NationStates Jolt Archive

The Confederate Backlands had, since the founding of the old empire of Exponent, all the way up the present day nation of the Blackhelm Confederacy, been a massive hell hole. The native blacks of the area are a large majority here, as opposed to the coastal regions where almost everyone is white, and the blacks, commonly reffered to as "nates", short for natives, are few and far between. It is here that disease runs rampant, starvation is commonplace, and, as of recently, a religious war has erupted between the Muslim rebels and dozens of Christian militias. Not only this, but also the Communist guerillas of the Workers Army control large parts of the country side, and Confederate soldiers rarely venture out of the large villages to enforce any law. Possibly one of the largest problems here, however, is the incredibly widespread use of child soldiers all throughout the Backlands, especially in the Western Province.

http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2007/04/29/weekinreview/29gett_CA0.650.jpg

I killed another man today,
Shot him in his back as he ran away,
Then I blew up his hut with a hand grenade,
Cut his wife's throat as she put her hands to pray,
Just five more dawgs then we can get a soccer ball,
That's what my commander say

Hundreds of thousands of children make up the vast majority if the forces out in these parts. These children, fanatically loyal and fearless beyond belief , are some of the fiercest soldiers the continent has ever known, and dispite their small size and lack of strength, the atrocities they are capable of committing make them, to the leaders of their rebel groups or militias, far better than any man. After all, what child is going to question his orders when all that he has ever known was killing was the right thing to do.

Well I'm like ten, eleven, been fighting since I was like six or seven,
Now I don't know much about where I'm from but I know I strike fear everywhere I come,
Government want me dead so I wear my gun, I really want the rocket launcher but I'm still too young,
This candy give me courage not to fear no one,
To fear no pain, and hear no tongue,
So I hear no screams and I shed no tear,
If I'm in your dreams then your end is near.
Yeah

The Muslim armies, now outlawed for years within the Confederacy, annually gain more and more members as their brethren flee the massive, overcrowded cities where their kind are routinely carted off to the death camps the Confederacy has established both in its home nation, as well as on the many, many territories conquered by its most famous citizen, Claudius Griffincrest. The warriors have launched countless jihads against the Confederate establishment, and have vowed not to stop until either they or the "infidels" are wiped off the face of the Earth.

Now here comes the march of the boy brigade
A macabre Parade of the toys he made
And in Shimmer shades who looks half his age
About half the size of the flags they waved
And Camouflage suits that made to fit youths
'cause the ones of the dead soldiers hang a little loose
And AK-47's that they shooting into heaven
Like they're trying to kill the Jetson's
They struggle little recruits

It is not just the people, but also rampant starvation and disease that sweep across the Backlands. This horrible mixture has finally pushed the Confederate government to its limits, and now, they are finally asking the outside world for help. An international peacekeeping and humanitarian aide force was assembled, and soon, a few more outsiders would have their first look at the real Blackhelm Confederacy.

Cute Smileless, Heartless, violent
Childhood destroyed, devoid of all childish ways,
Can't write their own names or read the words on their own graves
Think you gangster popped a few rounds,
These kids will come through and murder a whole town,
Then sit back and smoke and watch it burn down,
The grave gets deeper the further we go down

Husky stepped of the plane into the backlands. "What a shithole," He said under his breath as scooters sputtered by with three to four people riding them. He saw as all the blacks stared at him. He was the only white person there. He had the C2 carbine in his suitcase and a USP on his belt. He started walking to the hotel where he had reserved a room. As he walked he counted all the kids with AKs. By the time he arrived he had seen 20.
http://www.coalition-films.com/images/projects/intro_child_soldier.jpg

FC-IEU65 was essentially dumped into the backlands. He had the means to communicate with his people, but in case his radio was destroyed, he had a pickup set up for him. He had his MI-8A2 set up as an 8mm Mauser Battle Rifle. Where would he start?

((OOC: Is there a map of the backlands?))

Husky walked into the hotel and up to his room. He opened the door only to see that that this place was also a hellhole. The bed was just a stained matress with a thin sheet and a pillow. The meal they left him was a bowl of rice. After observing it more he saw the rice move. Maggots. Disgusting, he thought, reaching into his bag and pulling out an MRE. Good ol' beef n' cheese his favorite. He was about to dig in when his cell rang. He picked up "Hello." He said. "Husky its me Hans, look, dont eat the food." Husky chuckled. "Yeah, I figured that one out." Hans started to explain that he had lined up a contract with the leader of the communist faction. His objective was to wipe out a militia base in the region. "Got it." he said "Any chance I can get a daka dak?" He asked. "Oh, well then, too bad, talk to you later."

Uriel Jamesonleaned against the outside wall of a hotel, watching the people in the street, his expression blank, he was holding a large automatic shotgun with one hand, a cross-shaped pendant, the chain of which he had wrapped around his palm, dangling from the other. He watched as a man who was obviously a foreigner came into view, heading towards the building against which Jameson was standing. It would seem I am not the only foreign agent in this area. Let us hope I need not kill him. Jameson did not move as the man passed him, and returned his gase to a church on the other side of the street, looking for any sign of a gathering or hint that soemthing other than sermons were being planned within it's walls. The League did not approve of christians and muslims slaughtering one another, and Jameson was tasked with doing whatever he could to help stop the conflict between the two groups.
OOC: terrible post, but im tired.

Gustav Kaufmann slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder, stepping off the bus into hell. Though Leistung had volunteered to send an entire team of KSK agents, they eventually decided that Kaufmann would be able to do more on his own than an entire squad of agents. He glanced from side to side, noticing the other foreigners mulling about.

For the first time in his life he felt lost. He had seen horrors in the Waldenburger attack, but never before had he witnessed children rotting in the streets while others with machine guns at their sides walked from house to house. He walked into the lobby of the hotel, waiting for some sign of governmental forces.

The plane made a few long, wide turns before landing. When Jeremy Kindall looked out of the window, he saw a land in chaos. Throngs of people pushed through the smallest of streets, moving in every direction. Half of the buildings looked like they were made of mud, and most of them were ready to collapse. The landing strip was little more then flat dirt, though flat was an exaduration. The landing was one of the roughest Jeremy had every experienced, surpassing even the emergency water landing that he had been through a few years back. When the plane rolled to a halt, he stood up, or rather, attempted to, since the plane ceiling was about 2 feet too short for him. As he opened the door, the hot wind hit his face like the a whip. Squinting in the blazing sun, he stepped down onto the dirt, surveying the scene before him. With his duffle bag in his right hand, his pistol at his side, and his M16 slung on his back, he made his way into the bustling masses of civillians, trying to avoid notice as much as possible before he reached his hotel.

Samantha landed with 30 mercenaries from the ralkovian foreign legion, each wore a sewed on mask that covered their face. She had ordered them off the plane, on the other side it said,"Keep-off" industries.

Husky had his C2 in a duffel bag. As he walked down the street some kid said "HEY WHITEY WHATS IN DA BAG!" Husky turned. a kid with a Kalashnikov was in his face. The rifle was pointed at him. "Why don't you just run along now." The kid flicked off the saftey. Husky, in one motion grabbed the rifle, smashed the kid in the face, and stuck the barrel in his eye, firing one shot. He was NOT here to get bullied by 15 year olds.

"My my." Came a voice to the left of Husky as Jameson spoke to him from where the latter was leaning. "As much as I am in favor of the destruction of that which is wicked upon this earth, do you think that killing that boy was really wise? I would make myself scarce if I were you, before any friends that he may have decide to avenge their fallen comrade."

"I was just thinking that, comrade." Husky said before disappearing into an alyway.

Gustav would have recognized that sound anywhere, even from the inside of the hotel lobby. Gunfire? Already? Instead of bounding outside like many of the others in the lobby were doing, he shoved his way onto the elevator, taking the lift all the way up to the roof.

The sun seemed even more intense on the roof of the hotel, especially for a man who had spent his entire life in the frigid North Atlantic and the mountains of Leistung. Trying to ignore the heat, he ran to the side of the roof facing the direction of the gunshot and leaned his SSG162 sniper rifle against the stone barrier, taking aim at what appeared to be another foreigner The bloody body of a small child lay only a few meters away, and people on all sides seemed to be either screaming, running, or taking aim as well. Gustav lined the man's head up in his crosshairs. Could this be one of the Communist rebels?

He decided to play it safe and not shoot the man outright. After all, he had no idea what the situation was and for all he knew, the child could have been some sort of cannibal. He had heard this place was hell, after all.

"Comrade?" Jameson repeated to himself, a slightly amused expression on his face as he watched the retreating man. "A communist then, perhaps. How unfortunate."

Husky had his C2 in a duffel bag. As he walked down the street some kid said "HEY WHITEY WHATS IN DA BAG!" Husky turned. a kid with a Kalashnikov was in his face. The rifle was pointed at him. "Why don't you just run along now." The kid flicked off the saftey. Husky, in one motion grabbed the rifle, smashed the kid in the face, and stuck the barrel in his eye, firing one shot. He was NOT here to get bullied by 15 year olds.

Kitten had been about to intervene when the man shot and killed the child. She was admittedly horrified by the sight. Despite this place being a racial cesspool. she was shocked to see the audacity of a trained soldier gunning down a child. She quickly followed the man into the alley, preparing to make her opinion known.

"What do you want." Husky said, sensing the woman behind him.

"What do you want." Husky said, sensing the woman behind him.

"Medic Kitten Wulfen. Serial Number A134-77-98B7" she introduced without a salute or anything. "I am a solider of the Tocrowkian Reich. I saw you kill that boy, don't you think that was a little extreme? You have barely arrived and you all ready have likely got most of the population against you!" She said She was pretty angry, not only had he put his own life in danger he had also put hers in danger as well. She wasn't about to die in this hell hole because of some mongrel killing another.

