<span style="font-style: italic">Twenty years old, huh?</span>Somehow, today didn’t feel like a birthday for the new agent. Wasp groaned, slowly inhaled, and pushed a sigh from her lips as she processed the information that the tape recording oh-so bluntly reviewed. “Don’t kill the target? That’s a first,” she muttered before turning her communicator on, the little gadget tightly sewn into her jacket sleeve. Wasp had just reached the location when Ghost’s words prodded at her ear. “Copy that. You think they’d settle for some smokes?” Her voice was low and rumbled in places like gravel, but the sarcasm and humor in her tone was still present. The young adult wished for this shift to end promptly; the student had a paper to write and she wasn’t to let her prized scholarship go to waste. Juggling the two lifestyles wasn’t going to be easy, she realised, especially after this new turn of events.<br/><br/>Drawing near to the abandoned looking construct, Wasp noticed, well, gasped in awe, at the transparent floating figure on the other side of the building.<span style="font-style: italic">Time to check in</span>, she guessed. “Wasp here. I’m on the other side of the warehouse to Ghost. Or was it<span style="font-style: italic">Ghast</span>? Uh, hah, anyway, I have enough on me to knock the target out with a nice dose of ‘sleepy times’... I don’t know exactly what you two can do, but I fight with needles, not strength. Maybe one of you could keep a good watch on the guards? I’d be best going to the underground levels.” As Wasp fiddled with the metal panels that stuck out from her black leathered gloves, she couldn’t help but smile.<br/><br/>Never before had she have to talk on a campaign, to rely on others to get a job done effectively, and although the situation seemed scarily daunting, it boiled a new excitement for the cyborg assassin as her hands wriggled in its gloves like agitated spiders. The pieces of steel that ran along her metacarpals made a deadly soft ‘vrrrrr’ in response, allowing one porthole on the tip of the glove’s index finger to open. Finding a nice, sheltered corner of the building, Wasp looked around her, ensuring no one was watching, before promptly reaching for one of her famed recipes. A mixture of melted down rohypnol and some other obscure chemicals, an opaque bottle of what she called ‘insta-faint’ made its way into her tenacious left palm, and when needed, soon onto her eager finger. Wasp stood in the shadows of the building for a moment, awaiting a reply from her coworkers.<span style="font-style: italic">Things were going to be interesting</span>, she thought,<span style="font-style: italic">I truly wonder what they’re like~</span>