<strong>Dr Fields</strong><br/><br/><br/><br/>He was nodding. Apparently he was only reacting to one of the questions flung at him by the new team. He was fumbling about in a case, and produced a handful of tiny metal and plastic studs.<br/><br/>"Basic commpieces. Seven klick radius, or thereabouts. That's enough for you to separate in a search pattern, or get comfortably scattered in case something gets awry, but I seriously recommend not straying out of comm range. No solo efforts here. I refrained from saying "no heroes", aha. But, of course, I'm sure you will be."<br/><br/>Something shined in his eyes then, perhaps a zealous belief in this system and school he had created. One could perhaps surmise his energy was all directed into his project, into creating heroes, and not much else. As evidenced by his lack of concern for all the other questions.<br/><br/>Out of the same briefcase, he took what looked like small wristwatches out and handed them to all the candidates. Their screens were also glowing orange, and when they had all put them on, intricate maps and GPS tracking systems would point them in the right direction of their objective, deep within the Krim Zone, which flashed up a deep red (or crimson!) on their wrist devices. Dr Fields went about the living room, grasping his orange screens with his fingertips, flinging them towards each of the wrist devices, uploading all the information they would need, each wristpiece accepting the information with a cute bleep.<br/><br/>Dr Fields checked his own wristpiece. "One minute spare. You can get a head start. I love efficiency! Take the buggy outside. Apart from the fliers, I recommend you remain aerial but parallel with the buggy on the ground. Time to go. We will be on the other end of the comms."<br/><br/>"Combining both team letters, I'm renaming you collectively for this mission as codename Griffon. Time to leave, heroes."