PW: The Task Force Atlas Bar and Grill

[Hurtful Thoughts]

"Alright, since we don't want to hurt each other, first person to pin the other wins bragging rights within the bounds of the vow to secrecy. Loser gets to decide what we'll be doing tomorrow so there's no hard feelings. I just figured you were sent to see if the RPRU's allies are an asset or dead-weight, so a firsthand wrestling-match should quickly resolve that issue for your report."

As Kayora finished explaining the sparring-match she took a step forwards, being wet and in a towel, wrestling with a much larger person in the bathroom was not the most ideal way to end a night, but seemed not any more out of place than everything else Atlas had done during her stay there; everything between defusing a nuclear incident to fighting the undead, from fighting other tier one operators trying to overtake their base to gigantic robots with poor IFF trying to enslave the world.

But all that aside, Kayora's reflexes were still a bit slow, and was quickly surprised by what happened next...

[Monfrox]

This was new. She had just two run-ins with assassin's while in the bathroom before, but nothing happened like this. Honestly, this was entertaining. She had a twinkle in her eye as she watched Kayora step towards her. This was going to be very fun. Before she could do anything though, Ms. Smith swept in low and slid, hitting Kayora's legs out from under her before letting her fall right onto her. Being short, she didn't have her land face-to-face, and went to cushion it with her chest. Ms. Smith looked down at her, a mysterious smile on her face.

"Well, this is quite a turn of events Ms. Kayora. Not sure how I'm going to get out of this one, so I'll give it to you tonight. You win. Shall we go get dressed then?" She said to Kayora, still holding a friendly tone of voice.

[Hurtful Thoughts]

Not expecting to win so easily, disoriented, and being smothered in Smith's breasts, Kayora strunuggled with comic futility to free herself until she'd realized she'd "won". Looking up, and seeing Smith's grin, she knew this wasn't over...

"Not quite," She protested, as she slid herself face-to-face with Smith "All you'd have had to do was smother me in your breasts until I went limp." She corrected as she sat-up and straddled her, triumphantly "Now, I've won to my satisfaction."

Kayora then quickly got off from Smith and offered to help her off the tiled floor, even though the 'fight' wasn't anything she was expecting, it was still 'fun'.

[Monfrox]

Ms. Smith swept Kayora into her arms.

"Not many women I've met have the assertiveness to straddle me. I like that."

She had a sort of air about her as she walked back into the barracks and let Kayora down off onto her feet. After that, she quickly dressed into a night splinter uniform like the Recon Corps, except it was only the pants. She donned a grey tank top and her boot socks before patting her bunk.

"Lie down on your stomach. I'll work your muscles while you work my brain. Trust me, you'll thank me after I'm done."

She never stopped smiling at her. There was something about this girl that seemed so intriguing and it was something she would enjoy seeking out in her. For now, though, she was just enjoying her company.

[Hurtful Thoughts]

(*nudge*)

Ms. Smith swept Kayora into her arms.

"Not many women I've met have the assertiveness to straddle me. I like that."

"Not many good people I've met still use revolvers." Kayora replied, while gently nuzzling into Smith.

She had a sort of air about her as she walked back into the barracks and let Kayora down off onto her feet. After that, she quickly dressed into a night splinter uniform like the Recon Corps, except it was only the pants. She donned a grey tank top and her boot socks before patting her bunk.

"Lie down on your stomach. I'll work your muscles while you work my brain. Trust me, you'll thank me after I'm done."

Kayora walked over to her bunk and dressed in an her faded pink-gray tiger-striped object-42 T4-F3 thermal long-johns; leaving the shirt off, she used that for an extra layer between her and Smith's bunk as she laid her bare chest down on it.

"So, what's the rest of your family like?"

