[@Lady Selune][@Old Amsterdam] [center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLmY4MGQxYy5WbWx1WTJWdWRBLCwuMQAA/chankenstein.regular.png[/img][/center] Such characters. He felt like he had been sucked into the television. Surrealistic cartoon moments, where a man is dead and the people they are taking orders from are giving each other shit. Felt nothing like the military. In a bar it would be friends and comrades talking shit. In a briefing it would be about your last goodbyes. Only reason he was on this train of thought was because of the announcement of teams. Soldiers worked together. Police worked together. Assassins. Assassins killed each other. Killed their targets. Killed others targets then each other. Vincent did not see the benefits. He could work with others. If asked. If told. An order was to be respected. The Bible of Professionalism. He worried others might not. Till he heard his name in a lineup of individuals. Such characters. One was the young woman he already had spoken too earlier. The other the Nazi. Now Vincent did not want to start any conflict. But Nazis were not something he liked. As a Soldier or a Former Soldier it was occupationally necessary to hate Nazis. Still he gathered around the group he had been paired off with. The woman in the mask, cautionary. Though she chatted with him earlier, guarded with others. Then the Nazi began to laugh loud. Vincent covered his ears. He was sure the whole neighborhood heard the Nazi’s laugh. Tentacles. Kraken like the myths. Or whatever she said. Vincent wasn’t entirely sure he understood most of what she said. Though his orders were to be respected. Work within a team. Work with these folks. It was the Bible of Professionalism to not let his own biases get in the way. Suppressing the way he feels about it either way. Vincent nods his head. “Chroma,” Vincent says in his dry way, he actually forgot he had a voice for a second, “I do not have,” he paused, “a flashy display prepared for this moment.” Questions. Better let everyone ask. He’ll listen. He’ll absorb them. Take them in. Perhaps his train of thought is similar to another person’s here. “....” Vincent stares at the two he is supposed to be working with. [You may also call me Vincent]