[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/upFhSmH.jpg[/img][/center] Bruce brought the cigar he had pulled out of his vest to his mouth, shivering slightly in the whistling tundra winds. The former police lieutenant was adorned in an arctic camouflage combat gear, a mixture of police SOG and infantry. He snapped his fingers in front of the cigar, a spark arcing between his thumb and index finger, lighting the cigar. He sighed and gave it a few puffs as a coy voiced echoed [color=skyblue]"Isn't that using your power irresponsibly?"[/color]. Bruce rolled his eyes and stroked at his beard, brushing away the ice crystals that had begun to form. He knew the cigar would keep Fenri quiet, it liked the fumes as much as Bruce. A heavily modified assault rifle hung from a strap that's wrapped around Bruce. It had several options for sightings, including short to long distance with a grenade launcher hooked onto the underside railing. On his thigh was strapped an equally heavily modified sidearm. Attached to his lower back was a customized machete. All along his vest was ammo magazines, silencers for both of his weapons and grenades of the smoke and flash variety. Bruce looked around the formation as they waited, taking hold of his rifle. He was easily the oldest one here aside from one other SOLDIER who could have come close. [i]Children[/i] he thought to himself bitterly. [i]I am stuck with a bunch of children.[/i] Bruce thought back to the moment he was captured with a scowl...No, he has to keep his head clear. The only way he could get out of this is too get on the brass's good side and get them off guard. [color=skyblue]"Oooh, isn't that conspiracy to commit treason?"[/color]. Bruce simply shrugged his shoulders, turning his eye to the sky, scanning it for the shyps that were supposed to arrive soon. The mission was to infiltrate Archadia, which was politically sensitive and obviously highly classified. Bruce wondered if the same people that committed him to this was behind this very mission. Pricks. He looked again to his comrades. The boss was a woman who looked like trouble in a pretty case. Bruce pondered if she signed up for this or if she was conscripted like him. Probably the former, she seems like type. He looked to the sky as he heard the hum of their transport. [i]Finally[/i].