[color=ed1c24]"This is Information specialist Flores, by order of Inquisitor Icarus, all those that are part of the Inquisitors retinue must report to the meeting room immediately for information about the mission at hand." [/color]

Then silence. Ansgar looked up from his workbench, in a rather spartan quarters. The Krieger had decided, and requested, specifically that his quarters only contain the absolute, vital necessities. A bed, secure stowage for his equipment and maintenance gear, and a workbench to maintain his needlessly tempermental Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy). That was what he spent most of his time doing, outside close quarters drills and prayer. And that was what he was doing when the message came over the vox, ordering all retinue to the meeting room. Rather overt, but on the Inquisitor's own vessel? He supposed they could afford to be blunt. He thought the way he did of the Inquisitor, without gender, since he had been effectively told, being carted off the Thrasis campaign and being sworn to utter secrecy upon penalty of the most painful death imaginable, that he was being assigned to Inquisitor Icarus. The Ordos meant nothing to him, he really had no idea the differences between them. He would hunt the enemies of Man, and that was enough cause for the Death Korp Grenadier.

Ansgar went about securing his gear, armoring up and affixing the trademark Krieg rebreather and helmet most of all. People tended to expect that he never remove the thing, that he lived, slept, fought and died in the thing. Which was true, he would indeed do all of those things. But it seemed to make outsiders almost feel better, seeing the impassive and expected face of the Death Korp over some oddly youthful face, according to them. He didn't feel comfortable with the attention being unmasked brought, so he just left the thing on. Kept him ready for a moment's notice of trouble as well, so he finished his armor checks before slinging the backpack power unit, which was the centerpoint of his gear, onto his back. Lastly, and most certainly not least, was the Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) itself, which was secured over his shoulder. Glancing at a mirror that was left in the room, for some reason, he looked far too clean. The equipment and uniform were cleaned of the muck, blood, and debris from his rather rapid flight from Thrasis I, and he looked too new, despite the dents, scrapes, and a rather stunning claw mark down the breastplate, for the Krieger's taste. 

Marching out of his quarters, it took several minutes to figure out [i]where[/i] the meeting room was, and Ansgar was able to get there before anyone else it seemed. Tardy lot, they were going to be, was it? Ansgar came to attention, giving a swift salute to the Inquisitor. Female officer then, hardly a concern to Ansgar. Most woman tended to stay back on Krieg, but he was aware that was not how things normally operated outside of the place. Exposure to the Adeptus Sororitas most certainly made him aware of that, if nothing else would have. But with the salute came the, slightly muffled from the rebreather, report from the Krieg born Guardsman. Almost as an afterthought, which would be apparent, came the informal name he was referred to as by outsiders. It also helped them feel better than referring to a man as merely a statistical number. [color=598527]"Trooper 17431, informally Ansgar Staudinger, Death Korp Grenadier. Reporting for active duty, ma'am."[/color]