"W-w-wait, that wasn't a dream? That happened?!"

"Sure did greenbeard, what, you think we can just fly recruits into this hellhole every time one of your morons die? They flash-extract your brain just as you die and imprint it into a clone waiting in the medbay."

My casual comment freezes the boy in place, and I cut him off as he opens his mouth to speak again-

"Not now kid, I'm mourning my friend, your predecessor's retirement, and nursing a hell of a hangover." My tone of finality seems to shut him up as he gulps, catching sight of Driller sauntering up the catwalk.

"Ohohoho! I see the break-legs put on his quitter Slippers!" The yellowed, crusted boots of the madman tap the sides of the Scout's boots; I guess he learned from last time, I didn't even notice.

The driller takes a seat as gunner ducks under the hatch of the drop pod, hefting his Hurricane Rocket Launcher like a lover into the alcove above his chair.

Red lights wash over us as the hatches close, the sirens wail as a countdown ticks down in the upper part of my helmet's HUD.

"Drop sequence initiated.". The bored monotone drawl of our manager trickles through my earpiece.

I glance back at the Scout, his hyperventilating coming through despite the rattling of docking clasps disengaging and engines firing up.

"W-why are we doing this- what are we fighting for!" The young greenbeard stutters out, and as one, the three of us scream out:

"We fight, for ROCK AND STONE!"

The timer hits zero, and the world erupts in a cacaphony of noise as sixteen G's of acceleration push our express elevator to hell towards Hoxxes.