Modern War of the Broken World ((O//A))

Should we make this into a Guild?

Yes Ma'am!	34.8%	[ 8 ]
Maybe...	30.4%	[ 7 ]
Nah...	21.7%	[ 5 ]
Visitor +1	13.0%	[ 3 ]
Total Votes:			[ 23 ]

[ElementGold]

The woman thanked Dietrich as she lit the cigarette and took her first long drag in weeks. She tried to hide how happy such a small thing made her...but it was a lost cause. Finally, she took Deet's hand and grinned for a moment before muttering, "Very nice to meet you, Deet. Guess you can call me Tori." and she laughed,"Simple names are the best ones...we see so many people in and out of here it's a surprise if I remember two people's names...even my own."

and upon his comment about thanking her for her work, she shrugged,"I know these people just want what I want...they want to survive. They are fighting for something they believe in and the Battle Torn are trying to revive some sort of structure in this world by offering a little protection to those civilians asking for it. It is really the least I could do..." and then she took a long drag of the cigarette, a hum escaping her as nicotine shot through her and she closed her eyes,"Besides...I really have not seen many medical personnel around these parts. When I arrived here the camp was in shambles and infection was everywhere..." she shrugged,"I just followed my calling to help others and ended up staying." and then she tried to laugh,"Still not used to all the gunfire though." and sure enough, she flinched as another burst of gunfire began in the distance.

[Larken137]

((OOC: Yay!!! I get to jump in again smile ))



Miya looked over the special team that Neija was introducing, but her face never wavered past emotionless. The only time she may have smirked as when she noticed Alice's cold glare. But, upon being asked of her specialty, finally Miya seemed to brighten up.
One could have compared it to the look that a child got when he/she stepped inside a candy shoppe."Ah...my specialty. While I must agree with the little sergeant---I am nothing special. I am merely a machine made to kill..." her words broke off for a moment before she coughed and then set her gear-nag down before continuing,"But...if I were to list something as a specialty ..."
and she thought about it for not even a second longer,"Assassination or marksmanship. You choose which one you like best."
and that dark sneer was back on her face. Perhaps she was just a tad bit nutty...but at least she was being blunt and as honest as she could be.

[Croy the Warrior King]

South America
Argentina, Eastern Coast
Avon 16 Regiment, Bravo Company
3rd Platoon, 2nd Lieutenant Temple

Within moments Alex had rejoined his command squad, second section had replaced their MP5's with their standard kit and spread out to give cover fire. Park and Alex swapped back to their own gear and Alex handed over the MP5 and a handful of mags to the Captain. "Try and keep up, when we move we'll be moving fast, you fall behind you get left behind." He told the man, his own team would take the General and he'd detailed Park to watch the Captain, make sure he kept up and if he couldn't, put a bullet to him. It would be even worse now if the man were recaptured, they would renew their torture with increased vigor he wouldn't survive it, and worst of all, he would likely give away information, Alex just hoped he'd been strong enough to not give anything too valuable away so far. He touched a hand to his covert comms kit, it wasn't strictly necessary but he'd picked up the habit years ago with less reliable equipment and it was hard to shift. "BOF's one and two fall back. Second section move to cover BOF three. BOF three, prepare to exfil." Four affirmatives filled his ear a moment later and he moved back towards the base, dropping into cover once more, he began taking shots at any movement he could see, whether he had clear line of sight or not, the object was just to keep their heads down while they pulled out.

