PW: The Task Force Atlas Bar and Grill

[Vacif]

It was that time of the day again. The bar and grill was relatively silent, intermission. Most teams were out training or out on an op somewhere in the world at this time. 1st Detachment walked briskly towards the counter where they usually sat to get their order. They walked in from the south end of the hall, to the north/in front of them, a team that they didn't recognize. Captain Stacer gave a polite nod of the head towards their international associate as they neared the door. It felt good to be off the plane, and out of the mud for a bit. The 8 of them not wishing to make an awkward introduction outside in the hall progressed into the establishment. Holt or Riley would of talked to the newcomers had it not been for their current condition. Holt having been hit pretty hard in the jaw, and Riley not in the mood to talk after almost having his face melted off. The right side of the sniper's face sporting some bandages. While their last op had almost gone off without a hitch, of course at the last minute someone had to get hurt. So, after several moments of of silence between the two, Hesse picked up the slack and walked over to the second group to introduce himself, and by extension the rest of the team.

"Jakob Hesse, Vacifian 29th Spec Ops." The Vacifian lieutenant reached out his right hand for a handshake. Meanwhile the team had started to order their food. "Where are you from, if you don't mind my inquiries?"

[Vangaziland]

The influence of the Cobra's newest team member, Mr. Donald Frazor, could definitely be noticed. Frazor was sent by Vannish Intelligence to lookout for Vannish assets and bring the capabilities of the V.I. to the international special operations unit. It was actually Frazor's personal connections that got two extra special aviation assets sent to Task Force Atlas.

In reality, this was all a part of a scheme. With these new rotary aircraft, a hangar would be needed. One that Vangaziland would pay for. Therefore Vangaziland got a secure building, the local government got paid, and Frazor got his building. The crew of the two helicopters was made up of four pilots and the Cobra's own SFC Farnsen and SFC Emerazi who would be acting crew chiefs on the MH-60Z Stealth Hawk.

They all lived in a newly-constructed, three-story barracks building that was as close to the hangar as possible, just a short walk, or shorter run, away.

This was all Frazor's plan, consolidating the Cobra's into an Aerial Response Force. Their assets wouldn't be used for every mission, but they would bring dedicated deep strike assets with fire support included. It could prove quite useful in certain situations.

Of course Task Force Atlas already had use of similarly advanced aircraft. This was just Vangaziland's turn to help ferry the teams.

The Comanche would prove to be a bit more unique. This stealth helicopter functions best in the scout-reconnaissance role. She could prove to be a useful gunship if used at just the right point in a mission. Although these aircraft were stealth, they weren't invincible. Their crews constantly trained to keep their skills sharp.

SFC Farnsen and SFC Emerazi had taken on two different crew member roles. Farnsen operates the doors, gunner's hatch and a few other systems. Emerazi operates the gunner's station and handles basic loading duties. A stealth door slides down and an M134 minigun slides forward and through the slot from its internal, stowed position.

However, for most missions, it would be preferred to go in quiet and dark without ever revealing the M134. Their training really revolved around the night, as they only brought both aircraft out to train in the dark.

Frazor didn't have a role on the aircraft. He was a floater. Maybe one day he'd find a team to tag along with. There was a new team from New Gazi. Maybe one day he'd meet them, use the goodwill based on their two nations' alliance and find a way to tag along with them.

The Vangazi have adapted to their new roles in aviation quite well. They have seemed happier with more Vangazi around. One day a week, all the Vangazi get together to do PT, usually a group run. Throughout the rest of the week, PT is done by squad or individually. Frazor thought it'd be good for everyone to get together once a week, mainly because they were so far from home. He thought it'd show support and build camaraderie.

For someone who wasn't technically an officer, he sure was doing quite the job of turning the Vannish detachment into more than a 2-man team.

Frazor and the two Cobras also keep track of their Jeep, "the Dodge". It's a barebones 4x4 with two radios, a jammer and a .50 cal. It's just for fast attack purposes, like moving along a desert at night when expectations for firefights are limited. Just like the other tools in the Vannish arsenal, it might come in handy at some point.

