getting split into a squadron, in the back of her head she was really hoping for a team who didn't see her as a muscle bound idiot. When she heard her serial number be called, she stepped up to take her position. "Brute... Figured as much..."

[quote=@Darkmoon Angel]

---

Matthew rose from his bed as the A.I was talking.

"Thanks Ava". He looked at his daily assignments unimpressed. Training room. Hand-to-Hand. Lockdown paint. Lifting and the daily run, of course. Nothing really out of the ordinary.

Upon completing his training, Matthew went to the mess hall, as ordered. Beefore reaching his destination, he took a look at the leaderboards. His rank wasn't particularly high but was constantly rising and was above average. Hard work was paying off but Matthew was still feeling a little underpowered compared to the tallest Spartans.

The mess hall was filled with other Spartans. Shortly after gathering, the announcer explained that they would be sorted into squads according to their abilities. Matthew would ask for the "Special weapons" role of the team, as he excelled in heavy weapons and explosives, a somewhat uncommon specialization for the group of 300 Spartans who were being trained in that installation. Surely enough when he was called, he proclaimed that he would fill the role of special weapons.

---

"Good morning to you too Ava..." Daniel rolled the covers to his side as he sat up on the side of his rack to take a look at his schedule for the day. "Hand-to-hand, Lockdown Paint, lifting, and finally running. Sounds like a typical morning. Time to go to work."

All activities were scored under a point system that ranked each Spartan against eachother. Daniel's scores didn't put him vary high on the score board compared to his other brothers and sisters. Hand-to-hand combat was completed with 0 hits delivered and 0 hits taken. Lockdown paint was completed with only assists. It was as if he barely even tried to score points. The only place he seemed to win at was during running events. It was as if he would dissapear. While everyone was breathless after crossing the finish line, he was sitting to the side taking a nap as if he never ran. "What took you guys so long?" he grinned at his fellow Spartans as they jogged back to their rooms to shower up before 0800 came around.

Entering the mess hall just before 0800, Daniel could see that most Spartans were in their seats waiting for an assignment. Strolling over to the seat marked 259, he sat down in a relaxed manner. He looked over at the person sitting next to him to inquire about what was happening and was informed about the fact that they were splitting up into squads. Hours later, Daniel was called over to take his place. "Spartan 259, you're filling both the Ranger and Pathfinder role for this squad."

"Seriously? Both roles? I figured you would make me just a Ranger, but I guess you guys up in Ops recognized my talent as a Pathfinder as well. But is the budget so bad that you can't make more Spartans? Man, what is up with funding these days? Oh hey guys, nice to meet you. You can call me Daniel, or Dan, or "Legs", or the man. Whatever you prefer really." As the man ignored him and left, he introduced himself to his new squad mates.

---

"Goooood morning, Ava," Atari chirps as the AI greets her. She had been up since before the alarm, but had been enjoying the peace and quiet of not being surrounded by her fellow Spartans for a precious few moments. With quiet efficiency she smooths out the sheet on her firm mattress and slips into her training gear. A glance at her assignment control pad shows her morning training schedule. Target practice, lockdown paint, hand-to-hand combat, strength training, and a run. Atari nods, tapping the screen to turn it off while heading to her first exercise.

The room was mostly empty when she started target practice, but by the time she had emptied her third round the sound of a dozen or so other guns firing echoed, accompanied by the clicks of magazines sliding into place and the mechanical hums of the targets gliding across the floor. Atari finishes quickly and moves to the side of the room to clean her rifle.

"Have you heard about the meeting in the mess hall? Someone said they're putting us into squads today" "I know! I wonder how much the ranks are going to matter when it comes to positions?"

Atari rolls her eyes at the idle chatter of the other Spartans and continues her work. What did the rankings matter to anyone anyway? She had long ago quit looking at them, knowing that her rank would only annoy her further. She already knew she was one of the better snipers in the group of nearly 300 Spartans, and her natural competitiveness meant that she needed no further incentive to do her best than her own drive. With her rifle clean and put away she heads off to finish her morning training.

Lockdown paint had never been her strong point, long range was much more her style, but she completed the exercise without getting hit, which was a win in her book. Hand-to-hand was also not her thing, and her performance in the training likely was bringing down her overall ranking, but with her particular skill-set she knew that she wouldn't be underestimated. It was hard being on the small side as far as Spartan soldiers go, but she had honed in her sniping skills, and excelled in that area to the point where her other training exercises seemed rather unnecessary.