Gustav observed through his scope as a woman approached the man who had just shot the child. Ah, this should be interesting... His rifle was still loaded, and he wasn't entirely sure if the man could be trusted, so there was no way he was letting an innocent woman follow him into a dark alley unassisted.

"He was about to shoot me. Anyway, what do you think your purpose here is? Your name is Kitten for Christs sake. Go home. You don't have the backbone."

OOC:Pwnt

"Dammit! Did the blue-bloods send me packing to hell!?" grumbled Corporal Yuri Sebastivic as he walked off the flimsy loading ramp of the AC-30 he had just flown in. Probably the most startling thing that had literally made him recoil as he stepped out of the door was the almost unbearable heat of the the place. For a man raised in the cold, sub-arctic mountains of Korvograd, the Badlands seemed like an oven. If that oven was full of religious fanatics and child soldiers who would kill you with a glance. Quickly realizing that he was holding back the entire line of people behind him, Yuri quickly descended the ramp and walked toward what he thought was a taxi scooter. "Better make the best of this situation until the rest of the platoon arrives." he mumbled to himself as he handed the dark and scar covered man a piece of local currency. Moments later, Yuri was speeding off in a cloud of exhaust fumes and blood soaked sand.

As Jeremy strolled along the street to his hotel, he saw a most extrordonary scene unfold itself before him. A beliggerant child with an AK-47 was poking it in the face of a highly muscled man. This man was a soldier, he could see that plainly enough. A foreigner too, mused. The man said muttered something to the child, and then proceeded to smash the butt of the rifle into the kid's face. Jeremy burst out laughing at that. Then, at the apparant council of a white-robed figure carrying an impressive combat shotgun, he darted off into an alley, folowed by another combatant, this one a woman. From the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw a fourth man high on top of the building which this scene has just taken place infront of, observing the street through the scope of a sniper rifle.

"Damn," he thought to himself "if I had known that there would be this much action this quickly, I would have packed more guns!"

Jeremy hustled down the street and stopped before a the man with the shotgun, asking him

"What the hell just happened?"

"He was about to shoot me. Anyway, what do you think your purpose here is? Your name is Kitten for Christs sake. Go home. You don't have the backbone."

OOC:Pwnt

OOC: he really wouldnt know her name.

IC: "A certain man has just killed one of the child soldiers." Uriel replied calmly with a friednly smile. "Obviously not the brightest of fellows." He turned, and walked into the alley. "Now now, each is here to do their part." He said, having heard the comment. "I wouldnt be suprised to see this young lady do far more good with her medical knowledge here than you with your firearms and bravado." He continued, slowly walking towards the Chernoblian

The ear-popping screech of the flimsy scooter's breaks quickly alerted Yuri that his fare had come to an end. Odd, I thought my hotel was further away, he thought to himself as he opened the door of the vehicle. What greeted him was a somewhat strange sight. Around him, countless dark skinned villagers rushed to safety within their shacks, hovels, boxes etc. while what appeared to be a group of armed foreigners stood unflinching in the middle of the street. "Shit, just what I need now." Yuri grumbled to himself as he pulled out his stockless AK-101 from his trenchcoat.

"Indeed" said Jeremy, following the man in the trench coat into the alley, now clearly seeing the large cross on his back "but is it medical knowledge that these people really need? Can such a lawless land be tamed? "

"Alright what the hell is going on here?" asked Yuri inquisitively as he approached the foreigners. The two were clearly arguing but he could not here what they were saying. Not wanting to take any chances, Yuri flipped off the safety on his assault rifle.

"The wayward flock needs not a wolf, but a sheperd to guide it home, albeit one with a firm hand." Uriel replied to Jeremy. He smiled at Yuri. "Why hello friend. Foreigners are popping up everywhere, it seems. Be careful with your gun please, we need no further foolish slayings today."

Samantha and her mercenaries had just arrived, some of them were dismissed tdeath guard, scary looking men that looked as if they were boogiemen, they wore the skin of their enemies as masks over masks. Their brutality was well known, kids might destroy a village but death guard ate the entire village.

The mercenaries headed past the gruesome scene. One of the death guard decided to bring the body with them. "NYET nois adeads adea resra treand"(come on don't tell me your hungry already) Samantha said a little pissed off with the former death guard.

Taken aback by the hospitality of the stranger, Yuri stayed silent for several seconds before responding. "Wise words my friend. I have full confidence that we can retake this land, with or without violence." Taking the man's advice, Yuri put the safety back on his rifle and eased up.

Within minutes a pick up truck came rolling up to the intersection at the end of the block where the shooting had just taken place. About eight men and boys hopped off of it, each of them brandishing an AK-47 knock off, while a man stayed behind in the bed of the truck manning a large machine gun.

At the other end of the block, the same thing happened. The group of over a dozen armed combatants began walking towards each other. Finally, one man looking to be in his thirties stepped forward. "Who has done this??" he yelled out in a thick African accennt. He then fired off a few rounds skyward, and repeated his question, this time louder. As he did so, his "soldiers", if an eight year old could be called that, began pushing people in the street and yelling at them, some in English, some Latin, and some in their near unintelligible native tongue.

"Well then, looks like our gracious hosts have arrived!" yelled Yuri cynically as he turned and pointed his AK-101 at the recently arrived militia. He quickly flipped his weapon to "fully automatic" and took aim at what appeared to be the barbarians chief.

Now this is an interesting turn of events..., Gustav thought, peering through his scope at the African man firing off rounds into the air. Farther back a hooded man stood on the back of a pickup truck, manning a large, but immobile, machine gun.

He shifted his view to this man, lining up his head squarely in his crosshairs and waiting.

One of the mercenaries took out a large machete and grinned as the child tried to poke him."Try that again and I'll eat you with a bit of salt and ketchup, it'll be delicious." He said as his eyes grew a bright red, the little kid left a yellow streak as he ran away. "DAMMIT SADIK will you stop your not part of the death guard you don't eat people anymore"

One of the mercs took aim and let 2 bullets fly at the apparent leaders head, another merc fired into the head of the machine gunner in the truck.

"What the hell!? I'm sure even the devil is jealous of how shitty this place is!" screamed Yuri as he took cover behind the ruins of a ruined hut. Soldiers who appeared more monster then human began to fire at the militamen. Not sure who to fire at, Yuri began to blindly pour rounds at the militia's position.

OOC: Leistung, you had Blackhawk down in mind too eh?

Seeing the clearly foreign man attempt to intimidate one of his soldiers, the leader of the group opened up on the Ralkovian group, believing it was they who had killed the other boy as well. The Ralkovian mercenaries were caught in between two groups of eight men, supported on both sides by heavy machine guns, and were without cover. It was not a good place to be for their mercenaries

OOC: Lol, I just watched that last Friday...

Christ, that was fast. Gustav squeezed the trigger, firing a single round into the temple of the machine gunner just as the Ralkovian's bullet hit the same mark. He shifted to another man, firing at his torso as the group of foreigners on the ground dove for cover.

Jeremy barely had time to react before the torrent of bullets tore past his head. He dived to the left, onto a doorway, swinging his M16 around as he flew. In the doorway, he gripped the gun, and stood up, firing from cover at the nearest percieved threat.

Aiming to kill, he shot two of the militiamen through their respective foreheads almost immideitly. Ducking back into the doorway, he drew his pistol. With a yell, he leaped from his doorway into one on the opposite side of the alley, this way acquiring a better angle of fire at the remaining militiamen on the other side of the truck. He dispatched two more with relative ease.

Now this is starting to get interesting, Yuri thought to himself as he pumped rounds into two more militamen who were trying to fire at the other foreigners. Caught in a cross fire, the barbarians quickly fell, their dark blood soaking the sand.

As the firefight began taking place, civilians began lighting large tire fires on their roofs. This was a symbol to the rest of the militia. Before long, the overly hostile foreigners would be face to face with over eight hundred members of the militia in charge of this city.

Sitting in his home several miles outside of the city, Warlord Mohmoud Mbasi smiled. "Welcome to the city of Kimberly" he thought aloud as dozens of technicals zipped by his home.

The ralkovians used the dead and the crowd as meat shields. Samantha was pissed, she emptied a clip into a kid, another death guard decapitated a man with a machine gun, he then cut another one in half.

The mercenaries could take a lot of hits they after all were former death guard.

The first thing U65 decided to do was secure a home. A vacation home, one would call it. He was outside of a town, and the only thoughts he had of it were "I bet there's a bunch of ******s (Jolt has auto-censors now?) waiting to die in there" and "That's where I need to set up."

He reconfigured his MI-8A2 into a 7.62mm NATO Assault Rifle and entered the city's outskirts. Going through the streets would be ridiculous; Even if he was, by all means, a super soldier, it didn't mean he wanted to fight off half the city at once. After sneaking through the alleyways for a few minutes, he caught his eyes on a group of kids with Avtomat Kalashnikovs, chatting above a lit bong pipe. U65 was concealed in a near pitch black area. It wasn't ultimate cover, but it would be enough to protect him from a trio of kids high on marijuana. He withdrew his kukri, silently, the thrill of the moment before a kill flowing through him. His mask lights came on, he wanted to terrorize the kids before brutally putting them down.

With one disciplined lunge, he cut one of their skullcaps off. Another one of them yelled before the Agent shoved the kukri through his stomach, pulling the blade upwards to literally spill the boy's stomach contents. The last one made a break for it, knowing that range was the best advantage against melee weaponry. As the child was turning around to fire his AKM, the Agent had already drawn his ESA-4 Compact, lined the sights up with his torso, and fired a shot.