Of course there were a few Vannish mechanics and engineers now here to support these vehicles with all their engines and systems. These were all some of Vangaziland's brightest individuals. They all had Top Level security clearances. However most of them stuck to the vehicles they were sent to work on. They had no idea what Task Force Atlas was doing and had no idea where the vehicles they would work on would go to next. Most of them didn't leave the area between the hangar and the barracks.

SFC Emerazi and SFC Farnsen still keep their operator skills up and hit the ranges during the daytime, while doing their helicopter training at night. For these two, a few hours at the shoot-house is a way to unwind. They take time off to eat, sleep and take the occasional trip to the bar & grill.

It was one of those days. Emerazi and Farnsen stood drinking Jack's IPA, one of the beers on tap that they'd gotten used to. It had been quiet in the quaint pub. These had been some of the bar's more quiet times. Lots of missions had been happening. People were coming and going frequently though.

"Can you believe that win with New Gazi in the Baptism of Fire?" Emerazi said as he threw a dart. It landed in the bull's-eye of the mounted dartboard. The two weren't playing a real game, just throwing the darts randomly and chatting.

"That was so lucky", SFC Farnsen replied. "Even luckier that Lightshield got the win they needed to topple Indo-Malaysia."

"I bet the Gazilians around here are going to be all pumped up and hyper." Emerazi carefully pulled the dart from the board and handed it to Pete.

"Good, let them take it out on the enemy." Farnsen took a sip of beer with his left hand while he threw the dart quite hard with his right. It landed just outside of the bull's-eye.

"New Gazi might have a chance at the Baptism."

The Baptism of Fire was a major international soccer tournament associated with the World Cup. It was all the talk of Vannish media and sports fans. Even way out here on this desolate base.

[Esgonia]

Fort Bragg

An MC-130J finally touches down at a runway at the Base after a grueling 8-hour trip which consisted of a couple of refueling from tanker aircraft. As the aircraft finally stops, it shortly opens its cargo bay, revealing 16 individuals coming out of the aircraft, some of them feeling nauseated as they step out of the aircraft and onto the ground as one of them falls to his knees and nearly vomits from the trip.

"Jesus Christ, I'm not sitting next to Pasternak again. It just makes me wanna kill myself whenever she moves a lot." exclaims Corporal Silvat, who was irritated over Catherine's excessive movements as he was sleeping next to her over the course of the trip, which made the nauseating trip worse, with Cathering shouting from the cargo bay "It's your fault for sleeping on the trip, retard!". Mayumi then grabs him by the back of his vest and says to him in a cheery mood. "Oh come on, Herm, it's like you're not used to this. Besides, you're in a new land, so puking right here would probably make everyone else here think of you as something." With this, Bartlett gets up and grabs his weapon and gear, hoping his rifle didn't break, and luckily it didn't. " As soon as the last man was off the plane, the two captains round up their team in a circle as Zvezda Team's captain them all a briefing.

"Alright guys, welcome to Fort Bragg. We've been selected here as part of Task Force Atlas so this'd be our new home. Remember that there are a lot of other Special Forces here from other nations, so I'd expect you guys to be of your best behavior and hopefully not get us into things that no one likes, else Eldrichta would probably do something drastic. Any questions?"
"Uh sir-"
"Good, let's pack our stuff, get our stuff to where it belongs, and make ourselves at home."
"Hooah"

While the team walks towards the barracks and the amory, Yonatan asks to the others "I wonder if there's a firing range out here, I could squeeze of a few rounds...", "Yeah, I want to try out this mean machine out here." added Mayumi, as she inspected her K11. "There should be one, I mean, it's a large base."

After placing their weapons in the armory and placing their gear inside the barracks, the others decide what to do. With Yonatan and Mayumi heading to the firing range to squeeze a few rounds and Silvat heading towards the nearest lavatory to vomit, Captain Jonas asks the others if they wanted to go to the Bar.

"Wait, there's a bar here?!" exclaimed Pasternak, who was surprised and glad that a bar was actually present here, "I'll go."
"Yeah, I'm in for a couple of drinks" said Rolan, after tying his boots.
"A bar? Count me in!" added Shane, who also was surprised that a bar was here.
"Alright then, anyone else?" asked Jonas, as he asked Gerard if he wants to join. "Ech, not in the mood. I'm tired. Besides, I have to train my guys out later." he replies to Jonas' offer as he lay down on his bunk bed.
"I do not partake in alcoholic drinks, Captain. But thank you for your offer" Elizabeth also rejects the offer as she reads a book.

