"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]I'm not getting paid enough to deal with this shit...[/i] he realized suddenly. That elicited a sigh, and Gerry shook his head. If this mission wasn't a shit show, he deserved a medal...