The gym was busy with other Spartans who were rushing to complete their morning training exercises, but Atari took it all in stride, finishing both her strength training and her run with plenty of time for a shower before heading to the mess hall. The walk was quiet, she slipped through the other Spartans and sat down in her chair. There was an excited buzz in the air that was silenced as the superiors explained about the teams and began designating Spartans for the different positions. Her eyes scanned the groups and she stood quickly when her serial number was called.

Already lined up were 179 as Captain, she knew from her past looks at the rankings that he was towards the top. 497 as Brute, she was a giant of a girl, and was tall even for a Spartan. 561 as the Weapons Specialist, he was a wildcard to her. And 259 had taken both Ranger and Pathfinder positions. Overkill much?

"907, Stalker.” Atari jogged to the front of the room and lined up next to her new squad. She glanced to the side and narrowed her eyes. This is going to be interesting...

---

Solton uncurled from a set of hanging sit-ups. "Ava don't patronize me, I am not a child in need of a wake up call" he said with a low developing voice.

Scythe Solton was 6'5" 189.5 pounds of pure muscle, hanging from the coolant pipe above his bed in nothing but compression shorts. He quickly flipped down landing softly,almost cat like, on the ground next to his bed. "Besides, what makes today any different from any other day," He said stretching and revealing every line of muscle with precision. "I'll just be surrounded by those who rank beneath me. Useless and unneeded garbage" He said finishing his stretch with a deep exhale.

He looked over the usual training schedule as he threw on his PT shirt and Shorts. He headed out and commenced with Hand to Hand and Lockdown paint. He finished Hand to Hand with 230 hits delivered - 0 taken. He only hit kill zone points as a personal goal.

Lockdown Paint was a bit different although he is a stalker. 30 enemies eliminated with stealth - 1 Spartan eliminated read across the leaderboard. Solton hated working in teams because some idiot always screwed up. 'They are not my responsibility' he would think to himself. Although, the frustration would always read across his face when he saw the individual. Rank #15 is where he landed because of this slip up. Lifting and Running were to easy to pay attention to so he left the leaderboard and entered the mess hall at 0759hrs.

Solton moved invisibly to his seat number 333. Along the way collecting intel on the assembly's purpose. He sat and surprised most who sat next to him. They didn't even notice his approach. This always made him feel a little better after a fail. Now he waited for the loud speakers to belt his serial number.'A squad, can I do this?' he thought as his mind wandered back to "1 Spartan eliminated."

The announcer called out "Serial Number 333!" Solton stood and approached the stage. He was directed to exactly the place he expected, Stalker. He looked over to examine the captain's position. It was Atticus Szabo Rank #14. Rage ached at the back of his head. '1 Spartan Eliminated' The words almost seemed tangible enough to rip from his own skull. "I will not be bested.." he mumbled lightly.

---

"Your morning well-wishes have been acknowledged and reciprocated. Thank you, Ava," Ethan responded to the AI concisely, as usual. Ethan rose from the bed, taking a five-second break that he had actually recorded on his schedule; the same schedule that was planned to account for nearly every second of the day he spent conscious. Ethan briefly glanced at the next task on his schedule, though he already had it memorized.

After Ethan spent a small duration of time dedicated to making his bed, he walked to the next designated location on the schedule in order to do his morning exercises. Ethan's daily exercises composed of a collection of different, yet standard exercises, at least by spartan standards. By the end of the various exercises, Ethan was breathing heavier than before, but his composure did not change from prior to the physical exertion.

As was Ethan's expectations and intentions, today, his position on the leader board had been displayed in the low-thirties. He had calculated that, at his current increase in strength and other various physical values, he would get to the twenty fifth position in exactly one year, seven months, two weeks, and three days. This was satisfactory and met Ethan's standards, thus, he moved on towards the next destination he was instructed to attend: the mess hall.

Ethan proceeded to enter the mess hall. Without even acknowledging that he was aware of the other Spartans' presence, took a look at the order of the chairs in order to find the destination of his own chair. After creating and navigating a path through the crowd of Spartans to get to his own seat, Ethan sat down.

Ethan allowed his thoughts to wander into various possible problems he could end up facing in future missions, and how he could solve them. However, once the loud speakers turned on, Ethan gave his full attention to any and all further announcements. It took a couple of hours of Ethan sitting stationary, but he walked at a decent pace to his position when his name was called, "Spartan #643."

Ethan made it to the stage fairly quickly, and stood near the man who was sorting the teams. When he made it, he was told his position on the team, "You will be filling the role of tactical."

