As snow gently fell alongside mortar shells, Aren Tobak stared out his window, watching the snow fall against the orange glow of the fire from the shells. He smiled; amidst all of the chaos, he had found something beautiful. It wasn't that Inverness itself was unattractive, just that he hated to see it torn apart by this war. Turning off his beloved Louis Armstrong, he rose slowly to his feet. His steely blue eyes surveyed the war room carefully. These were his men, his proteges, his responsibility. As he looked over them, his mind sent him back to that fateful battle a month ago, when a slight tactical error coupled with a suit malfunction had cost him Balix, one of his best heavy arms pilots. He'd been poring over applications for weeks, but no one was good enough. He wanted Balix back, not some new heavy gunner. He laughed as he remembered the slight limp she walked with; an old war wound. But no, now was not the time for reminiscing; Satchmo's music had caused him to go soft for a moment. Turning to face his team, he smiled broadly. "Excellent work on our last mission guys; just a few quick words about it, and then I'll tell you about our next mission. First off, Max, please, for the love of God, no more adlibbing! You almost got us all killed, but good work in spite of that. You saved our butts, even though you got our butts in trouble. (will continue in a minute).