"Vehicle moving, heading towards the main gate." Someone announced over the radio, he couldn't be sure but he thought it might have been Marsh. "You got it Jean?"
"He's all mine." Came a reply. There was a brief lull in the firing then a woosh followed by a bright flash that washed out Alex's NVG's for a moment as the jeep went up from the missile. "Target down."
"Section two in position." Came an announcement a moment later.
"BOF Three pull back and regroup with your section. We're moving." Alex could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body, his heart going like a jackhammer against the ground on which he was lying. A man popped his head out from behind a storage pallet and Alex shifted his aim, getting his ACOG over it, it came again, lingering this time and Alex exhaled squeezing the trigger, the 7.62 rifle kicked into his shoulder and the head burst apart, slumping to the floor, finger on the trigger.
"We're clear." Came Corporal Williams voice and Alex acknowledged, giving the order to pull out, the platoon began to maneuver out by fireteams of four, providing cover fire. Within a couple of minutes they were clear of the firefight, sprinting through the trees back the way they had come, every so often a fireteam would stop to cover, not that they would fire as the enemy would not have caught up with them just yet, but it always paid to be cautious, and allowed the command squad dragging their prisoner and the former prisoner a chance to stay relatively centered in the group, slowed as they were by their loads. They had begun to head West at first, turning North after a few minutes. They would continue along that heading for a further fifteen minutes before turning and heading North East, back towards the coast and where they had stashed their boats. It was called 'putting in a dogs leg' making the enemy thinking they were moving in one direction so they would follow them that way, set up ambushes ahead of them, then when they changed direction the enemy would be in the wrong place and pursuers would overshoot and lose them. Five minutes into their Northward journey they also stopped to set up their claymores, giving anyone who followed them a nasty surprise, it was at that junction that Alex called for the satellite phone and relayed their situation, speaking as quickly as possible, they had practiced the message a dozen times, getting the timing down to as short as possible. Satellite phones gave off a massive splash and would allow the enemy to easily pinpoint their location. "Baseplate this is Bravo-Three-Zero. En-route to exfil, ETA 15 minutes. Expect possible hot LZ. Out."

[Cracker JaKx]

((Oh crap. Sorry Sasakota for not replying soon enough. I didn't see that you had replied. My bad. Anywho, I'll be posting regularly soon))

Name: JaK Stryker
Location: Side gunner

JaK nodded in accordance with the plan and set his pack on a very squirmy Templar. They were all bound securely with zipties at the ankles and the wrists, so if they fell they would have to wait for a person to help them. The mounted gun was worn, and the many nicks and dings must've been from years and years of abuse and streneous work. Even thoigh it wasn't factory new, it was clean and it worked.

JaK fed one of the smaller belts of ammunition into its slot, giving the top of the gun a solid pat to make it was secure. If it wasn't, JaK would have the entire rear of the gun explode in his face. Niether could JaK or these men afford that. The last of the Berets hopped on and JaK once more donned the headgear. The loudness of the propellors faded ans the ear pices clasped over the Marine's ears. He didn't like that the cups were leather-lined, as it didn't feel secure enough.

"All aboard the chopper of hell!" JaK exhuberantly yelled over the propellors. The prisoners probably couldn't hear him, but he was fine with that. What was coming to the prisoners would be much worse than a helicopter with guns blazing on their comerades. These men were scared, but probably because with the Templar mentality, if they were captured, the Templars would send no rescue team. Unless, of course, it involved a higher-ranking person, such as a platoon leader with information.

[Pamphleteer]

"Deet"
Battle Torn Encampment, Medical Tent
1st Team, C Squadron, SFOD-D

Deet hardly turned his head towards the gunfire. It didn't phase him anymore. If it did, he probably wouldn't have lasted long as an operator. It seemed like whoever was on guard today was doing their job, though, and the gunfire died down quickly. There was also a chance that it was nothing. Long shifts on towers makes you see things after a while, especially if you hadn't slept in a long time. No sleep was all too common in this conflict.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Tori. You've done a good job. I'm sure this place looks helluva lot better than it did before. Can't really do much for the conditions, though." He shrugged, readjusting his rifle again. "Should I let you get back to work? Or do you want some chow or something? I don't mind running errands." He smirked, gently nudging her as she smoked her cigarette.

[ElementGold]

Tori chuckled as she was nudged and took a few more drags before she muttered,"Well the soldier in the tent is stable for awhile. I will come back in a few hours to clean her jaw and check on some other things."
and she looked over her shoulder to see if the Officer was still in the tent. Their voices were so low inside, she could barely hear them except for the occasional grunt from the female due to the wires. "Some chow doesn't sound so bad right now...but I'm not going to make you run errands for me." and she winked,"You heading to the chow hall yourself? If so...perhaps we could keep each other company still?"