"Yes, sir," Ethan stood at the indicated spot that had been marked for the tactical Spartan. Ethan was satisfied with being the tactical member, and even anticipated his placement as one.

Szabo took note of every spartan that was assigned to him. The first to do so was a very tall female spartan, number 497, He set her number into his data pad on his forearm. He set her tag to 'CYN'. He gave her a nod as she stepped up and into the 'Brute' position. Next was spartan 561. Atticus watched him and after he stepped into line at Special Weapons. Tagging him with 'EOS' for Explosive ordnance specialist. Third was Legs, Szabo knew of him, He was the kid that beat him in the placing race back when they were 13. Legs was put in the ranger/pathfinder position. A good fit in Szabo's eyes. Tagged him as 'LEGS', glanced over to him, then to the next spartan. Who was quite small to Atticus' surprise. Atari Finch, marksman. Positioned as stalker. She was kind of a mystery to Szabo, Tagged her as 'FNCH' for now. Spartan 333 stepped up to stalker as well. Szabo knew this one too well, He followed the spartan with his gaze. All the way until 333 stepped behind him, Atticus didnt look over his shoulder, implying his leadership and dominance so that he got the message across not to step out of line. Tagged him with 'SOL' Which was quite ironic since he was nearly a ghost most of the time, yet still his last name so it fit. Finally the Tactician came up, spartan 643, He was older, You could tell by his face. An easy tag for atticus, 'TAC'.

When the whole squad was up there they were dismissed to a debrief room. Atticus lead the team out of the mess hall and down the hall, around the corner, to their assigned debrief room. Once inside Szabo turned to the rest of the squad who had made themselves comfortable in the front few seats and even sitting on the tables or leaning on a wall. Szabo stood in the middle of them all which mad a little more than a semi-circle around him. He rotated as he talked, "Listen up. I know you are all used to being freelancers, However there is a time and a place for everything, any 'lone-wolf' behaviours will not be tolerated. Clear? We were assigned one another for a reason. We will work as one, one mind, many bodies. All information needs to be shared as soon as it is acquired, Understood?" Szabo paused and waited for everyone's responses

Ethan had followed his new leader to the debrief room, keeping the same pace as his new captain. When the team had entered the room, Ethan simply moved a chair to face Atticus and sat down. Ethan listened to his speech thoroughly, mentally taking notes of everything in case it may be needed in a future situation. After ensuring that he had an absolute understanding of everything spoken, and even memorized, Ethan spoke up, "Your order has been comprehended, acknowledged, and noted for future reference," Ethan spoke out monotonously.

Ethan took a moment to observe the rest of the team, and he was satisfied with the potential plans and strategies that could be carried out should they need them. Ethan had already decided to mentally consider scenarios in which the team may face, and how to counter any threats while he was listening to them. There is no logic, he had already discovered long ago, in remaining mentally idle when there are opportunities to test his mental capabilities.

Ethan also awaited for any further speech from his new teammates, deciding to memorize what they say for further any information that could be utilized.

Matthew was relieved to hear that his "freelancing" days were behind him and that he would finally be a part of a squad. He wondered what challenges they would face ahead now that they were a proper Spartan unit. During training, Spartans would learn how important and valuable they are for UNSC and the future of humanity. He felt that his abilities would finally be put into actual use, hopefully away from the increasingly bland military base he had spent his training days in.

Matthew was the next to speak after Ethan. "Understood, Sir".

A. Finch

Atari acknowledged the commands from Atticus with a curt nod before continuing to examine the other Spartans who had spoken before her. Even sitting down Spartan 643, Ethan, stood out. His speech was monotonous and his pale skin seemed to almost reflect the light of the debriefing room. He had been assigned the role of Tactician, and it was easy to tell why. Atari had always seen the tactical parts of battle as drab, but 643's methodical response to the Captain indicated to her that he might actually enjoy the meticulous and more carefully calculated parts of life. In essence, Tactician seemed right up his alley.

The Weapons Specialist was Spartan 561, he had seemed incredibly eager to get his position when the squad had been put together. He didn’t look like much; his cropped hair and muscular build was generic for a Spartan. Forgettable, almost. Atari ‘s eyes flitted over him without a second glance.

That brought her critical gaze back to the front of the room. Atticus, Spartan 179, had spoken first. He had been called to the front of the mess before the rest of the squad His skills and rank had earned him the position of Captain, but that meant little to Atari. Her focus was on completing the missions they would be assigned, and while the captain had been clear in his statement about not tolerating lone-wolves, the notion of working with others wasn’t something she would adapt to with much ease. Her skills would allow her to protect her squad from afar, but that also mean that she wouldn’t be required to work with them up close on many occasions.