Seeing that the others didn't want to go, or would just catch up with them later, the four of them decide to head out to the bar themselves. Heading inside, they could see a lot of faces, some seem to be friendly, some of them not. Either way, they were only there to enjoy themselves, nothing else. "Welp, be on your best behavior guys.." Jonas tells the other three as they find a table and order drinks for them.

[Monfrox]

RPRU

Sergeant O'Hare congratulated the girls on their morning run after PT. Now, it was time for some chow. The Recon Foxes were out practicing SR tactics after getting more equipment brought in by their local C-130. They were training to construct positions that would conceal them and allow visual surveillance of the surrounding area.

"So Sergeant, how come those mutts get new toys to play with and not us?" Holt asked, eloquent as ever after they about finished their morning MREs.

"Aye, that's none a yer business. 'Sides, lass. I 'ear we're gettin' new rifles soon. May even be waitin' fer us right now."

"Oh fuck yeah, c'mon May!"

"You got it!"

Both of them sprang up after shoving their trash into their dump pouch and headed off to the flightline.

"Hey, wait up you fuckers! Dammit!" Walker wasn't far behind, leaving O'Hare to chuckle to herself. Well, at least they had enthusiasm.

The SFC headed to the bar, once again, for a morning round of scotch. New faces this morning, but shee was about as new too. They haven't been given a mission yet, but at least they supplied them for training purposes for when the time came. Course the other three were about to find out that their old 416's were getting replaced with new CZ 806's, fresh from the factory, and KM 2000 knives to replace the bayonets.

[New Gazi]

One of the Gazilian soldiers stepped into the bar. It could be rare to see someone walking alone. Most people travelled in small groups, out of habit and accountability.

Some would describe him as a short man, standing somewhere around 5'8. His facial expression looked calm enough, almost pleasant. He approached the barkeep.

"Manhattan on the rocks, please... No cherry."

"You got it", said the strawberry blonde female on duty. She went off to gather the ingredients and began mixing the cocktail.

The African's eyes scanned the room. The two soldiers throwing darts in the corner caught his eye. Were those the Vangazi soldiers he had heard about?

The drink came a few moments later. The soldier paid and went off to approach the two soldiers.

"Are you two Vangazi?"

"That's us", said Emerazi. "You must be from the Gazilian team, huh?"

"That's us." The shorter soldier from New Gazi shook both of the Vannish soldiers' hands. "I'm Staff Sergeant Jang. Guguwa-Eight."

"I'm Emerazi, or Mark.... This is Farnsen. We're Cobras." The Vangazi was hesitant to mention his rank, he didn't need Gazilians coming up to him standing at parade rest or acting formal.

The two Vannish soldiers carried blood from New Gazi. This is why Jang was so excited to meet people from Vangaziland. In the early 13th century, Scandinavian explorers landed in what is today New Gazi. Over the next few centuries the two societies merged under the watchful eye of the Empire.

Pete Farnsen handed one of the darts to the Gazilian who switched the Manhattan to his left hand. He threw the dart which landed somewhere on the side of the target, far from the bull's-eye.

"We've been wanting to do range time with you Vangazi, but you're hard to find."

"Let's set something up. Let's go up to a hill. We're due for some artillery. We can get one of the local units to fire for us. Arty units are always looking to get firing time in."

"I'm going to tell my CO", Jang said. "But sooner than that, we should do some ranges. You know, I carry my team's XM25."

"XM25?", Farnsen asked. "Isn't that the airburst weapon?"

"Ever shot one? We've got extra live rounds for training here. Surely you two can test-fire it. For familiarization purposes?"

"Thanks, Sergeant Jang."

"Call me Paavo."

"Nice to meet you Paavo. Guguwa, huh?"

"Yeah, it means hurricane. That's our style." Jang took a sip from his drink. The Vangazi had been tossing the darts throughout the conversation.

The soldiers all kept their heads on a swivel. There were a few more troopers in the room.

