The officer replies softly, but with a harsh undertone that shows that there will be no light conversation in the room. Well, rare are the times when darkfriends gather for light conversation.

"The Dark... The great lord of the Dark," the man says, the last laced with a sarcasm that would only be detected by those that knew him enough. But there was no one that knew him that much. He could never, ever, afford for anyone to know him that much. "We are going to be working together, whatever that means, to accomplish the latest goal of the Great Lord. No, that does not mean we should go around in a circle and tell each other about ourselves, that is one thing I do not care to know. I don't know how much you know about our mission, and again, I don't care, but first... first we have to.... we have to kill off my squad."

He finished the last with a rush, breathing heavier than he was before. He glared around the room, making sure no one acknowledged this possible sign of weakness. He reached into his pack and drew out an old and tattered map of this part of Amidicia. It is worn around the edges and wrinkled all over, to the point that many of the lines have faded. But the detail remains, in such detail that even the bushs are outlined individually.

"We... We must make plans."