NationStates Jolt Archive

The following email had been doing the rounds of the inboxes of a select few international military and intelligence organisations:

Good day to you, sir or madam,

I represent a major international consortium that has recently finished developing a location for military training. The facility features a variety of environments and is primarily designed for squad-level exercises. We need some volunteers to test it before we open it to the general world at large, and your organisation has been chosen.

Why should you care about this? Well because what other facility can offer assault courses, demolitions areas, FIBUA mock-ups, shore defenses to practice defending and attacking beaches, parachute towers, live-fire ranges in no less than three seperate environments each within half a day's travel of the other?

In addition to the superb attributes of the locale itself, there is also the fact we will pay for your travel costs and lodging. Thus, to all intents and purposes this excursion will be free of charge. We simply require as many people as you can spare for two months, and we will fly them back directly after their time has finished.

For purposes of security, we cannot reveal the location itself, nor our identities. If you wish to partake of this offer, simply be present at hangar 3At in the main airport of Colony One in Wolven West Africa. Bring all the equipment you want but do not worry about taking too much ammunition, we will provide more when you land.

I do hope to see you there,

CJ

Meanwhile another email had been floating around, focusing on those registered on forums about international travel or those who were membering of adventuring societies.

Calling adventurers!

Does your soul yearn for excitement?
Is the thought of facing wild annimals one that makes your heart race?
Are you ready to brave any and every type of environment possible?
Will you step up to the ultimate adventure?

Then come to hangar 4A in the main airport of Colony One in Wolven West Africa! We'll show you the time of your life!

Hope to see you there,

RT


Any attempt to trace the origins of these emails would lead to a small hut in the middle of the African desert occupied by a single mother and her three children. She would angrily slam the phone down any time anyone called it, especially if they asked for 'CJ' or 'RT'.

Anyone who chose to sign up for this adventure would need to get themselves to Wolven West Africa, a fairly desolate and desitute part of the world characterised by two main factors: it was the most recently incoroporated territory in the Empire of the Wolf and that there was almost nothing there apart from the run-down 'city' of Colony One. Single-storey sprawling shacks dominated the town, and anyone in their right mind would head straight for the airport. If they asked one of the security people or airport personnel for hangar 3A and 4A, they would yawn as they woke up from their nap and lazily point to a simple structure made of rusty corrugated iron that lay at the end of the runway. No aircraft were parked outside either of the hangars, but the people would easily be able to gain entrance into the hangar. The insides of each hangar were completely bare save for an upturned oil drum upon which a note had been written on a piece of white paper.

I'll be with you soon, just hold tight.

All that was left for the volunteers was to wait for their hosts...

Ollie McKraut said goodbye to his fiancee one last time as two flight attendants attempted to wrestle his cell phone away from him so the pilot could bring the plane down. He hung up with a smile and yanked his arm free to a serenade of loud jeers and curses from upset fellow passengers. He didn't mind. After talking with Katie nothing short of Armageddon could make him stop smiling.

The plane touched down and Ollie disembarked. He straightened his baseball cap and went to collect his luggage. After throwing his lightly-packed duffel bag over his shoulder, he found out where he was supposed to go and walked slowly towards his destination. Panic grew inside him as he inspected the area and saw no one who seemed affiliated with the program. His smile slowly faded as he considered he may have been duped in a colossal hoax. "Goddamnit," he thought, "if there's no party there's going to be hell to pay." He crossed himself and said a Hail Mary in repentance for his cursing, and continued moving slowly towards the hangar.

OOC: Skgorria told me a lot of you guys don't want FT in the rp so I'm going to lay off on a lot of things even though I'm stilling going to make references. Also, a lot of the tech I use is P/MT based. That means no lasers so don't worry about me GM'ing.

IC:

Buddy eyed the two guards sitting across from him on the shuttle. It was only two hours ago that they took off from a civilian ship from the space fleet which took three months to get here from Mu Cephei. Buddy barked under his masked in excitement. After all that saving of his hard earned money, all that begging, and now here he was. Getting ready to explore the one planet Mu Cephei rarely allowed it's citizens to see let alone walk on. One of the two guards smacked Buddy upside his head.

"You idiot!" The guard's expression was hidden by the armor he was wearing, the red goggles causing Buddy to yelp lightly in fear. Not even Mu Cepheians have gotten over the demeanor of their soldiers and the fear they imposed on those around them. The guard switched to one of the most basic languages of the humanoids, english. It came out harshly and would be very hard for most humans to understand, the vocal cords of the guard were not made to speak the language of humans.

"Your are to speak english every single microsecond you are on that planet! Also, never take of your bio suit! Your body is not prepared to take on the planet's microorganisms. Do you understand?" Buddy nodded. The pilot's voice boomed over the load speaker, which was really not necessary since the pilots were only a few meters away and the shuttle could only fit ten max...

"Thirty minutes to touch do-" Everything was a blur for Buddy after that. The shuttle ripped in half and he was torn out of the craft. He felt himself get flipped and spun in directions he didn't even know existed before now.

What altitude were they at before he was sucked out the shuttle? Was it close to the ground? Was he going to be ripped into small pieces by the force of the wind and gravity being pushed onto his body? Buddy never got to answer these questions as he began to see nothing, but brown. The grey, black, and white colors he once saw disappearing. Soon he saw only black and then, nothing.

Buddy woke up to a harsh pain in his legs and then he was met by a sad sight as he sat up. Luckily he somehow he made it onto land, but there seemed to be nothing here. Not even the remains of the shuttle. Buddy realized what had just a happened and got up, ignoring the pain. Where was the shuttle? The gaurds? The pilots? Then finally Buddy asked himself where was he. Moments later his survival instincts pushed his free thinking aside and got to work.

First he checked his bio suit for any holes. Even the most smallest of holes could result in his death. Then he looked around to find anything that could help him and found some of his gear plus his hatchet. After several minutes of nothing, but of making sense of what had happened Buddy got up and began to walk. There would be no rescue party to save him so what was the point of waiting? A piece of paper blown by the wind landed at Buddy's feet. The paper was a copy of a certain email.

Calling adventurers!

Does your soul yearn for excitement?
Is the thought of facing wild annimals one that makes your heart race?
Are you ready to brave any and every type of environment possible?
Will you step up to the ultimate adventure?

Then come to hangar 4A in the main airport of Colony One in Wolven West Africa! We'll show you the time of your life!

Hope to see you there,

RT


"Cool..." Even in a life or death situation Buddy still was willing to answer the call of the wild and this event sounded fun.

Too bad he wont get a chance to go... Buddy for some reason put the copy of the email in a pocket. Later that day he would notice what appeared to be an airport and he would make his way there. He would walk to a certain hanger and meet a humanoid by the hanger, it appeared to be civilian. Buddy waved and did his best to appear friendly. Even though the bio suit was designed to make him appear human, but his size said different. Buddy just hoped that the human wouldn't try to look under his suit or though his visor. The last thing he needed was a human to find out that in fact he was a dog standing on it's hind legs... That would not be fun at all. It was not that he feared the human, but he did fear Mu Cephei's secret police....

"Hello, do you know where this is?" Buddy's voice was harsh and he had to stop mid-sentence several times. The person he was talking was talking to was no other, but Ollie McKraut himself even though Buddy did not know that yet.

OOC: If no one likes my intro just say so in the OOC thread and depending on what you don't like I'll rewrite it. Just know this was the best I could come up. Otherwise Buddy is in hangar 4A, alone, confused as to what just happened and where he is.

The ground tasted bad - like dirty, fuckin' dust. There really wasn't any other description of it...nothing good, at least. No, nothing positive at all, and to add on to it, the helicopter was taking off again.

Luck was a bitch.


* * * * *


Maybe she had gotten just too drunk at the party Quinton had persuaded her to go to after explaining the social dynamics of UT's men's basketball team all throughout what was supposed to be psychology class during the afternoon. In all, Natalie Durant hadn't exactly been prepared for the sheer quantity of alcohol that apparently had been in every single drink that had appeared at the event. Frat houses that were "open" to the "public" also had that kind of an effect, particularly the fraternity for all the athletes.

