Jennifer was fixing up her pony tail, looking into a small reflective box around the front of the dropship waiting for the pilot, her mind wandered to the mission and her concerns. None of them would ever be voiced, obviously, she had to many things to worry about besides being relieved of command. The young Sergeant didn't want to spend every moment worrying about the drop, so as soon as she was contented with her hair, more so that it'd say in place, she dropped her helmet back on her head and fixed the strap, moving the helmet from side to side until it sat just perfect. Jennifer wandered back out to the more exposed rear of the dropship where all the activity was and sized up her squad. Jackson was off having a smoke, though Jennifer was tempted to run over and stomp out his cig for no other reason than to get him aggressive before the mission kicked off, everyone had a ritual and maybe a cigarette was Jacksons.<br/><br/>Jennifer turned her head towards Corporal Roxborough, and her body followed as she approached the young Marine and stopped just in front of her, looking her head to toe. Roxborough was one big mystery to Jennifer, though that didn't matter considering she looked the part well enough. Despite noticing what she shouldn't be at this critical motion, Jennifer crouched down in front of the Corporal and tugged at her webbings and gear around her waist, moving down to her shin guards and boots, making sure everything was tied up and good to go, which it was. Roxborough's weapon on the other hand, Jennifer avoided. Personally, the Sergeant was plenty experienced with the weapon but officially not qualified for its inspection. "<strong>Well done Corporal, Ooh-rah!</strong>" Jennifer offered the Corporal a reassuring smile as she left another gentle tap to the top of her helmet and moved on to the next closest Marine, Maxwell. As Jennifer walked over, Corporal Jennings passed with a salute that'd make even an Army tard's skin boil. She was half tempted to give the Corporal a tongue lashing about calling an enlisted woman ma'am. But now wasn't the time. Jennifer didn't even know the Corporal that well, she wasn't a combat Marine and thus, her shit wasn't of concern to Jen. The fact she piloted the drop ship was of note, but the executive was tagging along so that obviously meant Jennings was good, or else the suit would fly first class.<br/><br/>Jennifer approached PFC Maxwell, and again visually inspected her equipment. Maxwell wasn't a mystery, but Jennifer had the suspicion she was snappy and quick on the learn. Her files were classified, which likely meant she was a test subject or some kind of classified super synthetic which would put Jennifer out of a job. The synthetic was easily, naturally if you wanted, the most competant, all synthetics were really. Typically they'd be used for cannon fodder, breaching doors and going in first since they really weren't going to be 'killed' per say, but Jennifer knew better and that every friendly gun was an important asset when things went FUBAR on the surface. Everything the synthetic had on was up to the standards, and again Jennifer never prodded the unimportant stuff that some might notice, grooming and uniform standards be damned, today wasn't a day for that type of stuff. The Smart Gun is a badass weapon and Jennifer had no intention on poking and prodding where poking and prodding didn't belong. Another gentle tap on the head and Jennifer nodded. "<strong>Ooh-rah Maxwell, nice work.</strong>" She whispered, her head scanning around for her next target. Lewis.<br/><br/>Jennifer closed the distance and approached Lewis from behind, looking her up and down. Of every Marine Jennifer knew, Lewis fit the profile least, looking more at home in a business suit than combat gear, not to say she couldn't do the part well enough, but in effect it looked kind of bad ass, like a Saturday morning super hero. 'Soccer mom' had her shit squared away, Jennifer didn't even need to berate anyone thus far, which was expected but a nice mini-surprise none the less. Usually someone would fuck up and have their M3 armor on wrong, and of course itw as Jennifer's Corps given duty to scare the piss of the almighty Sergeant into that Marine and square him or her away. A squared up Marine was a Marine that didn't die first. And if no one died first, that meant no fuckin' letters for Jen to write up. Jennifer moved around in front of Lewis and looked her up and down, grabbing the Marine's pulse rifle and checking for any signs of malfunction or lack of care. A weapon was akin to a woman in every regard. Beautiful, powerful and deadly. If mistreated, the deadly part went double for the handler. Nothing to note, though Jennifer did have to remind everyone not to use the cotton swabs for cleaning, and instead use the microfiber cloth and stick. Then again, she sometimes used cotton too, those microfiber clothes were aparently from Hell. "<strong>Excellent work soccer mom, Ooh-rah</strong>" Jennifer nodded, a final tap on the side of Lewis' head and she walked back near the drop ship.<br/><br/>"<strong>Excellent work ladies and Jackson, I didn't even need to hold anyones hand...out-fucking-standing, I'm sure your parents would be proud if I didn't own your asses.</strong>" Jennifer barked loudly as she looked around the hangar for the rest of the squad, she didn't even have a full roster of whow as who. Some people came and some went, so fucking quick she had new boots and then no one within the same day. If things went any worse around this hole, Jennifer might just be glad to be an officer instead of dealing with shift changes that move like an officer at an ass kissing contest. "<strong>If you have any questions, too fuckin' late. If you have any concerns, join the Army and piss about it over there. If your not to busy standing around with nothing to do, we got some bugs to kill. I want you on my bird in 30 seconds and strapped in or I swear I'll toss your ass out the air lock. Move!</strong>"