Of course the scene wasn't quiet. The screams of the children and the ESA-4 shot would be enough to wake the town. The Agent wouldn't have the time to brutalize the poor child, as he could hear more people coming, apparently firing their weapons (Though it was really the foreigners fighting the militia). He shut off his mask lights and ran back to cover.

Quickly noting that the other foreigners were much more friendly then the locals, Yuri stood up and began waving his right arm toward a nearby building. "We have to get some cover! We're dead if we stay out here!"

A crappy old T-34 tank was also being brought into the town. The warlords all were able to compete with small armies, some even maintaining helicopters or small navies. Luckily, the militia in charge of Kimberly was not that wealthy, but they still did maintain several tanks, which the unfortunate Ralkovians were soon to be made aware of.

Yuri sprinted with all his might toward a nearby, stable looking high rise. He burst through the door panting and took cover behind an overturned table. T-34 or not, it was still a bloody tank.

As the firefight began taking place, civilians began lighting large tire fires on their roofs. This was a symbol to the rest of the militia. Before long, the overly hostile foreigners would be face to face with over eight hundred members of the militia in charge of this city.

Sitting in his home several miles outside of the city, Warlord Mohmoud Mbasi smiled. "Welcome to the city of Kimberly" he thought aloud as dozens of technicals zipped by his home.

OOC: lol, do you want me to send in the Pakistani armored columns? :D

IC: Gustav fired again and again before packing his rifle up and running downstairs. If there was one thing he had learned, it was never to stay in one place too long with a sniper rifle--it tended to be bad for the sniper when fifty pissed off militiamen started flooding his position.

He sprinted to the next building, only about four stories high with a solid iron siding on the roof. He set down his rifle on the building just in time to notice the group of militiamen burning tires on the building across from his in the square. He took aim and squeezed off four shots, striking each man in the head in a matter of seconds before turning his attention back to the ground.

Noticing the loud sniper fire coming from his left, Yuri turned quickly only to be meant by another foreigner. Without a second thought, Yuri joined the man in shooting other rebels who were attempting to light tires on the rooftops. Over the din of the battle, Yuri asked the man "Great place to be eh?". Not waiting for a response, Yuri slammed another magazine into his AK-101 and resumed firing.

"He was about to shoot me. Anyway, what do you think your purpose here is? Your name is Kitten for Christs sake. Go home. You don't have the backbone."

OOC:Pwnt

"I have three thousand years of pure Nordic blood running through my veins, so I know full well what my purpose is here. I am a medical officer charged to this peacekeeping force." She narrowed her eyes at him and was about to continue until she heard gunshots. She drew her carbine and followed the other foreign soldier ((Gustav)) to cover, leaving the idiot behind her.

((OOC: Not quite. ))

A big caucasian stepped down from the helicopter that had brought him to the outskirts of town. Shaking he waited until the pilot took off before vomiting in the dirt. Wiping his mouth, he spoke into the calm air. "That was worse than the plane."

The Agent had seen the T-34 moving down the street, looking around the corner of a building. He was still in some alleyways.

"Oh great. Three dead coons and they're calling in the heavy artillery..."

The Agent withdrew from the corner and drew his FSIAAS. The FSIAAS was similar to the AA-12 shotgun, only it also used a Super V bolt to further reduce the recoil. The Agent searched his backpack for an FSIAAS drum that had a red stripe on it. The magazine was loaded with Frag-12 shells (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQYp9fOJ9VI) (The video shows them being used with an AA-12). Normally, these only would be able to work against infantry, GPs, and possibly helicopters, but a T-34 was different.

He went back to the corner and aimed at the tank's side panels, lining up the shot...

Ducking behind a wall for a moment, Jameson laughed, his eyes shining with exitement. "Let the wicked and corrupt fall before the holy wrath of the righteous," He said to himself. "as wheat before the reaper." He kissed the pendant that was dangling from his wrist, and sprinted to the building that the Volzgradian had pointed to, dropping a small charge of C-4, which was already prepared for remote detonation, in a trashcan just inside the entrance.

OOC: Toc, I'm on a rooftop a ways away with Volzy's guy.

Gustav nodded at the man coming up on his right, realizing quickly that he wasn't a threat. "We need to get out of this city, and fast. I suggest we rally the others and see what they think," he said. "I recognize the tactic the militiamen are using--more will be coming soon and I don't want to be anywhere near here when they arrive."

OOC: Toc, I'm on a rooftop a ways away with Volzy's guy.

Gustav nodded at the man coming up on his right, realizing quickly that he wasn't a threat. "We need to get out of this city, and fast. I suggest we rally the others and see what they think," he said. "I recognize the tactic the militiamen are using--more will be coming soon and I don't want to be anywhere near here when they arrive."

"Sounds like a plan. I've got a couple of incendiary grenades on me that could definitely make a good distraction." Yuri replied as he followed the other man down the rusted ladder. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri could see the taxi that had brought him to this hellhole. If he could get his suitcase, and assemble the RPG-29 inside, they might have a change against these militia. Not only that, the taxi could make an excellent if soft skinned escape vehicle.

The ralkovians fell back, 3 had LONG-shot anti-tank rocket launcher and the armor of the T-34 was more like swiss cheese than metal.

Following the man in the white trench coat, Jeremy picked up his duffle and sprinted toward the tall building with the two snipers on top. Following him up the stairs, Jeremy reached the top just as the two snipers were climbing down a ladder on the other side.

"Damnit," he shouted "wait for me!"

"Sounds like a plan. I've got a couple of incendiary grenades on me that could definitely make a good distraction." Yuri replied as he followed the other man down the rusted ladder. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri could see the taxi that had brought him to this hellhole. If he could get his suitcase, and assemble the RPG-29 inside, they might have a change against these militia. Not only that, the taxi could make an excellent if soft skinned escape vehicle.

As the two neared the bottom of the ladder, a door opened a few feet away, and Jameson walked through it. "Ah, gentlemen." he said, smiling. "Do you midn terribly if I join you?"

Without a second thought, Yuri ducked and ran with all his strength toward the idling taxi cab. While the driver was long gone, the engine was still running which would make his escape much quicker and easier. Hopefully, the others would understand what he was doing and follow him to the taxi.

He quickly got into the drivers compartment and sped toward the man who he had moments earlier climbed down the ladder with.

Children were swarming the positions of the foreigners first, fearless through a mix of brainwashing and drugs. Many were no bigger than the weapons they held.

Finally, several men began taking out RPG's, and sent them slamming into the building that the men had sheltered in.

OOC: Ralkovia, your men are going to be nearly wiped out after this, they are focusing primarily on your boys.

As the two neared the bottom of the ladder, a door opened a few feet away, and Jameson walked through it. "Ah, gentlemen." he said, smiling. "Do you midn terribly if I join you?"

Join the party," Gustav said, rather flatly. He sprinted after the other man on the roof, who had managed somehow to find an idling taxi cab and hotwire it. He climbed in the front and drew his sidearm, motioning for the others to get in before the militiamen noticed.

"Don't forget me" Jeremy said dropping into the meeting of Jameson and the Volzgradian "I wouldn't want to miss such a magnificent party." Following Gustav, he entered the taxi.

The ralkovians fell back to one of the buildings and began to fire out, killing anyone who came near, one of the death guard setup claymores at the entrances and the ralkovians fell back to the 2nd story. Out of the 30 original mercenaries a healthy 29 were still alive.

"You two cover me. This junker will get turned to Swiss cheese unless they're suppressed." Quickly noticing the remaining foreigners, Yuri sped off toward them. He hoped he could save at least a couple more.

The Agent saw the horde of little people running down the street. Since the T-34 was being dealt with, he set his sights on the children. The Frag 12 rounds would be devastating against a swarm.

After lining up and bracing himself, the Agent began letting off bursts of high-explosive shot at the child warriors. Ethics meant nothing to him; In fact, this was exactly why he went on this "killer vacation".

OOC: Sorry if I'm RPing a bit for you here Toc, but it appears that you're offline and I don't want you to get left in the dust.

"Stop the car!" Gustav yelled as the taxi ground to a halt. He kicked open the door, noticing the same woman who had been arguing with the Chernoblian a few minutes ago. He grabbed her arm, pulling her with a single deft motion into the back and slamming the door before he pulled himself back into the front. "Drive, damn it, drive!"

Kauller made his way into the town, careful to avoid contact with the locals. He had his Vrykolakas set on assault rifle, but decided he should find somewhere to hole up and set up the machine gun. Then a truck full of armed men blew past him, and another and another. Several of the men shouted and fired at him. Kauller dived for cover behind a burnt out building, cocking his weapon. The sound of gears grinding rang out, and he heard the trucks drive off. Peeking around the corner, he saw that only two had gone, and six men were creeping up on him. They spotted him, and began firing. Not wasting a moment, the Bear high-tailed it around the husk and over a low brick wall. He kept moving, occasionally turning to fire on his pursuers. Then he heard the sounds of combat. Maybe he could lead the men to the fight and they would get distracted...

Join the party," Gustav said, rather flatly. He sprinted after the other man on the roof, who had managed somehow to find an idling taxi cab and hotwire it. He climbed in the front and drew his sidearm, motioning for the others to get in before the militiamen noticed.

"Quite a party indeed." Jamesone said, climbing into the car. "A bit too many fireworks for my taste though." He sighed with exsasperation as he looked up at the mercenaries. "Trigger-happy fools, they have in their bloodlust brought abotu their own deaths."

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Yuri replied as he stepped on the gas pedal with all his might. The cab lurched forward and sped off down what he could guess was the main avenue of the city. As long as they escaped the mob, Yuri didn't care where they ended up.

OOC: Sorry if I'm RPing a bit for you here Toc, but it appears that you're offline and I don't want you to get left in the dust.