Either way, Natalie hadn't been her usual perky and innocent self after two drinks that Quinton had said were "just drinks." Five minutes had reduced her to a state fairly close to "socially insane" and had resulted in a loss of consciousness fairly quickly. It had all felt good to her at the time...after all, she was with people she knew (well...some of them) at a safe place (supposedly) and would wake up (hopefully) at her room or in the frat the next day. That was the plan, at least, and plans have a bad way of not turning out exactly how they're drawn up.

In this case, it'd turned out significantly worse. Natalie had woken up from her drunk stupor, an IV pumping some sort of chemical into her arm, on an airplane, above the ocean. She had felt groggy at the time, barely even coherent and in and out of consciousness. Nothing had seemed to matter, really - life had been for the moment, nothing to the future, nothing to the past. It was almost animalistic, a survival instinct to prevent panic or any other sort of negative feeling from entering. And it had worked, at least, for the time being. The problem had come after the plane ride.

When she'd woken up fully, Natalie had found herself on a helicopter headed out in the middle of nowhere. She had no clue where in the world she was, except that it was sandy and above all, hot. The helicopter was noisy, with three other men in the helo with her. As her head cleared, Natalie had gotten up - just in time to notice that two of the men were armed with high-powered assault weapons.

The unarmed man had shoved her back down to the floor of the helicopter, shoving a paper inscribed only with the following in her face:

Good day to you, sir or madam,

I represent a major international consortium that has recently finished developing a location for military training. The facility features a variety of environments and is primarily designed for squad-level exercises. We need some volunteers to test it before we open it to the general world at large, and your organisation has been chosen.

Why should you care about this? Well because what other facility can offer assault courses, demolitions areas, FIBUA mock-ups, shore defenses to practice defending and attacking beaches, parachute towers, live-fire ranges in no less than three seperate environments each within half a day's travel of the other?

In addition to the superb attributes of the locale itself, there is also the fact we will pay for your travel costs and lodging. Thus, to all intents and purposes this excursion will be free of charge. We simply require as many people as you can spare for two months, and we will fly them back directly after their time has finished.

For purposes of security, we cannot reveal the location itself, nor our identities. If you wish to partake of this offer, simply be present at hangar 3At in the main airport of Colony One in Wolven West Africa. Bring all the equipment you want but do not worry about taking too much ammunition, we will provide more when you land.

I do hope to see you there,

CJ

The man had pointed at her for what had seemed like several seconds as she looked up from the paper before returning to his seat. The other two left their weapons trained right on her torso, indicating there was very little other choice.

The helicopter ride had been little more than anxiety and tension building up to whatever they had in store...whatever was in store.


* * * * *


The dust cloud dissipated as the helicopter soared off into the open sky once more, Natalie reduced to standing up after being chucked uncerimoniously out of the chopper. The dust was everywhere; coating her medium-length hair and tanned skin and blood-spatted burnt orange University of Talasea t-shirt, creating a repressive blanket of heat and a general lack of humidity. West Africa? It definately seemed so. This was no plentiful lands of the South Pacific in Amazonia.

The message was a bit chilling, however. Natalie rubbed the spot where the IV line had been on the plane ride - likely no practioning anesthesiologist had inserted that. Some sort of military testing facility? She was no military soldier or anything like that - she was a college student! At best she was a college athlete, not some superhuman who could kill five people at once. Any sort of military training would probaly end up with her in a pool of blood and guts, or whatever else the movie industry liked to show in portraying war in movies.

Still, the only way probaly to get out of this was to find the best in the situation. Natalie wasn't dead yet, that was a plus. She still could stand up and wasn't physically harmed or disabled. She still had her wits around her and had clothes. Better yet, she was in a populated area, if albeit one that seemed severely run down by the state of the shantytown nearby. The airport she had been deposited at seemed to be a little more refurbished, however, and that was another positive point. It was important to take these little things into effect; to find what could be had.

Natalie took a few looks around, letting out a loud breath as she did so. Things still didn't look great, but she wasn't one to just surrender at the first signs of a challenge. A lot of girls her age would have just sat down and started crying, but Natalie had been raised and bred tougher than that. Things like this needed to be solved, not just resolved to the fates. That would end up killing her, and Natalie wasn't ready to be dead just yet. She still had a promising future, and as long as she was conscious and alive, she intended to do what she could to change her lack of good luck.

Great deals.

Why not start over again? That was a strategy Natalie could abide by. Starting over...what was the most likely scenario? Go to where the people were so she could figure out what was going on in her immediate surroundings. What did she immediately know? She was in somewhere in a desert far from home. That was a pretty good start; she could go from there.

Especially because someone was walking towards a hanger of the airport...someone who definately didn't seem to belong out in the middle of nowhere out here.

Natalie tried to get into a jog after him, but stopped after two paces with a wince. Something wasn't right with her left ankle - it was not feeling good, and she doubted it was the gassers her basketball coach had made the team do at practice the other day. That was not good news...hopefully whatever this was didn't need a whole lot of straight sprinting, or she'd be in a bit of a bind, unless she could find a little time to heal that.

Moving at a slower walk now and flicking a splotch of dried blood off the back of her hand, Natalie got off to go investigate. It was the least she could do.

Sara Smart was your average spoiled, whiny teenage rich kid, trapped in an older woman's body. She was, after all, nearly 23. Her parents never prodded her too much, however, she could tell they wished for her to become more ''mature''. Sara was quite confident she was mature, it was just others had too many weaknesses. Her lifestyle didn't help much either. She was a well known actress and singer and to get her involved in anything, people were prepared to do anything she said.

She was prodded to sign up for the trip by a close male friend, someone she trusted quite a bit. At first, when she read the letter, she nearly burst out laughing.

''Me, trudging around in the mud looking for dirty disgusting animals, are you nuts?''

Her friend was a lucky person. He had discovered which strings to pull and had her strung like a puppet. He didn't mean to exploit her, he just tried pushing her in the right direction.

''It'll be a great way to stay in shape, and I'm sure dozens of important people will attend, besides, you need a break.''

He wasn't totally lying. It would be somewhat physically demanding, dozens of important people would probably be there, depending on the definition of important. She did not however, need a break.

After that, she was nearly sold, being the gullible type. She did have some sense though. When she couldn't decide what to do, she always consulted her bodyguard, John. He was close with her... not in a romantic way, more like an older brother she had never had. He had probably been the largest influence in her life.

He was all for the idea. Firstly because it meant a chance for vacation, and an adventure no less, and secondly, although she never had to work hard, she was an easily stressed person in some ways approaching the point of snapping.

She finally decided she was going, purchasing plane tickets and packing no less than three large suitcases. Most of the plane ride she complained, rather unhappy with first class. Upon arrival, she noticed the town and nearly had a heart attack.

''This place is a bloody shanty town, we had better not be staying here.''

John firmly reassured her that they would not be here long, this is where they would be meeting.

They sauntered through the airport, finally arriving at their destination... it was going to be one hell of a trip.

Brian hopped down the too-big stairs. Why couldn't I have chartered a normal plane? He had arrived at this Colony one's airport, and was ready to leave. he checked the holster and belt hidden under his fur. He watched as the borrowed human jet flew away. He assumed his cat-like gait to pass relatively unnoticed across the tarmac to Hangar 3At, and waited for this "CJ".

6:45 - Slightly West of Colony One

Erich arched a blond eyebrow in surprise. Interesting, he thought, that might have actually been a good move

"Rook to D5. Checkmate," Erich said, a hint of smugness invading his voice. Well, a hint more smugness than usual. It wasn't that Erich was an egotistical bastard, he just was extremely sure of himself. Especially when it came to chess. To put it bluntly, he was brilliant. If it wasn't for the compulsory military service for adults between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, he might have been a chess world champion by now.

Then again, he may have never discovered his other love in life; HALO parachuting. In a socialist nation like his own, it would be almost impossible to save up enough money to parachute as much he did in the in the Fifth Fallshirm Gruppe. It was the thrill of being tossed out of airplanes thousands of feet in the air, knowing that only you and a temperamental altimeter are keeping you from kissing the ground at 190 klicks, that kept him n the group for an extra eight years.

Now, thanks to his love of parachuting, he was playing chess with Oberst Junker, the commanding officer of his unit, in an airplane on the way to Wolven West Africa.

