As the squad prepped, Corporal Jennings quietly passed them by, the pilot’s attention drawn mostly to the datapad she held than the hardened marines around her. Her face flickered with light as the information she required appeared onscreen before her, the data reflecting off her dark sunglasses. Beside a picture of Lockesly, her image resembling that of a minx more than a scientist, she was skimming through weather reports, possible landing zones, safe zones, etc. Seemed like the planet bore some similarities to earth, it was almost enough info to leave her yawning, which meant the ease of the drop could vary from comfortable to tricky. A small part of her was hoping for the latter, she loved giving the marines that stomach-in-throat sensation. It was the only time she got her kicks in a mission before being left behind to watch the ship - as if it needed it most of the time.<br/><br/>Unlike the squad she had little to don - the comfort of an open army jacket colored in sandy and dark browns, exposing a dark black tank top and silver dog tags, enough to tide her by. The only resemblance she had to her fellow soldiers was the matching pants, protective shin guards and plate knee-caps.  There was no thought behind the assemblage of her outfit aside from how snug she felt, the little protection she did consider taking the form of a small side-arm holstered to her hip. In the end, dressing up in full tactical gear would have just hindered her ability to pilot. All she needed was her fingerless, taupe, gloves and a flight stick between her fingers.<br/><br/>Passing the Yutani rep’ on her way out Jennings paused and glanced over her shoulder, hand resting on her gun and glasses lowered as she caught the corporate lemming in the eyes. “Hey suit,” she joked, a thin smile playing across her lips, “Try to keep your stomach in check while on<em>my</em>ship.” Not waiting for an answer, she broke eye-contact and continued her casual approach to the dropship, her baby, the UD4L. Spotting a nearby crate and without a break in her step, she slipped the datapad she’d been carrying over its surface before reaching up with both hands to straighten her blue beret, trying to appear her best for her only love. Noticing the soldiers already huddled by her craft’s entrance, she gave them barely a side-glance as she stepped up the ramp. She wasn’t too acquainted with any of them, having had her nose in a good novel for most of the flight, even during mess, but had been given some light details on their points of expertise. They seemed like a solid bunch, most colonial marines were.<br/><br/>There was Jay, the sniper and so, by default, likely the loner of the bunch, his type normally confined to hidden vantages and lookouts rather than the front line during missions. If you want to be dramatic you could say Val basically saw those who worked in his field as the silent watchers of their squad, a scope and normally higher ground giving them the ability to guard the backs of their colleagues or relay valuable intel. Jennings couldn’t even begin to imagine how exposed one might feel, sitting atop some high point, all alone, with nobody watching your back, hoping that the enemy didn’t happen to just stumble on your position; definitely an expertise which required its fair share of nerves. Otherwise, he was handsome enough for a grunt. Give him a pair of shades to go with that M3 armor, trimmed goatee and rifle and he’d simply scream badass, or at least more so. Despite this, at least in the corporal’s eyes, he seemed more like a colonial marine calendar model than a proper soldier; Val wouldn’t mind the swimsuit edition if they had.<br/><br/>Corporal Jackson had some stiff competition for the face of the marine core however, his sergeant’s soft features and flowing blonde hair making her a perfect candidate for the next Yutani shampoo commercial. Impertinent thoughts aside, Val didn’t doubt that Diaz, or Sparky as some said, had earned the position of group leader. Sergeants were normally the toughest and most experienced, even more so than higher ranks, from what she’d noted in most of her drops. At the very least, judging by her bark, she could talk the talk but it was her walk that had Val interested. A somewhat casual two-finger salute and respectful, “Ma’am” was about the extent of her exchange as she passed the ranking officer, her gaze drifting only briefly over the curves of the soldier as she wondered what hidden talent or strength hid behind that seemingly soft exterior. The sergeant would make a perfect fit for the Yutani rep’s suit, probably even more than the actual rep.<br/><br/>Not one to disobey, even if she had little to inspect, Val entered the dropship and started up a diagnostic program in the cockpit before exiting and shuffling in with the rest of the troops gathered outside. Finding a spot to sit, she hefted herself up onto a random crate, leaning back on her arms and checking the crowd as she waited for the order to move out.<br/><br/>First to catch her eye was the redheaded beacon amongst the soldiers. She knew little of synthetics aside from the fact that combat models were normally used as fodder for the more dangerous excursions; always good to have one about in a sticky situation for this reason. If the corporal had any say in the mission she’d have Veronica being the first one in and last one out. Of course, Val was completely unaware that the model before her was actually different in a few ways from the typical synthetic. The only real noticeable difference to her was that unlike the others this one was a lot more appealing. It was a nice change from the endless horde of synthetics based off old, saggy, execs or top, yet graying, colonial commanders. The corporal had to admit a hint of curiosity as to what brought on this pleasant change of design or even who she was sculpted to resemble, if anyone.<br/><br/>Allowing her gaze to drift, she soon found herself looking upon the ‘soccer mom’ of the group. Val could sort of see how such a nickname might catch for some, especially if they hadn’t seen what the ‘mom’ hid under all that combat dress. The corporal had no doubt that even then the muscles of that built body were pressing tightly against the underneath of the scout’s M3 armor, just waiting to burst out. She first noticed as everyone was preparing for the sleep of the long journey, the sight reminding her how deceiving looks could be. Out of the entire crew, Lisa Lewis was the last one Val would ever want to cross, no matter how friendly her demeanor. She may have not appeared the most dangerous but the pilot had no doubt she could handle herself and she preferred the strength she could measure, like Roxborough’s, as opposed to the one that remained hidden.<br/><br/>Now Cali, she looked dangerous on top of being packed with tough, rippling, muscles; the latter hidden under all the gear. With a tousled hairdo and a few scars making it look as if she’d just freshly stepped out of the hell of a battle, Val thought her choice of weapon, the flamethrower, fitted her perfectly. Still, despite her tough exterior, the corporal couldn’t deny a subtly striking appearance about the dark-haired trooper, almost as if the scars, unkempt hair and muscle added rather than took away. The pyro-nut definitely had found her niche in life. Val wouldn’t mind seeing how Cali handled herself in the mission; she’d known some pretty tough looking marines to crack under pressure, she wondered if the soldier before her was like those other deceiving men and women. That is, if there even was anything to deal with on the ground. They still knew so little of the situation.<br/><br/>The team was definitely a diverse lot, more so than usual, even if it did seem to be a little short on testosterone much to the pilot’s disappointment. Jennings had no idea what was waiting for them on the surface but come what may, they looked prepared. Thankfully as the pilot she’d be sticking with the ship as the marines tore apart whatever threat they encountered within the base. She wasn’t sure she’d want to see what they’d do to the poor saps that had disrupted Yutani’s interests. The corporal was thinking terrorists; they wouldn’t need so much firepower for much else. Or it could even be a rival corporation. The former would be better as rivals were often well armed.<br/>