But then she looked down at her medical gear. She hadn't noticed before but her gown was stained with old blood, and her pants were grimy from mud and other such things. she couldn't smell herself yet, but she could probably use a shower.
"Uh...after I change of course."

It wasn't like her to leave, but she had been working for the past 20-some hours straight since that soldier arrived. The other medic was walking around and could easily be reached via radio if need-be. He wasn't as qualified for things as she was, but at least he knew how to wrap a bandage and change out old wraps if it came down to it.

[Croy the Warrior King]

South America
Argentina, Eastern Coast
Avon 16 Regiment, Bravo Company
3rd Platoon, 2nd Lieutenant Temple

They had been moving quickly for the last quarter of an hour, hurrying through the underbrush as fast as they could safely move, Alex had ordered a couple of scouts posted further out from the main unit but pulled them in as they began to reach the coast. They ducked into cover, finding their dingy's with only a small amount of difficulty, they'd just planted charges within them when Alex's radio sprang to life in his ear. "Bravo-two, this is Hotel-one, en-route ETA 3 minutes."
"Roger Hotel-one, holding just inside the tree-line, IR strobe activated." Alex reached into his webbing, withdrawing the strobe and flicking it on, reattaching it to his vest. He heard the rustling sounds as his team mates did the same.
"Bravo-two, this is Bravo-two-zero," he radioed to his unit, "Hotel-one ETA 3 minutes, prepare for exfil."
A chorus of affirmatives echoed in his ear and Alex checked their dingy's once more. It would be obvious who had performed the raid, especially as even now the Templar invasion force should have landed on the Falklands and be hard at work battling for control. But they didn't want to leave behind anything their enemies could use. The dingy's may not have been anything fancy, but they floated and therefore they could be used against them. They wouldn't allow that to happen and there was no way they had time or the ability to take them with them, therefore they would deny their enemy.

"Contact rear!" Came a cry, moments before a burst of fire, followed by a second and third cracked the silence and darkness. Alex brought up his rifle, turning to their rear and flicking up his NVG's, already the sky was beginning to brighten across the sea behind them. It would make it their exfiltration easier, the Battle Torn would be fighting into the rising sun, and it was becoming bright enough for them to make out individual details more easily. Alex sighted down his scope, taking aim on a muzzle flash, he exhaled, squeezed the trigger once, twice, and thrice. The firing stopped, he couldn't see whether he'd hit his target or it had simply taken cover, more than likely the latter, engaging at this distance in the thick jungle meant a solid kill was next to impossible. There was a lot of fire coming their way though, they'd obviously called in reinforcements.
"Bravo-two-one and Bravo-two-three extend lines and watch for flanking down the beach." He ordered over the radio, hearing the sudden sound of rotor blades, that wasn't right, if it was their own chopper it would've come across the sea, the sound would have increased gradually, the suddenness meant it had appeared from over the forest, an enemy chopper.
"Enemy Helo!" cried a voice to his right, confirming his suspicion a moment later.
"Take cover!" A second later their position was suddenly being laced by heavy calibre machine gun fire from above, kicking up dirt, sand and shattering foliage with its onslaught. Alex glanced up, it was hovering over the beach, jinking slowly side to side, blocking their path to open ground. "Bravo-two-zero to Baseplate, we've got an enemy chopper on station, anything you can do."
"Stand by Bravo-two-zero."
"Incoming get your heads down!" Someone shouted and Alex complied as the machine guns opened up again followed a moment later by a woosh and a dull crack as a rocket went off into the forest.
"Bravo-two-zero we have your position, we have the target on RADAR, get your heads down, missile away."
"Incoming!" Alex screamed down the radio, trying to make himself heard over the roaring of the chainguns. Suddenly the guns stopped and their was silence, then an almighty explosion and the helicopter was suddenly so much wreckage crashing to the sand, blazing fiercely. A trail of vapour led off out to sea where the cruise missile had come from and Alex knew that it would disappear under the waves some distance out. Coming in over the trail was a welcome sight, the unmistakable bulk of a Chinook.
"Ride's here," Alex informed, "Hotel-one, Bravo-two-zero, your marker is the crashed helo."
"Not a very happy sign but we'll take it, make it quick boys, looks like your jungle is swarming."
"Bravo-two we're moving out," he announced as calmly as possible down the comm, "get the lead out."
They moved, hurriedly, laying down fearsome amounts of cover fire, popping 203's and grenades into the forest. Alex noted that smoke had been deployed on either end of the LZ to give them cover from down the beach, he also noted that someone was being carried across the back of Corporal Eric. He couldn't tell who it was at the time, there was too much else to worry about, neither of them carried their bergen's anymore. In fact, a few of the platoon members had opted to ditch theirs. The Chinook touched down in the sand, about 80 meters from the waters edge, about 30 meters from the treeline. It probably would've been closer but helicopter wreckage was strewn across the upper limits of it, the horrendous sound of the rotor blades almost drowning out the loud cracks and bursts of the platoons weaponry, but not quite, its massive gatling cannons had opened up by then, hosing down the enemy positions, daring them to try and stick their heads up to take a shot.