[Congreveopia]

Charles, bar, talking with Vladimir:

Charles listened intently to the story, but also somewhat skeptically. He found it hard to believe that an entire city had gone missing in recent history, but definitely could believe that some nut had started some religious war. DEN didn't seem like a country that would be particularly susceptible to that sort of thing nowadays, buy Charles supposed that the war could be the whole reason they weren't. Nexus, of course, was bombarding his HUD with notifications of various pieces of information about what Vladimir was saying, and Charles dismissed them all, not wanting to spoil what was probably going to be a good story.

"You know of the SS, right?" asked Vladimir.

"Well I do now that Nexus put the Wikipedia article on my HUD." said Charles, making a gesture that looked like he was flicking something off an invisible touchscreen in front of him "Before, I can't say I more than heard of them in passing."

[Monfrox]

Ms. Smith watched Kayora lay on her bunk and took a second bite bite her lower lip before sighing and putting her hands around her shoulders. She started feeling around her muscles, taking note of all the knots she came across as she gently worked her way down the length of her back.

"Well, I have a lot of brothers, sisters, half-brothers, and half-sisters. But I only ever met one. She helped me get my job. Course, mom die a while ago in childbirth, and dad wasn't concerned with a bastard child like me when he had a lot of others to look over. Whenever I gave him anything about he, he always played that "sympathy for the devil" bullshit until I got fed up with him and left to go walk the world on my own. Sis was kind enough to let me stay, y'know, when we found each other. I don't dwell on it much. That's all in the past now."

[Die Erworbenen Namen]

"The SS is DEN's special forces... Our overall group... it is our best troops, both politically and physically." Vladimir replied, and put his bottle down. He had to think for a second. Then he remembered. "So Valkyrie... the biggest city we had up to then, was put on the hit list of the SS. We only needed a battalion, really. And that is EXACTLY what we sent. One battalion. MY battalion. This exact unit I am in right now.

"Only, no one really told the rest of the branches that we were going in... That day, someone in high command demanded a meeting. To discuss the termination of Valkyrie. DEN doesn't terminate a city lightly, mind you. It is a lot of work, a lot of money and man power, and a lot of political shit that happens. Never the less, two days later, they ordered the Termination of Valkyrie City. But no one had told our unit, which was coincidentally fighting in Valkyrie at that moment. Everyone, that is, except me. I was on the outskirts, in an HQ. And I was the only one who could get there in time.

"The first warning I got was, actually, a message. Demanding the enemy surrender, or be terminated. Not exterminated, like everyone says, but terminated. That got me thinking. Sure enough, radar picked up a SHIT ton of bombers. And by a shit ton, I mean A SHIT TON. They were all carrying thermobarics, just so no one could hide in bunkers." He paused, and looked at his drink.

[Hurtful Thoughts]

Smith seemed a bit flustered, and Kayora hoped she wasn't prying too deeply into her personal-life... Not being taught limits, and being trained to do whatever it took to learn anything of value always felt counter-productive to learning and abiding by social-norms.

Letting out a hefty sigh as she quickly became accustomed to Smith's fingers working over her back, Kayora listened to her answer leading to a question she didn't expect to even have; learning unexpected things was always a tiny adventure that way.

"What is this "Sympathy for the devil" card?" She asked, successfully inferring that Smith's father wouldn't be winning 'father of the year award' in anyone's lifetime.

"My upbringing was... mostly just for this. Some rich tycoon picked me up from some orphanage and began running tests... Because of that, and the massive cover-up that followed, the team-medic couldn't figure-out my age with any certainty when I was rescued. Ever since then, this unit has been my family."

[Monfrox]

"It's important to have family. Family goes deeper than friends." Smith said, sitting on the bunk and on Kayora's back as she started working deep into her shoulder muscles. "The whole "sympathy for the devil" is like...well...let's say you have a commander that issues you orders. And let's say, that this commander, doesn't really care much for his men. Bad guy, right? Well one day, after a botched mission that kills off your entire squad, you go to the CP to confront him. Just as you ask him what the hell he was thinking, he tells you about how it wasn't his fault and he's doing it only because his family has a proud heritage of being great leaders and he's trying his hardest to live up to the expectation. He's trying to get you to feel sorry about him sending you and your team off to die. THAT'S sympathy for the devil."