Jang was a really social person. In his mind, he was trying to devise an icebreaker good enough to give him an excuse to approach the other teams next. The dart was handed to him. This time he focused a bit more on his aim. It sped towards the board and landed with a thunk, right on the bull's-eye.

[The Unified Isles]

Two men stepped into the bar, dressed in battle fatigues. The little patch on their shoulders identified them. It read "2-A-RCR", 2nd Troop, A Squadron, Royal Commando Regiment. Both man looked quite common, both were brown haired, blue eyed, middle-sized. Typical Isle´ish looks. "I supposeth this shalt beest the recreational area", noted the smaller of the two. They watched the three darker skinned soldiers throwing darts for a few seconds. Finally, the taller one stepped forward.

"Good Morrow there, I desire thou art eke Task Force members ?", he asked smilingly. "Of course", replied on of the Soldiers, "But are you ?"

The Isle´ish Commando laughed, "Certes", he offered the men that had just talked his hand, "Sergeant Matthew Parker, Royal Commando Regiment, at thy service. My partner here is Corporal Webb, eke a Royal Commando."

Corporal Webb spoke up: "Royal Commando ist an Isle´ish unit, you probably have never heard of them", he laughed, "We art new round here."

[Vangaziland]

The soldiers stood, dressed in their various uniforms. The Vannish soldiers wore a Multicam-style pattern, with a darker green and less olive color than some nation's Multicam fatigues. Jang wore the jungle fatigues of Guguwa-8. It was a pattern with similar colors to woodland camo. The patterns were less like blotches though, with sharper edges and broader strokes.

"Isle'ish, huh?", Farnsen asked. "I thought I saw something on the blotter mentioning your team's arrival." Farnsen said.

"We're Farnsen and Emerazi from the Vannish Cobras", Emerazi said as he pointed to Pete. "This is Jang from the Gazilian team, Guguwa-8."

Jang looked pleased that the Vannish soldier remembered his unit after such a short introduction.

"Darts?" Farnsen offered the three darts to the Isle'ish soldiers. They were 22 weight, metal darts with foil fins. The bar had pretty nice, professional looking darts. They had become popular with the Vannish and a few others.

"We just throw at the bull's-eye", Emerazi told them. They vaguely knew the rules of a few games, but preferred casually tossing at the board a bit more. "Are you much for darts?"

The darts were handed over to one of the Ise'ish soldiers.

"So what is your team's 'thing'?", Farnsen asked. "Every team has a thing. Us Cobras? We've become a response team, either air or 4x4. Not our choice, but it's the way the unit has evolved. Somebody's got to do it."

The Vangazi Cobras have come quite a way from the two man tag-along team they once were. Although they still kept their skills ready and could still act in that function.

[Rynagria]

It has been about five months since the operators of WIG joined Task Force Atlas, technically still new to the task force, the three former marines and corpsman sat at a table in the bar, wearing their recently delivered purely OD Green BDUs. Although, all of them not really sure what they were doing there, since none of them drank alcoholic beverages. However, Sergeant West was an exception, escaping the prohibition on alcoholic drinks by joining a PMC operating outside of Rynagria. And so, everyone but Sergeant West, drank from water from glasses.

"LT, what do you think of this place?...." Inquired Redfield, scanning around the room from where he sat, one hand gently resting on the grip of his holstered High-Power pistol hidden from sight under the table.

The acting CO of the unit in the base, Rooker thought about it for a moment. "I don't really know to be honest. I'm sure both the Captain and the Master Sergeant has something though. Really, the only thing I can say is that it's different from being in Front Recon." Was all he could say, his sights falling on the only member who seems completely oblivious to her surroundings. Eyes glued to the screen of her smartphone and headphones over her ears, it was none other than their Squad's Designated Markswoman.

"Hey, Hovinga, you should pa-" Began Rooker, but stopped himself after earning a look from Joanna. Despite being younger, the medic held a certain seniority over him, as she was in the unit longer than any of them. Dropping his pursuit, he moved on from one subject to another. "Anyways, the new pistols are suppose to be delivered soon. If I remember, the DR-5G pistol is what they're called. Two more rounds than our High Powers, better reliability and performance."

"Huh.... I thought that WIG wouldn't get that, since we've had these pistols since the 90's." Chimed in Joanna, finally sharing a word to her fellow team members.