Within moments of it touching down the platoon were swarming into the open tailgate. In less than a minute they were all inside and the heavy helicopter was pulling up, its engines straining to lift the weight, Alex sat at the back, near the door looking out over the ocean. He glanced to Park and nodded. "Roast 'em." There was a pause, punctuated only by the roar of the rotor blades, the ding of small arms fire off the armoured fuselage, and the screaming of the miniguns, then a number of whooshing explosions in quick succession as the C4 charges amongst the dingy's detonated, so close together they could have been mistaken for a single one. Much as he wanted to, Alex couldn't bring himself to hope some of the Battle Born had been caught in the explosions. The aircraft continued up, banked and began to head out to sea, giving Alex a clear view of the mainland they were leaving as the tailgate began to close. He stood, stooping slowly and began to head towards the cockpit, having to bustle his way past, exchanging nods and pats with his team mates. They were clearly relieved to be out of it but no one was celebrating, not yet. Several of them were wounded, though none looked serious, a graze here, a scratch there, Lambert sported a bloodsoaked bandage on his left shoulder which Marcus was even now patching up. He'd discover the full extent of the casualties later.

[WarmApplePaii]

☭ C o m m a n d a n t N e i j a K o v a l s k a ☭
////////////T h e N a m e I s C o m m a n d e r T o Y o u.
////////////////////////////////////////W e H a v e Y o u r S i x T e m p l a r A l l y ∫ ◝ ◌ ● ◌ ● ◌ ● ◌ ●
//////—————————————————————————————————

////////////////////////"C o m m a n d a n t O f S p e t s g r u p p a A l f a G r o u p R u s s i a n S p e c i a l F o r c e s !"

//////—————————————————————————————————
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////

Neija looked among everyone one final time. Already starting off this was going to be difficult bringing in Foreigners to a Russian Operating Special Forces Unit. Neija pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled deeply. No one had said a word, Not like what happened last time. That poor girls jaw still hurt. Neija looked among her two newbies and paced back and fourth slowly, contemplating more then thinking. What she was contemplating was whether or not to beat the ******** out of them, or ask the question again, Neija really hated repeating herself. At least the Former Commander gave a less then exceptionable answer. Assassinations however, were a team thing. Everyone was good at that, and well killing was to vague of an answer. So she was going to sound it out, and make these two feel as stupid as possible.

"Okay, Let's try this one more time. Killing is Easy, So let me sound it out, nice and slow... Okay? Soldiers... Are... Good... At... Killing, understood?"

One Spetsgruppa snickered, the tank. She threw her leg back, and kicked the big fella in his gonads. He let out a small grunt of pain and dropped to his knees, she connected her feet to the floor and roundhouse kicked him in the jaw. Yeah, all that for snickering, This was pretty serious. Sarkov straightened up and nailed her lips shut.