"Stop the car!" Gustav yelled as the taxi ground to a halt. He kicked open the door, noticing the same woman who had been arguing with the Chernoblian a few minutes ago. He grabbed her arm, pulling her with a single deft motion into the back and slamming the door before he pulled himself back into the front. "Drive, damn it, drive!"

((OOC: Thanks. :) ))

Kitten winced as the fire-fight intensified. She had of course heard the sound of gunshots before plenty of times in basic, but never in a real fight. She clutched the carbine tight against her chest and glanced out the windows. "Where are we going?!" She asked tensely.

"You can never have too many fireworks" replied Jeremy to Jamesone.

Barley noticing the young woman's question over the sounds of gunfire and explosions, Yuri responded as best he could. "Your idea is as good as mine! Once we lose this mob I'll see if I can find a motel, preferably away from this dump!"

((OOC: Thanks. :) ))

Kitten winced as the fire-fight intensified. She had of course heard the sound of gunshots before plenty of times in basic, but never in a real fight. She clutched the carbine tight against her chest and glanced out the windows. "Where are we going?!" She asked tensely.

Gustav responded plainly and simply with a sentence that would have raised a few eyebrows back in Leistung, where even in the military, men used as many details as possible when describing a situation.

"Not here."

As the cab sped from the city, many of the militia men took pot shots, one even firing an RPG that just barely missed its mark. The militia, however, was far more concerned with the hideous Ralkovians, and by now had several hundred soldiers, dozens of technicals, a handful of tanks, and were preparing several recoilless rifles to fire upon the enemy position.

The cab leaned heavily as it rounded a corner with blistering speed. The majority of the sounds of battle were now distant, but the occasional crack of a Kalashnikov and boom of an RPG could still be heard from close by. Almost out of the city, Yuri let out a sigh of relief and started searching the buildings for a place to stay.

Gustav responded plainly and simply with a sentence that would have raised a few eyebrows back in Leistung, where even in the military, men used as many details as possible when describing a situation.

"Not here."

Kitten shrugged. Despite being in a warzone, at the moment in this speed car they seemed safe. "Sounds good to me." she replied, she aimed and took a few shots out the window but doubted she would hit anything. After all, she was a medic, not a sharp shooter.

With the end of the blasted city only a few hundred meters away, Yuri drove the car as fast as the rolling heap of scrap could go. With a last final lurch, the cab exited the city and sped down a dirty mud path that led out into the barren and uninviting countryside. If they failed to find a place to stay, they might be able to "commandeer" a local's building for their own purposes. With the adrenaline of battle finally seeping away, Yuri slowed down and looked over his shoulder at the passengers. He managed a weak smile and asked "Where to next?"

Kauller was in trouble. He'd killed three of the men, but a rifle round had punched through the breast plate of his Interceptor. He could tell it wasn't serious, but he needed patching up. He caught the edge of a house, slamming himself into the wall. Peering back at his pursuers, he saw them cautiously poking through the alley he had just led them through. Taking a stick-frag, he pulled the pin and tossed it towards them. They kept moving. Thank the manufactory for rubber casing. The grenade exploded, killing two of them, blowing the leg completely off the third. He killed that one with his knife, then made his way back to the street. Where he was promply struck by a fast moving taxi full of heavily armed people.

The Agent ran out of shells before dry firing a few times and turning back around the corner. A 7.62mm bullet flew past him, ripping through the side of the building. He slammed another magazine into his FSIAAS, this time it was simply a normal mag. He knew what was going on after watching the others retreat. He would sit there until things calmed down a bit.

((Crap, I was writing that when you left.))

The ralkovians were falling back, a few of the death guard were smart enough to hop from building to building.

Hundreds of grenades, shells, and RPG's were now showering down on the Ralkovians as the full intensity of the mob was turned on them, yet unaware of the appearance of the other two loners.

Meanwhile, outside the city, a road sign read Bishop's Bedshaft: 50 miles. Bishop's Bedshaft was not a particularly large city, but there was still a small Confederate garrison there. Perhaps they could be of some help for the foreigners.

"Bishop's Bedshaft? Sounds much more inviting then this place." Yuri mumbled half to himself as the drove the now heavily dented and bullet ridden taxi down the bumpy dirt road. "We'll be arriving at the city in around 30 minutes so try to get some rest if you can." Yuri said without turning toward the others.

OOC: I'm going to bed now so don't do too much without me.

The ralkovians did what they did best firing can after can of kolokol into the crowd, the noxious gas would quickly set the entire crowd to sleep. The gas working in seconds could put a man out for almost 3 hours. It only took a single touch from the gas to work as well.

(Check it online if you don't believe me BC)

"Bishop's Bedshaft? Sounds much more inviting then this place." Yuri mumbled half to himself as the drove the now heavily dented and bullet ridden taxi down the bumpy dirt road. "We'll be arriving at the city in around 30 minutes so try to get some rest if you can." Yuri said without turning toward the others.

OOC: I'm going to bed now so don't do too much without me.

"Rest?" Kitten questioned. She was so hyped up on her adrenaline, resting didn't seem like a possibility to her.

((You guys suck. You hit me and left me behind. That doesn't seem very sportsman-like.))

The Agent saw that the mob was going after someone else. Taking this into mind, he went deeper into the city, still avoiding the streets. He came upon a particular house he liked; it had a sort of wall around it, and the house itself was two stories tall. He made a sprint through the street and into the enclosed area before breaking into the house. A family was sitting at dinner, seeming not to mind the firefight outside. The Agent quick-drew his ESA-4 and mowed them down, spraying twice to make sure they were dead. He holstered his ESA-4 and drew his MI-8A2 before checking upstairs. After making sure the house was clear, he barricaded the door.

((You guys suck. You hit me and left me behind. That doesn't seem very sportsman-like.))

((OOC: GTA Motherfucka' :) ))

Along the road, thick jungle was all over. Small dirt roads branched off this way and that, leading to tiny villages. At least once, a large smoke pplume would be seen rising from down at the end of one of the trails, the occasional crack-crack of a kalashnikov could be heard.

A boy lay on the side of the road, his AK-47 laying next to him. He was only six years old, the gun was almost his size. Down the road a bit, an old man was walking his donkey down the road. They would soon be in Bishop's Bedshaft, and hopefully there they could find help.

OOC: I too am retiring. I shall join you fellows again as soon as possible.

((ooc: Gta motherfucka' :) ))

hahahhahahaha i actually lol'd, mind if i sig that?

(So I get out of the angry people with the kolokol. GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

"Bishop's Bedshaft? Sounds much more inviting then this place." Yuri mumbled half to himself as the drove the now heavily dented and bullet ridden taxi down the bumpy dirt road. "We'll be arriving at the city in around 30 minutes so try to get some rest if you can." Yuri said without turning toward the others.

OOC: I'm going to bed now so don't do too much without me.

"There'd best be a church wherever we are going." Jameson said, shifting in his seat to make himself more comfortable. "I have business with the christian leaders in this region, the League does not approve of those who would murder in God's name."

hahahhahahaha i actually lol'd, mind if i sig that?

((OOC: Go ahead. ^_^ ))

Looking over at Jameson, Jeremy asked "And what purpose dose a christian serve in hell?"

"Why, to make it less hellish and to introduce the light of God's mercy and forgiveness." Jameson replied, smiling. "It is not the healthy who need a doctor."

"So that is indeed you purpose? A simply altruistic quest to bring peace to a region that has not seen an end to was in centuries? I applaud you."

"But yet, I still have questions. How can you hope to bring a region into the light by using the tools of darkness? Do the ends really justify the means when you deal with the immortal souls of man?"

"The tools of darkness?" Jameson asked, amused. "These weapons are meant only to keep those that refuse to be shown the light from doing further harm. Corrupt men cannot be allowed to spread their wickedness, to drag those around them into darkness, or else the struggles of the righteous to lift their fellows up is negated and rendered ineffective. For a garden to be healthy, the weeds that stifle the good seeds must be removed. The duty of a righteous man is twofold: to spread good and to stop evil. These weapons are but tools with which I may fuful that second duty, in as much as my imperfections will allow."

OOC: This battle of metaphores is quite exhilarating.

"To you those weeds may be pests, but to the lowly begger who must eat those weeds, they are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen."

"Yet the beggar sees the weeds as good only because he knows not what fruits the garden may bear should the weeds be gone." Jameson said, smiling.

OOC: the beggar represents the few, however rare they may be, who see the child soldiers as their guardians against outside forces. Remember, one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter.

"But alas, would the beggar not be barred from the garden if such fruits did grow?"

OOC: eh, Jameson was reffering to mankind as the garden, not a nation.

"Ah, but it is not the beggar's garden. Should the owner be deprived of the good fruit that the trespassing beggar may have the weeds? I think friend, that you are reading too far into this metaphor, and that it the depth of your examination it no longer accurately applies." Jameson said, chuckling.

"So be it. I concede." replied Jeremy, too chuckling.

"Enough of this wordplay, enjoyable as it is." Jameson responded, still smiling. "What is your purpose here, sir?"

"I am a mercinary, however much I may regret it. I was sent by a large mining corporation in my homeland with business interests this place. I am supposed to be guarding their mine. The thing is, I have been meaning to fall of the grid for a while, and this seems like just the place. Also, whatever story unfolds in the presence of these fellows seems like it will be interesting enough. A last hurrah as it were." said Jeremy, with a hint of sorrow in his voice.

((OOC: So wait, are you guys in the taxi with us??))

OOC: oh yeah. i followed gustav and yuri

((OOC: So wait, are you guys in the taxi with us??))

OOC:yes.

IC: "I see. Well, let us pray that this 'last hurrah' of yours shall be glorious indeed."

