All of us were in jumpsuits, jetpacks fully fueled, rebreathers charged. The only thing left was to wait the designated hour for our bodies to adapt to the suits. "This is the worst part," Ghost said. "The time before the drop. Being on the drop is fine. You know, taking fire. Dishing it out. Performing your mission. But right here, right now, this is the worst. The waiting." "Sure mate," Facehopper said. "But it always ends quick." "Not always," Ghost said. Beside him, I started tapping out a staccato rhythm on my jumpsuit leg assembly. "Stop fidgeting," Manic said. "You're making me nervous." "Definitely don't want that," Fret said. "When Manic's nervous, he shoots his mouth off. Better stop, Rade." "Man, he shoots his mouth off anyway," TJ said. Beyond his facemask, I could only see a small part of the Atlas moth inked to his neck. He didn't seem so tough when he was cocooned like that inside the suit. The same was true of everybody else.