"You're just as good as Hauptmann Gruenwald said, Comrade. If you're as good with men as you are with pawns, you might make a good officer some day." the Oberst said. He smiled slightly and twirled his thick, brown mustache. "We would just have to fix that attitude of yours. If you had been playing chess with one of the other officers, they might not have been able to see through your arrogance."

"Yes, Herr Oberst," Erich replied, bowing his head slightly.

Suddenly, a voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Five minutes until arrival. Get ready for the drop."

"No time for a rematch, I suppose. Well... Good luck, Comrade. I have a feeling that you'll be needing it," the Oberst said, smiling grimly.

"Vielen Dank, Herr Oberst." Erich clicked his heels and raised his hand to his brow in a salute, and then opened the door to the cargo bay of the airplane.

"Auf wiedersehen, Comrade."

Colonel Muhammad Al-Shawif was a high ranking officer of the Leasathi Republican Guard. Earlier that day, the government had received an interesting email from a shadowy corporation inviting them to a training exercise. The colonel had been instructed to pick out three men to participate in the event. It would be something of interest to Leasath.

The Colonel was not very picky of who he would be sending over. It was getting late, and he was itching to get home. Walking around through the barracks of the Medina Division's army base, Muhammad located three men standing by a table, two of them talking together while the other cleaning his rifle.

"You three!" called Al-Shawif, "I've got something special in store for you." Al-Shawif grinned a little while lifting his finger at the group.

"Wait, us?" replied Corporal Yasir Al-Fulani. Staring at the officer, he and his friend Sergeant Khalid Basaraf realized he was serious. Sergeant Basil Thaqib, the third soldier, looked up at the officer and asked, "Are we going somewhere?"

"Correct you are, brave soldiers of Leasath! We will be sending you to a training operation in Africa. You will represent Leasath in the field. Prepare whatever you will need to take, get your armor and weapons, and get dressed! We will depart right away!"

The soldiers walked out with the Colonel towards a Leasathi Air Force Mi-8 (http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n220/Neo-Erusea/leasathmi8.jpg) Hip, which had it's rotors spinning and was ready for take off.

"Godspeed men!" called the Colonel over the noise of the helicopter. It lifted up gently and made its way west southwest towards Africa. It would be a relatively short trip there from the Middle East. Two of the men slept, while Yasir looked out the window at the passing terrain, and ocean.

Soon enough, land could be seen once more. The helicopter's transponder was set and it made its way towards the airport, landing just outside of the hangar. The pilots waited to be refueled while the men disembarked the vehicle.

The soldiers looked at the two hangers. Only Sergeant Khalid Basaraf was able to speak English, and his reading potential was not so great. After bragging so much about knowing the language, he did not want to embarrass himself asking for the right hanger. He would wait to see who would come next. In the meantime, they walked around to see what was going on here. The soldiers walked towards Natalie, in Hanger 3A. It was interesting to see a woman not dressed as they do under Islamic law. The three men stood while Basaraf tried to say "Hi" in his heavy Arabian accent. All three were holding on to their Tabuk assault rifles. Corporal Al-Fulani tried to straighten his green helmet, then looked towards his right at his friend Basaraf.

"So how long do you think we will be waiting?" asked Al-Fulani.

"Hell do you think I know," replied Thaqib, "Hey, Basaraf. Go ask that women how long she has been waiting, and maybe if she knows how long we'll be here."

"Fine then," replied Basaraf. He turned towards Natalie, and tried to speak to her.

"Miss, eh... How long you wait here for?" he asked. He hoped he had gotten her attention.

Ollie McKraut stopped. A man it what looked to him like an astronaut suit called to him, holding a piece of paper. It was very hot, and it took Ollie a long time to process what was going on. The only thing that kept coming to the forefront of his mind was how itchy his collar was getting. Damn his classy, striped button-down shirt.

The astronaut held out the sheet of paper, and Ollie's heart swelled when he saw it was a copy of the e-mail he received. This wasn't a hoax, or at the very least he wasn't the only one. He took a step forward and nearly hugged the man, before he had second thoughts about embracing a man in an astronaut suit in the middle of the desert. He spoke after trying to clear his throat several times:

"I'm actually headed that way right now, the map said it was somewhere in this direction," He said, looking into the astronaut's visor and pointing with his finger in the direction he was walking. "I'm happy to see someone else interested in the program, I thought maybe I was alone out here."

He turned his head around towards where he was going and grinned. He chanced a look over his other shoulder and saw several others moving in his direction. Turned out there was nothing to worry about after all. He flapped the front of his shirt for some ventilation and adjusted the luggage strap around his shoulder before continuing towards the hangar.

Natalie paused behind a steel girder lying on the ground as she collected her thoughts, swallowing a wad of dirty saliva down as she looked around. This was getting wierd. Some dumb-looking blonde chick right out of a movie and a burly guy had waltzed up to a certain hanger, along with a dude in a full-body suit, some business-looking guy, and to top it all off - some dude had just parachuted out of a plane. And she had thought getting kidnapped and then dumped in this hellhole was strange enough, but now it seemed all walks of life were showing up. This was a military exercise? Natalie was fairly confident that she was more athletic, even in her current state, than some television glamour girl.

Natalie rubbed a chunk of dirt out of her left eye as she decided to take the initiative, getting up from behind the girder and around the building that had shaded her before. Not as if she was exactly noticed, moving cautiously towards the building - but she couldn't get it out of her mind that suddenly all these people were showing up. How on earth was this a military thing? She would need some answers from somebody...somebody who was actually normal like her in this situation.

Then again, she couldn't exactly say her situation was normal, either.

She had to keep things in perspective, though. A lot of kidnappings ended up with the victim raped and then killed in a gruesome manner. Unless everybody who had just shown up was a serial rapist or murderer, she doubted either was a likely possibility. That was good. Secondly, the presence of a lot of people likely meant she wasn't headed early to the grave - something was up, probaly something she would have time to think through and use her best weapon - her brain. Problem solving was like second-nature to Natalie - it came easily and clearly. This seemed a situation like so.

However, her mental process came to a halt when three Arab-looking guys rolled up, apparently not exactly sure what they were doing by the looks of it. One of the Arab military men's try at "Hi" sounded like it came from an African, while another attempted to communicate through broken English in trying to ask her how long she'd been waiting. It would have been funny if the current circumstances hadn't been in play.

She figured she probaly looked ridiculous, standing there in a ragged and dusty orange t-shirt and ripped shorts (that all revealed a bit much, in retrospect) with spattered spots of dried blood accompanying her clothes and hair. In contrast, each of the three Arabs was dressed in a full military garb, while some of the others who had been clustering towards the area seemed even more gaudily dressed (like the guy in the suit). So she would be the poor person for the day...that had its advantages, potentially. The sympathy-garnering college girl could always draw the empathy vote.

"Um...no, I uh, just showed up not too long ago," Natalie responded to the Arab soldier's inquiry.

It was really the best she could do to his question. Natalie wasn't about to tell the Arab military group the entire story of her going from satisfied college student to kidnapping victim and dumped in the desert in 24 hours (or however long it had been...it was at this time that she noticed she hadn't had any food or water since then, either, really). She hoped the answer would do for the three Arabs...they at least actually looked the part of a group here for military training.

"What's going on here?" she asked, hoping the three knew more about this than her. This was going out on a limb - who knew who they really were. "Is this some sort of military thing or something?"

Okezer Industries took pride in the abilities of their guards. While the chances of a prison riot were low, especially since Marsh law took care of most violent criminals, the fact was that they had to justify to the board of directors why they needed so many guards at such a small facility. So, prison riots was a good excuse. Then, the question was who to send this wonderful camp. "One of the guard captains" the warden had said. "Which one?" the board responded. "Send Ocurt." said the warden. "Why him?" the board asked, and the warden answered with a truth that they all knew:
"Ocurt is an asshole, get rid of him for a while."

And it was true, Ocurt wouldn't fight it. He was an asshole and he knew it. He didn't wake up in the morning and put on The Boots of the Asshole, nor did he decide one day to start being one. He just was. Even his mother had called him an asshole, and so it just had to be true. He didn't know why he was that way. He just hated everything, people included, and didn't like it when they interferred with his blissful non-participation of the world. Some would say he wasn't religious enough. He would respond that those who gave a damn about hos religious he was needed to kiss pavement. He was pkenty religious- whether he wanted to be or not. It came with being a citizen.

