The man helping to get all of Gerry's gear ready had to chuckle at the very specific list of gear the man wanted on this mission. Not only that, but it was all pretty heavy duty. "I can tell that you're from the military." The man spoke as he put the magazines with on the table - still containing rubber bullets. Though there were only two. He also put 4 magazines with warpstone and 4 with silver bullets down. "Just a tip, by the way, maybe cut down on the swearing a little while out in the field and dealing with other law officials or citizens. We're still working for the government after all." Once everything was set up Gerry was let on his way again. No doubt people would be talking about how up-tight and tense the new guy was acting. Just like with everyone new that joined the division.

Elizabeth had gotten into her bath an hour before they would have their final briefing. And after half an hour she got out and took her time to dry herself and get ready. Contrary to yesterday, today she would be wearing a suit just like everyone else had to. Her more Victorian fashion style was only for casual wear, as, who wanted to walk around in a suit all the time, right? 5 minutes before it was 7 pm the woman was ready to go, with Colton standing just behind the couch where she was sitting. He was also wearing a suit this time. Briefings were also done in her living room. Not because they had decided to do it there, but because she refused to sit in some cramped office when her own quarters were just around the corner. Even after all this time Elizabeth hadn't entirely lost her mentality of being a nobility. She was 'better' than most people, and deserved to be treated at least as good as she was now, in her mind. Even if she also considered the same organization she worked for and lived at, her enemy.

(Sorry it took so long. This summer's been a real life chaos for me, so rping is taking a bit of a backseat atm. =/ )

"Military? I've been CIA longer than I was military." Gerry replied, shaking his head. "I just got lucky, got to do all the liaison operations..." he chuckled and continued checking his gear. Then the guy had the nerve to tell him to watch his language. "Just a tip for you then, bud. Fuck right off. I know how to fucking operate, that's why this is my goddamn job. If I need a fucking grammar lesson I'll come see you." he shook his head at the man and moved on. Yeah, he worked for the government, so did everyone else they deployed. He hadn't heard a politically correct word out of any of them. That was a little different, he supposed, but the agent wasn't going to put up with advice like that from a desk jockey who knew how to bomb-up a magazine. Then, he counted the magazines he was being issued and swore some more.

"What is this? Ammunition for ants?" he muttered under his breath. Then he triple-checked them, and noticed that he was either being given a subtle hint, or someone was incompetent as all get out. He turned and grabbed the MP5K off the rack beside him and quietly continued swearing. He'd been given the wrong magazines. They were at least loaded with the right cartridges though, someone had managed that much. Gerry decided to roll with the punches, and began rearranging his gear. He realized that this would be a domestic operation, and the agent rearranged his whole plan on a dime, just like he was used to doing. "Gimme your fucking coat." he said calmly to the assistant beside him. For some reason, there were people in this building that seemed to think they needed a coat just because the air conditioning was on. It was stupid. He threw the coat on and stashed the bare minimum equipment into the various pockets, stringing his new primary weapon up under his left shoulder beneath his borrowed jacket. Then, because he was paranoid, the operator began rooting about in drawers. The moment he touched the first one, though, the man in charge of the armoury flipped his shit.

"Hey! What the fuck do you thing you're doing?" the man demanded, slamming the drawer on Gerry before he could do anything.

"Looking?" The operator replied, confused, prepared to throw down at a moment's notice.

"If it's not on the table, you don't fucking touch it." came the other man's nearly-violent reply. The agent smiled and nodded in response. He then turned to the assistant, not bothering to do business with the man in charge.

"Put your hat on the table." he ordered. The assistant was confused, despite the exchange that had just happened. The moment the hat touched the table, Gerry grabbed it and put it on. "Put three boxes of nine millimetre rounds on the table." he added, and the assistant balked. The agent frowned and was about to repeat himself when the man in charge spoke up.

"This is a covert operation, you're not taking the whole armoury with you." he was clearly fed up with the new guy.

"The bare minimum combat load is ten magazines. That won't last an hour if shit hits the fan. I want more." Gerry wasn't going to budge on that. He wasn't moving until he had a sufficient ammunition to last him a while if he had to firefight his way out.

"Here." the assistant stepped in to break things up, he had two special magazines, one of each kind, and three regular magazines, loaded with black projectiles that the operator didn't have time to check. Gerry calmed down instantly and smiled.

"Thank you. That's fucking awesome." he declared, stashing the magazines away. He wasn't going to keep fighting with the man in charge, it wasn't worth it. The guy ran his armoury tighter than any ship, and the paperwork wasn't worth it. Even in matters of life and death, it only ever came down to paperwork. So, he would settle for fifteen magazines, and he cleared out of that place as fast as he could, not wanting to deal with any of them longer than he had to.

Then, with a sigh followed by an apprehensive breath, Gerry headed to where the briefing would be held. He looked like an operator in his borrowed coat. But he didn't stand out. informed observers would note that he was clearly on some sort of force protection detail or something similar, while most would assume he was just another weirdo that dressed like that. What most people didn't know, was that everyone dressed like him had similar intentions. But that was probably for the best. Figuring all was well, he found himself in Elizabeth's living room, where they were supposed to be briefed. He gave the woman an almost-smile and a nod, and then mostly acknowledged Colton's presence before taking a seat. They had a moment to wait, so he found himself doing what he always did when given a moment right before an operation. Gerry proceeded to check, for the umpteenth time, that all of his gear was in order. He was now carrying a good deal less than he had planned, but it made sense if things were going to be quieter than he was used to. That just mean the gear check went by quicker, and peace of mind for the moment arrived sooner. But he knew by the time the briefing was over he would have checked at least once more. When things could go wrong in an instant, he wouldn't have his kit being the cause of that. He didn't check his magazines, though, and he did that deliberately. He didn't want to know if someone was trying to kill him. Plus, with the way he was trained, things that could be killed by regular bullets would die to his rubber ones too if it came down to that...

