Aaron rubbed his wrists as the harness around him undid itself and he could step free from the armatures that had lowered them down into the depths. His breaths were deep and slow in the confines of his gas mask that he'd woken up in, although the rest of the suit didn't feel as uncomfortable. It calmed him, this ritual, and it was a holdover from somewhere, some time long ago.

He couldn't remember why or how, but it was like instinct. The sleep he'd had before waking up in a suit, trussed up like a turkey with a stuffy gas mask on his face was oddly calming and he didn't feel panic. Only a sense of grim unease and foreboding, tempered by some sort of willpower that he didn't really know he had or whose origins he understood.

Around him were his presumed companions, released from their own harnesses and left to their own devices. But then the Warden's voice boomed from above: a briefing, as it were. Bags of equipment and supplies ferried down from above to be distributed equally among themselves, which is what he did. His hands worked like they had a mind of their own, attaching pouches and boxes to the appropriate places on the vest he had, along with a knife on his left shoulder, handle outwards. But he took only what he deemed necessary for himself, leaving enough for the others to stock up based on their own needs.

Then came weaponry. There were enough of both sidearms to sufficiently arm himself and his three companions, so he took both the semi-auto and silenced pistol and shoved them roughly into holsters on his tactical rig; silenced on his thigh, semi-auto on his chest with the grip oriented towards his right side. And finally, he took the assault rifle. It sat very well in his arms and with a practised eye, he looked over his weapons; removing the magazine to check his round count, slapping it back into the weapon, chambering a round and performing a quick press check to make sure the round sat within the chamber.

Then a quick click of the safety to turn it on, before he continued with his sidearms. Methodical, slow and measured in his actions, it wasn't until he finished checking the ammunition and safety of the bolt-action pistol did he talk.

[color=lightgreen]"No idea. But whatever it is, we do it or we die here. Alone."[/color]