What the hell kind of traiming camp is this? The, "Learn how to fight in a shithole" military facility? Goddamnit, I am going to kick McCaen's ass when I get back home, Ocurt thought to himself. The place where his plane had landed was awful. A true shithole. He hoped that the training camp didn't suck.

The driver of the cab that he had taken, shocking that there was a cab, poulled up to the Hangar where he was told to go. After throwing whatever change he had in his pocket at the driver for a tip(Ocurt was sure that the man could now send all fifty of his kids to college or to sheepherding school) and got out of the car, his bag in hand. It cotained his PDR, his pistol, and some random items.

Ocurt sighed to himself and walked in, praying that there weren't stupid people there.

The man was big, to say the least. He had a frame pack on his back, and it was laden with equipment, a hatchet hung from a belt sheathe, with a machete on the other side, a tent, sleeping bag, and bedroll are all stowed neatly in their appropriate places on the frame, and an entrenching tool and short rifle are both visible, one draped over his shoulder, and one strapped to the pack. At his hip is a large pistol, and a survival knife. He steps out of the sun and into the hangar, pulls out a bottle of gatorade from...somewhere, it's not really obvious, as it seems to simply appear in his hand, and takes a swig. "So, does anyone actually know what the terrain is gonna be like? I came loaded for boar since they didn't really say anything about the locale." Most people would have termed it loaded for bear, but most people didn't hunt, and of those that did, many seemed to be ignorant of the sheer ferocity and tenacity of a fully grown Boar in the brush. Berg would take bear over boar anyday.

Brian sat at the entrance of the hangar and waited. He started to notice the people walking slowly towards the hangar. Wonder what happened to her. he thought about the girl with the college shirt on. Bit hot for that isn't it aimed at the space guy. Well, wonder how long till they notice I'm not a cat. He sat patiently chewing on an acorn.

Colonel Markovich laughed quietly to himself as he watched the group of figures through the heat-haze. The relentless sun was baking the hardened metal strips of the runway, and he smiled as he thought of the poor fools standing in the harsh rays that beamed through the rusty hangar roof.

"Well," he said, to no-one in particular, "I suppose we'd better get going..."

Shrugging his jacket back on, he pushed open the battered wooden door of the control tower and strode out into the noonday heat.

Sergeant Basaraf reached under his helmet to try and scratch lightly on his forehead, noticing that he was beginning to sweat in the intense desert heat. He was quite used to this kind of environment but standing idly in military battle dress was not exactly the most comfortable thing to do.

Looking at Natalie, he replied to her statement, "I sorry I do not understand the question."

The other two soldiers stared blindly at Basaraf and Natalie not really having any sort of idea that either two are saying. Al-Fulani spoke to Basaraf in his native tongue, asking, "What on Earth are you speaking Basaraf? And what is this woman doing here, I thought this was supposed to be some sort of military operation."

Al-Fulani shifted the weight of his Tabuk assault rifle from his right hand to his left. He was feeling impatient, not having been briefed well about the situation and feeling as if this was some sort of hoax. All three of the men had taken note of several persons walking into the other hanger, and the others which had entered theres...

OOC: Ollie's not wearing a suit, just a pastel button-down shirt with thin stripes. Hanging out his tan cargo pants for that matter. He's not that classy.

IC: Ollie McKraut arrived in front of the hangar where some others were waiting and waved at them. One of them was a girl, who looked worse for the wear but was kinda cute. Nothing like his girl though.

He turned around and shouted loudly in surprise at what he saw: A huge squirrel. "What....on....Earth...." he said softly as he stepped slowly towards it with his finger outstretched. No one could condemn him as unadventurous. The squirrel looked him right in the eyes and didn't move. Ollie stopped dead in his tracks. After being petitioned by a crash-landed astronaut in the desert and now having a close encounter with a giant squirrel, he began to understand the e-mail he was sent wasn't lying when it promised excitement. And hell, the trip hadn't even started yet. He realized he was still wearing his luggage lowered his finger for a moment to slip out of it. After he was free he took another step towards the squirrel, then another, staring wide-eyed and unblinking.

Three. Two. One. Brace for impact. He hit the ground and rolled, just like they had taught in training. After a few seconds, he sprung up and detached himself from the parachute. While he worked to pack away the deployed parachute, he slowly took stock of his surroundings.

He hit almost dead center of what appeared to be a runway. Thirty or forty meters in front of him stood a row of hangers. The one closest to him was labeled "4A" with faded yellow paint. Underneath it stood roughly five, maybe six people.

"Donnerkeil! Is that an astronaut?" Erich asked himself in surprise. Impossible!, he thought, What would an astronaut be doing at a military training course?

After he finished packing the parachute, Erich finally stood up to get a good view of the group. "It is an astronaut!" he shouted in surprise. Other than that, the majority of the group seemed to fit within his standard of what a soldier should look like. Some of the group seemed to stick out as oddballs, though. Mainly the astronaut stuck out, but the girl with the limp and the man in bourgeois clothing didn't strike him as professional soldiers.

If that man touches me... Brian stared at the man who had his finger extended. He shifted his weight to be ready to take the man down. non-lethally if possible.

"Can I help you?"

The VTOL had just departed more than 1000 pounds lighter, and a Belkan Ops. team stood in their LZ, prepping their gear for their mission. The team had no idea what to expect, so they were prepared for as much as possible. The three humans sweated uncomfortably despite the temperature control fabric of their body armor. Their hybrid companions were comfortable. The Malus leader, Redfield, was in the front of the team, flanked by the three humans. The Centurion in the back carried most of the gear, and served as tail guard, his minigun ready to cut down any unpleasant surprises. They saw a group of figures, possibly civilians, in front of them and headed their way, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible in their face shielding helmets and body armor.

The small dune buggy flew into the air as Charlie Xaiman floored the accelerator over a small sand dune. The 27 year old gun for hire smiled as the buggy easily cleared the dune and flew an extra ten feet before landing with a thump. Pressing the accelerator down even more, Xaiman recounted in his head how he had actually gotten into this desert.

First, he had received a letter calling all "adventurers". Charlie wasn't much of one, but work had been slow lately, so he had decided to take up the challenge. In one final act before he had left Xaristan, he had intercepted a Federation mail truck. Why a mail truck? He thought it was a bank truck. They all looked the same. Anyways, he had found this letter in the "Priority" section, and taken that with him as well. No problem being prepared as far as credentials went.

Flying over another sand dune, he caught sight of the small town. He pulled his buggy to a stop just outside it and grabbed his binoculars and scanned quickly. In a rusting steel structure that looked like an old aircraft hanger, he saw a number of people who were either of military leanings based on the number of guns or academics, judging by their postures. Bookies, he thought to himself.

He drove towards the hanger and pulled his buggy to a stop outside of it, spraying some sand and gravel as he did. Grabbing a cigarette out of a small pocket of his backpack, he lit it as he grabbed the rest of his gear, all strapped to his backpack in one way or another, and walked towards the inside of the hanger. His eyes scanned over the assorted number of people there before falling on a... squirrel? A very over sized squirrel, to be sure, but a squirrel nonetheless. Charlie had to stop himself from laughing out loud.

He nodded to a few people as he walked over in the squirrel's direction. Stopping a good ten feet away, he set his backpack on the ground and sat on the ground, leaning back against it. Unzipping a small side pouch, he grabbed a bag a peanuts and held them out to the squirrel.

"Nuts?"

Another one. What? Have these people never seen a squirrel before? Brian sat extremely still and stared daggers at the two humans acting like he was in a zoo. He pulled an acorn out of a pocket on his belt and started to nibble on it.

Idiots.

Al-Fulani began to feel the need to yawn, and soon raised his arms up and inhaled a great amount of the hot desert air. He stretched a bit, still holding his Tabuk rifle in hand, then relaxed and looked around some. Quite an interesting crowd had gathered since they arrived. There was still the young girl his friend was talking to, with torn clothing, an astronaut, a man in dress clothing, some special operations infantry, some daddy's little blond girl, and more. He noted one man carrying a multi barreled minigun.

What a bitch that must be to be carrying around everywhere, thought Al-Fulani.