"I'm asking you one more time. If you had to pick any weapon, any specialty, and kind of thing you would want to be an expert in, what would that be. Take Sarkov over there. she's our sniper. Our MARKSMEN expert. So.... What would you ladies like to be an expert in. If you'd like Me to pick... that'd be fine too."

She finished and turned around to help the big guy up. She patted his shoulders, spoke Russian to him, She asked him if he was good. He said yes, all done and over with. He knew it full well his mistake. He didn't question Neija's punishments. It made him the hardened soldier he is today. He couldn't of been happier with her. That... And he found her so hot.

Neija's Theme:Asking Alexandria - I was once, Possibly, Maybe, Perhaps a Cowboy King.
Neija's Weapon: SKS Single Shot (Assault/Sniper Purpose) Rifle/Interchangable Hybrid Sight/12X Ballistics Scope(All purpose Ranges) TacFlash and Bayonet/Screwdriver, .44 Magnum/Speed Reload/Curved Sword(Katana)

[Pixy Muffin]

✛✛✛ċömmänd sërġëänt mäjör älïċë rëpörtïnġ!✛✛✛

✙You think your tough.
✙You don't know what tough is.
✙Don't cry too hard now.
✙It's just some enemy fire.

Well that irritated her. To be treated as if she was an idiot made her want to undo the safety on the automatic gun and shoot each one of them and walk off. What the Commandant didn't seem to realize was that she was not on her own land, and that this mission that she had become so much a part of, was something that Alice was given. If Alice had not have told Neija about the mission to begin with, there would be no reason for her to take such control. Now she was being treated as if she was ignorant. Which didn't fly well with her. Alice refused to be talked down to like that and just as easily she turned on her heal.

The blonde broke rank and walked away from the group. "My specialty doesn't concern any of you," she hissed over her shoulder. Perhaps it was because her hangover was becoming more and more potent in her head. The pounding in her head didn't help such things. Then again, being talked to as if she was stupid, caused her scars to itch in a bad way. 'I need to go prep my things. ******** training, I have to be in Canada tomorrow. They can run themselves into the dirt. I will be prepared.' Yeah she could have been court marshaled for such a thing. Then again, why would they do such a thing. Her chances of survival were slim. With her wounds still very fresh on her body, one of them actually started to bleed through the bandage. She would have to get that fixed.

'I cannot train with such things wrong with me anyway. If I'm to work at my best. I need rest. Drinking last night was a mistake.' Getting back inside the facility she walked down the hallways in silence. She reached up and pulled the insignia from her collar and put it in her pocket.

✙You see this scar.
✙It is what makes me tough
✙Oh, you want to know the story?
✙******** you.

✠Location: Underground Facility
✠Status: Patched up. Pissed, Itching, Wanting out.
✠Surrounding Hostiles: No one
✠OOC: ]

[Larken137]

((OOC: Ooooooooh...poor Alice :/ ))



Miya watched as Alice stomped off.
she could not help the urge to flee after 'le petit Sergeant', but, at the same time...she had come here with a purpose. The night before at the bar, she felt as though she was looked down upon by Neija, and while so far she had managed to control her tongue, it was becoming harder by the minute.

But, she was impressed by the other Commander's skill. They way she mowed down her own man like that had Miya wanting to stand there and applaud the show. It was entertaining at the least. Still, when she saw the agitation grow on Neija's face, she sneered: "Ah...I did not realize we were not allowed to state the obvious." and she pretended to look shameful, "My apologies Commander, I will do better this time around."
And then she murmured," I was a marksman for my team when I first started the Templar's. We toured in South America where I picked up a certain fondness for the M4A1 though I am an expert with the standardized M16." and then she placed her hands on her hip,"A petty rifleman. I guess that's what your people might call me."
But she did not seem to be offended by the notion.

[WarmApplePaii]

☭ C o m m a n d a n t N e i j a K o v a l s k a ☭
////////////T h e N a m e I s C o m m a n d e r T o Y o u.
////////////////////////////////////////W e H a v e Y o u r S i x T e m p l a r A l l y ∫ ◝ ◌ ● ◌ ● ◌ ● ◌ ●
//////—————————————————————————————————

////////////////////////"C o m m a n d a n t O f S p e t s g r u p p a A l f a G r o u p R u s s i a n S p e c i a l F o r c e s !"

