As the elevator trundled steadily downwards, the commandos took their spare time checking their equipment and talking amongst one another. Jack Morgan spoke first, "Ammo check, everyone. Don't want a repeat of the Proto-Neo-New York incident."

"Five mags, half-empty on this one."
"Got four."
"I'm down to one. David, hand me one of yours... thank you, sir."
"I've got three clips." "Magazines." "What?" "They're called magazines." "Oh. I've got three magazines."
"Two."
"Uh..." "Let [i]me[/i] do it, Arby's. You've got four magazines." "Thanks!"
"I am carrying fourteen magazines." "How the fuck--" "The augmentations of the Secreta far outstrip your own."
"I've got three magazines. Emperor willing, I will not waste them."
"And I've got five. Is that everyone?" "I think so." "We should be good for now. We're just about done here."

Jack Morgan looked to Hampus, who was leaning unsteadily against the elevator's rail. With an air of pleasant camaraderie, Morgan spoke to him. "Hey there, wizard. You look like you can handle yourself well. Which corporation are you working with?"

Hampus gave Morgan a blank look. "What's a 'corporation'?"

"Well, you've seen how the higher-ups act, right? Completely insane, no idea about how to manage logistics, that sort of thing? Well, we little guys like to group up and do this stuff for them. And if they decide to get uppity and start smacking around their minions... well, let's just say these people tend to suffer from horrifying accidents in the field. I can hook you up with a good buddy of mine, his name is Takahara. After this mission, we'll be set free to replenish the platoon, so we'll have plenty of time to talk. Sounds good?"

Hampus nodded. The idea of getting protection against [i]anything[/i] was immensely attractive to him, so Morgan's words oozed into Hampus' mind like sweet honey.