The two former marines just shrugged, Redfield saying something in response. "I'd still like for us to get them." That said, all of them (barring Honvinga) took a sip from their drinks, Redfield eyeing all the other operators in the bar.

[New Gazi]

Jang turned around and immediately got freaked out. He caught someone staring at him. Paavo immediately thought the guy might be dealing with PTSD or some issue and was probably clutching a weapon or something, based on the way his arm hung under the table with his hand right near a spot where a holster would perfectly rest.

The short, African soldier turned around and rubbed the back of his head trying to put the image of the foreign soldier's eyes staring through him.

He had missed what the Isle'ish soldier told to the Vangazi about what his team specializes in or is known for. He was distracted.

"So I'm just curious, do your teams make you check in all the time?"

"We have one accountability formation in the morning before PT", said Emerazi.

"Your officers let you do that?", Jang asked.

"We don't technically have an officer. The government sent an Intel operator here though. We don't need to get on Vannish Intelligence's bad side, so we listen to his suggestions as a consultant."

"I think he's done good things for us, really bringing in some big assets. We were kind of tossed out here without an officer to watch our backs", Farnsen replied.

"We have helicopter pilots now, but their responsibility ends with the aircraft", added Emerazi. "It's complicated."

"No officers?", Jang asked. "That sounds like heaven." The Staff Sergeant thought of his unit's Captain. He was a man who never cut a corner in his life. He wasn't too strict, but he was strict enough. Jang tried not to think of his CO.

"It's not Heaven. It's Vangazi..." Emerazi spoke with dramatic timing. Farnsen let out a snort of a laugh.

The two Vannish soldiers might have been some of the most relaxed people in the place. They were unarmed, as was Jang. Both nations kept their weapons locked away in armories and took them out when necessary. This was usually once or twice a day depending on what was going on. The Vangazi and Gazilians used their weapons, but didn't lug them around like tote bags.

They also didn't feel the need to conceal-carry handguns. If you can't trust, you can't be trusted. The Vangazi trusted the operators of Task Force Atlas. The Gazilians were just being practical. Nobody really wants to lug weapons around all day.

"What's your commander like?" Jang turned to the Isle'ish Commando and waited on his word.

[The Unified Isles]

"Captain Duncan ?", said Webb, "Thee obviously cullionly Sir Oliver", corrected him Parker, mocking the formality of Isle´ish military hierarchy. Officers above the Rank of Captain were referred to by their first name in many circumstances. Webb laughed, "I doth not knoweth whetever he wouldst liketh to beest hath called yond. "He is a quaint decent hester though. hath grown up the ranks, wast recruited into the Commandos at which hour he wast a Colour Sergeant, and forsooth hast their attitude", "I can not complaineth", added Parker.

"Thee knoweth yond this is not how dart works ?"

[Vangaziland]

"He worked his way up from enlisted ranks, huh?", asked Emerazi. "Sounds like a good guy."

"That sounds formal as all hell though.", added Farnsen. He didn't understand the extent to which the Isle'ish could be formal yet. Vannish style was a lot more casual. They did have their traditions though, especially in the military.

The topic of darts soon came up. "Yeah, there are a lot of different ways you can play darts. We know. In Vangaziland, dart boards at bars are all about the bull's-eye. The boards look different, like targets. None of this aiming for the 10 nonsense."

"If we're throwing darts, we're aiming for the Bull's-eye", said Farnsen

"You Vangazi are weird", said Jang with a tone of slight confusion.

"Nice darts though. Did you check out the foil flights on these? These aren't the cheap plastic fins", said Emerazi. "22 weight. Not too light, not too heavy like 24s or 26s." The bad thing about foil flights is that they can wear out and need replacement. But most hobbyists enjoyed shopping from the variety of new flights.

"We ordered them from a dart shop. Definitely upgraded the dart scene here. We should put a Vannish board in too."

"Some people like a heavier dart", added Jang, happy to throw in a little bit of dart knowledge, the little bit had. Part of him simply guessed that some people might like a heavier dart though, if not why would they make heavier sizes?

"We can play your dart game if you want. Have a go at the board."