Kauller stood from where he had fallen upon being struck. Luckily he had only been sideswiped, not hit full on, so he had only been monderately injured. More dangerous was the mob that had been closing in. That too had been silenced. Far decided to make the best of the situation, so he slung his assault weapon and began scavenging, killing all sleeping figures he came within arms reach of. He quickly aquired several full canteens of water, bandages, extra food, and a head wrapping that was not infested with lice. That done, he went into a nearby house, set up his light machine gun on the second floor, and began tending to his injury.

He ate two fast-acting pain pills that would last fifteen minutes, crunching them up with satisfaction. Then taking a bottle of alchohol from his pack, he cleaned the area around the wound, sterilized his fingers and removed the bullet. This he threw away. He cleaned the wound again, as well as a needle and silk thread, and sewed up the hole neatly. By this time the pain was returning, so he began rechecking his inventory, moving on to reload his spent clips, comb his hair, and shave. An hour after entering the house, he exited through the back door, and made his way out of town. There was a friendly town about fifty miles away, and he needed either a driver or a mount.

EDIT OOC: Yes, he did kill men, women and children where they slept on the ground.

OOC: good night for real this time guys. see you all tomorrow

OOC: oh yeah. i followed gustav and yuri

OOC: Those seriously are the two most badass names I've ever heard used together.

Gustav turned his head from the passenger seat to face the woman and men crowded in the back. "Quiet, both of you," he hissed. "Are you soldiers or are you poets?" He wiped the sweat from his brow with a deft motion. "And there'll be no more talking of death here; it's bad luck to mention death in a battle."

He turned his head back to the road--a compilation of ancient cracked asphalt and mud thrown by the winds onto the path. Yuri seemed to be headed towards a small town in the distance, which he could only assume was Bishop's Bedshaft. Gustav prayed that they could reach it without further incidents--a sniper was no use in a car.

OOC:Wow I log off for the night and miss the rest of the thread. Awesome.

OOC: We can just say that you were in the car with us. It's not really fair for you to have to miss out because of sleep.

OOC:K then.

"A little intelligent conversation never hurt anyone" mumbled Jeremy angrily. Reaching into his bag, Jeremy pulled out a various boxes of bullets, and started reloading his spent magazines.

The sudden jostle of hitting a semi-paved road and the rush of people around the cab quickly alerted Yuri that they were now on the outskirts of Bishop's Belshaft. While the small city was similarly decrepit and disease ridden as the last one, there was a noticeably smaller amount of street crime which caught Yuri somewhat off guard. Around the cab, hundreds of dark skinned and filthy villagers rushed off to whatever task they were attending to, completely oblivious to the large group of heavily armed foreigners in a bullet ridden cab.

However, it was something up ahead that really caught Yuri's eye. At first he couldn't believe it, he blinked several times before he told the others. "Looks like we have some Confederate soldiers up ahead. Keep cool and act like any other 'normal' humanitarian aid person." Yuri whispered just loud enough for all in the cab to hear as he slowly pulled up beside a guard post.

Jeremy kept his head down as they neared the guards. He didn't like people in uniforms. After Kish-kap, anyone resembling his captors made his cold with fear.

P.S. Kish-kap was a brutal labor camp run by the totalitarian Old Kereptecian government before the revolution 10 years ago. Jeremy was interred there.

A pair of soldiers approached the cab and tapped it with their assault rifles. The weapons they carried were not the cheap old AK's of the militia's but sleek new AR-22A3's. The men all wore uniforms and were all white, in sharp contrast to everything else around them.

Finally one guard spoke up. "Quare es vos hic?"

(I still want to know if my kolokol worked to disable to the crowd)

OOC: Yea, but now your stuck. How many men have you lost?

"Anyone speak Blackhelm?" asked Jeremy quietly.

OOC: Assuming that is what they are speaking.

OOC: It's Latin

"Verto!" the soldier shouted

Quickly, a smaller man with glasses and a helmet too big for his head arrived. He was shocked when he saw the passengers were white too. "Uh..um..he asked why are you here.."

"I'm a Chernoblian soldier. I have papers." Husky said reaching into his pocket.

Moron, Gustav thought, reaching for his passport. "Ah, what our friend here is trying to say is that we're part of a humanitarian mission sent to the area. I'm Leistungi, there's a Volzgradian, a Chernoblian, and...quite a few other back here."

"Can I see them please, we didn't know we had company?" the soldier said, holding out his hand.

Damn. The Blackhelm government had authorized his PMC deployment, not a humanitarian mission. Dumb ass

He held out the papers. They were stamped with a Blackhelm seal authorizing his presence.

"I'm Kereptecian" said Jeremy, reaching in his pocket for his passport.

The soldier collected the papers, and walked off. He soon emerged from a hut, and waved the men, and woman, inside.

damn. The blackhelm government had authorized his pmc deployment, not a humanitarian mission. dumb ass

o rly

An international peacekeeping and humanitarian aide force was assembled, and soon, a few more outsiders would have their first look at the real blackhelm confederacy.

Ya.

OOC: Out of my 30 I have 18 men that are still alive, No ex-death guard have died yet but the recruits and cannonfodder are pretty much dead.


The men sneaked out and beheaded a few of the men who looked to be in command and placed their heads on the window sills, they took supplies from the fallen ralkovian mercs and unconscious men before heading to the T-34 tanks, they were old, shitty, but they still provided the men with a thin layer of armor. The ralkovians placed light C4 charges and blew the hatchs open killing the crew inside and taking the T-34s out to this Bishops Bedshaft. They put the ralkovian coat of arms on the top of the tank as it escaped from the city.

OOC- I had signed up for this, but you lot have done a lot of posting while I've been offline. Sos for my no show, but i'm too far behind now so just count me out.

((OOC: So...where is the group in the car now? The entrance of so many people that weren't there before threw me off.))

OOC: We've reached the town BC mentioned earlier and are having a run-in with Confederate soldiers. Chernobl was moved into the car b/c he was offline when that whole thing happened. Meaning we have, like...6 people in the back of that taxi...

OOC: I've seen like 20 cubans packed in a pick up truck once

One time I even rpied fitting 120 men on an M1 Abrams

((OOC: I see...))

Kitten sighed and clambered out of the back of the crowded taxi. She stuck close to the other soldiers as she followed them inside, glancing back and fourth between her fellow peacekeepers uneasily.

Husky gripped his hidden USP tightly. He entered the hut first.

Husky gripped his hidden USP tightly. He entered the hut first.

"Try not to shoot anybody." Kitten commented, noticing the soldier she had seen murder the child from before had somehow joined them.

"That was self defense you know, he was about to fill me with lead."

"And you ended up bringing the entire town down on us, you moron." Kitten chastised, narrowing her eyes at him. She wondered why she had even bothered to say anything in the first place to this guy...

"Quiet, both of you. If the Confederates see that weapon, we're all dead. Save the ammo for when it matters," Gustav whispered, hearing the woman's comment. "And don't mention anything incriminating around these people--as far as they know, everything we did was done after we were fired upon, and the Ralkovian's started it. Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

Inside the hut the men and woman of the aid force would soon meet Colonel Marcellus Lemongrove (http://www.freewebs.com/greekwarlord/collins.jpg), commander of the Bishop's Bedshaft garrison, and the one that most of these people were supposed to rendezvous with after getting into the country.

The colonel stood as the people entered. "So you've finally made it! You're late, I hope you had no trouble getting here. Well, where are my manners? Welcome to the Confederacy lady and gentlemen!"

"Thank you sir. Its a pleasure to meet you." Husky stood at ease.

The ralkovians in the clearly marked T-34s made their way to Bedshaft with the ralkovian flag flying high.

"Medic Kitten Wulfen, Tocrowkian Reich." Kitten introduced her self a smile and a nod. She looked around both the peackeeping force and the Blackhelm soldiers. "Anyone here wounded?" She ventured. She wanted to put her skills to use and show everyone, especially the Chernoblen that shooting people wasn't everything.

OOC: You have 18 men in a T-34?

"Corporal Gustav Kaufmann, 9th KSK Detachment, Leistung," Gustav said, snapping off a salute. "You have an...interesting situation here, I've noticed. I hope we can be of assistance."

On the contrary, Gustav knew that a handful of foreign nationals were going to be like dust in the wind in the face of such hate, but there was no point in being a pessimist.

Husky rolled his eyes at the girl. Kitten.Unbelievable.

Husky rolled his eyes at the girl. Kitten.Unbelievable.

Gustav rolled his eyes at the man. My God, he's rolling his eyes again?

"Wounded? Sure we got wounded!" the colonel said. "Blackboot! come here!"

Quickly, a soldier hustled over. "Ma'am, this is private Julius Blackboot. He would be more than happy to escort you."

Husky turned to the Liestungian merc. I saw that asswhipe. He had to fight to keep from shoothing that dick.

(how many T-34s were there attacking the ralkovians, thats how many they took)

"A situation indeed! Whenever you boys need something to do, just let me know, I got plenty of jobs for each of ya, and my men can't do everything ya know! Whenever your ready."

"Well sir I could use some work."

Husky turned to the Liestungian merc. I saw that asswhipe. He had to fight to keep from shoothing that dick.

OOC: lol, I love being the short-tempered character...also, for future reference for everyone, it's Leistungi. No way you could have known that if you hadn't RPed with me before. Also, we're assuming that Volzy's guy, Yuri, is with us as well.

OOC:My bad dude. Ha, ya playin the dick is pretty fun. lol.

(Anyone watch generation kill?)

"Well men, since it seems that you guys are all soldiers, there is a little village down the road, first one to the south, that's been complaining about Communist raiders stealing supplies. You can check it out if you want. You might wanna look around town here first though"

"Wounded? Sure we got wounded!" the colonel said. "Blackboot! come here!"

Quickly, a soldier hustled over. "Ma'am, this is private Julius Blackboot. He would be more than happy to escort you."