The soldiers standing there, not talking much, in the intense heat, waiting for something to happen, or someone to greet them. They stood there without their host...

Charlie pulled the peanuts back and shrugged as the squirrel stared daggers at him, which was slightly discerning, having an animal act so... human.

"Fine, no nuts for you then." He said, popping one into his mouth before realizing that he really wasn't in the mood for peanuts at all. He put them back into his backpack. Sighing and leaning back again on his backpack, Charlie thought about engaging in his favorite past time, sleeping, but decided against it. He didn't want to be asleep when their hosts arrived. Rolling his eyes, he looked back over at the squirrel again.

"You don't talk much, do you?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Skurrrrl" muttered the Centurion through his lipless, masked mouth, gesturing his free hand at the squirrel.
"Shhh!" whispered Leo, nudging the giant in the ribs. "Commander Redfield, shall I make first contact?" The Malus he was addressing surveyed the crowd from behind his visor and detected no threats.
"Yes, Sgt. Spangler, and remove your helmet while talking to them." Replied Redfield in his monotonous voice.
Spangler did as he was told, removing his helmet and heading towards the odd collection of people. "Salve! I am Sgt. Spalgner of Belkaros. Can any of you tell me what is going on?" He said, addressing the crowd in a friendly but authoritative manor.

All three men turned at the Belkarian men who approached the crowd that had assembled at the airport. The soldiers looked blankly at the man who had taken off his helmet to speak, apparently, and the language barrier remained as a constant nuisance to the men since two could not understand English.

Sergeant Thaqib spoke out loud in the general direction of the Belkarian men in his native tongue, Arabic, saying, "That one's huge. What the hell do they feed that guy?"

Sergeant Basaraf nudged Thaqib and signaled Al-Fulani to come over. The three men walked up to Spangler, still holding the Tabuk assault rifles, set them in their left hands and made a crisp salute.

"I Sergeant Basaraf of the Leasath Republican Guard. Sorry my English is not so good," began Basaraf with a heavy Arabic accent, "We waiting here, and this crowd has come as well. I think they are waiting for same thing as we." He looked around and raised his Tabuk a little, saying, "I see we are not only military men here then."

"Salam Sadiqi" said Spangler, fumbling over what little Arabic he knew, "I am Sergeant Leo Spangler of the 903rd Belkan Tactical Unit. We were just dropped here with full gear and no idea what we were doing with it. These people don't even appear to be from the same nation. It is good to see there are more than just civilians here. I would hate this to become some kind of babysitting job, but it would be better to be prepared." He nodded to the rest of the team, summoning them over. "This is the rest of my team. Commander Redfield is our leader" Redfield bowed and removed his helmet, gesturing to his team to do the same, but told the Centurion to keep his on.

"A pleasure to meet you, comrade," said Redfield, noticing the reaction of the Leasathian men to his almost reptilian apperance, "Do not be alarmed at my apperance, I am a Malus, and not in any way contagious. This is our resident locksmith, Corporal D'Arque and our medic, Corporal Delarge. The gentleman behind me is Bluto, our Centurion."

All three of the men were greatly surprised by the appearance of the Belkan (OOC: lol Ace Combat, should have seen it sooner...) commander.

"Yes," agreed Basaraf, "it is good see more than just civilians. We have deployed here by a helicopter. Our commander ordered... we?" Basaraf couldn't find the right word to use... "Yes," continued Basaraf, "Again I Sergeant Basaraf of Leasath Republican Guard, Medina Division. These are comrades, Corporal Yasir Al-Fulani and Sergeant Basil Thaqib. It is good to meet you."

The other two men stood behind Basaraf not having a clue of what was going on only knowing that he had said their names. Al-Fulani loosened the chin strap of his helmet, and Thaqib straightened his beret a little.

"I sorry though I do not know why we was sent here," added Basaraf, "or why so many other peoples have come either."

If that man touches me... Brian stared at the man who had his finger extended. He shifted his weight to be ready to take the man down. non-lethally if possible.

"Can I help you?"

Ollie jumped back and retracted his finger. He was about to go completely insane. He wondered if he had fallen into a coma, or maybe this was some sort of roofie-induced haze. He thought about curling up to prevent injuring himself as he stumbled about whatever room he was really in. "No, sir, just making sure you were alright," he said quietly to the squirrel. He studied the new arrivals as they approached the hangar, and noticed a large number of soldiers. He wondered if they were escorts for the trip, who would shoot any dangerous animal that got out of hand. He laughed to himself. He didn't need them, he had his own gun! And he knew how to load it and everything. Not that he'd get the chance, because he only brought one clip. He made a mental note to make every shot count.

And then he chanced a second glance at the big talking squirrel and made a revisory mental note not to shoot anything on the chance it was really a friend, doctor, or policeman.

"Hey, jumpy!" Charlie said loudly to the pasty looking man who looked like he was dressed for some bad tropical vacation. "Yeah, you, pasty boy with the pretty colors on his shirt. Chill." Charlie rolled his eyes and flipped his sunglasses back down over his eyes. Goddamn civvies.

"Hey, jumpy!" Charlie said loudly to the pasty looking man who looked like he was dressed for some bad tropical vacation. "Yeah, you, pasty boy with the pretty colors on his shirt. Chill." Charlie rolled his eyes and flipped his sunglasses back down over his eyes. Goddamn civvies.

Ollie McKraut glanced sideways at the man who'd spoken at him. Then he looked across his other shoulder and spat. He liked his shirt. It fit him nicely, he thought. And he took pride in his ghostly whiteness. Came from being lean, he thought. And he was jumpy cause a giant fucking squirrel started fucking talking to him.

"Damn," thought Ollie, "if the escorts are gonna be assholes I can shoot my own God damn dangerous animals."

Not that he'd vocalize any of these thoughts for fear of getting pasted. Ollie crossed himself in reconciliation for his cursing and restraightened his ballcap.

"The hell," said Thaqib in Arabic. He gestured his friends at the giant squirrel by Ollie.

"Weird animals they have here, don't they?" replied Al-Fulani.

"You can say that again!" joked Thaqib.

Basaraf looked on at the man, Ollie, in the tropical vacation shirt, a white man who had been on the floor. He began to laugh when he saw him fall on the floor.

"You all right?" Basaraf asked Ollie in English.

The Belkans took interest in the fallen man, and the Centurion returned his attention to the squirrel. D'arque and Delarge were sent to find some water, and Bluto placed the gear he was carrying on the ground, then shouldered his minigun. He heaved in relief, then presented himself to Redfield, who ordered him to Spangler, the group's representative. The vox unit in his mask could translate into seven different languages, and one of them was Arabic. He translated for Spangler, who said to the Leasathians in his synthesized metallic voice, "This delay and collection of characters is somewhat disconcerting. Perhaps it would do us well to stick together."

Basaraf became surprised hearing the Belkan man speak Arabic. His tone of voice accounted for most of it but Basaraf did not count on them knowing the language.

"An automatic translator," said Al-Fulani to no one in particular, "I wish I had one of those now..."

Sergeant Thaqib took it upon himself to answer the Belkan's question. "Certainly I do think we should," he began in Arabic, "I don't believe that everything here is what it seems. A giant squirrel, a space man, and some vacationers does not seem like an international military training exercise to me."

"We agree fully. There is more to this meeting than meets the eye." Spoke Bluto's vox. Redfield stepped towards Corporal Al-Fulani and extended his thin hand to shake, firming their loose alliance.
Morgan Delarge had eyed the bloodied girl standing alone and looking rather frightened. After sending D'arque back with the water canteens, she went over to her to make sure she was alright. "Miss, are you injured?" she asked in a caring voice.

Corporal Al-Fulani looked Commander Redfield in the eye, then looked down at his extended arm, then looking up at his face again. He reached forward and firmly shook his hand. Then Yasir looked over his shoulder at commotion behind him, seeing a Belkan soldier approaching the girl his friend was talking to earlier that day.

"Good to see we are becoming acquainted," said Al-Fulani, "because we still don't have an idea of what is going on here..."

OOC-Out for the night.

"Hopefully our hosts will reveal themselves soon," said Redfield. "This waiting could lead to infighting considering this diverse mix of people. Already that squirrel-thing and the other man seem to be causing some kind of trouble." The Belkans proceded to sit in a semi-circle on the floor as D'arque returned with the water. They distributed canteens among themselves and offered water to their new allies.

