Devon had gone silent when Lucy had told him of the bodies, and the survivors. Unlike the rest of his squad, he seemed to be the only one who truly cared about the fates of the recruits. The rest seemed to think of them as just bodies, less than human. He could understand it though, the squad would fall apart if everyone was lunging at each others throats. Even he understood that enough to stop bickering for the moment, though it was far more than simple bickering. He disagreed with her very creed, and nothing she could say would convince him that it was necessary to kill recruits by the dozens.
Dinner was quickly over, and Devon trudged out into the blizzard once more. Alone, like before, he found the bodies that had been left out to freeze. Six corpses, just as she had said, and one survivor. He'd managed to find shelter under a fallen log, though ten minutes more, and the lad would've frozen to death. As it was, with the level of medical equipment at their disposal, he'd survive, with a few days rest. He injected the man with a stimpack, glad to have a few on him. Rule number one of being a medic; always carry medical supplies. He personally carried him, and the other six, back to base, trudging through snows and biting cold. He had to inject himself with a stimpack, as well as some of his stimulants, to be capable of doing the job, but no matter, it was done. He'd be sure to ask the survivor what Lucy put them through. Someone had to stop her.
Afterwards, he began to work on his toxins, putting the finishing touches on his latest. Corrosive, it wasn't necessarily a poison, but rather, an acid. Well, an acid when exposed to oxygen, otherwise it'd melt through the containment of each round he intended to put it in. A few tests were run, mostly putting it up against samples of body armor. Three rounds worth would eat through a suit of normal combat armor fairly easily, while an entire clip would weaken even power armor. A useful thing against heavily armored opponents, who he had no other way of dealing with. The acid was carefully loaded into rounds, five in total, ready to be used, with the supplies always present to make more. It was time for some field testing, as soon as their next mission came.
Waking up, he trudged out to the cafeteria, managing to force a quick breakfast of six eggs, multiple sausage patties, three biscuits, and fried potatoes, all of it cut apart or ripped up, and tossed into a bowl, smothered in thick white gravy, and devoured. For a soldier who spent most of his day training vigorously, protein like that was needed, afterall. Alongside that was a tall glass of sweet tea, a luxury to help wake him up in the morning. Like most, he was aided by caffeine to get started in the morning, and preferred it in the form of tea than coffee, enjoying the sweetness of the drink.
After the meal, he was called to the briefing room, and there was hardly the ability to resist such an order if he wished. Reporting in, he sat down to hear the mission, a trip to Alaska to investigate three days of radio silence, and the missing scouts. A routine enough thing he assumed, but then again, two hundred soldiers no longer making contact was a worrying thing. He supposed that's why they were being sent.
Touching down on the ground, Venom listened for his orders. On the trip he'd made small talk with Tristain, nothing major, just something to keep him occupied, before finally resorting to counting out bullets in his clips, checking medical supplies, doing last minute checks on his power armor, and ensuring all of his stimulant injectors were in place. The needles were slightly uncomfortable at first, until his body adapted to them, and it'd actually be the first time he'd be on a mission wearing the power armor.
The orders were simple, for him atleast. Look for signs of, well, anything, with Whisper. He walked down the trench, investigating it. He didn't get far, before the call came in on the coms. 'Contact, contact. Large steel armored bipedal beast. Very very tough. Two rounds with Gauss rifle, finished with a plasma round through the severe dent on the head. Think we found out what happened to the soldiers here.' Of course, it had to be armored. Something he'd be incapable of dealing with, considering his loadout. All ballistics, too low of a caliber to deal with a robotic foe like that. Atleast there was the weakness in the joints. Hopefully, his newest acid shots would be capable of dealing with them. Hopefully. He didn't have many, so the ammo would have to be conserved, as he started to move forward again.