"I'll be happy to help anyway I can." Kitten reported, unbuttoning her Medi-pack. She glanced back at Husky disdainfully once more.

OOC: An OOC thread might be appropriate...we're losing some of the flow here...

IC: Gustav perked up. "As I said, anything you need done and we're your guys. And...girl." He adjusted the strap on his sniper rifle, tapping the scope to get rid of some of the dirt and buildup.

(I sense that kitten might fall in love with husky some time in the near future)

OOC: An OOC thread might be appropriate...we're losing some of the flow here...

((OOC: I agree. I was about to make one last night, but I decided it wasn't my place.))

(I sense that kitten might fall in love with husky some time in the near future)

OOC: sorry to be a hypocrite with my OOC comment and then post this, but seriously, nice one. :hail:

(Anyone watch generation kill?)

OOC: Dude, I freakin love that show.

OOC: Use the sign up

Pvt. Blackboot soon led Kitten to a small, dusty tent. Inside were roughly a dozen men with various wounds. As she entered all of them began hooting and whistling. "We have one guy with some kinda disease, he's over there. No idea what it is, we don't have any real doc's ya know" the soldier said, pointing to a man looking like he was knocking on death's door.

OOC: Sorry for not commenting in the last hour or so, I was out.

IC: "So," said Jeremy "you guys wanna wait rest here for a bit, or go check out this town?"

The ralkovians slowed as they arrived at bedshaft. "BANANANA NANANANA HEY HEY HEY..." The ralkovians finished singing as they stopped.

"I don't know when we became you guys but I only work alone." Husky left the hut.

OOC: Damn it, where's Volzy...STOP HAVING A LIFE YOU COMMIE BASTARD!!

IC: "What town? The collection of tents, hovels, and mud where we're as likely to get shot as get a meal?" Gustav asked sarcastically. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He stepped out of the building and back into the heat.

OOC: Use the sign up

Pvt. Blackboot soon led Kitten to a small, dusty tent. Inside were roughly a dozen men with various wounds. As she entered all of them began hooting and whistling. "We have one guy with some kinda disease, he's over there. No idea what it is, we don't have any real doc's ya know" the soldier said, pointing to a man looking like he was knocking on death's door.

Though used to such catcalls, Kitten smiled and hid a blush as she reached into her medi-pack and pulled out a mask and some gloves. An unknown decease was dangerous, so she wasn't going to take any risks. She walked over to the infected soldier and knelt beside his cot, looking over to Blackboot. "What are his symptoms exactly, Private? I'm pretty sure I can help him if I can figure out what he's got."

Jeremy followed Gustav into the sun, wincing as the hot air hit his face.

"I wonder if there is any place I could get a hat in this place?" he said

(I want to join you guys)

OOC: go for it Ralk

Hm, did they think I wasn't serious? Gustav thought to himself, shrugging. He made for what appeared to be some sort of inn, and generally where there was inn in these parts of the world, there was cheap booze and even cheaper rooms. He made for the dilapidated building, folding his sniper over itself into a compact carrying position and carefully placed it in his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder in a nonchalant motion.

OOC: Don't worry, I'm still here.

IC:

With the others finally gone, Yuri finally had some personal time to rest up. Despite his best attempts at sleep on the hard cot he had brought along with him, he eventually gave up and went outside to have a smoke. He gingerly took out a small wooden packet from his suitcase and pulled out a long, dark Cuban cigar from it. He quickly lit the end of it and went outside. Even with the sun now setting, the heat was still unbearable and made him feel like he was sweating a river. Indeed, darkness would bring even more problems in the form of mosquitos and looters eager to grab hold of some modern equipment. It was exactly for this reason why Yuri had triple padlocked his door and windows. He had also managed to buy a mosquito net from a local merchant for only a cold sandwich he had packed in his suitcase.

"Well ma'am, here is his chart. I take it you don't read Latin. It says he's got fever, chills, headaches, bleeding nose and mouth, gets dizzy alot, and can't eat. Wrote it up myself"

"Well ma'am, here is his chart. I take it you don't read Latin. It says he's got fever, chills, headaches, bleeding nose and mouth, gets dizzy alot, and can't eat. Wrote it up myself"

"Must be a local infection." Kitten noted, taking a syringe out of her pack as well as a small bottle of Omni-Silin, a miracle drug invented by the Reich's Medical Research. She filled the syringe up with an appropriate amount and injected it into the man's vain. Omni-Silin would combat any secondary infections and the bacteria of the decease it self, speeding up the bodies natural defense recovery which would in turn (hopefully) lead to the man being cured. "Hopefully, we will see results within twenty four hours. Anyone else?"

Jeremy wandered around for about 15 minutes before he found the bazaar. Even for such a small town, this place was really pitiful. There were only 7 stands, most of them selling some kind of food. Only one place had anything remotely resembling a hat. It was huge and made of straw. After waiting for 5 minutes for the owner of the stand to return from god knows where, Jeremy simply snatched that hat off of the stand, and placed it on his head. It made him look like an idiot, but it kept the sun off aswel.

After that he made his way to the one of the only soundly constructed buildings in the town, an inn of sorts. He entered the building, soothed by the merciful coolness the dark interior provided, and proceeded to rent a room. His room was on the second floor. He had specifically selected that room because it was the only room with a door that looked like it would actually provide some barrier. He set his duffle down, unpacking the Uzi and placing it on the table, then setting out all his extra magazines and boxes of ammunition. Finally, he unslung his M16 from over his shoulder, and leaned it against the wall. Then, he went to the bar.

OOC: Toc, he has Dengue Fever

"That's all for the sick here...there is a really shitty hospital in town though, just down the road if ya want I'll take you there"

OOC: Toc, he has Dengue Fever

"That's all for the sick here...there is a really shitty hospital in town though, just down the road if ya want I'll take you there"

((OOC: I know. But since the Dengue Fever is pretty much unheard of in Tocrowkia, she refers to it as a 'local infection' you see.))

"I'd like that." Kitten informed him, zipping up her medi-pack and disposing of the syringe in a proper haz-mat disposal bin. She obviously had her work cut out for her if she was about to visit a third world 'hospital', but that's what she signed up for.

Husky walked around the camp for a while. He saw that Kitten girl again. She was packing up her gear he stood for a moment and watched her. She looked up and he left. He pulled out his C2, lit up a smoke, and walked into a small bar.

Gustav noticed Husky walking into the bar out of the corner of his eye. Christ, not again.... He was smoking on top of it all, a habit punishable by ten years in a Federal Prison in Leistung, where citizens were legally considered part of the military and expected to stay sober and alert at all times.

He took a sip of his drink, leaning over the counter and trying to avoid being seen.

Jeremy wandered through the quiet streets in the hours of the waning sun. The air was cool, and he was actually enjoying himself for once. Strolling up the high street, he passed a house with windows covered in mosquito netting.

"Damn" he though "I should have bought some of this stuff back at the market."

Quickly snatching a large net off of one of the windows, he balled it up, stuffed it into his pocket, and continued on his way. Further up the street, he passed Yuri, leaning against a wall, smoking a cigar. He nodded to Yuri, grunted, and continued on his way. As the shadows lengthened, he walked farther and farther away from the town, getting to a point eventually where it was just a small smudge on the horizon. There, he stopped, and pulled out his sat-phone. Quickly dialing a number, he held it up to his ear and patiently waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

"Hello? Dmitry?"

The man on the other end replied...

"Yes. He's right here. Found him in a little shithole 30 miles away from where you told me he would be."

...

"Understood."

With that, he clicked his phone shut, and started the long journey back to the village.

U65 had just woken up. He had officially "unpacked" for his vaction. He began putting together what he had seen yesterday. It would help him find some thrills.

"They wouldn't send that many men because of a couple of screams and a gunshot. No, there was something else going on. There were white people. Armed ones."

He remembered something; One of them might have seen him. Why this would matter wasn't of his concern. But maybe it meant something?

((OOC: I'm trying to establish U65 as the mysterious evil guy who occasionally pops up... RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS HURR.))

Husky took a seat at the bar and asked for the hardest whisky they had. He downed the shot and just bought the whole bottle. He saw another one of the mercs at the other side of the bar. He tooka a long chug from the bottle.

With a last satisfying puff, Yuri finished his cigar and threw the burnt remains into a nearby mud puddle. With the sun now almost set, it would be more then favorable that he be inside the hotel. If the angry child soldiers didn't kill you at night, then malaria certainly would. Yuri carelessly opened the heavy steel door of the hotel and walked lazily toward the bar in the corner of the dirty lobby. Without looking, Yuri handed the bartender a bill of local currency and asked for a shot of rum. Wordlessly, the local man poured a generous helping of the brown tinted, sour smelling liquid into a dirty shot glass. Yuri accepted the drink with a short "thank you." While Yuri almost never drank in a warzone, it was a cause for celebration that he had managed to survive this long so he thought that he might as well celebrate.

Jeremy finally entered the bar at 10 o'clock. Seeing three of his fellows there, he sat down and ordered cranberry juice. When the bartender didn't have any, he ordered water. Jeremy never drank. When the water arrived, it looked more like Yuri's rum then water. Nevertheless, he drank it, remembering that there was at least Kitty if he contracted something.

Gustav noticed Yuri entering the inn and walked over to him, taking a seat next to him at the bar. "You know, you have a habit of following me into buildings," he said jokingly. "Remind me to look backwards before going into the bathrooms here." He drained his glass and handed it back to the bartender.

Husky picked up the bottle of whisky and walked over to the two mercs. "Good day."
OOC:He is an alchoholic. He had MAJOR bad experiences in the war.

Watching Husky leave with a bottle of whisky in his hand, Jeremy asked "Hey man, thats a lot of alchohol. You gonna be OK tomorrow morning?"