[Hurtful Thoughts]

"Oh, so like the mission my team just got back from." Kayora answered, looking at one of the vacant bunks by the door before continuing;

"It wasn't supposed to become a suicide-mission, but as every other unit became bogged-down, even the one carrying the critical components to complete the objective as planned... we decided we had to improvise for the sake of the mission. The entire time it was debated whether or not it was strictly necessary to even perform the mission."

Just then, Smith managed to release some tension in Kayora's back, allowing her to quickly let-go of anything that resembled anger and resume her positive outlook for the fate of Atlas.

"Afterwards, our remaining senior officers asked to have a word with the leadership of Taskforce Atlas. Bringing Matilda --the GEKKO-drone recovered during the operation-- helped them see the light in their wisdom. I heard that as a result, they were going to appoint a new Field-Commander from one of the officers from that mission."

[Monfrox]

"But yeah, the commander in that scenario represents the devil, and ergo sympathy for the devil. Course my dad took that saying to the whole other level."

Smith started working Kayora's spinal cord. As she went down, quickly forcing her palm along it's length, there was a satisfying muffled crack with every forceful push.

"God, you should see me more often. Your body is so stiff and knotted that I'm surprised you're not feeling any pains. Now, the next thing I'm going to do requires an immense amount of trust, so if you ever feel uncomfortable with what I'm doing just say so and I'll stop."

She said as she slowly put her hands on Kayora's jawline with intent to crack her neck. She understood if Kayora wasn't up for that quite yet, as there was a fine line between cracking and breaking one's neck.

[Hurtful Thoughts]

Kayora, knowing more about hand-to-hand combat than about massage-therapy, recognized Smith's grasp on her jawline as something potentially-harmful to her, or her neural-plugs. She used her hand to tap Smith on the thigh, indicating that what she was going to do would not be necessary.

This decision she felt, required an explanation, as she rolled in place to face Smith: "Thank you, but if anything happened I don't think you'd forgive yourself; especially if it wasn't your intent. It's what distinguishes you from your father." She said, reaching up to touch her cheek, "You have nothing to prove and nothing more to gain than you already have. I already trust you, but I care for you too much to let you take risks with your happiness."

To Kayora, her unit was her family. To lose one was to mean she lost the other, and Kayora was under the belief that Smith had felt for her own unit and everyone in it in a similar way; perhaps more-so. She saw Smith nod, understanding the statement she made, and Kayora rolled back to her front so Smith could finish.

[Monfrox]

Ms. Smith nodded and instead went about working the knots out. There was quite a few, so she went into a circular motion with her palm to try and loosen them up. She worked the knots out all the way town to Kayora's tail bone. She smiled down at Kayora as she talked. Well, this was rather pleasant. She got to take a vacation to another country, hang out with some of her fellow countrymen later, and was massaging a cute girl. Really, what more could she want?

"So is that all you have for me? You sounded like you wanted to play twenty questions." She punctuated her sentence with a chuckle.

[Hurtful Thoughts]

"Well, I still want to know your name or some sort of contact information in case I ever had the chance to swing-by for a visit." Kayora reminded Smith, while her hand felt-up Smith's thigh.

"Also I was wondering why you don't have any questions for me... Unless you just felt like picking up some random girl at a bar just to share a free room with them." Kayora said this, trying very hard not to sound too harsh of Smith's behavior, especially since she wasn't supposed to be found-out, meaning any lasting relationships weren't exactly being planned-for when they first met in the bar. Kayora had after-all, mistaken her for the queen of a totally different country.

[Monfrox]

Kayora's hand would feel Smith's well toned muscled thigh. Smith slowly laid down on her and got nice and close.

"My name is Colonel Arike Nasta. I'm the squad leader of one of Monfrox's top three SOF squads. I've been around doing a lot of things all over the world, and so I rarely ever had time to relax and be with someone. Sometimes, but the last one was one of my squadmates. He's resting peacefully now, though. I do have a satellite phone as well."

