"Sure are taking your damn time, guys..." Macario muttered at his absent shipmates. He sat on the railing of the ship casually, one leg dangling over the side of the boat, his briefcase safely tucked under his arm as he gazed down at the dock, bodies of beaten Company members scattered about, some trying to straggle off. Macario yelled out, "Trying bringing someone worth fighting!"

As his yell further chased them away, he caught another figure heading over, not wearing any particular color. As he got closer, he took a note of his condition, spotting his sluggishness. Unease growing, he hopped down, asking, "How'd it go, Chester?"