Elizabeth looked at Gerry with an amused grin as he walked in, and moments later sat down. He was dressed for a military war zone or something, while the mission they were going on was a civilian one. Not counting the possible supernatural enemies of course. And then he started checking his gear, almost looking like some nervous rookie going on his first field mission. She chuckled softly, shaking her head a little. "Would you like some tea dear? Might help you calm down a little. We're going into civilian territories, not enemy ones. I'm glad I asked them to give you rubber bullets, as those scientists are apparently quite useful to the CIA." She told him that partly because she wanted to taunt him a little bit. A guy like him would be pissed if he didn't get the gear he thought he needed.

Though immediately after the director walked in and started to talk immediately. "Both are here, good. Might as well do this briefing a bit early to have some extra preparation time." The man turned down the lights and down came a screen from the ceiling, while a projector started to display images. The first one was of a lab of some kind. "This is your target. The machinery isn't too important, but taking those scientists into custody takes top priority. Resistance from anyone else may be dealt with as the situation calls for." After the man pressed a remote the next image showed. It was a blueprint from a building. "In some blueprints we've recovered we found the quickest route to your destination, and what kind of security system they're using. There are several locks to bypass. So unless either of you is an expert locksmith, one will be trailing about 100 meters behind you. Any time you encounter a lock, call for him. He has been instructed separately as...well, he's more than a bit scared of this room and refused to join us." Elizabeth chuckled softly at that comment, but kept quiet otherwise.

"The cover story has already been dealt with. You will pose as FBI agents and are investigating a lead to a large illegal meth lab. Which reminds me, Gerry. I'll let it slide this time but if you want to bring that much gear on a mission like this you'll have to find a better way to hide it. Any questions?" "What amount of loss is acceptable?" Elizabeth immediately asked. "Twenty five percent at most." Came as a reply.

"I don't drink tea." Gerry frowned at his partner. Clearly she didn't understand. Apparently she thought he wasn't calm, and that he didn't understand the mission. Sure he stood out a little, but he understood what was going on. And he'd always stand out, regardless of how he was dressed, simply because he was a warrior, and other people could feel that without even knowing what that felt like. And then, in attempt to add injury to insult, the vampire admitted to being the one who had him issued rubber bullets. That was heartening. Why not just quit now. This whole unit was fucked up. His partner clearly was more interested in making him a snack than actually working with him, and the man in charge seemed big on leaving out details. Some of them came out at the last second, though, things like their convenient cover story that he could have easily played up with the right gear. That was all left for the briefing though. Or at least some of it was. The agent would not have been surprised in the slightest if he found out there was more to all this than what they had been told so far. He was used to spook work, but not like this. Gerry felt more like a pawn than a spook working with this guy. And in his experience, pawns never lasted a whole game.

The briefing was pretty simple, which meant there was probably a lot left out. There were scientists to capture if possible, and anyone else was fair game. Apparently the security system was complex, and they weren't being issued C4. Or really, anything usefully explosive. Or much of anything useful in general. Apparently he was even carrying too much stuff to begin with. There was a difference between quiet and stupid, even on American soil, and this mission was leaning heavily toward the latter. Instead of useful equipment, they had more personnel to look after. The director explained that their locksmith would be trailing behind, an equally good way to get the guy shot. But by this point, Gerry was about ready to just give up and run the operation. So, clearly done listening to the guy in charge, he loaded a magazine into each of his weapons, and chambered a round. He was staring the director right in the eye the whole time. He was kind enough to click the safeties on when he was done, and his weaponry disappeared, ready to rock at a moment's notice.

Apparently not visible and not readily identifiable was not good enough for the man in charge, when it came to concealment, though. But when he considered the mission requirements, Gerry wasn't sure what to tell the guy. He had a bare minimum of necessary gear that had to come with him. The director had obviously selected him for a reason, but clearly hadn't clued in that years of operating in a combat role meant that the kit that got brought along became quite a bit different, and a good deal heavier. Regular agents might be willing to roll out in a suit and carrying nothing but a Glock and a spare magazine. Gerry wasn't a regular agent, though. He knew exactly how much damage could be done with an issued Glock and an extra magazine, and it was not nearly enough. If the two operators encountered any resistance, especially from sources that weren't supposed to exist, they would need some real firepower And while they still didn't have any, they had more than they might if he was a typical field agent. If the director didn't like that, he probably should have picked an agent who was more prone to attempting stupid tasks under-equipped. Or just signed up for a different job. Gerry didn't say any of that, though. He would admit to mouthing some of it when he thought his boss wasn't looking though, along with a choice collection of swear words and a jerking off motion. He waited for the man's back to turn for the last one.

"Are you going to just tell us about it all night?" he asked, wondering how they would manage twenty-five percent loss if the two of them really were the best. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to get some sleep tonight..." The agent shrugged, waiting patiently to be directed to either their vehicle, or the driver. They had to get where they were going somehow, and it didn't sound like they got a helicopter, or anything at all that could be considered remotely fun. Such was the fate of the best of the best, it would seem. I'm not getting paid enough to deal with this shit... he realized suddenly. That elicited a sigh, and Gerry shook his head. If this mission wasn't a shit show, he deserved a medal...