[right][h2][color=dimgray][u]C O N R A D   " [/u][/color][color=dimgray][u][color=cyan]F[/color][/u][/color][color=dimgray][u] O U R S "   P A T R I C K[/u][/color][/h2][/right]

[color=0054a6]"The Plan, Fours, went out the window with that crowd. It was consumed in their pyres!"[/color] Came the rousing voice of their leader, in his usual manner of bravado. In his rookie days, Fours had always thought of Berne's theatrics to be a bit cheesy at best, but over time Fours had grown to know nothing but respect for the man. His leadership skills had proven tried and true time and time again. Even as the leader gave him a somewhat reassuring -if a bit too vigorous- pat to the back of the head, Fours began to second guess these thoughts. 

Of course, Conrad enjoyed giving the newbie shit as much as the next guy, but he couldn't help but cringe at Berne's overtly aggressive scolding of Luciel. [color=9932cc]"Are you going to tell me you've never used your scope instead of your HUD binoculars? In any case, I just can't get over this M6 variant. You Helljumpers get all the good gear... I mean, the optics on this thing are stronger than my DMR. And this suit? The way my shoulder mounts are designed to lock right in make it pretty damn comfy."[/color] Came the rookies response. Fours looked at her a moment, before responding. 

[color=paleturquoise]"When I treat gunshot wounds, my first question is always what the wound is from. If the answer is one of these,"[/color] He murmured, tapping his own magnum against the wall for effect. [color=paleturquoise]"I don't waste supplies on treatment. Need to save the money for their funeral. You only point one of these at someone if you want them D. E. A. D., dead."[/color] The medic spoke, eyes narrow. The story was quite obviously a load of bull, but he had little doubt the average rookie would be at least a little bit unnerved by the hyperbole. Again he remembered Berne's harsh words, and gave the rookie a quick smile, but said no more.

Fours' porcelain-still fingers caressed the surface of his shotgun, before he leaned further back against the wall, almost grinding down the wall with his shoulders. He raised up the shotgun, aiming down the sights as he pointed it directly down at the ground, trigger finger resting alongside the gun. Though his eyes were trained on Berne, his mind and hands were elsewhere, distracted in his preparation for their mission.

Hit the safety. Point the gun down at a 45 degree angle. Cycle the rounds back with one hand. Cover the loading port with the other hand. Turn gun to the side. Keep hold of the shell. Repeat once, twice, thrice, four times. Repeat again once, and twice. Cycle rounds, ensure no bullets are left. Four ran through the motions mentally as he followed them with his hands. Swift fingers loaded the bullets once again into the weapon of death. One, two, three, four, one, two. 

[i][color=paleturquoise]"One."[/color][/i] He thought, focusing once again on Berne. 

[color=0054a6]"So, then, if the ambassadors  cannot make their entreaties, and leave the capital without being torn asunder by disgruntled protesters..."[/color] Again, Conrad's attention strayed to the gun in his hands. Safety on. Gun to the ground. Cycle back. Hold the shell. Once, twice, thrice, four times. Once and twice. Cycle again. Now load one, two, three, four, one, two. He thought. Each round he loaded into the shotgun brought a grisly image flashing before Four's eyes. Gruesome faces of rioters, blood painted visages twisted in fury and pain as they raged  against their opposition. Flying bricks, choking smog, and bristling flames chipped away at Fours' demeanor as these images danced before him. 

[i][color=paleturquoise]"Two."[/color][/i] He continued, before shifting his gaze towards their leader once again. 

[color=0054a6]"...The protesters will not hurt one of their own, if we want this to go over smoothly, we need to find and escort Nimbian government representatives to Capital."[/color] Berne's briefing continued, listing off the vital information they would need for the mission. Needless to say, Fours found this a good time to shut him out and continue his exercises. Safety, point down, cycle shells, catch shells -one, two, three, four, one, two. Cycle. Load one, two, three, four, one two. He thought as he unloaded and loaded the gun once again, cringing ever so slightly at the last two shells. He looked to his squad mates, attempting to gauge their feelings on the matter. A rather difficult endeavor with many wearing helmets, and one currently on the roof, so he gave up.

[i][color=paleturquoise]"Three."[/color][/i]

[color=0054a6]"...Does anyone have any suggestions as to how we may proceed? I am all ears."[/color] Said the leader, something that surprised Conrad. Perhaps this had been the norm with his briefings -Conrad honestly wasn't sure. Most briefings, Fours either wasn't paying attention, or wasn't present as he dealt with more pressing matters.  need for the mission. Needless to say, Fours found this a good time to shut him out and continue his exercises. Safety, point down, cycle shells, catch shells -one, two, three, four, one, two. Cycle. Load one, two, three, four, one two, came Fours' mantra one final time, allowing him to rest his firearm in a more comfortable position, slung over his shoulder. 

[i][color=paleturquoise]"Four."[/color][/i] Conrad thought, feeling a mental weight falling from his shoulders. He allowed himself to focus on the current situation once again -his squad mates, his mission, and his physical state. He looked around the room, eyes still slightly glazed over with grogginess. He gave a curious glance to Luciel, surprised to hear -or, rather, not hear- a suggestion from the seemingly gung-ho newbie. Stick, however, piped up with a very optimistic suggestion. Conrad raised a finger lazily into the air. 

[color=paleturquoise]"Seconded."[/color] Fours said in response to Stick's suggestion. While he admittedly wasn't entirely on board with the plan, he certainly didn't have any better ideas, and felt a need to get a move on. [color=paleturquoise]"But I stay with Berne. Something goes wrong, I can't back him up if I'm stuck jacking off up in some sniper roost."[/color] He stated simply, standing up slightly straighter. 

[color=paleturquoise]"Where's Iron tucked away, anyways? Feels better to get some input from our best eyes before we go in on any plans."[/color] Came a slurred suggestion from the medic, punctuating the statement with another yawn.