//////—————————————————————————————————
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////

When Alice stomped off, Neija only seemed to smirk. The other soldiers exchanged glances. Confused by the notion. Neija turned to the other one, she was making progress, slow progress, but progress is progress. Neija pointed her finger at the female who answered the question a little better this time. Rifleman. That's what she will be known for. The renounced Commander was not showing Neija why she was a Commander. She had that look, the look of hateful visions. Something a Commander should of outgrown. Whoever trained this girl, did not do it properly. She paced back and fourth.

"MEN. Can you tell me, One thing you have learned under my Command."

She replied, looking at the Commander the entire time. Simultaneously. They spoke aloud, 'Ma'am. EVERYTHING' In Russian. Neija held her hand up. She studied that look in Miya's eye. She wanted to punch Neija right in her mouth. Good. That was suppose to be the attitude. She was on the trail of becoming a Battle Hardened, Well-Trained, And Well-Disciplined Soldier. Alice just needed to learn to control it more, Like Miya.

"Newbie, tell me. Do you want to punch me in the face. "

She asked, looking at Miya. Getting rather up close and personal. They were rather the same height, so Eye contact was easy.

Neija's Theme:Asking Alexandria - I was once, Possibly, Maybe, Perhaps a Cowboy King.
Neija's Weapon: SKS Single Shot (Assault/Sniper Purpose) Rifle/Interchangable Hybrid Sight/12X Ballistics Scope(All purpose Ranges) TacFlash and Bayonet/Screwdriver, .44 Magnum/Speed Reload/Curved Sword(Katana)

[Larken137]

((OOC: Miya will not show why she is Commander. Not yet...and not to Neija right away. It's something no one would ever want to see. I still think it's funny how her idea of a holiday is going back to grunt work. But I really like the challenge that Neija poses as well. ))



Miya never blinked as she looked Neija dead-on, her silver eyes glinting with that hint of amusement that she never seemed to lose when posed with a challenge. As said before, she knew that Neija looked down upon her and could not see where she had earned her high title of Commander.
But by now, that was something Miya was used to. she knew that she needed to prove herself to no one and that her skills would become apparent in time, but not through silly exercises that she was eagerly awaiting (though now...with Alice gone, she had lost some of the ambition to trump the little one).

Even when she was asked the question about punching Neija in the face she smirked,"Punch you? Ah...you degrade yourself Commander. Punching you is not brutal enough for someone of your blood and stature." and her eyes squinted,"But...yes nonetheless...I believe fighting you would be well worth waking up this early." her arms were still relaxed at her sides except for her hands which had remained balled up into fists since she had dropped her salute some time ago.

[WarmApplePaii]

☭ C o m m a n d a n t N e i j a K o v a l s k a ☭
////////////T h e N a m e I s C o m m a n d e r T o Y o u.
////////////////////////////////////////W e H a v e Y o u r S i x T e m p l a r A l l y ∫ ◝ ◌ ● ◌ ● ◌ ● ◌ ●
//////—————————————————————————————————

////////////////////////"C o m m a n d a n t O f S p e t s g r u p p a A l f a G r o u p R u s s i a n S p e c i a l F o r c e s !"

//////—————————————————————————————————
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////
CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN! BEFORE THE SAIL RIPS!//////////GASP FOR AIR!//////////ABANDON ALL SHIPS!//////////

Neija's face gleamed with a sense of reality. Finally, someone with potential. Neija backed up a bit, letting her arms sway and the motion was as casual as ever. She had given some thought, She turned to her men and shrugged her shoulders. She had thought of something interesting to do, Training maybe? She tapped her chin and loosened her neck up to relieve some tension.

"What do you guys want to do?"