[The Unified Isles]

"Hahaha, Dart is a Othergates sport where we cometh from", exclaimed Webb. The Vannish and Gazilians clearly looked confused. Parker tried to explain: "Something yond malt-worm people doth.", still, confused looks. "Forget it".

"Concluded, be it, soccer is whats did play on the Isles", "Thee bethink we couldst raiseth some on-base soccer teams ?", asked Webb. "Sure", Parker then turned to the others, "Thee knoweth, every Regiment, Squadron and Ship in the Royal Army hast its owneth soccer team, and the Army Cup is at each moment the years highlight for every soldier".

"In fact, mine Regiment, the Buchanan Lancers, madeth it to the semi-finals lasteth year" added Webb. Parker mocked him: "Only to beest Gloriously flung out". "Thee wanteth to provoke me, Sirrah ?", came Webbs rather ironical answer. "Eight versus Zero, I am just stating facts".

"Concluded, wouldst thee beest interested in soccer ?"

[New Gazi]

Jang interrupted the conversation between the Isle'ish and Vangazi soldiers. "Soccer? We need a tournament soon!" The Gazilian's voice carried a lot of excitement as his voice was almost high pitched.

"I would want in, but we don't have enough for a full team", said Farnsen.

"Join with us", Jang said quickly. "We only have six. Talk to your pilots and mechanics. You'd need three more if all six of us played."

Soccer was bigger in New Gazi than it was in Vangaziland. New Gazi Nation FC had just finished one cup and was waiting for another tournament to start. The Gazilian team saw itself eliminated in the first 'Round of 16' match.

"Soccer sounds like a good idea", said Farnsen. "Let's try to get some others in on this. I'm going to print up some flyers and put them around. We can play on the PT field."

"I've got a local contact", Emerazi added. "I bet I can get some goals moved to our side of the base. I know one of the gym guys. Jang, we need to start going over a roster. Are your guys good?"

"Soccer is our sport. We've been itching to play", Jang replied. "You guys might want to bring a goalkeeper though. Just a guess."

The Vangazi would be caught off-guard as most of them haven't played soccer in a long time. They all kept up with their PT, so they should be able to at least run with the ball.

"And if we don't get any other teams in, we can just play our game."

[Sonitusia]

It had been several long months since the last time a Sonitusian had been seen to step into the establishment, let alone seen by any of the operatives of Atlas after they went off the grid. They had disappeared during the recapture of Citadel, and having done so lost much of their funding by both international and national parties. It was decided that they undergo training once more before rejoining Atlas, and as such, they were once more ready to deploy on a moment's notice.

Roland walked in next to Maria, the only other member of the squad that he could coax into getting some food, while the others continued their training. It wasn't something unusual for Sonitusians; they would respect those who wanted to continue their work, as long as they didn't exhaust themselves to a point it would degrade their minds. The trio promised that they'd join up later on, which sounded like a small victory in Roland's ears. The two wore their standard attire, black dress uniforms with equally dark hooded overcoats. They were of course unveiled, not wanting to attract the negative thoughts of the others due to keeping their head covers on.

Taking a seat at a table for four, a waitress came over with menus in hand, but was quickly given an order for a roast beef burger and fish&chips. As they were left by themselves, Maria couldn't help but laugh softly at the situation. Roland wasn't showing it, but he actually felt rather awkward sitting at a table on his own with only a woman in company. But Maria read her targets well, and she poked fun at him. "It's like a date, isn't it, Captain?"

If there had been a glass of water already on the table, Roland would have shot it out of his mouth at high velocity to the side. Instead, he just sighed and put up a smile. "Whatever you want to believe, Lieutenant."

[Vacif]

Holt was enjoying himself. Good work out, good company, plenty of new/resurfacing faces. Place had felt dead for the past few months despite the constant training. It felt invigorating. Rodrick was sitting on a red-ish bar stool, his broad frame leaning against the ebony bar counter. For the Vacifians, it was much too early to be drinking, so he had a nice tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in his left hand. He smiled, surveying the scene in front of him, the Bar and Grill had undergone some renovations since their last operation, having been expanded to accommodate more personnel. With it, a nice face lift, almost made him forget that he was on a military base with the premier SOF units of the globe.

