[Ok DSS, how's this?]
*In the corner sits a human with a shaved head and dark eyes. He has been silent all through the briefing. At the end, he goes to the hangar and opens the cargo hatch on the fighters that will be used for the next misson. A tech bumps into him*
Tech: Hey...what are you doing?
Skinhead: I'm checking the cargo is secure.
Tech: That's my job...and I did that. Why are you rooting through the cargo.
Skinhead: I...uh...left some contraband whiskey in there on my last flight.
Tech: I ain't buying- IMP! *The tech turns to run, only to be shot in the back. Skinhead places him in the cargo bay with a small ticking device*
Skinhead: Heh. You and the squadron will get a nice cremation.
Deac: Purveyor of Fine Quality Postage Since 2001