Wonder what they're chatting on about. Brian thought at teh people speaking...some other language.

"Yes, please do calm down." he said at the tropical tourist.

"Acorns are better anyway." he replied to the man's cynical response.

His legs started to fall asleep so he started to walk around. I wonder if something will happen soon.

(apologies for the short post, but better late and small than never)

The sound of an engine can be heard, and soon reveals itself in the form of a rust-covered pickup of indeterminate make and model, which maneuvers through the airport and heads towards the two hangars and the small group of people there.

As it draws nearer, the sound of a local radio station can be heard faintly through the open windows, and finally, the pickup pulls up outside the hangar doors, the engine idling. A closer look reveals the pickup has two large cases of some sort in the back, tied down to prevent shifting.

The passenger side door of the vehicle opens, and the head of a man wearing sunglasses and a blue beret pokes out.

"Hey, is this hangar 3At?"

The Leasathi soldiers turned their heads at the truck which had parked outside of the hangar. They all began to talk amongst themselves in Arabic, then Basaraf took a few steps closer and said out loud in English, "Yes this Hanger 3A."

He looked at his watch, incredibly bored. Talking animals, people doing things that didn't involve him, it was quite boring. Better than guarding the people convicted of fraud though.

The roar of jet engines filled the air as the stillness was shattered by the fast-descending jet. It was a fairly standard executive model of the type that could be found almost anywhere in the world - white, two engines and with a capacity for about twenty-five people. It came rumbling onto the runway and eventually pulled to a halt just outside the hangars, and the side hatch opened allowing two figures to jump the small distance down onto the runway. Apparently they were too impatient for the ground crew to bring up a small ladder, but these two looked like they were ready for anything. One of them was a tall, heavily-muscled black man with close-shaven hair that had been dyed bright red. A large cigar stuck out of the corner of his mouth, a machete hung from a sling that was slung across his chest and the pockets of his camo trousers seemed to be bulging with equipment.
"RT is in the house baby!" He wooped, grinning widely and flashing pearly white teeth.
"Blacks," grumbled his companion, a short woman who seemed to armed to the teeth. Ammunition and spare weaponry was attached to every pocket, hook and loop of her full combat gear. Immediately visible were several grenades, a selection of knifes, at least three pistols and an assault carbine, and it looked like she knew how to use them. Whilst her eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, her facial expression showed that she would tolerate no nonsense. She took off her helmet and hung it over the barrel of a small sub-machine gun that was poking out of her day sack, revealing short brown hair, and cupped her hands, holding them to her mouth so that everyone could hear her.
"You want CJ, I'm your woman. You want RT, see this filth here."

Brian hopped over to the woman. He sat and looked up at her in the most innocent way he could. Wonder what she'll do. He checked his Webley in case the woman tried to "forcibly move him out of the way".

Ollie McKraut sought out the "filth" with a half-grin. He liked where this hallucination was going, thinking he'd have a hell of a story to tell his buddies at St. O's.

Sara wasn't entirely sure who she wanted. On one hand was a gung ho muscular man that looked as though he'd been ripped straight from one of her movies. On the other, a no nonsense, get the job done heavily armed woman. She consulted John and opted for RT, due to his appearance as more of a guide than a super soldier.

Natalie was completely lost at this point. She couldn't remember anything about an "RT" or "CJ" in the letter the three assailants aboard the helicopter had flashed in her face. Hell, she wasn't even looking to be here, much less looking for someone to do something. Where did it end?

In all, Natalie decided to simply hang back as the others mulling about in the hanger that she'd meandered around to picked and chose which "host" they were going to. She figured that one of them would eventually say something...or point her out something.

Pushing his aviators down on his nose a bit, Charlie looked both of them over. He then turned to look at his backpack, comparing his equipment to that of the woman. She looked like she actually might have more stuff than him. Frankly, Charlie was shocked. No one had ever done that before.

Pushing his aviators back up and shrugging, Charlie grabbed his backpack with all his attached gear and picked it up with one hand, walking over next to the woman, and dropping it at her side. "I choose CJ."

"This isn't fucking Pokemon," grumbled CJ as Charlie dumped his gear next to her. "But welcome aboard." She extended her hand for Charlie to shake, but then did a double-take when she saw what appeared to be a heavily armed squirrel.
"I take it back, this is Pokemon," she spluttered confusedly. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

As Sara walked over to RT, his grin would widen even more.
"That's it baby, come to RT. We're gonna have a wild party out in the jungle," he beamed, eyeing her up from head to toe before turning his attention to the rest of the group.

"If anyone here is for the adventure trip, I'm your man. If you wanna go roll with some damn soldiers and play at being a hard-ass, go with CJ." He took the cigar out of his mouth and blew out a large puff of smoke. "Damn, this shit is good," he offered in praise of the cigar.

As the man unfolds himself from the truck, it becomes apparent he is quite tall-- a little over six feet, and well-muscled, though not overly so. Aside from his beret and sunglasses, he appears to be wearing fairly standard dress blues of some sort.

Paying the driver of the truck, he walks around to the back and grabs a duffel bag (which he slings around his shoulders), then grabs the two large cases in the back and lifts them, oddly enough, not even grunting despite the size and evident weight of them (the truck bed noticably springs up a bit after they're removed).

"Looks like I'm a bit late... oh well. Later, Omar."

The truck driver nods, and backs his vehicle away, then does a U-Turn, screeching away from the hangar in a cloud of exhaust.

The man heads for the landed airplane and the small crowd there, specifically, towards the heavily armed guy.

The Belkans quickly gathered their equipment. Having never seen the messages firsthand, they did not know who to choose. The woman seemed the more obvious military choice, but the large black man seemed capable as well, though rather more flamboyant. Redfield took out a .50 Credit coin out of his pocket and held it in his hand. The stern, cast silver face of the emperor looked up at them from the coin as they determined heads to be the military woman and tails to be the flamboyant black man. With a flick of his thumb, the coin was sent ringing into the air, landing so that the team was looking now at the Imperial Palace, a deciding vote for the black man. Not wanting to leave the decision purley to fate, Spangler turned to their Leasathian friends to enquire about who they would be following.

All three Leasathi men looked at each other and shrugged, then turned back to the Belkan soldiers, "We will accompany you all on this trip," saying Basaraf.

The men walked forward following CJ, to enter the vehicle, not knowing what fate had laid ahead for them.

"Pokèmon???"Brian outburst in disgust. "The child's show/video game/ card game? I am insulted! I'll have you know I am the first major of the 1st Intelligence Division of the Democratic States of Regular Squirrels; and as you can see I am a squirrel!" Brian repaid insult with insult and offered the woman no bow whatsoever. He did do a series of odd bows varying from slight nod of the head to bending his body and tail until they were perpendicular to the ground. Pokèmon, indeed!

If CJ was shocked or upset about Brian's outburst, she didnt show it. Instead, she simply took out a packet of gum, removed a piece and started chewing slowly.
"Calm down little man," she said casually. "Take this," and with that she gently threw the packet of gum at Brian for him to catch. "Consider it an apology." She then looked over and saw quite a few more soldiers walking over to her, and smiled a little.
"Welcome aboard ladies, I'm CJ," she said, sketching a casual salute. "Who are all you then?"

Meanwhile RT had focused his attention on the brunette who appeared unable to make up her mind as to who to go with.
"Baby doll," he called out, "don't go with CJ, she's a bloody killjoy. I promise you a bangin' time if you roll with me," he grinned lazily.

If CJ was shocked or upset about Brian's outburst, she didnt show it. Instead, she simply took out a packet of gum, removed a piece and started chewing slowly.
"Calm down little man," she said casually. "Take this," and with that she gently threw the packet of gum at Brian for him to catch. "Consider it an apology." She then looked over and saw quite a few more soldiers walking over to her, and smiled a little.
"Welcome aboard ladies, I'm CJ," she said, sketching a casual salute. "Who are all you then?"

Meanwhile RT had focused his attention on the brunette who appeared unable to make up her mind as to who to go with.
"Baby doll," he called out, "don't go with CJ, she's a bloody killjoy. I promise you a bangin' time if you roll with me," he grinned lazily.

