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"Nifty. So we're talking… uhm, dense, favela, very little wheel space…"

"About right." - that was the Captain. He finished rolling another one of his putrid cigarettes and sat down on a foldable, huffing bluish smoke.

"What about assets?"

"Negotiable. But only if they come out of the Fortress' ledgers."

"What? Why?"

"They'll cover most of our expenses, but extra-company assets need to come out of their pocket. This is how the Fortress does business, Owl. Nothing we can do about that."

"So we're on barebone intel and we have to beg the Americans for missiles?"

"Pretty much."

"Should I comment further?"

"No, your face is like a thousand words. I know how it feels, Owl. I know Gabe and Gray share your feelings. But this is a good, paying commission. The Fortress isn't the most straightforward client, but they pay their bills, and generously. I took this job because I trust in your skills and abilities to fill in the holes in any insufficient intel. Is my trust misplaced?"

The Owl grunted. Gray smiled. Gabe chewed on a Snickers.

"Whatever, cap. To cut to the chase, I think this is a job for Gray, Finnegan, Lossless and Krinkov. Me and Gabe should be on the bounce, but not in proximity. Flute, Pagan and Twenty in cold reserve."

"Fifty five lobos? You think that's enough?"

"Depends on the assets the Fortress coughs up. But yes, I think this is how we should do it. Hit it and bounce it. Should take an hour, two tops, and me and Gabe will be primed on the bench in case the crap hose pours it al dente for our retard handlers."

Gray ignored the bant. It was par the course.

"You're absolutely sure, Owl? Money on the lips sure?"

"Five-by-five, chief."