As he watched the other teams socialize, he noticed a pair of individuals in dark clothes slip into the B&G, it took a a few moments of subtle glancing to piece together that these were the Sonitusian Special Service. He eyed them curiously, they'd dropped off the grid for quite some time now. As he observed them (rather creepy now that he thought about it) he could practically feel the discomfort, and awkwardness. Deciding to fill his quota for human contact outside of his team, he sauntered over to the booth occupied by the 2 3S agents/soldiers. He wasn't sure what to label them. The tanned, 30-something point-man in grey cargo-pants, and a black, off-duty T, gave a broad, and friendly smile.

"So, I see you've come out of reclusion, where's the rest of your team? Rodrick Holt. Vacifian 29th Spec Ops."

[Rynagria]

Noticing one of the operators react from Kameron's scanning, Rooker only gave a heavy sigh. By this point, Hovinga had finished her show, paying some attention to the people around her and the other three at the table. Quietly clearing his throat, he got the attention of Sharinda, Kameron, and Joanna, looking at all of them. "Alright, to prevent freaking people out, I want everyone of you to unholster your HPs. Afterwards, unload the magazine and eject the round in the chamber. Finally, put everything on the table, to the right of you."

All complied with his orders, Kameron being surprised by this most of all and grumbling about it. By the end, there were four High Powers on their table, slide locked back, magazine lying parallel to the barrel of their pistols, and a single 9mm Parabellum round standing tall, under the trigger guard.

"Kameron, come on. It's been about five months, you need to loosen about this place. No one's hostile here and there's no reason for that much paranoia.... Yet...... Have I made myself clear, Kameron?"

Redfield only gave a nod, his whole frame relaxing, as he exhaled and emptied his lungs but filled it seconds later. Visibly relaxed, the Rynagrian Pointman took a long sip from glass of water.

[Sonitusia]

"So, I see you've come out of reclusion, where's the rest of your team? Rodrick Holt. Vacifian 29th Spec Ops."

Internally relieved, Roland looked up at the Vacifian, who looked like he'd just come back from surfboarding. Roland could feel an alpha male aura radiating from him, but it didn't mean that the former pilot was intimidated in any way. He only saw the man as an excuse to not only look at Maria after all. The young woman noticed this, and was holding back her laughter as a waitress set down a pitcher of water and five empty glasses onto the table.

"Out on the range, they're not ones to stop anyways," he said, gesturing towards one of the empty seats, "Roland Greenman. Sonitusian Special Service, if you didn't figure that out already." Maria politely nodded, adding, "Maria le-Vif, take a seat if you'd like."

[Monfrox]

Sergeant First Class O'Hare sat at her spot at the bar counter, listening to the other soldiers talk about getting a soccer game together. Course there were the others just talking about usual soldier topics. Others made a show of disarming their weapons after they came in. O'Hare didn't need to check to know that her old 1911 was still right on her hip, cocked and locked. She knew trying to get into the soccer match was a bad idea. After all, she was fast and had a lot of power in her legs. People might get hurt if she tried.

The door opened and one Sergeant Pitt walked in, fresh from the hospital that morning. She looked to O'Hare and smiled, noticing the Froxian star patch on her uniform. She popped a seat next to her.

"Come here often?"

O'Hare laughed. "Ah, not usually, lassie. Why?"

Pitt only smiled when the freckled-faced rabbit-eared girl turned her way and saw her own Froxian star patch.

"Oi, well I'll be dunked into a river. Good t'see a fellow lass from the country."

"Likewise. Haven't seen you around. You a new unit?"

"That's right. Barely a year old."

"And got sent here to get experience."

"It beats lounging about at home."

"That it does."

Pitt ordered a shot of vodka, hoping to still dull her sore neck, while she sat with her sister-in-arms. Her tail wagged back and forth at a slow, controlled pace, but it was hard for her to not show that she was happy to see someone from home.

[Vacif]

Holt pulled out the chair from under the table, and sat down beside the Sonitusian Captain. "I can respect that, my team's still probably running urban ops." Holt had been excused from the exercise due to injuries he'd sustained on an earlier exercise, he was fine for the most part, nothing a few happy thoughts, and the wonders of modern medicine couldn't fix.

