James sighed as he stood among his fellow soldiers, he had kept quiet this entire time, considering the woman went on a childish rampage. The sniper acted unprofessional, waving his knife around and dishing out commands even though he was not the leader, people like them got someone killed. The woman already did, but the sniper had a lot of hidden records, which bothered him greatly. Men like him are never truly able to cohere with a team, this was not going to go well if they were going to keep this shit up. When he was deep in he NEEDED to bond with the team he was with, they needed to know every flaw, every skill, this made them men, and not just numbers. The guys with suits may not care for them, but they cared for each other, and that's what mattered. Even his command while he was in the Service cared, all of the big-wigs showed up to ONE man's funeral, and he was only a PFC, grant they couldn't always do it, but they did it whenever they could. To him, the Service was who he was, this sort of feeling made him adjust the leather coat he wore, it was a well-fitting leather jacket with his Battalion's symbol with the Winged Dagger of the S.A.S., on the dagger hung a gas mask. Above it read '23rd Battalion, He Who Dares Wins'. There was a reason he was picked for them, and this, he was the best at his profession, and those who matched him barely did so even before his augs. Now he was truly the best around with his kit, his augs, he was the most qualified in his eyes. At least for now, one day he would be replaced.

Until that day comes however, he is gonna set one high fucking standard for whoever comes in after he does.  His job was to control the fight, and even in the S.A.S with less than half the shit he had now he was one hell of a soldier, with his new drone, a Hollenhund. One lovely machine if he said so himself, a lovely amount of combat modifications gave him another soldier to fight with, this could make his life a lot easier. Running through the files of the other teammates, other than two he wanted to crack...Fucking wankers. The rest looked so much more worthwhile, and more tolerable. 6 and 9 had their skills, but they both seemed to be fatally flawed in a way that truly makes them butt heads pretty hard...This’ll be fun indeed...Or so he hoped.

Then his brain had a lightbulb and he spoke up rather randomly. [color=fff200]"I apologize for not speakin' up earlier, James Mathias Alexander. A former S.A.S Scout and Unconventional Combat Specialist, I can high-jack any machine with nano-tech, or if you need someone isolated, I can get it done. I pretty much cause a shitstorm for our foes, giving us an opportunity to end an engagement early, or get the fuck outta dodge, whichever comes first. Oh!  I also have a Masters in Robotics and a Bachelors in Nanotechnology, you can get that and more off my dossier. Alright, rant over."[/color] He quieted quickly and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax after that little speech. Fuck...He needed his gear, he was more comfortable in a military outfit, and in the field, not in a lift with people he didn't know worth shit.