"Well, Winchester's in there busting a nut, I'd imagine. He'll probably be out here soon." [i]Drake shared the same sentiments about his crew, his little group of brothers that faced some of the most powerful beings in the Galaxy, and lived to tell the tail. Melancholy, however, was not a familiar emotion for the man, and so he chose to replace it with irritability. [/i] "Once Winchester's out, we can go in. Want a quick recap of the plan?" [i]He paused, though the question was rhetorical.[/i] "'Course you do. The Arrowhead's gonna blow a hole in that wall with its plasma accelerators, and before the dust clears, we'll be inside. You and Winchester are gonna do all of the heavy lifting--y'know, fighting people and stuff--while I go after Alpha. Chances are, communications are going to get EMPd, so we'll have to rely on something else. If it's time for a retreat, just fire a flare straight up, and we'll fall back to the ship." [i]He tapped the side of his head, by his temple, and an onyx helmet suddenly formed over his face. It looked almost like what ancient astronauts used to wear, with the curvaceous visor, and while it was relatively ugly, Drake liked the antique look of the thing. He certainly made for a dashing figure, at any rate. [/i] "Any questions?"