Yuri raised his glass high in the air before taking the rum down in one gulp. The hot liquid stung the inside of his gullet, but he had drunk enough vodka over his lifetime to not show any discomfort. With a satisfied sigh, Yuri put down the glass and responded to Gustav's question. "I doubt anybody wants to be outside at night in this hellhole."

"What this? Bah this isn't even a days serving."

OOC:As stated MAJOR alchoholic

"Volzgrad eh? You fought with us in the war! What a pleasure! Just call me Husky!"

"Why hallo thar corporal."

"Good to know that I have a comrade here." Yuri replied with a smile at Husky. "Where did you serve?" Yuri asked as Husky took another drink of alcohol.

"Izhevskia. Remember that? Damn facsists with their bombs." Husky was three quarters through the bottle now.

"Alright then, Yuri. Gustav Kaufmann's the name, 9th KSK Detachment, Leistungi Bundesheer. From what I've gathered so far, you're a hell of a fighter, this fool is...a fool, who sadly is going to get us all killed in some way or another, and the other one here seems solid."

Gustav finished by taking another swig of the brownish liquid sitting in front of him. "Though I would hope this man is right, and the Chernoblian won't be alright tomorrow, past experience tells me that I'm not quite that lucky."

"Eh Fluck You EH!" Husky only had a sip or two left now.

"Izhevskia. Remember that? Damn facsists with their bombs." Husky was three quarters through the bottle now.

"Yes I don't think I could forget." Yuri responded as he tried to think of any events that stood out in that conflict. "I remember pegging this Fascist sniper right in the ass as he was trying to run down the street. You should have seen the look on our medic's face when he was told to remove the bullet!"

"...or maybe I am," Gustav said, continuing his previous thought and chuckling to himself.

(sorry to jump in so late. This thread has grown really fast).


Ex-Seargent John Carlton sat in the window seat of Isle D, watching the landscape of dusty fields and smoldering ruins grow larger and more distinct.

He wasn't happy to be here. The last time he'd flown through this place, he'd been going out on a medical chopper, leaving behind 50 dead or missing friends, his health, and, though he hadn't know it yet, his career. All because some m*******ker at HQ couldn't read an intel report and had sent his convoy into an ambush. Three months of hearings and an ellection later, and the Feds had pulled out of their peacekeeping mission, leaving this dump to fall futher into anarchy. And he, as the highest ranking officer in the convoy to survive, and been assighned one final duty: scapegoat for the men who's ineptitude had taken his troop's lives.

It had taken him a long time to get over that. Perhaps he never really would, completely. That was part of his hesitancy to come back here. Too many painful memories and unanswerd questions, to many old fears and hates and regrets to be dredged up. But paradoxically, it was why he had to come back here, to the place where a confident and patriotic young man's life had been taken away, remaking him into who he was to day. A man he still barely knew. He hadn't known what he was capable of last time he came here. And he still didn't know now. That was what scared him the most. All that, and the feeling that their was unfinished bussiness here. That was also why he was here. They had helped screw this place up, and while his government could hide from that responsibillity, he could not hide from his consience. He was a private citizen now, and he could do what ever the hell he pleased. Even come here.

He stated out of his thoughts as someone reached out to touch his arm. Looking over, he found himself staring into the alert eyes and pale face of Carry Griffon, the young woman who had been his intelligence officer on the last mission. The only other individual in his vehical to survive. And the best damn annalyst outside of Central Intelligence.

"You look worried John."

"Aren't you?"

Carry shrugged.

"just feels a little strange being back here."

"I still think you shouldn't have come".

She smiled.

"Don't forget you asked me to."

John frowned. He still had a lot of doubts about his dessision to come back here, but it was something else alltogether to pull someone else in after him. The reason he had asked her was because she was one of about five living people who he trusted implicitely. People had allways thought their was something between them, but in truth they were just good friends. She had never told him straite up, but he knew she had been offered some kind of deal, salvaging her carreer if she sold him out. That she was here instead of commanding a division spoke volumes.

Carry grinned.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I chose to come along, didn't I? Just like the rest of us following you into this hell hole."

Behind Carry sat the 6 others acompanying them on this mission. Jackson, tall and thin with greaying hair, another old hand with a skill as a sniper. Michelle, blond and green eyed, and her brother Jordan. They were medics from an NGO, here to help the poor and needing an armed escort for the more dangerous areas. Which, in John's book, meant everywhere within the borders, and outside for a good hundred miles at least. The man they knew only as Michale, a stern-faced official in the department of foreighn affairs for the nation that had gotten them clearence to enter this place. And lastly Rickson and Callaway, to more old army buddies who were as close friends as they were different people. Rickson was jovial, any troubles hid behind an unshakable confidence bordering on recklessness. Callaway was all bussiness. A more professional soldier had never lived. Both honorably discharged two years ago, as soon as their contract had expired. John suspected their friendship was built on nessessity. Callaway kept Rickson alive, and Rickson kept Callaway sane.

The pilot's voice cut through the sudden turbulence.

"We're coming into land but its a bit rough. Might be a few minutes." Wonderful news on a plane without seatbelts. John setteled back and prepaired to wait it out.

Suddenly, movement caught the corner of John's eye. A tall man with sun tanned skin, rising from his seat and pulling something metallic from a bag. A gun. He setteled back, pretending not to notice. Through the gap between the seats, he flashed Carry a hand signal.

Wait.

As the man neared the cockpit door, the security guard spotted the weapon. He shouted and reached for his gun, but the highjacker dropped him in a spray of blood. He reached forward to open the cockpit door, then spun as John stepped out of his seat, gun drawn.

"You chose the wrong bird to take for a spin, friend. Now put it down, and no one else has to get hurt." John could see the struggle on the young man's face, the fear of imediate death waring with the fear of what would be done to him if they turned him over to the authorities. Suddenly John wondered if it might have been kinder just to shoot the man.

Suddenly the plane lurched, throwing John towards his adversary. Reacting on instinct he grabbed for the gun. He missed, tumbling over the front row of seats and falling painfully against the inside of the door. As he scrambled to his feat he saw the highjacker bring his weapon up, then fall as Carry fired three rounds into his chest at almost point blank range. He was dead before he hit the ground. John walked back to his seat as Carry holstered her weapon.

"Why didn't you just let me shoot him?"

"I don't know." John felt suddenly weary. "I thought you might hit a passenger."

As the plane taxied to a stop, John couldn't help thinking of what had just happened. Yes, he was back, and so far, things wern't going any better than last time.

Husky laughed uncontrolably. "I was with the first spec ops teams to get dropped. Lost alot of good men there," "Clearly, I'm no longer the great man that served there."

Husky laughed uncontrolably. "I was with the first spec ops teams to get dropped. Lost alot of good men there," "Clearly, I'm no longer the great man that served there."

Yuri gave Husky a worried look. "Get off the alcohol and I'm sure you'd improve."

"Once you start, It never stops. I think about the men, my brothers, the only way to stop it is the booze." Husky put down the empty bottle.

"Indeed. We all have our personal devils."

Husky put his head down. "Well I best get some sleep, dunno how I'll get back to the hotel though." Husky looked at the mercs. "Look I'll be fine in the morning. Always am. This ain't my first rodeo."

Yuri gave Husky a worried look. "Get off the alcohol and I'm sure you'd improve."

"Doubtful," Gustav spat out. "The man's trouble, and not the sort of person you want in a battle situation with you." He finished his second drink and payed the barkeep. "I'm going to try to catch some shut-eye. I'll be up at 0700 tomorrow and we can move out at 0900, unless anyone has objections." He nodded to the men and walked upstairs, into his room.

He pulled back the covers on his cot and removed the lighter from his pocket. Using the lighter a tool, he burned the seams of the sheets and pillow, testing for ticks or lice embedded inside. When he was satisfied, he slipped into bed and drifted to sleep.

"Once you start, It never stops. I think about the men, my brothers, the only way to stop it is the booze." Husky put down the empty bottle.

"Counseling could help. Sometimes, you must let go if you want to forward in life." Yuri said as he wiped his brow of sweat.

"I tried that. Rehab. Four times. FOUR GOD FORSAKEN TIMES!"

Jeremy went to his room in the hotel soon after the other two left. After first checking that nothing was amiss, he ripped the sheets off the bed, not needing them in such a hot climate. Using his duffle bag as a pillow, he fell asleep.

OOC: I'm putting this here so that everyone involved sees it. For the sake of RL time, I think we ought to wait to move out into the villages until every player involved (in or near the village, Rome can do whatever he wants) says that they've gone to sleep or has woken up the next morning. That way, no one's left behind and we're all happy.

"I tried that. Rehab. Four times. FOUR GOD FORSAKEN TIMES!"
OOC: I agree with what Leistung said. That way everybody will be able to RP instead of just randomly follow the others.

Yuri kept quiet now. There was no point in arguing with a drunk. Taking his attention away from the drunk Chernoblian, Yuri looked at the filth coated clock above the bar and noticed that it was almost 12 'O Clock. "I'm going to try to get some rest from now until 7:00 like the Leistungi suggested. Judging by your condition, you should try to get some rest as well." With that, Yuri raised himself from the chair and walked toward his room.

OOC:Good idea

"See you guys tommorrow." He stumbled out of the bar and hailed a cab.

OOC: Argeed

OOC: Alright, we have Husky, Jeremy, Yuri, and Gustav asleep. Currently awake are Kitten, Ralk's guys, and GWO's guy, but he doesn't really count. If I forgot anyone, please tell me.

OOC: Rom, but he's in the same boat as GWO

Husky was deep in a dream. He was running down the gray Izhevskian streets. His old friends were with him. They started to melt away, into a bloody lake. He woke up. His head was throbbing. He walked over to his bag and took a whole bottle of pills. After putting his clothes back on, he walked outside to get some air.

