He was a new recruit. This was to be his first taste of action. While his outer skin was all shiny and new, he felt an odd kind of affinity with the other wallets - their skin worn and scuffed, the result of many a Matrix sale - as he waited in the makeshift trenches with his comrades.
The night had been a long one, full of anticipation. Murmurs around him hopefully suggested that dawn was on the horizon. Some whispered they could see chinks of daylight far off in the gloomy blackness that pervaded their positions.
Yet, save for the murmurs, all was quiet. Wallet after wallet, all lined up and primed to go, waiting for the starburst shell that would indicate the start of the rush. At that, they would all scream like banshees, rising as one, as they clambered up into no man's land and sought to come to grips with their targets.
Their orders were clear. At all costs they were to break out of the pocket, securing their targets with extreme prejudice as they did so.
As he waited with the grizzled vetrans, this shiny wallet knew one thing. The offensive would be short and it was sure to be expensive ... but it would be glorious.
Now that's the right spirit.