Jenkins gave Foster a joking smirk. He was on the verge of laughing, but still held a sense of seriousness in his voice. "A teleporter, eh?" he said, choking back his real emotions for the situation. Foster nodded nervously, just saying it out loud made it seem much more unbelievable, even to him.

"Yeah, just poof! Then nothing," Foster added, his voice weakened with doubt. Jenkins chuckled some more.

"Man, you know just when to tell a joke, don't you? I mean, going on a high importance mission, having more than half your squad killed, and tellin' me this- you're just a lovely pack of jokers, aren't you?"

"What I'm telling you is real. I ain't makin' up any damn story, there really is a teleporter, or something like that. I've seen it with my own two bloody eyes." Jenkins simply looked at Foster again with the same, funny look.

"Alright," he began as he decided to stretch, "Why do you bother tellin' me this 'tale', oh, I mean this 'briefing', exactly?"

"Well," Foster began, hesitating for a moment, "we need to get back in there, and we need guns to do it." Jenkins snickered again and held up his hand, as if to stop the masked man in his tracks.

"So," he held back another laugh, "you're tellin' me that on your way to destroy the cloners that are pouring out this nightmare, you decided to take a quick 'detour' and found a machine that made that apparently disintegrates things, losing two men in this process, might I add, and you thought that because two more men seemed to disappear after 'activating' it, you're gonna call it a teleporter?"

Foster was going to speak up, but was interrupted by Jenkins, whose tone began to pick up, "And because you 'think', and I'm gonna put some damn emphasis on 'think', that because whatever it is that 'made Lewis and Skully disappear' is a teleporter, you want me to give up my only defence, my only two veterans who know how to fight, and waste even more time and resources going after a fruitless cause? You think you can come in here, insult my intelligence by making up a damn excuse on why you lost four of my best men and some of the best gear in the camp, and now you want MORE gear and MORE men!? I think I got everything, but please, FUCKING fill me in if I did pass over something. 'Cause I'd really like to know if I'm missing something here!"

Foster pounded on the table that held the map, grabbing Jenkins attention. "Yeah, you got everything down pat. But please tell me this, what's your alternative, exactly? Running away? Again!?" He paused for a moment to let Jenkins soak in his words. "Now, tell me, how many camps we've gone through this past couple of months alone?" Jenkins didn't speak up. "Three," Foster said quickly, hold up fingers to match his statement, "and, tell me, how many men did we lose in running away just this past 'tactical movement'?" He paused again, "Ten," he said in a similar fashion.

"Now, I'm not asking for men, fuck I'm not even asking for any of your top guns, I'm just asking for some damn ammo! If you're not gonna give me that, if you're just gonna pass me by and continue your little game of cat and mouse with Patty, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take the guns I want, and nobody's gonna stop me, 'cause I'm the fucking dead-eye of this camp, and you're the guy that got ten men killed last week. Now I'm gonna go back to that lab, I'm gonna find those two fuckers, and Hell, I might even find an oasis with this teleporter. And when all's said and done, I'm gonna end this damn war." Foster paused one more time.

"I'll be the hero, and you'll be the asshole who tried to stop me. That's how I'd want it ending at least, but you can just make it easier for everyone and give me a hand. Ol' buddy, ol'-fucking-pal?"

Jenkins chuckled again, scratching his chin. "Well this is just fucking grand, now isn't it?"

Foster cocked his eye at Jenkins, "I don't follow."

Jenkins motioned to the three men to come to him as he walked over to the large map in the center of the tent. "Come ere'. Take a look." He pointed to the large circle that was placed in the center of a forest region. "What do ya see?"

"The center of a god damn forest. Is there a meaning to this or do you just like lookin' at the pretty colors?"

Jenkins gave Foster a look. "Bunker: Wyre."

Foster looked at Jenkins, confused. "A fucking bunker!" He rolled his eyes. "Do I really need to say more!? It's a fucking fortress that's more neatly packed underground than the brain cells in your head. I don't know what you guys are thinking about doing after 'defeating' the Patriarch, but me and the rest of this camp are heading there as soon as we are done packing up. Have all the fun you want going after that bastard, but I've finally found a haven for my boys, and I ain't passing this up."

Foster forced out a mocking laugh. "You're joking, right? We've got the Patriarch by his balls! And you just want to give him some fucking space to recuperate!? Bullshit you're leaving! If anything, we should throw everything we've got at the bastard right now! If six men could punch a good hole into his lair, imagine what this entire camp could do!"

"You got fucking lucky that last time! But now the Patriarch knows that we have finally got the power to fight back, he's pissed and he knows what's coming. You had your one shot to end it all, but you've failed and you just don't know it! The best thing we can do is spare our men the misery and at least find a place to end on our terms."

Foster looked at Jenkins with disbelief, and shook his head. "You're weak." He turned and headed for the exit.

"I'm just trying to do what's right for my men."

"You're just trying to do what's best for yourself."

"What? And this 'glory mission' is solely for the sake of mankind?"

Foster just looked back to Jenkins for a moment, then continued through the tent flap.