"You sir, are very much a tool. On the other hand, I'm here for the adventure. So, looks like I'm with you."

OOC: I hope it's not to late to join...I was seriously interested in the ooc thread...

Brian caught the gum and stashed it in one of the pockets of his belt...a little extra weak adhesive never hurt anyone.

Redfox Hidalgo exited the UH-1, and his pack was quickley thrown after him. His group of dingos jumped off the chopper and followed close on his heals.

"Remember our deal!" Yelled the obviously high ranking officer from the door of the chopper

Redfox looked back at him with obvious disgust in his eyes, reached down, picked his pack up off the ground and dusted it off. Hitching it onto his back he looked around at the airport.

____________________________________________________________________

24 hours earlier...

"Sergent Major Redfox Hidalgo, 6 years in the military, 2 years special opperations...Classified...Saw action in the Great Revolution, The Upshoe uprising, the Slave Revolt...2 Purple Hearts, 1 Warriors Cross, 1 Emperors guard Award...Thats very impressive. So I think you deserve some respect so I'm going to talk turkey. We want you to die. Your actions in Greal are...embarrassing. You know to much. However we don't want to kill you, we believe that you have some backup so that if you were to die this information would be...leaked. So here we stand, or rather in your case sit, standing at the edge of a decision. We will give you two options. You can participate in this military exercise, escape, and never be herd from again. Or we can stick you in Glahshkow Prison and let you rot. It is your choice...I expect an answer with in the hour."

With that the Colonel began to walk out of the interrogation room. Pausing, he turned around, and threw a towel at Redfox.

"Clean your self up, your bleeding on my floor."

With that the Colonel left the room.
_________________________________________________________________

So there he stood at the airport looking around determining where he should go. The Colonel had been 'kind' enough to allow him to keep his dogs, but he doubted they would be allowed in the barracks...If they got any. With a low whistle Redfox signaled to his dingos that he wanted them to follow him. He had spotted a group of figures standing outside of a hangar and he assumed that they were the other trainees. Hurriedly he walked towards the group...He wanted to be punctual...

As he got closer to the group he began to notice a few oddities. A huge man in full body armor, an astronaut, and a rather large squirrel. He could tell the dingos had seen it to because 'Chingo', the Bravo male, had began getting the remainder of the pack into hunt formation. Redfox continued to walk but gave a warning whistle. If Chingo continued, he would be punished. However the punishment was not going to be necessary because Chingo slowly returned to the heals of his master, but the pack never took their eyes off the large squirrel. As he got closer to the group he could hear the women talk about the assignments. Redfox pulled out the sheet of paper that had been given to him by the officer on the chopper. "CJ", it had been signed, so next to CJ he stood.

Redfox watched his pack. For some reason they were very happy to see the astronaut. They kept trying to go over to greet the star traveler. Redfox gave a low whistle and the pack would return to his heels. Redfox turned his attention away from his dogs and back to CJ.

CJ recoiled slightly at the sight of the dingos, but quickly regained her composure.
"Just as well they let you bring animals on board isn't it?" She sighed to herself. "Trust me, there's going to be plenty of wildlife where we're going. They'll probably get the chance to hunt a few rabbits or something." She quickly whipped round to RT.
"And before you come up with some wisecrack about rabbits and sex, let me tell you that if you do, I will break you." She cracked her knuckles to show that she meant business, and the taller man visibly gulped.

"Yeah...whaddever you say....ma'am," RT stammered, sweat dripping down his brow.

"Better," stated CJ before turning to the rest of the group. "Right everyone, if you know who you're going with then get on board. Those with me, take your seats on the right. Those with RT, sit on the left." With that, she began to take off her webbing and daysack. "It's going to be a long flight, which will be very uncomfortable to sit in full combat kit the whole time. If you want to keep up some macho bullshit then fine, keep it on. You'll get tested enough as it is when we get there, so if you want me to take anything to put it in the hold then leave it with me or RT. Move."

The interior of the aircraft was light-coloured and looked very pleasant, with large comfortable seats and a personal entertainment system for each passenger of the kind so common on long-haul flights. There was an overhead storage bin if anyone wanted to store any small items, and a very kind stewardess who smiled prettily and offered everyone a choice of non-alcoholic drinks.

Brian was slightly disappointed when he heard that there wasn't going to be any drinks on the plane...Wonder if they'll let us have a few on the ground? He hopped up the steps to the large plane and took a seat in the back, on the right.

Natalie shrugged with RT's suggestion. What choice did she really have, after all? She hadn't had time to read who she was supposed to be going with when her kidnappers had thrown the paper in her face on the helicopter. Besides, CJ seemed a bit too rough. Something about RT was a bit...suspicious, but Natalie didn't exactly trust either of the two "guides." Still, a normal-looking black guy was closer to home than some tough, bitchy military woman. In Amazonia, they stayed in the military - they didn't get around to escorting random civilians in the middle of the desert.

"I dunno about choices, but I guess," Natalie replied to RT's enticement. What was there to lose at this point?

The plane was fairly nice - considerably better than the insides of the military helicopter that she'd been unceremoniously dropped from. Natalie wandered to the back of the plane, taking a seat on the left with the rest of the RT crew - seemingly less than the contingent with CJ. The wierd talking squirrel pokemon took a seat across from her, apparently in control of the situation mentally. Despite being in a totally foreign situation, Natalie was curious about the wierd furry animal. Trying to diffuse her own internal anxiety, she tried to start up a conversation, if not a bit akwardly.

"So you're a...talking squirrel?" Natalie piped up, inquiring of Brian. "Do you have any idea of what's going on here?"

The Belkans prepared their gear for flight and took up several seats, Bluto alone requiring two to accomidate his height. They invited the Leasathians to sit near them and looked around. The squirrel was once again involved in alarmingly anthromorphic activity, illiciting another, more alarmed "Skurrrrl!" from the Centurion's lipless mouth. He was once again hushed as the team awaited further instructions.

He walked into the plane and choose the right side- after all, if he was going to be trained, he wanted to be trained by the more masculine of the pair.
The interior of the aircraft was light-coloured and looked very pleasant, which therefore meant that money wasn't being spent wisely. with large comfortable seats and a personal entertainment systems, he knew he would fall asleep while watching some crappy show. There was an overhead storage bin if anyone wanted to store any small items. In there, he placed his entire sack. He had not taken the gun apart a while ago, so it all fit well.
"Sir, do you want something to drink?" The pretty stewardess asked.
"Yeah, water. I'll take water. And not the piss and shit filled water that comes from this broken down area of the world, I want drinkable water that won't get me sick." He said.
"Uhh...yes, sir. What about you?" She said, looking at the passenger next to him.

Redfox boarded the plane with his dogs. Honestly he had planned to set them free into the African country side, but CJ had made him think otherwise. As he looked at the right side of the aircraft he noticed there were few spots left. The fully armored warrior alone took up two, not to mention his squad mates, and the Arab soldiers. Due to the limited number of seats he proceeded to take a seat next to a man who looked very bored.

Using his eyes he told the dingos to occupy the seats in front of him, that way he could keep and eye on them. He slowly removed his pack and set it on the ground in-between his legs.

Suddenly there was a stewardess next to him asking the bored man what he wanted to drink. After he was done ordering his 'palatable' water she kindly asked Redfox what he wanted to drink.

Looking at her he replied "Hot Green Tea, please."

To which she replied "I will be back with your orders immediately, gentlemen." She quickley exited to get their drinks.

Ollie McKraut left his duffel bag with RT and boarded the plane, taking a seat in his designated area and ordering a ginger ale.

Brian was slightly startled when the human girl started to talk to him. "Yes, I'm a squirrel, have you never seen one before?" Probably some sheilded noblewoman. He reached across the aisle as best he could to hand his hard copy of the e-mail to her. "Supposed to be some sort of military training camp." She looks like a cat person. Brian chastised himself for the random thought. It had no place here. He noticed her tattered clothes. "You okay? You don't look so good."

The Belkans prepared their gear for flight and took up several seats, Bluto alone requiring two to accomidate his height. They invited the Leasathians to sit near them and looked around. The squirrel was once again involved in alarmingly anthromorphic activity, illiciting another, more alarmed "Skurrrrl!" from the Centurion's lipless mouth. He was once again hushed as the team awaited further instructions.