Sarkov spoke up. "Snipe!" Kozak, the tank man. Cut off the puny female. "No, Blow s**t up Commander." Hans rolled his eyes. "Go blow up the Meat Stand big guy, Let's brawl." He punched his fist into his hand. The Medic didn't Shrugged his shoulders. "Assassinations." He put out his input. The only one who did not chose to speak up was the Translator. He didn't really know either, so he kept shut. however all of the responses were in Russian, So Neija turned to the Grunt and raised an eyebrow.

"Did you catch any of that, Grunt?"

Neija did not speak French, however the Translator did. So the woman could speak her native tongue and Sakovich would relay the message. Establishing Foreign languages and barriers.


(OOC: Challenge accepted. ^^)

Neija's Theme:Asking Alexandria - I was once, Possibly, Maybe, Perhaps a Cowboy King.
Neija's Weapon: SKS Single Shot (Assault/Sniper Purpose) Rifle/Interchangable Hybrid Sight/12X Ballistics Scope(All purpose Ranges) TacFlash and Bayonet/Screwdriver, .44 Magnum/Speed Reload/Curved Sword(Katana)

[Croy the Warrior King]

((Figure I'll join everyone now.))

France
Templar staging base
Avon 16 Regiment, Bravo Company
3rd Platoon, 2nd Lieutenant Temple

Alex had slept some on the flights, as had the members of his platoon, thankfully only one of the casualties had been serious to require anyone to be pulled from duty. There had been 7 superficial wounds, 4 more serious, only one of which affected combat performance, Trooper Dheneb had taken a .50 cal to the thigh, luckily it had only grazed him or it could've taken the leg off. He was well bandaged but had refused painkillers thus far, using a single crutch to get around places, the rest of his unit had faired better, Lance Corporal Marcus had taken a chunk of shrapnel to the shoulder but it hadn't gone deep and mobility and strength hadn't been affected. Corporal Williams had taken a five-five-six to the cheek, it was ugly but he'd be fine, finally Sergeant Elkins had taken a 7.62 in the chest. The body armour had saved him but at least one rib had been cracked.

Nevertheless, the unit had been pulled from the front-line temporarily, they were being used to escort the prisoner and their rescued officer back to France. The chinook had dropped them on the newly built Queen Elizabeth aircraft carrier hanging off the coast with her battlegroup, from there they'd hitched a ride across the Atlantic to Portugal where they'd transferred to a C47 and flown to France along with a number of supplies. Alex had listened in to what radio chatter he could, there wasn't a lot but there wasn't a great deal to be overheard about the Falklands, true to the regiments style it was being kept hushed up, out of the main channels. His friends in the higher echelons though had informed him it had gone well, they'd taken the majority of the Battle Born forces by surprised and had all but seized it, ground combat regiments had been deployed along with Templar armour. "Three days," Lieutenant Fletcher, his friend and opposite number in Alpha Company had grinned when they'd spoken about it just before they'd launched, "give us three days and the island will be ours."

When they arrived on the French military base Alex had marched directly into the base commanders office, a few French soldiers had taken charge of their prisoner as they'd landed. He barged open the doors without knocking, startling the Colonel at the desk. "Second Leftenant Alex Temple reporting, sir." The officer glared at Alex, waiting for a moment before realizing he wasn't going to get a salute.
"You must be the British," he announced in a thick accent. "I have heard you have no discipline. In France we salute our superiors."
"You'll find the British are still some of the most disciplined and well trained soldiers in the world sir. But the one-six salutes the man, not the rank. And I don't know you sir."
"Nevertheless," he growled, failing to hide his annoyance, "on my base you follow French rules."
Alex gritted his teeth for a moment then, staring past the man at the wall behind him, stood at attention and snapped a crisp salute. "Sir," he replied.
"Better." the man leant back in his chair and Alex got a better look at him, at least fifty, overweight, his uniform straining to keep in his stomach, soft, the man had never seen combat, his jowls working overtime in annoyance at the younger officer. "Your report?"