Atari crossed her arms over her chest and relaxed back against the wall, her eyes stared at the ceiling, an almost rude or disrespectful behavior, but also one of boredom. She was anxious to get out and prove her skills as a sniper, even if she had to work with other people to do it. Her short height made the small Spartan much less intimidating, but also worked to her advantage in that the shock factor was much greater when people realized that she could handle herself. Her petite frame was capable of packing quite a punch, and from the day her instructor had put a sniper rifle in her eager hands she had missed only a handful of shots. Her role as a Sniper had been cemented since that day, and the thought of using her skills was thrilling.

A calming breath escaped her lips as she opened her eyes once more, waiting for further instruction from the squad’s captain.

Once the squads had been formed everyone was dismissed. Cynthia followed after her new squadron into a room to listen to the leader of the squad, Atticus. She listened to his speech and took everything to heart, no more freelancing, no more lone-wolf antics, everyone here was part of a team now. "Loud and clear, Captain." Cynthia assured the captain that she understood completely, though it was hard to tell that the others knew, what with a few of them preferring to let actions speak louder. There was one thing that Cynthia wanted to get across. "Pardon any interruptions, but I kinda prefer a better term than "Brute" more my role in this squad. I may fit the role perfectly, but I'm kinda uncomfortable being referred to as a Brute... Only brute I know of is a savage alien gorilla thing." It was unknown whether anyone would comply with her request, but Cynthia honestly found it weird that her role in the team had the same name as that of one of the Covenant species.

Once the squads were combined, they were dismissed to their assigned debrief room. Solton followed suit as the squad trailed behind "Captain" Szabo.

Trying to keep his evil glares from the back of his head he looked over the other stalker in the squad. She was small, almost crushable looking, but he knew something more was hidden behind the frail look. He had been studying possible stalkers on the leaderboard for sometime. Her target practice training score was almost flawless.

The squad began to pour into the debriefing room after Captain szabo. Solton grabbed the center chair, turned it around a straddled it in one move. He mad sure he sat square within the "Captain's" line of sight so as not to seem defeated by the display of dominance earlier on the stage. As the "Captain" began his speach, Solton focused intently. Searching for a single slip in his demeanor.

"...any 'lone-wolf' behaviours will not be tolerated. Clear?..." When Solton heard this he knew this had to be a dig at the stalkers. Most likely him specifically, considering he made it obvious his distaste from the start. Solton sucked his teeth, "...We will work as one, one mind, many bodies..." Solton had to admit, there had been no quiver in his speech. It made him nod his head unconsciously. 'Did i just agree with that bastard' Soltons brow furrowed as the Captain requested acknowledgement.

Ethan, the overly analytical tactician spoke first. Solton had no qualms with a strong mind. It's what makes his job easy. He just couldn't understand how he could physically make a difference.

Matthew the special weapons kid was next. Solton had thought to test drive this skill set, but from a different view. If he ever gets a chance, he will have to talk to him for an arsenal of hand crafted weapons. Otherwise he's dead weight to solton because of all the noice he'd make.

Just then Atari acknowledged the speech. She was looking at the two before her and the captain as if analyzing just as he was her. He could see she was ready to move forward. He noticed how she leaned against the wall, anxiety and boredom building behind her folded arms.

With out breaking his study of Atari, Solton spoke " I hear you, just don't lead us to our deaths." He tore his gaze away and looked at Szabo directly. "I follow real leaders, who have sense enough to utilize what tools he has to solve any issue at hand. Are you capable? " Solton's voice lowered to a deep but respectful rumble as his eyebrow lifted. He really wanted Szabo to lose his temper. No Captain could ever accept the title if his emotions were not under control.

Looking around the room at the group of people he already mentally nicknamed, he could sense an intense group dynamic. 'Stiff' never seemed to utter anything other then calculated boredom and spoke as if he was a corpse. 'Ordie' said and did very little to warrant a nickname yet so he just used a clue from tag to determine that he was an explosives expert. 'Shorty' was a head shorter than the other Spartans but was barely at Daniels chest, thus easily earning her title. Given her name he also thought of calling her 'little bird', he could always use them interchangeably . He could sense an attitude as intense as her gaze at the wall, and no doubt her shooting skills as well. 'Flex' seemed to be concerned about her designation as a Brute so he did her a favor by nick naming her something less brutish. Although he wouldn't say it out loud just yet, it seemed like she could crush his head by simply flexing.