"You okay up there?"

"Please forgive Bluto," said Spangler to the squirrel. "He isn't used to seeing wildlife, forgive the expression, outside a training course, let alone on an aircraft." He extended his gloved hand to greet the squirrel, then thinking about it, retracted all but his extended index finger to shake. "I am Sgt. Leo Spangler of Belkaros, and this is my team." The team ordered either Diet Cokes or Dr. Peppers from the stewardess, who had appeared with a menu. As the Dr.Pepper fans shot the Diet Coke fans icy glares (the two sodas had been in competition as the official soft drink of the Imperium for years) Bluto and Spangler gave the squirrel their full attention. The squirrel seemed to invoke childlike docileness in the monsterous Centurion, who wanted greatly to touch the strange little creature, but decided against it.

The guy who sat down next to Ocurt had black hair, just like he did. He also smelled like goat and other animals. Ocurt decided he was annoying and stopped breathing through his nose and started breathing through his mouth.
He hated this airplane. It wasn't moving. He wanted it to start moving so he could get to this damn place, finish the training, and go back to his daily routine of working, going home, doing nothing at home except think about work, then sleep. That was fun.
Why do you have to smell like the prisoners who farm, asshole? Ocurt thought to himself. The man who sat next to him really annoyed him.
"Hey, you. Good choice with the tea and all. What do you do for a living?" Ocurt asked curtly. He hoped the man was a farmer or something, or else he needed to be taught how to use the many hygenic appliances humanity had come up with in recent years.

"My name is Hidalgo...I eat, I sleep, I breed animals, I breed the strongest and most ferocious war horses in Dynamic Revolution. I also breed war dogs."

He motioned towards his sleeping pack with his head. His explanation was short and quick, he didn't like to talk much.

"How about yourself?"

With that Redfox closed his eyes. As soon as the man was finished he would will himself to sleep. He had no reason to waste any energy, and he didn't talk much anyway. As soon as his tea got here he would drink it and sleep some more

Jon reclines in his seat on the right side of the plane, slightly uncomfortable. The seats are a little too close together considering the length of his legs, so every time he moves (or every time the person in front of him leans back), they end up bumping into the back of the seat in front of him.

Aside from a few pleasentries, he hasn't been saying much to the others on the plane thus far... mostly listening. As he hears the stewardess's voice, he looks up.

"Hm? I'll have a bottle of water, thank you."

Brian was slightly startled when the human girl started to talk to him. "Yes, I'm a squirrel, have you never seen one before?" Probably some sheilded noblewoman. He reached across the aisle as best he could to hand his hard copy of the e-mail to her. "Supposed to be some sort of military training camp." She looks like a cat person. Brian chastised himself for the random thought. It had no place here. He noticed her tattered clothes. "You okay? You don't look so good."


Natalie scanned the paper, her sapphire eyes flitting across the dirty white page. The outside world melted away in a blast of emotional heat that irradiated her body; her limbs temporarily sat paralyzed.

A major consortium sponsering a military training exercise? Parachuting and bullets? Two Months? Natalie was right in the middle of spring term. There was no way she had time for two months, much less the ability to survive attacking beaches and apparently parachuting off towers. She wasn't military, she was a freaking college student who had no idea what "Wolven West Africa" was or why some wierd kidnappers had decided to pick her to deposit into this pit of the Earth.

"No, I'm not really okay," Natalie replied half-sighing to the talking squirrel. She ran her left hand through her brown hair, mixed with blood splotches and dust.

"I'm not part of any military. I shouldn't even be here - I've never fired a gun, never jumped off any tower or attacked any beaches. I have nothing right now, don't even know where I am, and after two months - bad enough there - I don't know where I can go."

The world was slowly falling apart in Natalie's shattered mind, falling down to a depth she didn't know if she could escape from.

Morgan Delarge turned to the girl who she had heard called Natalie. Being the team medic, she offered to clean and bandage the girls cuts, much to Redfield's disdain, who saw a burden in the young girl, though he kept these feelings to himself, not wanting to cause a dispute so early in the mission. Morgan retrived a small first aid pack from her larger kit and waited for Natalie to reply.

Wonderful job, Brian. You just gave a human a panic attack. How do you make yourself feel?Just bloody brilliant now shut up. "You didn't sign up for this? Anyway, RJ, the guy you're going with, said that he was going on some adventure. And said something about the soldiers going with CT...so..." Brian fizzled out unsure what to do next.

OCC: Bumb...

The team enjoyed their beverages in relative silence, D'arque trying to figure out the Credit to USD conversion for the Pac-Man machine in the Skymall magazine. Bluto shifted his weight, moving the entire plane and causing a nervous glance from the pilots. Spangler was still hoping for some kind of response from the squirrel, hoping the 'wildlife' remark was not offensive and Morgan was looking with concern at the injured girl.

Brian jolted when he noticed he had zoned out... He took the finger extended to him and shook it, following it with a bow, body and tail at the waist.

"Adventure..." Natalie mused on that one, placing her head on her hands. "I somehow get the feeling that we're all in one batch here. I don't think they're really gonna split us up, and I think they're not telling us some things. Think about it: we arrived at the same place with two leaders who apparently know each other from these...messages of sorts, I guess. I think this is related to something deeper."

Maybe Natalie was being fatalistic - something opposite to her usual perky, happy manner - but something just didn't feel right. Adventure and soldiers? Why hadn't they split by now, then? Why take the same plane if they were two totally different activities?

Natalie didn't shy away from Morgan's concerns, simply scooting over and skipping a reply. The squirrel had some profound remarks, whether it knew it or not...they were bringing up some serious concerns about whatever pursuit the group was on.

Jon sips his drink as he listens to the conversation, seemingly half asleep, but quite alert nevertheless. For the first time since he's gotten on the plane, he speaks to one of the other passengers, directing his gaze in Natalie's direction.

"You're almost certainly correct, Miss. Tour groups are not usually mixed with personnel headed to a training facility of some sort." He removes his sunglasses, tucking them into a pocket, revealing a suprisingly sharp look to his face.

"This won't hurt much, I promise," said Morgan in a comforting tone of voice as she cleaned the most obvious of Natalie's wounds with antiseptic. "You said something about a vacation or training mission? We were not particularly well briefed on either. We are from Belkaros, and part of our training is minimal intel operations, so they only told us where we were going before we got on our plane. Maybe it is a civilian protection excersise, combining your adventure with our training. If that is the case, you have nothing to worry about." she said, trying to ease the girl's worries.

"Protecting people?" Brian quipped. "I'm an intelligence officer, we were hoping they would have some sort of program for them...or at least I would be able to talk to them about making one. I'm not so good with protecting people...especially humans" He stood up...and was still knee high to everyone else.

Hidalgo started when he realized the rather large squirrel was talking. One of his dogs gave a low growl, wanting desperately to eat the rather large morsel. Redfox silenced the dog with a glare that told the dog exactly where it stood in the pecking order. Hidalgo watched the squirrel as it shook one of the Belkans' fingers...Not only that, but the squirrel had a name, Brian. This was indeed going to be a very strange trip.

Bumb!!!?

OOC: Seriously bump....wth guys and gals

OOC: Where's our hosts at

I don't know but if he doesn't show up I'll post in random languages like this:

Это будет спам. Если вы не читаете русского и не приняли все время для того чтобы найти вне, то эт говорить, вы расточительствовало ваше время. Наилучшим образом, имейте славный день!

누군가는 이미 배치한다

AlguÉm Afixa JÁ! VocÊ EstÁ Fazendo-me Irritado!

私を怒っているようにしている!

OOC: Ey yos - seeing as Skgorria seems to be AWOL for this thread (no criticism intended - I know RL stuff can be shit these days), do y'all wanna re-start this thread and create a new OOC sign-up thread? I'd be willing to run it - I quite literally have jack to do between now and june that urgently needs me (hell, I mean...it's Monday and I've been on NS for the last three hours...and not working at the same time on other stuff).

I might change up a few of the details to make things flow a little easier, maybe a few minor edits to make it more plausible perhaps - but the story and plot would essentially remain the same. If peeps are interested, I can get that up as soon as tomorrow.

Why does all the threads i join die?:headbang: