[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/9aBbLIY.png[/img]
[b]Interactions:[/b] Victoria White ([@Smike])[hr][h3][b]Before The Mission[/b][/h3][hr][/center]

[color=92278f]"Yeah, I bet,"[/color] Mehetabel glowered over the thought of it. What Victoria had said was so true; there were [i]way[/i] too many NCOs wanting to raise through the ranks, as if this was supposed to be a mere corporate ladder. They already had Cpt. Middleton as the man in charge of leading the platoon; wasn't the kissing of his ass enough for them? That's what angered Mehetabel most about chain of command.

She looked down at her pint, and sculled down the rest of it. She didn't know why she ordered it to begin with; after all, it was never gonna ease the burden that was her rising anger. But then again, it was a consistent action she undertook every time she finished her training for the day or was summoned for the briefing of a mission. It was clockwork at this point.

[color=92278f]"Well, thanks for giving me my drink back anyway,"[/color] Mehetabel tossed the glass back Vicotria's way as she said this, [color=92278f]"I might see you when the mission actually gets off the ground..."[/color]

With that, Mehetabel went back to base. She had a loadout to revise, and just enough time to do exactly that and nothing else.

...

Mehetabel already announced to the others that she was gonna take her Typhoon Mk II machine gun, and she had every intention to stick with that ultimate decision. But this time she affixed a strap to the aforementioned gun and pulled said strap over her shoulder. This way, the machine gun would be on her back, but still positioned in a way that it was easy to reach if she needed it. But it would stay there for as much of the mission's time as she could afford it to stay there, ideally only being used for emergencies.

She then closely examined the other gun she'd chosen to be issued to her; a Levnette Pistol. Mehetabel hated handguns; she was never comfortable with them, and she'd much rather have a rifle, a shotgun and or any other two-handed firearm. But this was supposedly the best gun of the worst type. She'd have to get used to the feeling of it eventually, that she knew more than anything. But not this time. This was a stealth mission, and [i]any[/i] firearm shot by [i]any[/i] soldier was more than loud enough to give away that soldier's position; it didn't matter what that firearm was, exactly. As such, Mehetabel might as well have stuck with the firearm she could count on to actually get her out of a jam if things ever went south. She tossed the pistol aside, and looked through her bag.

It was here that she found her trusty hatchet. She could swing it. She could throw it. And most importantly, she could make a dirty Imp [i]bleed[/i] with it. It was perfect. A shame, then, that Mehetabel didn't have a second one. She might have to see if she could liberate a second melee weapon from someone; preferably one that she could also throw. Hell, Mehetabel was even willing to accept a second of Michael's shovels if he had one to spare. She took a few seconds to ponder over the acquisition of a second melee weapon, but figured she'd cross that bridge when she came to it and kept searching the bag and her pockets. Perhaps there were some auxiliary items that could benefit her in some way, should she bring them along with her. Two of such items had inspired her.

The first was the box of matches that she offered up during the game of cards. Mehetabel had no medical expertise, and her mindset was far off from the correct one to learn about such treatment. But she [i]did[/i] hear of a theory that one could extract the gunpowder of one bullet, pour it over any wound a soldier had suffered in the line of fire and set it aflame in order to cauterize said wound, and those matches reminded her of that exact theory. The Imperial soldiers that her team was supposed to keep alive would be the perfect guinea pigs for a practical application now that she thought of it, and even if it proved unable to hold water as a viable medical procedure, she'd use it as a torture strategy instead.

The second was an empty water canteen. If she could wash away any blood stains from any injuries she was more than likely to inflict, Mehetabel might just be able to eliminate her presence there, which would be [i]ideal[/i] for a stealth mission such as this. She was originally thinking she could just splash some water over said blood stains, but if it looked like blood and flowed across the soil like blood...

That inkling of doubt alone was enough for Mehetabel to reconsider. She brewed some hot coffee and poured it in a flask, opting to take [i]that[/i] instead of the canteen that originally inspired her thought process. A different colored liquid was more likely to disguise the blood stains successfully, especially if it also had a different smell to it.

Satisfied with her revised loadout, Mehetabel set out to join her squad-mates in No Man's Land.

[center][hr][h3][b]During The Mission[/b][/h3][hr][/center]

This was it. Mehetabel's first official mission since she transferred platoons. An entire array of new faces. And yet [i]somehow[/i] almost the exact same assortment of personalities that were all jumbled together. Allies that were weary of her. An NCO that was trying too hard to reign her in. A lot she had to prove to everyone around her. Those feelings felt as though they were a mere day apart.

Suddenly, Mehetabel started to receive a hangover. This caused her to immediately regret sculling that pint earlier, and be thankful that she brewed some hot coffee earlier [i]and[/i] that the flask that contained it was able to keep it warm. She unscrewed the flask's cap so she could take a sip, and then screwed it back on and put it away again, hoping to all hell that single sip of coffee would be enough to relieve the hangover. There was no telling how much she needed to reserve for what she brought it for in the first place.

Cpt. Middleton said a few words to the team that Mehetabel was half-listening to. Mehetabel had a feeling that very little would be said that couldn't have been said during the briefing itself; perhaps most of it already was. But she figured she should give him [i]some[/i] attention at least, divided as it would be. He seemed to have a 'don't-fuck-with-me' vibe to him after all.

No doubt the sergeant would want to address the group next. Mehetabel could've stuck around and, if he said anything that contradicted Cpt. Middleton's words, reminded him that Middleton outranked him in a quippy, sarcastic manner. But she had too much to prove to everyone to fool around like that, and risk getting worked up over some trivial bullshit. First, she had to prove that she could take this mission seriously. She also had to prove that she could approach it intelligently and resourcefully, and not just foolishly cast herself off to die. And to prove that she was more than capable of getting results, even if she'd prove herself to be a loose cannon. But most importantly of all, Mehetabel had to prove to everyone out here that her bloodlust was a necessary evil in the battlefield.

And so, without the slightest fraction of a second's delay, Mehetabel went into the trenches ahead of everyone else. She felt better off working this whole mission alone, and she'd be damned if she were to let any [i]one[/i] of the others get in her way.