Helen surveyed her troops. Annie wore what leathers she'd been able to recover from her duffel bag, an armor vest that covered at least most of the important parts of her torso, and a thick leather jacket. Between the vest's pouches and a tactical belt plus a shoulder rig, she had enough firearms and ammunition to overthrow the government of a small country. The military helmet, sunglasses and cigarette really went well with the long rifle she'd pilfered from the supply crates.

Izzy looked...

Uncomfortable.

"W-What the fuck do you have against p-pants?" the small male demanded, awkwardly tugging at the knee length skirt she'd provided him with, to go beneath a skirt of silver mesh lined leather panels, roman style. His armor vest was slightly too big, though they'd jury rigged the straps extra tight. That, plus the tank top, the bandaged arms and the bandoliers of knives really gave him a nice, intense look. She'd insisted on smearing war paint under his eyes, over the white bone-like chitin.

Tying back his hair had been a trick, as long as it was. They'd managed with a nice braid.

"I don't move as well in pants. I only wore them earlier to match my outfit," the one eyed woman replied, amused. "Crossdressing suits you, anyway."

Phelan had bolstered his armament with a missile launcher on his back, a rifle slung in front, a shotgun in his arms, a pair of pistols at his hip, and a few silver bladed hatchets to accompany his broadsword.

Overall, Helen deemed them acceptably equipped.