OOC:Anyone just happen to run into Husky?

"Can't sleep either?" Jeremy asked from a balkony above Husky's head

The Agent had picked a bad house to invade; Apparently, it belonged to a militia officer. A knock at the door repeated itself.

The Agent drew his kukri and slowly walked to the door. He slammed the blade through the door, stabbing the knocking man. Seconds later, a horde of Kalashnikov fire came through the door, one of the rounds slamming into his armor. The Agent ran back upstairs and fired several shells through the door from his hip. That would take care of anyone directly behind the door, but he knew more would come. He had to run. Run fast.

After an hour or two of running through the maze of sidestreets and engaging in short and random gunbattles, the Agent was making it to the outskirts. After one final gunbattle with a technical, he had made it out. He headed South, further from his dropoff point. He had literally no clue where he was going until he saw a village on the horizon. "Bingo."

((OOC: Crappy post, I know.))

"Well....no. I never really sleep anymore." He sat taking long puffs of a cig.

"Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead" said Jeremy.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Husky asked, fingering his USP.

"It wasnt that threat, by any means, just an observation! An old saying by the industrious to those who would question their drive."

"I've heard it befroe, just the way it came out of your mouth, ah hell. Are you ready for the mission?"

"Doesnt seem too hard. Just storm a village and kill some commies."

"I fought for some commies in Izhevskia."

"I apologize. Its just...where I grew up. They were fiercely capitalistic. Facist too. There was lots of...propeganda. Old habits die hard, however much you fight them."

"I'm not exactly proud. I love our new government. You ever think about it though? The fact that we are trained killers? I mean, I killed a kid today. Crazy, crazy stuff."

"I'm not a religious man, but if there is a god, I'm not looking forward to judgement. Looking back at all I've demolished, all those people I've killed. All those famililies I've destroyed...I understand why you drink so much."

"I know the feeling. Hell, i'm living proof that there is a god. He is the kid with the hourglass and i'm the ant. He must have a sense of humor then."

"Then let us hope he's Seinfeld and not the Joker."

OOC: Its RL, i know, but i donno of any NS comedians.

"For sure mate, for sure." He flicked away his smoke. "I think I'll take a walk. See you."

"You too. In the morning." With that, Jeremy retired once more to his bed.

OOC: dang, you all went 7 pages without me.

IC:
Jameson stood on the roof of the building in which most of the other foreigners were alseep, a faint smile contantly upon his face. He watched teh Chernoblian walk for a time with mild curiosity before returning to what he ahd been rpeviously pndering. After a while he made his way down to the ground level and out into the street, looking for an arms dealer.

OOC: I was missing you man.

OOC: Romulan Republic, were you actually here before, or is that back story?

IC:

A small boy was watching the drunk Chernoblian. He ran back to his commander with the news of new foreigners in town.

The milita commander was unhappy. Were the Confederates importing foreign fighters to do their dirty work? Regardless, he would send this boy to follow the group. This was a small time militia, mostly bandits along the roads around the city, as taking the city itself would be near impossible with the Confederate garrison. He could, however, sell his knowledge to larger groups, so for the time being, his little spies would watch and report.

OOC: I feel left out. Kauller is so screwed when this gas wears off. You guys hit me with a stupid taxi and left me to die. Crazy, crazy stuff.

"For sure mate, for sure." He flicked away his smoke. "I think I'll take a walk. See you."

Kitten after making her rounds at the hospital and contributing what she could was walking down the dark streets preparing to go back to the hut and catch some sleep...when she ran into that guy again. She sighed and rolled her eyes at the sight of the drunk. "Oh God, not you again." She exclaimed.

A C-130 landed on a small airstrip, and out from it came a mercinary. His name was Daunte. He was here to settle the mess in the Backlands. The first thing he said when he got off was "where these child m**** fu**in soldiers I gotta kill? Hmm? I kill them all, I like a mofo puma up in this bitch."

OOC: Romulan Republic, were you actually here before, or is that back story?

OOC: Back story, nothing more. Hope it isnt a problem in any way. I'll post more later today.

A C-130 landed on a small airstrip, and out from it came a mercinary. His name was Daunte. He was here to settle the mess in the Backlands. The first thing he said when he got off was "where these child m**** fu**in soldiers I gotta kill? Hmm? I kill them all, I like a mofo puma up in this bitch."

OOC: Who...what...WHY IS IT SO BLOODY HARD TO SPELL MERCENARY? Seriously though EL, I think this has gotten cluttered enough...we went 7 pages without LS and didn't even notice. It's BC's call, but that's just my 2 cents.

*Generic bad dream IC post while I wait for everyone to go to sleep*

"Well thats not very polite now is it?"

John Carlton stood on the street outside the customs office, taking in the sights and reminding himself that for them at least, things could be a lot worse. The authorities could have imprisoned them, or at the least confiscated their weapons for the incident on the plane. But the pilot had spoken up for them, and their contact with the Government who had gotten them passports had pulled a few strings. Still, John suspected that Carry had slipped someone a couple hundred to get them out of their so quickly.

The street was not a pleasent experience for any of the senses. The dust got in his eyes, scratched at his skin, as he tried to keep from looking at the severed leg lying in an alley. The barking of hungry dogs and the cries of children grated on his nerves. The smell of rotting trash and rotting flesh seemed to soak into his skin, and left a foul and bitter taste in his mouth. And the heat. Everywhere the heat was beating down on them.

He saw Michele and Jordan standing nearby. Jordan had his arm around his sister, trying to pull her back towards the rest of the group. But she wouldn't move, or couldn't, staring fixedly at the wretched cluster five feet in front of her.

It was a woman and three children. The woman looked 60, though she might have been 25. Her hair was thin, her body emaciated, her skin parched and ragged. Dressed in thin rags, she craddled a small infant to her breast. Beside her a young boy and girl scratched listlessly in the sand, their stomachs swollen, their eyes dull. From where John stood, he couldn't tell if the infant was breathing or not. Suddenly, with a jolt as if shaking herself out of a spell, Michele started towards them.

"Um, mam, I'm a doctor and..." The woman ignored her, staring at the ground. Michele closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again.

"Is their anything I can do to help?" She reached out and touched the woman's shoulder.

Startled out of her dazed silence, the woman turned her head, gazing on the young doctor with eyes that showed only a flicker of life, and faint ember of fear and hate. She drew back, pulling her children too her, shouting something unintelligable. Across the street, a young man with an Ak-47 started towards the scene. John started moving, his hand moving to his holster, gesturing to Carry to cover him.

The young man shouted something in a local tounge as he pointed the weapon in Michele's face. She froze for a moment, then started hurridly trying to explain what she had been doing. Alarmed by her agitation, and clearly not understanding a word, the young man shouted angrilly and struck her in the face with the barral of the weapon. Jordan started forward, but John got their first. He wrenched the gun from the young man's hand, then dropped him with a single blow. turning, he held out a hand for Michele and pulled her to her feet.

"You ok?" She nodded shakilly.

"I'm fine".

"come on."

Michele still seemed reluctant to leave, but she followed John and the rest of the group, despite frequent glance over her shoulder at the pitiful cluster and the fallen gunman. John decided he might as well have this conversation now.

"I suppose you think we should have stayed and helped them?"

Michele started.

"Well, I..."

"And tell me, what good would that have done? I took him down quietly, but the local militias would have been their in minutes, if we were lucky.

You hired me and my boys to escort you because we could keep you alive out here. If you were on your own, you'd be hostages on a highjacked plane, or sitting in a cell somewhere, or lying on a street corner with a bullet in your head, and that's if you were lucky. So from now on, you follow us, keep quiet, and do exactly as I or my men tell you until we reach the hospital, is that understood? And that goes for you too, Jordan."

"We should have helped them. We have a duty..."

John stopped right their.

"Listen girl, you have to pick your battles. You have to chose sometimes between acting on impulse and doing what will actually help the most people. Think of all the people who need your help, who would have suffered and died needlessly because you got yourself shot on that street side. You have to learn that sometimes you have to turn your feelings off for a while, learn to act without emotional interference. Otherwise you die. Or you end up going mad."

"Even at the cost of your humanity?"

John sighed. No point continuing this argument in a public street.

"Come on. I have a friend who can give us a lift out to your new posting."

(OOC: I'll try to join up with some others next post).

"Well thats not very polite now is it?"

"Well, you did make fun of my name earlier..." Kitten reminded him.

"All in good fun." He said, lighting up another smoke.

"I didn't find it fun. Oh, and did I mention your actions almost got us killed?" She repeated something she had said all ready, but she at least wanted him to show some empathy or emotion on the matter.

"Not the first time. To be prefectly honest, I don't give a damn if I live or die." He took a long, deep puff.

"Speak for your self, then. I have a family and a home back in the Reich." Kitten replied, looking up and down the street feeling her self getting annoyed again.

"I HAD a family. If you cared about them you would not have volunteered your life for some foriegn war."

"I HAD a family. If you cared about them you would not have volunteered your life for some foriegn war."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Kitten asked him. "I joined the Reich Medic Corps to do good not only for my country, but for the world as well! If I can help these people get healthy, then maybe they'll get back on their feet and this area won't be so dangerous."

"You don't do any good as a corpse."

"You don't do any good as a corpse."

"But I'm still alive. And as long as I am, I'll help anyway I can." She sighed again and shook her head. "I've seen the whole jaded soldier act. I've seen the thousand yard stare, and it doesn't impress me mister. You don't impress me."

As the two werearguing, the small boy watching them fell through the shoddily made first floor fire escape. He hit the ground with a thud, before getting up, dusting himself off, and making a run for it.