[MillietheWarrior]

The holochart beeped, indicating that the newest ship had arrived. Prudii gazed down at it, his eyes unfocused as he lazily checked off the ship’s serial number; It was one of many new arrivals that would be docking in the hangar that day. Some of them carried supplies, some of them carried troops, but all of them were no more than a headache for the beleaguered former lieutenant. Ever since his promotion to commander, he’d been put in charge of more men than he cared to count, and the strain of his new duties had made the short tempered commander even more so. Very rare was the soul brave enough to approach him, especially when he was in a foul mood.

Rumors and stories went around about him shooting one of his own men for interrupting him when he had a headache. But they were only rumors; Prudii had never done such a thing. He just never put a stop to the stories; the more they feared him, the less they wanted to attach themselves to him. He’d had quite enough of people trying to form bonds where he was concerned. They only got in the way and led to nothing but heartbreak. He furrowed his brow, his thoughts turning, briefly, down a darker road full of a purple eyed woman with a challenging gaze and a saucy smile. He often thought of Madeline when his days were at their best, because even subconsciously he couldn’t forget her, and she always brought his mood about as low as it could go.

This was probably why the army had forbidden fraternizing within it’s ranks, or at least discouraged it. Harpies like her weren’t necessarily a dime a dozen, but even one of them could ruin a good man for life.

The incessant beeping of his kootchar alerted him to the arrival of a new ship, a troop carrier, and pulled him out of his morbid and increasingly frustrating thoughts. Prudii turned his head to gaze at the ship, The Archer, as it pulled into the docking bay. Not only did this ship carry new troops, but it also carried an extra set of hands that Prudii was not keen on having in his base. He remembered the conversation with the Major General, and how she’d assured him, in her none-too-gentle way, that it was absolutely necessary to have outside help of the highest caliber.

Things were getting dicey for the Grand Army, and hired hands like the mercenary on the ship, who knew battle and could kill with ease, were an asset that couldn’t go untapped. Massaging his temples, Prudii began his descent down the ramp towards the hangar floor, hearing the tell-tale hiss of The Archer’s dampeners and landing gear being deployed. The ship settled with a heavy clang of metal, and Prudii met it’s ramp just as it descended, and the troops began filing out. They saluted him as they passed, but he paid them little mind, standing stock still and stone-faced in the heat of the exhaust clouds as he waited for their newest ‘recruit’ to join him.

[Flame]

Appearance References

A dark figure sat silent and unmoving amidst the throng of identical armor and faces, a black sheep amongst the otherwise uniform flock. While the gear on the rest of the men on board the ship was the standard-issue, white, plastoid-alloy plate, this particular individual’s armor was almost entirely black, similar to the matte armor seen occasionally on special ops teams, yet a trained eye could easily tell that it was of a completely different make and material. The only slash of color across the completely dark façade was the bright orange visor which hid the identity of the mysterious stranger behind an impenetrable barrier. There was no doubt that this person was a stranger, that much was clear in the shifty, somewhat uncomfortable sidelong glances directed at them by the rest of the clones aboard the ship. There was no possibility of mistaking this individual as one of their own – everything from the armor and gear down to the very aura of general impassability and frostiness which seemed to surround them marked this newcomer as an outsider, and therefore, possibly dangerous and definitely not one to associate with.

Perhaps if the stranger had made a conscious effort to fit in or socialize with the clone troopers, things might have gone a little differently – however, there was clearly no indication that the outsider wanted to talk, let alone be friends with anyone. Then again, that was generally how mercs went – they kept to themselves, did their job, got paid, and left. The records stated that this particular specimen was uncannily good at his job, which explained the GAR’s propensity for spending a copious amount to put them on their payroll. Better to have a dangerous wildcard working for you than possibly for your enemies. No one really knew anything about the strange freelancer though; no one was inclined to ask questions about their past, and they certainly weren’t an open book. In all honesty, no one had ever even seen the merc’s face, but that was a minor detail if you were good at your job. After all, no one had the capacity of posing as them either, due to the strange nature and origin of their gear. One might even think that it came from somewhere outside of this particular universe…but what were the chances of that?

The slight jarring of the craft indicated that the pilot had touched down, the engines seeming to exhale heavily as their burden was lifted. As the ramp began to lower to unload its living cargo, the clones moved together, unharnessing themselves from their seats as they prepared to disembark. As they filed towards the ramp leading off the ship, they gave the black-clad merc a wide berth, shying away from where they remained sitting, still unmoving. It wasn’t until the last clone had exited the hull that the figure shifted from its seat, rising in a surprisingly fluid motion for one so heavily armor-clad. Each step casually unhurried, the soft metallic tap of metal boots against the ramp echoing oddly loudly now that the rest of the troops had disbanded and the engines had throttled down, the last passenger finally stepped out into the hangar of the GAR base. The footsteps stopped as the figure halted a few feet in front of the awaiting, very clearly irritable commander, and the ensuing silence stretched on uncomfortably for several long seconds. Although the armor’s visor didn’t reveal a face to the commander, no doubt he would feel the gaze silently and critically scrutinizing him, as if any information about him that the freelancer needed would be gleaned from that one look. After all, first impressions were important, right?

The charged silence that the outsider held had already passed the threshold of being uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to bother them. In fact, besides the distant air which they maintained, they seemed altogether entirely apathetic about this entire situation. When a voice suddenly broke the silence, it revealed a startlingly deep and gravely timbre, its masculine tone emotionless yet commanding, the words forming a statement that was more declaration than question, somehow both indifferent yet judgmental at the same time. It was about as friendly a greeting as anyone who'd ever met the freelancer could expect.

“So. You must be the CO.”

[MillietheWarrior]

Prudii appeared, and was in fact, quite oblivious to the stare of the merc as he exited the ship. He scrolled through hit data pad, logging the different inventory as orders were sent his way, and scrunching his face ever so slightly when he saw something he didn’t like. When the “hired help” finally spoke, Prudii didn’t look up, and he didn’t respond for a few moments. He was too engrossed in wondering why on earth someone had ordered twenty cases of mangos. When he finally did look up, he didn’t appear surprised at the sight that met him. He’d been briefed on who they were getting to work for them, and he knew they were somewhat similar to Mandalorians, and although this new recruit did look somewhat similar in style to his own armor, he could tell they were made of completely different things.

While his was made of the nearly indestructible beskgar metal, found only on Mandalore, the newcomer looked as though he was sporting armor made of Durasteel or some other heavy duty metal. Prudii raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he peered down his nose at the merc, who was a good few inches shorter than himself. “You would be correct. You will address me as ‘Commander Prudii,’ ‘sir,’ or simply ‘commander.’” He turned and began a brisk pace towards the bridge, knowing the new recruit would have no choice but to follow (lest he simply be left standing there with nothing to do for what could be days).

“I will make this perfectly clear; while you are here, you are under the Grand Army’s payroll, and as such you will observe and respect all rules and regulations in my company and on my base. If I find that you have disobeyed these commands, your discipline will be prompt and without leniency. You are a soldier here, nothing more, nothing less, and you should not expect to be treated as anything else.” He stopped near the rails that led to the upper deck, still engrossed in his data pad. “Training with your new team will begin promptly at oh-six-hundred hours. You are not to be late. Meal time is at oh-twelve hundred, and lights out at oh-seven hundred. You will be expected to work and act as part of a GAR approved team of elite soldiers, including but not limited to myself, and all the men under my command on this base.”

He tapped a few more buttons on the data pad, and it beeped with each press of his gloved fingers. Finally, he glanced up, putting the ‘pad in his belt pouch and folding his arms over his chest, raising a brow at the silent merc. “I hope my directions are clear enough. If there is any dispute with the men, or with your accommodations or new schedule, you will speak directly to me. Is that understood?”

[Flame]

The aura surrounding the freelancer as she stared impassively at the commander from behind her helm was altogether one of apathy. She was indeed a woman, but that information was privy to none but herself – at least here in this universe. As far as the GAR knew, she was a man, and a perfectly, lethally capable one at that. After all, the stereotypes still remained to this day; war was a man’s job, and women didn’t receive the same respect in that sense. Texas was one of a rare breed – she didn’t care to be seen as a female – and being treated as “one of the guys” in a sense suited her just fine. Even if that simply meant that everyone gave her a wide berth for fear of having a new one ripped for them. That was how she liked it. She was a lone wolf if there ever existed one.

She was silent as she watched the CO busy himself with his screen. A sorry pencil-pusher, even though she knew he’d received the same (if not better) training than most of his other identical-faced brothers. There had always been something of a rift between the ‘planners’ and the ‘doers’ – you could only accomplish so much without the help of hard, dirty, nitty-gritty action. But that was why she was here in the first place, she supposed. She would do the dirty work the GAR didn’t want to, or more likely than not, couldn’t do, even if it meant operating outside of the law. After all, even if they managed to manufacture a clone capable of doing what she did so well, there was still a wall of red tape preventing them from getting what it was they so wanted.

Tex had no personal ties to this war whatsoever. To her, it was entirely inconsequential aside from the fact that it gave her a paycheck and more importantly, something to do with her talents. As the commander turned to walk away, she followed a few feet behind, her sustained silence composed and calculating. This remained unchanging as he began rattling off his expectations of her while she was stationed here in this base, her demeanor showing no discernable reaction to his words. Rules, rules, rules…it was always rules with these military grunts. It was as if without their precious schedule and their orders, this place would fall apart and completely lose any semblance of functionality. If they’d wanted someone to follow all the rules and jump through all the ridiculous hoops the government operated by, they could have just cranked another clone. No, that wasn’t what Texas was here for, and the GAR knew that as well as she did. It appeared, however, that it was the first time this commander had come across this situation though, and as such, it now fell upon her to enlighten him as to just how this relationship would play out.

“It would seem that you have been rather…misinformed as to the terms of my employment.” The deep, impassionate tone of the gravelly voice with which she spoke – courtesy of a personal voice modulator in her helm – belay no reaction to his words. Any other person in her position might have been offended by the seeming lack of respect being shown by the officer, but emotions were for the weak-minded, and facts were the only orders by which she operated. “Do not mistake me for one of your own soldiers. If your superiors had wanted a job done which could be accomplished by your brothers, I have no doubt they would have had no problems producing one suited to the task. It would be far cheaper for them than paying my commission out of pocket.” Her voice remained entirely deadpan, a picture of cool as she shot his preconceived notions down. She didn’t blame him though – it wasn’t often that these poor military-bred clones associated outside of their own kind.

“My job here is to complete the task I was hired for. Nothing more, nothing less. I assure you, that job will be completed as requested, and well within the time given. My schedule, apart from training with your men, will be my own, but I can comfort you in knowing that my performance will not fall short of what was promised in my contract. Also, there will be no unnecessary relations or transactions with yourself or your men, the same respect which I shall expect and hold you and yours to.” There was no disrespect in her voice as she spoke; this was merely a business transaction, and it was best that the terms of agreement were understood up front by all parties involved. “Do we have an understanding, commander?”

[MillietheWarrior]

Prudii raised one passive eyebrow; he'd often been described by his brothers and friends as a “glib cynic,” and he imagined that was a pretty accurate description. He didn't have any interest in what the mercenary said (or what he wanted, for that matter) nor did he delude himself into thinking that the merc had any interest beyond that of monetary gain. His eyes briefly took in the man, looking his armor up and down in a manner that was both discreet and dismissive, before he turned his back, hands still clasped behind him, and began walking away. His boots echoed heavily on the metal platform, and his voice carried back over to the “hired help.”

“I have no interest in what the terms of your hire were. Now that you have been transferred to my command, your orders come directly from me. If you have no interest in 'team-building,' then that is acceptable, but you will be working directly with me, team player or not. So I suggest you get used to it.” Something beeped in his belt pouch, and he pulled out the datapad again, brows furrowing as something flashed on the screen.

“Your contract can be terminated as easily as it was drawn up. So you either do the job as I assign, or you don't get paid. I'm the one who makes the rules, and you are the one who should follow them. I'm sure even a...lawless merc like you can understand that a beast without a head is nothing; so is an army without order and commands. It becomes rabble, and I don't tolerate rabble around here.” He waved a dismissive hand, turning his back on her. “Do as you like, but you will follow my commands during the missions.” He hummed thoughtfully as something beeped on the pad, then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “And speaking of missions, I do believe your first assignment has just arrived. Interested in hearing what it is, merc?”

[Flame]

In a moment, the CO had begun walking away from her again, leaving Tex to follow – a dark, silent shadow. It seemed that he rather liked using that tactic; perhaps it was his way of buying himself time to collect his thoughts, but more likely than not, it was his way of asserting his authority over this newcomer. He couldn’t be blamed – after all, it wasn’t often, if ever, that strangers and newcomers (aside from the occasional Jedi, perhaps) were present on the premises, not to mention “subservient” ones. At least, that’s what some would lead them to believe. In no way, shape, or form did the mercenary see herself as being outranked by the officer. Even by military standards, her contract meant that she operated outside of the parameters of the standard hierarchy, but years of experience in the field had taught her that respecting the structure and playing along made for a much smoother transaction in general. Plus, who was she to take what modicum of respect these soldiers had away from them? She respected them for the thankless jobs that they did; they just had to understand as well that she wasn’t here to be anyone’s bitch.

As the CO spoke, Tex listened quietly, her demeanor (or what could be seen of it, aside from her posture) patient, still, and unchanging. She gave him the respect of hearing what he had to say – regardless of how much, or little, of it she agreed with – and didn’t interrupt him. The man may have liked to believe that the orders that he issued to her were his own, but she knew better than to believe that. Everything that reached them was funneled down from the top of the chain, especially in regards to her personal assignments. True, this commander would be the one to actually relay the message, but he likely knew better than to think that any of the major strategic decisions would be left to him (at least concerning the ‘big picture’). Let him posture as he pleased, she wouldn’t be the one to stop him, at least as long as he respected her space, experience, and deadly expertise.

“Your contract can be terminated as easily as it was drawn up.” She couldn’t help but wonder whether he realized just how much effort went into her contract. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of just how highly-valued a commodity her services were – drafting her into the hire of the GAR was no simple task, and she’d made sure every step of the way that she got what she wanted out of the deal. The government had been quite accommodating of her…needs, but as she said, in return, she fully intended to carry out her end of the bargain. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his comment though, but it was more introspectively amused than disrespectful. Let him believe what he wanted. After all, what more did the cruel and unforgiving bureaucracy which had birthed these poor sobs give them during their brief, violent lives? In ways, she had to respect the men for thoroughly making the best of the worst situation.

“Lawless…” she murmured in her heavily-modified rumble, more to herself than anything. “That’s a new one to add to the list – I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Hey, if that’s what he was asking for, that’s what she could be. It was no trouble either way, not to mention double the fun. “I’ll jump when you say “jump” and follow the rules to your game.” Even through the impervious, impenetrable gleam of her orange visor, she was sure he could feel her steady gaze resting upon him. “You have my word.” At least, for as long as she felt it was appropriate.

A beep from the pad in the CO’s hand heralded the beginning of just another tour of ‘duty’ for the mercenary. The question he asked confirmed her suspicions. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” she commented wryly, once again falling into the stoic character that was all business and few of words. “Lay it on me,” and this time, with just a little less condescension, “…commander.”

[MillietheWarrior]

Prudii his hid surprise at the merc's acquiescence to his orders; that was rather unexpected. But he supposed when one was motivated by money, the threat of taking away said money was a big one. As his eyes scanned over the mission schematics, his frown deepened; it seemed that they would be sending him along with the merc, if not to make sure the mission was completed, then most likely to be sure the merc was on the level.  That didn't sit well with him; Prudii might not have been the “immediately trusting” sort, but he certainly didn't like playing minder and double gent. In his world, a contract was as good as binding, and to break it was unheard of. Word, both written and verbal, were honor bound to be kept.

So the fact that the higher-ups clearly didn't trust the person they'd hired was unsettling and annoying. He, at least, held enough faith in the merc to expect him to keep his word, even if that faith was miniscule at best. Growling under his breath, he shook his head, closing the windows on the 'pad and depositing it back into his belt pouch. “I suppose it's our lucky day,” He intoned in a voice that clearly said he was weary of dealing with asinine orders from the top. “You and I have been scheduled to complete an infiltration mission of the utmost importance; we will be sabotaging a droid factory on Hypori and planting the special metal alloy specifically designed to weaken the manufacturing of the droid's armor into their facility.”

He raised one dark brow at the merc, and then lifted his gauntlet, flipping open a compartment and tapping in a code. The comlink beeped, and a voice, similar to Prudii's, but with it's own unique accent and lilt, issued out of it. “Commander, what can I do for you?” The voice was a familiar on to Prudii, and he almost smiled, but his face remained indifferent as he spoke. “Captain Tihaar. Please have a ship prepped and ready for departure in no more than thirty minutes. I want all necessary supplies on board; you know the drill.” There was something that sounded like papers shuffling on the other side of the com, then Tihaar's voice once more, crisp and clear. “Of course, sir. Your ship will be ready in twenty. Tihaar, out.”

The link chirped and went silent, and Prudii dropped his arm to his side. “I suggest you collect any vital supplies you need before we depart.” He eyed the merc critically. “This short notice mission doesn't bother you, does it? I do hope our 'teamwork' won't put a damper on your...skills.” His tone of voice implied that no other answer but the right one would be acceptable, no matter how rhetorical the question might've been.

[Flame]

Work, work, work. Of course, Tex knew better than to expect complimentary foot massages and a banquet in her honor upon her arrival. The relationship between employer and employee was polite but curt at best, a purely business interaction through and through with none of the fancy bells, lights, and whistles that an honored guest would expect to find. They had money to spare, and she had the skills that they needed; there was no necessity for false facades and niceties – they each knew what their respective end of the deal was, clean-cut in stark black and white. The faster she got her job done, the quicker she got paid and had her freedom restored. Frivolous things like banquets were just an expensive, worthless waste of time anyways.

What did catch her just a little by surprise though, was the nature of this ‘mission’ of which the commander spoke. It wasn’t often – in fact, she’d never seen it happen before – that straight off the bat, a mercenary was sent off on a solo mission with no one but the CO of the base for company. It seemed like an odd – if not reckless – move on the part of the government, especially this early on in her contract. She understood the reasoning; what better way to vet your newly purchased goods than to compare it against your original product, not to mention the fact that he was essentially acting as a glorified babysitter (which even she couldn’t help but feel just a little insulted by). Her track record alone should have spoken clearly enough for her, but she supposed that alone wasn’t enough for as important a job as they had in mind for her.

“Well, you’re not the least glamorous escort I’ve ever had,” she finally said, after several moments of silence. Her humor was cynical, but she couldn’t be blamed for her acerbity – after all, the government had basically taken a jab at her pride, but despite the fact, she wouldn’t let anything as inconsequential as personal emotions get in the way of her doing her job. The task seemed straightforward and simple enough – nothing tricky or really difficult about it. She predicted that travel time alone would take longer than the actual mission itself.

Tex waited patiently, unmoving as Prudii issued orders for preparations for their joint “mission”. When he finally turned to address her again, she merely tipped her head once in acknowledgement of his information. “I have everything necessary for deployment with me.” She always traveled prepared for anything – the mark of any good mercenary. You never knew when work (or excitement in general) would come knocking. “I never much cared for downtime anyways. It’s just rusting skills and unmade money to me.” For a moment, it seemed as if she wouldn’t acknowledge his last slant at her with a response; they both knew that he knew the answer to the unspoken question – her pointed silence said it. But she acquiesced after just a brief pause. “As long as yours don’t slow me down, I think we’ll be just fine…sir.”

[MillietheWarrior]

Prudii leaned against the bulkhead of the ship, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His helmet was on, and although his chin was tilted down and it appeared as though he was watching the floor, his eyes were really trained on the merc sitting across from him. It had been a few weeks since the “new guy” had joined the ranks of the clone army, and Prudii had kept an eye on him. The merc had been completely anti-social, refusing to fraternize wit the men and keeping his distance. Prudii wasn't happy about that because he had stressed that teamwork was important in this field of work.

Their mission to Hypori had been quick, neat and incredibly quiet. Prudii wasn't used to dealing with someone who rebuffed all of his sarcasm with completely and utter silence. He was starting to despair about the merc fitting in, so he'd volunteered the two of them for another mission with just the two of them; they were going to be dropped on Hoth, where the temperatures dropped far, far below freezing. They needed to map out some of the tunnels near one of the bases, and Prudii wasn't interested in sending anyone he considered “valuable,” so he'd volunteered himself and the Merc, who's name was Tex, or at least who liked to be called 'Tex.' It was an easy, no-nonsense mission, and would give them plenty of time to talk. Prudii was going to pry information about Tex from him, and he wanted to know everything; specifically, he wanted to gauge if he could really trust sending him on a mission with his men. If the merc got any of his squads killed or hurt, he'd personally string him up by his gett'se.

An easy mission on Hoth, no shooting, no fighting, would give him a good gauge of what he was working with. Something in the cockpit beeped, and Prudii lifted his helmet to the front of the ship. “We're coming in for a landing, sir,” one of the pilots informed him and Prudii pushed away from the bulkhead to stand near the bomb-bay doors, holding onto one of the overhead straps as he moved near to where Tex was sitting. “Ready, Merc?” he demanded, reaching up to hold one of the straps as the doors whooshed open and the cold and snow hit the ship full blast, enough to knock any normal man to his feet. Prudii's temperature controlled suit and the strength of his arms kept him standing easily, and behind his mask, he smirked as he leapt from the safety of the ship and plummeted towards the earth. The snow was deep enough to impact his fall, and he landed in a crouched position, straightening easily and looking back up at the open doors as the ship hovered overhead, kicking up a storm of soft snow. He almost seemed to be daring Tex to leap after him.

[Flame]

The last few weeks had been...quiet for Tex. In all honesty, by her standards, her life had been all but boring ever since she'd arrived at the base, and she was beginning to wonder if it would eventually begin to reflect in her paycheck. Either that, or the GAR had very severely underestimated the extent of her abilities. Perhaps she ought to have been seriously considering telling them that if this was how they normally operated on a day-to-day basis, there was a reason why this war still hadn't been won yet. Her days had mostly consisted of sitting alone on her bunk in her quarters (which the army had been smart enough to give her to herself instead of forcing her to share one with the men), reading up on the standard operating procedures and technologies observed here. It was all rather dry, and the time she didn't spend alone was usually dedicated to training, both with and without the men. The only times she'd drilled with the others at the base were during times which were specifically scheduled in her itinerary - no more than that. But in those brief training sessions, she'd quickly risen to the top of the ranks, excelling in all areas she was tested in, and had earned a grudging respect, if not fear, from those in her presence.

It was this prowess couple with the fact that she refused to even eat with the rest of the men that quickly earned her the distance which they kept from her. She was a dark, silent shadow that roamed the halls, and the men skirted around her and went out of their way to avoid getting in hers in that way that humans had of avoiding that which was alien to them. Tex was acutely aware of the whispers that went on behind her back, speculating on who she was, where she came from, or even what she was, but she paid them no mind. The opinions of others meant nothing to her; she was here to do a job, and as long as her superiors deemed her work satisfactory, everything else was just pointless noise. She made no effort to make friends or dispel the rumors which floated around her like an impenetrable aura of mystery - she received the respect she desired from those around her. That was all that mattered.

But still. None of this explained the complete and utter lack of action that she was seeing in the field. Had she been mistaken upon being hired about the position she was filling? She'd been under the impression that she was here to do the dangerous (and questionable) fieldwork that these men couldn't do, but all she'd achieved was polishing her armor and weapons more times than they'd seen in their entire lives in the past. There'd been that one mission with Prudii when they'd first arrived, but that had been quick and simple, and she'd performed perfectly as they'd wanted her to. Ever since then, it had been radio-silence for her, and she was beginning to wonder if it wasn't about time she simply hopped ship and went to seek employ somewhere a little more...interesting.

It was just when she was getting ready to book a ship out of the base and leave that word of another mission had reached her. It was yet another two-man mission with just the CO, and she couldn't help but wonder if the GAR was still having some trust issues with her. Little did she know that it was actually Prudii himself who had been keeping her under close watch, and it was due to his care for his men that she'd been kept out of action for so long. Nevertheless, Tex was glad for the opportunity to finally stretch her legs and splatter some baddies to keep her equipment from getting too rusty...until she heard the nature of her assignment.

Recon? It was a job that was so simple and so routine that it was almost insulting for someone of her qualifications. Was this army so inept that their lowliest soldier wasn't even capable of something as elementary as reconnaissance? While she'd bristled on the inside at her assignment, the face which she showed Prudii was just as impassive as ever, accepting her duty with the same stoic, emotionless silence which she was sure he'd grown used to by now. Still though, she brewed darkly, even as their ship circled in to drop them for deployment. Although his visor was tilted towards the ground at his feet, Tex could feel the calculating eyes of the commander resting on her throughout the course of their flight. She had the distinct feeling that he was still forming his opinion on her, but she had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't necessarily a positive one. Not that she really cared, but at the same time, she couldn't really be held to blame. After all, how was she supposed to prove her worth when she was kept penned in a base without any outlet for her skills? Nevertheless, she told herself that at least this mission was a start. Perhaps they'd take the training wheels off after she showed them that she could do what any other grunt was capable of.

Tex rose from her seat as Prudii made his way towards the open door, shadowing his path towards the exit. She heard his question, but it was met with a cool, stony silence which clearly said that they both knew the answer full well. "Have I ever not been?" Watching as he disembarked, she waited until he'd safely landed before moving. After all, the last thing she needed was to accidentally flatten him on her exit. She didn't give him a second glance as she dropped from the airborne ship, landing smoothly just a few feet away and rising fluidly to a standing position once again. In the interior of her visor, she pulled up the layout of the surface around them on her HUD, absentmindedly making sure that her gear was all still in place while she got her bearings. "After you, commander."

[MillietheWarrior]

Prudii almost seemed disappointed that Tex hadn't hesitated. Even if he didn't trust the merc, he supposed he could respect a man who could keep up with him. After all, Prudii had been engineered to be the best of the best, so anyone who came close to that perfection would earn his grudging admiration. He wouldn't call what he felt admiration quite yet, but if Tex managed to impress him on their recon mission, then maybe he'd reevaluate his feelings. Shrugging and turning, he cut a swathe through the snow, the heavy blizzard and wind around them making it difficult going, even for two people in climate controlled suits. Prudii was not a fan of the cold, or the wind. Hell, he liked warm fires as much as the next guy. But this was one of those "someone's gotta do it" kinda missions, and he wasn't about to let someone else suffer in his stead.

Tex was just an added bonus sufferer. As they struggled through the snow, Prudii brought up the layout of the surface of Hoth on his HUD, studying it intently. He'd gone over it a million times back at base, and he knew they were close to some of the caves that led down to the Hoth tunnels. He knew those tunnels could be dangerous, filled with territorial Tauntauns and Wompas and other ice beasts he didn't want to get friendly with. He hoped Tex would have his back; even if they didn't quite get along, Prudii would never let the other man get himself killed out here if he could help it. The wind roared around them, but his helmet easily filtered out the sound as he struggled through the snow and into the softer stuff, easing his way towards the large ice rocks he could see that bordered the cave.

As they drew closer, his pace slowed. now they had to be careful, keep their wits about them. He knew that not only was the local Fauna a bit of a hassle, but there had been recent refugees, the Talz, that had taken up residence in some of the caves. They were fierce warriors, and not too fond of outsiders. Prudii stopped as they reached the edge of the cave, and turned to Tex. "I assume you read my report on this place," he muttered, bringing up his gauntlet and tapping in a few coordinates and notes.

"So you'll know the possibilities of what we might face when we go in there. I'm most worried about running into the Talz; if we stumble on any of their patrols, it could be over for us. But we need these tunnels mapped. It could mean the difference between life and death, whether in an attack or an evacuation. If we do run into any Talz, let me do the talking. We want to try and maintain at least somewhat friendly relations. But I'm not sure I trust them much; they could turn on us pretty quick. if that happens, run and don't look back. Just keep your wits about you." He turned his visored helmet towards her, studying the merc quietly behind anonymity. "You okay? Ready for this?"

[Flame]

Satisfied that she hadn’t misplaced any of her gear during their dismount from the dropship, Tex began to slog her way through the waist-high snow which blanketed the entire surface of the planet, painting the entire thing almost a uniform shade of white. Only the occasional craggy hill or mountain seemed to break the monotony of the landscape, and if it wasn’t for the coordinates already inputted into her system, Tex might not have known which way to go to find the entrance to the tunnels that they were looking for. After all, the snow was coming down in thick sheets, obscuring anything even vaguely recognizable as a landmark from their view.

Tex waded along alongside the clone commander, loathe to take the path of least resistance, which entailed trailing along behind him in his partially-cleared wake. In the period of time that she’d spent on the GAR base amongst the soldiers – although ‘amongst’ was a bit of a strong word, seeing as she’d kept to herself for the most part aside from mandatory group practices and drills – she’d gotten the distinct impression that the clone commander wasn’t one to give either trust or respect lightly. Hell, if she didn’t know any better, she might even have warranted to say that his own men were afraid of him. That was probably healthy in a command structure though, she thought to herself, but at the same time, there was an undeniable sense of brotherhood and comradery amongst the men, regardless how subtle those undercurrents seemed at times. It had certainly been an interesting subject of study for her in her days spent reading reports and training, especially considering the fact that she came from a background fraught with fierce competition. Where she came from, comrades were willing to do just about everything short of slitting each other’s throats if it meant even a possibility of rising in the ranks. She was a weapon forged in the fires of a ruthless, cutthroat system, and it very clearly marked her as an outsider here amongst the sea of identical faces, even more so than her foreign armor and voice did.

Nevertheless, watching the interactions between the soldiers and their commander had given her a newfound curiosity about their relationship, and perhaps even a grudging admittance that perhaps this was a system that worked. True, it might not be quite as effective as the Freelancer program had been (she still considered her abilities far superior to those she’d seen on the base, but that was why the GAR had hired her after all), but she was beginning to see some positives to it. It was certainly food for thought during what might have been one of the dullest dry spells in action she’d ever seen.

Although it didn’t necessarily show on the emotionless exterior of her dark armor, Tex was much more comfortable now that she was back in her element. True, the weather and the view could have been better, but at this point, anything beat gathering dust back in the safety of the base, even if it was just a routine recon of the terrain. As she slogged along behind Prudii, she watched the coordinates on her HUD as they closed the gap between themselves and their projected point of entry to the tunnels below. “Naturally,” she replied simply to his statement about his report – it would have been foolish to come without having read it. The howling wind might have torn the sound of her low, calm gravelly rumble away if it wasn’t for their com channel. “I don’t anticipate we’ll run into any problems. Not ones that we can’t handle, at least. After all, the Talz are aggressive, but unorganized when it comes to combat.” A faint, unseen grin touched her features behind her visor briefly, her modified voice wry as she tacked on another afterthought. “Plus, they’d be asking for it if they brought their sticks to a gun fight.”

As they cautiously made their initial approach to the entrance of the cave ahead of them, nearly hidden in a tall snowbank, Tex unholstered her battle rifle, double-checking to make sure that it was primed despite the sheets of snow falling around them. She barely managed to stifle a snort at Prudii’s comment about running and not looking back if they came under attack. Clearly, he still had a lot to learn about her, and about her general attitude towards conflict of any sort. There would be plenty of time for him to do that, given he could keep up with her. “The GAR isn’t paying to have someone care about whether I’m ready or not. I’m here to get the job done, one way or another.” Her words were blunt, but it was the cold, hard truth, and Tex was the kind of person who didn’t care much for sugarcoating things. “Sweet of you to ask though. If I didn't know any better, I'd daresay that you were worried about me.”