Alex relayed exactly as much as was necessary and no more to the man, and when he was done, saluted once more, reluctantly, and hurried out into the fresh air. He caught sight of a group of soldiers out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the female officer leading them. So, the Russian's were here too, good, at least someone he could rely on to watch his back. He turned towards them and marched over. "Neija Kovalska. I didn't know they still allowed second class soldiers in the Russian Spec-ops."

[Pixy Muffin]

✛✛✛ċömmänd sërġëänt mäjör älïċë rëpörtïnġ!✛✛✛

✙You think your tough.
✙You don't know what tough is.
✙Don't cry too hard now.
✙It's just some enemy fire.

'What I wouldn't do to be able to shoot all of them,' she thought to herself as she walked down the hallway towards the Doctor's room. If there was anyone she would want to let herself sit around when she was in such a violet mood it would have been the Doctor. Taking no s**t from her, it was something she admired. Then again it seemed she was allowing herself to take more s**t than normal. 'It's so very hard to keep my thoughts away from shooting a few Russians. Even though they fight with us. Ugh, my head hurts.' Her thoughts trailed from one thing to another then back again. She knew better than to contimplate such things. However, she couldn't help herself.

'I will let them run themselves into the dirt. Tomorrow is going to come early. When it does, I do hope they don't get left behind.' Alice's thoughts were laced with a heavy layer of sarcasm as she pushed the door open for the infirmary. Of course there he was, sitting at his desk, a cigerrette in one hand and a cup of coffee. When he looked over at her she only pointed down at her leg. "I'm bleeding through the bandage," she said slowly, and easily he flicked a pen at her and wawtched her flinch away from it. "Well if you would stay on your a**, you wouldn't bleed as much. Stop being stupid Alice."

Keeping her eyes on the floor she sighed heavily. He was right, although she wanted to prove to the Russians that she was as good as them if not better, she had to let herself become well enough before that could happen. Then again, it would make her seem weak if she didn't participate with her injuries, and she was very far from weak. Most people in her case wouldn't even be walking with such injuries. Let alone be able to act as if it didn't hurt. Which for her, it really didn't all that much. With a high pain tolerance came the joy of being able to do normal things with flesh wounds. "Can't you just stitch it up?" Another pen flew by her. "I already have. Did you lose your brain while out there? Come now Alice, use what little mind you still have left. I don't want to have to cause more wounds that would need stitches. I'm running low on certain things."

The Doctor, Christophe as his name was, pulled his glassed from his shirt pocket and told her to get up on one of the beds so he could take a look at her leg again. As she laid on the bed and started to roll up her pant leg, she noticed the red spot that had started to form from where she was bleeding through. When he took a look at it, she could hear him click his teeth together in thought, something she learned about him when he was on the verge of wanting to cause more pain than what was needed. "From walking around so much you tore a stitch, not to mention with you drinking like you were, you thinned your blood and just bled through the bandage."

"Je regrette," Alice mumbled as she looked away from him. "Yeah you will be sorry, if you don't stay off this leg and just get some rest. Before I decided to shoot you myself." The Doctor cleaned the bullet wound again and stitched it up again. However, he tugged on it a little bit to get Alice's attention before he tied the stitches and let it be done. "If you come back to me with this wound open again. I will make you wish you had never got shot to begin with. Understand me?" Easily Alice nodded and said that she understood him perfect. "I'd rather you not leave here, so I can keep an eye on you, but if you feel the need to go. Then be my guest."

Fortunately, Alice wasn't in any mood to move. Her leg was tingling from the new stitch that was holding the bullet hole together and from the anti-bacterial wash that he used on it caused it to sting a little. Not that it really bothered her. None of her wounds seemed to bother her, just made her not want to move. Thinking of what the Doctor would have done with her if she opened the stitches again was scary enough for her to want to just go back to sleep and wait for tomorrow. Which, was what she did. Laying back, the blonde closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off into sleep. A nap wouldn't hurt anything.

✙You see this scar.
✙It is what makes me tough
✙Oh, you want to know the story?
✙******** you.

✠Location: Underground Facility: Infirmiry
✠Status: Patched up...Again. Asleep
✠Surrounding Hostiles: Doctor
✠OOC: ]