You expect to see a lot of things, going into battle. Conflict can do some scary things to people, and most don't really come out whole on the other end. You see blood, violence, carnage... the best and worst of people laid bare for all to see.<br/><br/>George still wasn't quite expecting the team he got saddled with.<br/><br/>Going into a fight with a guy wielding The Overcompensator, a sniper dressed like a pirate, and a British officer in an SS uniform wasn't really something they prepared you for in boot camp. There were plenty who would have thought the whole thing crazy, if they hadn't seen the resumes of each. George wasn't named Cadillac for nothing, though, and he took it all in stride. With the gun across his lap and the cigarette between his teeth, he was good to go.<br/><br/>He wasn't too shy about chatting with the other soldiers. If his companions were more taciturn then good for them, but he bantered with the best of him, his voice an easy bass drawl that practically buzzed the tin can they rattled along in. Yeah, he was a Marlboro man, but if a guy wanted to smoke ladies cigarettes then by all means. Yeah, the Rangers were trying hard this season, but damned if they wouldn't bum out like always. And no, he didn't care what anyone said, football was more entertaining than baseball. Ask anyone who doesn't like to hit the target three times out of ten.<br/><br/>It was the sort of easy drive talk that made guys feel better. No need to deprive them from it, in George's opinion. As they slid along towards their destination, he readied himself with an easy shrug of his shoulders, rotating them swiftly and prepping himself for a hot exit if necessary. Him prepped didn't look much different from him not, of course, but as the doors slid open he lumbered out with surprising speed.<br/><br/>It was easy to forget how big Geoge was. Gunners in general were big, as they had to haul all that shit around, but at six foot six of solid muscle he looked like a refrigerator stood up and put on fatigues. The gun in his hand was leveled at anything that might move across the blighted square, and as he scanned the area for targets he might as well have been a Texan Schwarzenegger.<br/><br/>"All clear but the mess." He called back inside, tapping the tin of the van idly. "Thanks for the ride, old man."