"I follow real leaders, who have sense enough to utilize what tools he has to solve any issue at hand. Are you capable?"

Up until this point, Daniel was barely paying attention to the Captain. He would do his job just as he was supposed to without the need for some overly exaggerated speech. Mentally yawning at everything until this interesting line caught his attention. 'Ohhh, someone who doesn't deal well with the status quo!' he was thinking to himself. 'Might as well have some fun with this.'

Approaching the sitting Solton from behind he chuckled and placed his hands on both of his shoulders. The perfect nickname dawned on him. "Don't worry little 'Wolfy', if you need me to protect you from the big, scary Covenant, just let me know. I got your back buddy. In fact, with me here, you'll never have to see one of those nasty, brutish Grunts to even bother getting scared." Chuckling even more at the concept of Grunts possessing any semblance of terror for a Spartan, he looked over at Captain Szabo and gave him a thumbs up. "Don't worry 'Cap', I'll guide is the right direction!" A wide grin filled up his face showing little concern for the impending team conflicts.

Szabo read everyone's faces as he was talking, He gave a curt nod to the first few who answered respectfully then turned his attention to legs and Solton. He knew he was going to have problems with legs, He cared too little about the Hierarchy that needed to be followed for everything to move smoothly. Then there was Solton, Most definitely fired up about being outranked on the leaderboards.

Atticus turned to the two of them, "Legs, Can it. Ive seen your scores, Dont be so cocky. As for you 333, I cant seem to understand why you are questioning if Im the best at what I do? I mean I see your name under mine on the leaderboards, Isnt that so?" He replied with unmeasurable bitterness to counteract his extreme defiance and skepticism. "Now that we have gotten these issues out of the way I have uploaded all your tags to your HUDs. As for you Cyn, dont worry about the 'brute' title, None of us will be calling you that, Where did you get so sensitive anyway? Thought they woulda worked it out of you by now. Guess I have work to do~" He said as he sighed and turned away from the group looking at his data pad on his forearm. Movement caught his eye as the door opened and someone walked in.

"Officer on Deck!" He said as he slid his legs together, locked his back up straight, and formed a crisp Salute.

During any arguments, Ethan mentally kept track of everything said in order to identify the main issues that needed to be solved. Ethan was rapidly creating scenarios where these may get in the way. When Ethan had finished the majority of probably results and occurrences, he concluded that the probability of failure due to conflicts were too high; the percentage value was 28%. Ethan mentally thought, "Further observations of my teammates' conscious decisions and personalities will be necessary if the team as a whole is to become effective."

Atticus' announcement of team tags was noted. He would have to look into that later, in order to be able to respond efficiently when the tags are in use.

When the captain alerted them about the officer, Ethan barely had to do anything. He was already standing in the posture that Atticus was using, so all Ethan had to do was bring his arm up for a salute.

Awaiting Szabo's meltdown after solton's avid skepticism, he heard someone approach him from behind. Solton tensed as two hands landed squarely on his shoulders. He did not take lightly to being touched. Two things had to happen. The first, Solton bit down on the inside of his lip to calm himself. The second, say nothing.

A voice began to speak "Don't worry little 'Wolfy', if you need me to protect you from the big, scary Covenant, just let me know. I got your back buddy. In fact, with me here, you'll never have to see one of those nasty, brutish Grunts to even bother getting scared." It was legs! THE AUDACITY!!! Solton bit down on the inside of his lip when he heard 'wolfy' and again when he heard 'protect you' and again when he heard 'brutish grunts'. Soltons mouth was full of blood but he would not show it. He just began to swallow it slowly.

The captain spoke up next, "Legs, Can it. I've seen your scores, Don't be so cocky. As for you 333, I cant seem to understand why you are questioning if Im the best at what I do? I mean I see your name under mine on the leaderboards, Isnt that so?" Solton was infuriated! Szabo was right, which is why it hit so hard.

Solton bit down on his tongue with a vengeance. These words were something he could not act on. His bloodlust is too hard to control. He simply swatted at the hands of Legs, shot him a death glare, caught himself and moved away from the group as the captain finished speaking. Solton leaned against the wall and made no eye contact. His anger would be alarmingly visible otherwise. Its the only time his name makes sense. His eyes were a bright amber color and they intensified naturally when he was angry. Not enough to glow, but enough to make a person wonder.

