Swept forward into the grand storage closet by the crowd, Jon came to realize that this operation was anything but amateur; the interior of the hangar bespoke professionalism unseen on the dreary landing strip outside, and hinted at an even bigger surprise waiting for the lot of them downstairs.

"Lovely," Bishop responded when the checkpoint guard asked him how he was doing.

"[i]What[/i]?" he huffed, terse as ever. Jon spun about to face him once more, having been distracted by himself, casing the room with increasing fervor. Flashing the man a toothy smile, he nodded, "I'm just superb! Yourself?"

"[i]I asked to see your transfer documents[/i]," he breathed between gritted teeth.

"Transfer documents! Of [i]course[/i]!" the Captain declared, raising his index finger. "I've got those! Haven't I? Have I got those? No, I haven't! Ah, wait, of course, [i]yes[/i]." He frowned. "No. Sorry. Not at all." Abruptly, he yanked a lengthwise-folded sheaf of neatly stapled papers out of the great pocket in his pea coat. "Here you are, my good man!"

The papers were rather straightforward; plenty of [i]by her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II's royal decree[/i]s and [i]with the authorization of the Prime Minister[/i]s, so on and so forth - all culminating in a general [i]he's your bloody problem now, morons[/i], air.

"Squad Echo. Move along," the angry man declared, stamping Bishop's papers.

"And you as well!" the Captain assured, quickly moving towards the rapidly forming echo squadron.

"Hello, hello, my fellow squad mates! Aren't you all just a sight," he said, rounding on the group with a broad smile. Lacing an arm about Shaozu's shoulder, he said - with absurd amicability - "I [i]know[/i] you despise us, love, but do bear in mind that your own nation has had its day in the sun as an empire on more than one occasion - and that one of the greatest civilizations on earth spent quite a few centuries as one itself. Imperialism isn't the problem; [i]people[/i] are, my dear boy, and I suggest you let go of your multi-national grudge because it looks like we might just all be on the same side, for the time being!"

Forward was a state of being for the Captain.

"Chuffed to bits to meet you all! I'm Jonathan Bishop, you can call me Captain, though I can't guarantee that there's any legal precedence behind it these days! What about the rest of you lot? Mostly Americans it seems, well done, fair play, no harm there though it wouldn't hurt to see another Englishman about - or, no, perhaps a lovely English lass. Don't suppose any of you brought one with you, 'eh? No? Very well! Names? Anybody got a name?"