At the driver's word, Kyle opens up the rear door of the massive jeep and hops down to the dirt, cradling Wanda in his arms like a newborn babe. Little brass medals- his only other keepsakes from his days in service- glint in the sun as he takes a look around the place that he and his new team have been sent to "save."<br/><br/>It's not the prettiest... but beggars can't really be choosers, the marksman supposes. With a sigh, he looks around at the others, and breaks the long silence.<br/><br/>"So... Who is taking point?"<br/><br/>It's no hero's line... but the marksman's mind is already reverting back to old habits, now that they're out in the field. They're a unit... and each member of a unit has his or her role to fulfill.<br/><br/>"Does anyone have radio gear, or a way to recognize targets marked by a rangefinder?"