She slowly worked one of her arms under Kayora's back.

"Perhaps we could make this more than just some chance meeting at the bar? We've already showered together, so perhaps we're already gone into a relationship. I'm sure I'll learn more about you, but with such a body with some extra plugs, I imagined you didn't feel too comfortable talking about it, so I decided to let you tell me about it on your own."

[Congreveopia]

“Good God.” said Charles, glancing at Nexus.

“Yeah.” said Nexus “Checks out, or what little data I found on it does.”

The closest Charles had come to experiencing losing a battalion had been the first hull loss of Fortress, back during the Second Qubec war, and most of the people aboard actually made it out alive after Qubec surrendered. And certainly every Congreveopian on the field that day had been shooting at the enemies, not each other. He couldn’t have imagined what it would be like if command had just burned it all down around them.

“This story deserves more than a caffeine-free soda.” said Charles, and Nexus motioned over the bartender again. Charles slid his glass of soda aside then turned back to Vladimir.

“So what did you do?” he asked “Could you call your battalion? Could they get out of the city in time? Did the enemy go ahead and surrender?”

[Hurtful Thoughts]

"Like I said about my childhood, I didn't have a choice." Kayora squeaked as she felt Arike get close to her, wrapping her arms around her as she tried to continue telling her story: "I used to have more, and I didn't know I had any of them until only a few years ago. At first I wanted them all removed, but I didn't have a choice in that matter, either."

Kayora didn't want to dwell too long in the past though, not when an OF-5 was vying for her attention any which way she could get it.

"Well Arike, your pseudonym needs a bit of work, Smith is a good surname, and your first name could be an anagram from your real name..."

She fidgeted, getting an arm free so she could roll and face Arike with her idea,

"Santa... Santa Smith."

(Santa and Kayora Smith?)

[Monfrox]

Arike paused and nuzzled down into Kayora's neck, where she laughed. That was rich. "Santa". Oh man. She quickly calmed down and looked back at her.

"That's a new one! "Santa". Heh heh...well Kayora, I suppose you can call me that if you'd like. I don't have any objections. But if we're giving pet names then I think..." She undid her uniform pants with one hand while fetching the sheets with the other. "...we need to get to know each other a little better."

She quickly pulled the sheet over the two of them.

Pillow Talk

After the night, the sun rose over the base and poked through the small windows. Arike, lying on her back, looked down to see Kayora curled up on her. The blankets and sheet did them well. There was something about this moment that made her want to stay here forever, but she knew that wasn't possible. She was on a military base, and she still had to address her fellow soldiers. But...she could wait until her partner woke up. She wondered what she wanted for breakfast as she let her head back onto the pillow and ran a hand through Kayora's hair. It was certainly something she had missed for a long time.

[Die Erworbenen Namen]

“Good God.” said Charles, glancing at Nexus.

“Yeah.” said Nexus “Checks out, or what little data I found on it does.”

The closest Charles had come to experiencing losing a battalion had been the first hull loss of Fortress, back during the Second Qubec war, and most of the people aboard actually made it out alive after Qubec surrendered. And certainly every Congreveopian on the field that day had been shooting at the enemies, not each other. He couldn’t have imagined what it would be like if command had just burned it all down around them.

“This story deserves more than a caffeine-free soda.” said Charles, and Nexus motioned over the bartender again. Charles slid his glass of soda aside then turned back to Vladimir.

“So what did you do?” he asked “Could you call your battalion? Could they get out of the city in time? Did the enemy go ahead and surrender?”

"They were jamming all comms in the area. Just so the enemy couldn't get the warning out before it happened." He said, shaking his head. He downed the rest of the drink, and got another one. "I ran as fast as I could to my bike, and jumped on it. We were trying to hail them every second of the way, but... before I got there..."