Just then he heard the captain shout, "Officer on Deck!" Solton's anger literally fell off his face. He turned and snapped to attention and saluted the unknown entity. 'Crisis averted' He thought to himself, still swallowing the mouth full of blood. Solton clearly had his work cut out for him.

A. Finch

The scene which played out between Legs, Solton, and Szabo was almost laughable, but Atari held her tongue, knowing that any peep she made would likely be held against her. Still, she smirked as the captain ripped into both boys, which shut them up entirely. Solton had stayed quiet both when Leg took a dig at him, and when Szabo reprimanded him, and she wasn't sure she could keep her composure if similar words came her way.

She drew her eyes across the room while Szabo went from taking care of the outburst to addressing the brute; studying everyone while she tapped her fingertips against her arm. It was already apparent that this team was going to have serious issues if they couldn't get their act together. Sure in the field they would likely be able to take care of business without too much problem, but back on base would be another story. Between Solton's salty attitude, Cynthia's overly emotional wussiness, Leg's cocky outbursts, and her overwhelming desire to stay as far away as possible from the rest of the squad, there wasn't a doubt in her mind this was a disaster just waiting to happen.

When Solton got up from his chair in the center of the room and moved to the wall she smirked. His eyes were blazing and she guessed that behind his mask silence he was absolutely furious. It was impressive to her that he could maintain his composure, as the same could rarely be said about herself, which was one of the reasons she hated working with other people. She tried to catch his gaze from across the room but was interrupted when she heard Szabo call out, "Officer on deck!"

Though she was nearly small enough to be ignored entirely when the officer walked into the room, she turned and stood at attention. Her gray eyes were locked on the door, and she stood in tall -or rather as tall as someone her height could- awaiting instructions from the superior entity entering the debriefing room.

Staring into his own eyes had always helped him calm himself after awaking from the nightmares. Yet another day, yet another batch of men and women that would be thrown into the meat grinder. As he peered down at the insignia on his jacket he wondered why he had earned it while so many had died along the way. After another moment of quiet reflection, he donned his dress jacket and washed the sleep from his face. Before leaving his quarters, he strapped on his belt and drop-leg holster in which he slid his M6A pistol. He stood facing the mirror to straighten up his uniform one last time before walking out into the corridor.

"Officer on deck!"

As he stepped across the threshold and entered the briefing room he gave short glances at each one of the men and women in front of him. They were children, not a surprise considering their status as Spartans. They had yet to know the fear and desperation of fighting the Covenant and he could only do his best to give them the best chance of survival he could. As he reached the front of the room, he tapped the screen on the podium and brought a map up on screen.
"At ease. Take your seats and we will begin the briefing." without pausing he continued, "I am Rear Admiral Marshall of the United Nations Space Command Navy. Although I am in command of this division I will leave on the ground and deployment decisions to your Captain. Disobeying a direct order from him is the same as disobeying a direct order from me. Now, lets get on with the briefing. The enemy force for this exercise with be a squad of Marines backed up by an unknown number of Marine recruits. They will be protecting a flag on this island and your job, is to recover it. This is a test of your skills as a team, if you hold delusions that you will be able to handle this on your own, you are mistaken."

As he spoke, he peered around the room and made eye contact as much as possible. He paced a few times but came to a stop behind the podium at the end of his speech and paused before asking "Any questions?"

Cynthia really didn't have a comment to the captain's claim of her being sensitive, was it wrong that she was a little softer than others? Maybe... Definitely... Who was she kidding, there was a reason why everyone called her a gentle giant. She zoned out a bit with the others chatting, she tried thinking of ways to change everyone's opinion of her. Maybe act tougher? Nah... Cynthia was a pansy, she wasn't afraid to admit it. But that wasn't going to stop her at being a good soldier.

The moment the officer came in, Cynthia got into a bit of a panic and scrambled out of her seat and saluted the officer.

"At ease. Take your seats and we will begin the briefing." without pausing he continued, "I am Rear Admiral Marshall of the United Nations Space Command Navy. Although I am in command of this division I will leave on the ground and deployment decisions to your Captain. Disobeying a direct order from him is the same as disobeying a direct order from me. Now, lets get on with the briefing. The enemy force for this exercise with be a squad of Marines backed up by an unknown number of Marine recruits. They will be protecting a flag on this island and your job, is to recover it. This is a test of your skills as a team, if you hold delusions that you will be able to handle this on your own, you are mistaken."

Cynthia listened carefully to the admiral, no need to tell her twice, she knew very well that there is strength in numbers and to stick with your squad. No questions from her.