He stopped and looked off into the distance, and sighed, opening up the bottle and started to gulp it down, before wiping his mouth and putting it back on the ground. He turned and looked at Charles, his eyes showing how bad it really was. "One by one, the city was engulfed in these massive fireballs. The legend is that we all died. That we rose from the dead to fight on. That's not true. Most of us did die, including a girl I knew very well. Only a hundred of us survived, and... well... we disappeared. Every legend you heard of the Death Korps, that we wore flames on our clothes and black armor and clothes was true. We did fight. Just not as dead people."

[The United Remnants of America]

Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Be-

Jolly smacked the top of his alarm clock with about as much force as one could muster. The blinds were drawn, but that didn't matter. No light would be filtering in at this time of night. Jolly slowly pushed the covers off of him and rolled out of his bed to get dressed and ready for the night duty.

In his home country, he was known as Lieutenant Colonel Jack Rogers, a Sentinel. But to his friends and here at the Task Force Atlas headquarters, he was known as Jolly, Task Force Atlas Field Commander. Basically all that meant was that he'd been retired from commanding a team and now commanded operations as they happened. And currently, he was running the night shift at the Task Force's operations center rather than actually being in the field.

Jolly pulled on a pair of grey military-styled cargo pants and threw on a black tee shirt that had his name and rank stenciled on the sleeve and chest. On the back, his friend Koopa had had his nickname stenciled on. The sleeve was just short enough that the barcode tattoo was visible on his upper arm. It was an option, more like a tradition, for most Remnant troops to get their information barcode tattoed to their body in case their dogtags were lost upon their death. In high mortality units, and in special units like the Sentinels and Vanguard, it was de facto mandatory. Most troops got them on their chests, but Jolly, in his younger nature, got it on his right arm. The black duty cap cap came on last, covering most of Jolly's salt and pepper hair. Ever since he'd been relegated to base duty, he didn't wear a pistol or any weapon. Just a wallet, keys, and phone.

A yawn and a splash of water onto the face consisted of a quick bathroom visit before heading out the door of his small on-base apartment. Jolly decided not to shave off the scruff that continue to grow on his face. It was no-shave November, after all. Jolly rubbed his face and shivered. Maybe he should've worn a jacket? He immediately quashed the thought. It was a pretty short walk... Jolly began jogging. It was even shorter this way, and he'd missed almost a week's worth of PT lately. He had to stay in shape, even if it was little things like this.

The lights at the operations center were on, of course, though he doubted the skeleton night crew was all going to be here yet. As the shift manager, he was supposed to be here first. His card ID slid through the reader of the front door, unlocking it, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. There were two extra points where he'd have to do this, and each opened without a problem, the innermost one having a TFA guard standing next to the door.

The operations center was set up just like any other one: several desks with dozens of monitors on them, each a self-sustaining work center, and of course, at the front of the center was a massive set of monitors taking up the wall, large enough for all to see from anywhere in the room. At the front of the room was a man that Jolly didn't so much like as respected, even though he knew very little about the man. The Director was a quiet man. Jolly actually knew very little about him, but the few facts he did know were enough to keep his distance. The Director was, oddly enough, Director of Task Force Atlas. Jolly wasn't sure if he ran the Task Force, or just represented the people who ran the Task Force. What he did know was that if the Director said "jump," everyone within earshot wearing a Task Force Atlas emblem better be hopping.

"Mr. Director. I'm here to relieve you. It's late." The Director turned and looked deep into Jolly's eyes. Jolly felt as if the man was staring through Jolly, staring at some far, unforseen situation somewhere in the universe. The man was truly a genius worthy of the respect Jolly had for him.

"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Rogers." Jolly noted the use of mister and the use of his last name. No attempt to befriend Jolly by using his nickname, and a show of superiority by referring to him as a mister rather than any kind of commander or lieutenant colonel. Jolly knew who had the power between these two.

The Director walked away from the wall-covering monitors and passed Jolly without another word. He silently went to the manager's terminal of monitors and CPUs and logged off while pulling a data drive from the CPU before leaving the room and predictably the building. Jolly sighed and went to the command CPU to log on to his account. He got an update from all three active situations.

Firestorm seemed to be going well enough. A squad was reported as MIA. That was... Distressing. Jolly wondered what kind of insurgents these troops were. They seemed trained and equipped for just being some kind of rebel. Maybe the Prophet was at work here? Blind Knife was taking off. Similar issues with a well-prepared insurgent force. Maybe they were connected? Jackel had little information, for now. He was apparently waiting for a nice update from that AO.

All in all, everything seemed well. Well enough for Jolly to have a very small smile break across his lips as the first analysts and liaisons filtered into the operations center. He never wanted to retire. Things like this were just to exciting to him, even though he hoped he could soon rotate to the field again. He figured it was about time Vladimir take on this position.

[The GAmeTopians]

An ILO combat chopper cruised through the sky, the whirring of the blades the only sound. The pilot and co-pilot sat up front - the co-pilot was barely awake, his job being weapons - not much use in friendly territory.
"How are you back there ma'am?" The pilot called to the back of the helicopter. There their sole passenger sat. Her crisp uniform showed a contrast with her dark surroundings, all weapons and dust.
"Fine, thank you. Any word from the tower?"
"Flight Control should be contacting us any minute."
Commander Chell Jackson of the Royal Empire sat twiddling her thumbs, thinking back to her days in the field.
I must say, Romeo does do a good job, she thought. But memories of time in the field still caught up with her.
"Chopper, this is Flight Control. Please identify immediately." The crackle of the radio entered the pilot's headset.
"Flight Control this is ILO-67. Carrying Alpha passenger, code Zeta-Alpha-Gamma-9-8-0-6, requesting immediate landing with priority."
"Permission granted ILO-67, land at Pad 6. The landing crew will guide you in."
The chopper began its descent. Chell smoothed her uniform, and patted her hip. A custom made handgun sat there, from a master GAmeTopian craftsman. She wouldn't relinquish it easily.
"Locked on to landing crew. Impact in 20."
"10." The whirring of the blades intensified, slowing the descent to almost a standstill.
"Impact. Thank you for flying with ILO." The pilot chuckled.
Chell slammed the side bay door open and hopped out, looking around for the administration building.

[The United Remnants of America]

A man stood off near the edge of the helipad in the darkness, hands behind his back. Behind him to his left was what appeared to be a MP assigned to the Task Force, and to that MP's left was a uniformed assistant with Task Force insignia. He waited quietly for the woman to approach him before he would speak, since if he tried to speak at this point, his voice would be lost in the rotor wash. The man knew who she was; she was a Gametopian, a former special forces squad leader, and she was extremely skilled and talented. He knew all this and more because he'd read her files, provided to him by her home nation and validated by Task Force Atlas' Intelligence division. The reason he knew all of her credentials and her records was because she was a candidate. The Task Force was in need of more field commanders to act as operation leaders and liaisons between the Task Force's analysts and the Board, and the squad leaders on the ground. Field commanders did that job. Ms. Jackson was being vetted to take on the responsibility. All she needed to do at this point was be briefed and accept the position.

[The GAmeTopians]

Chell turned and saw the men standing in the darkness. Her hand automatically dropped to her gun, but she held it back. As the whirring of the rotors died to a stutter, she called out.
"I don't suppose you know the way to the administration building?" She asked.

[The United Remnants of America]

The man waited for the sound of the receding helicopter to fade almost entirely before stepping forward one step and speaking, "Hello, Commander Jackson. I'm the Director of operations here for Task Force Atlas. Behind me are Lieutenant Jensen and Sergeant Krieger. The Lieutenant is an aide of mine, and the Sergeant is one of the patrol leaders here for on-base security." The Director turned slightly and held out a hand. "Welcome to the Task Force Atlas section of Fort Bragg. I'm happy you were able to attend this, though you may not actually know what you're here for. Please, join me and walk."