"So what has the secret service been doing these past months?" He nonchalantly asked. "And don't give me that "If I told you, I'd have to kill you" stuff, alright?" He smirked humorously, "Enough teams do that here just to kill conversations." Holt was leaning on the table now, eyeing both Sonitusians, while sipping his OJ.

[Esgonia]

At the table, the four picked what they'd wanted to get on their order, all of them wanting booze and Roland wanting a steak before Jonas headed towards the counter to get their orders, meanwhile, the four were awkwardly silent, having no idea on what to talk about, and what to do in this new place they're in. Roland didn't mind at all as he wiped his handgun clean before putting it back in his holster and looking at his phone.

"Sooo....what now?" asked Shane as he sighed and slouched in his seat.

"Ech, no idea," replied Pasternak as she gazed around the bar, looking for something to do, someone to talk to. She then caught her eye on a group of people sitting at a table near them, a group of two soldiers talking with a man, wearing sort of casual wear. With no idea what to do, she tells the others.

"Wanna go talk to a few guys over there? Maybe we could break the ice or something."

"You go first, Pasternak." Shane replied. "I'd fear what'd happen if I go with you."

With Shane refusing, and Roland apparently busy diddling with his phone, she decides to go ahead and meet the group. When she gets there, she waits for them to finish talking before she introduces herself.

"Hey there." she greets the three. "Sorry if I'm interrupting your conversation there, just wanted to say hi. Oh where are my manners? I'm Catherine Pasternak, of the Esgonian Special Task Force, we're new here. Nice to meet you all." as she extends her hand to them.

[Vacif]

A comfortable silence took over as Holt awaited a response. However before such a reply could be spoken, an unexpected guest came along and introduced them self.

"Hey there." she greets the three. "Sorry if I'm interrupting your conversation there, just wanted to say hi. Oh where are my manners? I'm Catherine Pasternak, of the Esgonian Special Task Force, we're new here. Nice to meet you all." as she extends her hand to them.

Holt happily griped the hand, giving a nice firm handshake. "Likewise. Rodrick Holt, Vacifian 29th Special Operations Brigade." he introduced warmly. "These two are Sonitusian Special Service. Roland Greenman" Holt gestured to the man on his right, "Maria le-Vif" gesturing to the woman on his left. "This may not be my table, but I'm sure the Sonitusians wouldn't mind the extra company." That's what he hoped at least. "When did your team arrive?" He questioned.

[Sonitusia]

Taking a few moments to decide whether or not to tell the Vacifican of 3S' absence, Roland was cut off with the Esgonian's entrance. Deciding it was best to hold off on the thought, he too shook the woman's hand, saying, "Not a problem at all, take a seat." The food for both the Sonitusians arrived, and they gave an odd motion towards the two foreign operators before cutting into the steak; a sort of chop that only moved down half a quarter, it was gentle yet swift. Fellow Sonitusians would know this as a sign that "I'm going to eat, don't mind me."

[Esgonia]

Pasternak shook both of the operators' hands and smiled as she was quickly accepted into the group, originally she thought she would be either ignored or yelled upon since the unit was new here, but she was glad they weren't, well, for now that is.

"Ah, thanks." she replied to the Sonitusian as she took a seat. As the food for both the Sonitusian arrived and with one of the operators making a weird gesture, either it was a gesture from their country or something, she decides to let the two be as they probably wanted to eat. With this, she turned to the Vacifican. "We just arrived an hour ago, actually. Most of my unit's in the barracks resting up for now, and 4 of us are here right now. Right over there." as she pointed to the table the other two were, with Roland noticing Pasternak pointing at them and waved at then before he turned back to his phone.

[The United Remnants of America]

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The heart monitor's sound was one of the few constants in the current existence. It was probably no longer a necessary piece of equipment; he was in stable condition and he was most likely going to survive, but the doctors had nurses had insisted it stay. At least he'd succeeded in getting them to get rid of that damn respirator. He hated the smell of that tangy oxygen, and the noise of the air whooshing into his lungs gave him a headache after several days of listening to it.

How long had he been here, anyways? There was no clock, and no calendar in his room, and the lights stayed dimmed to keep his chronic headaches from flaring too intensely. He counted based on his sleep cycle, and based on the food they gave him. Shitty eggs and bacon, shitty chicken strips, then a shitty hamburger, then sleep. Repeat it all the next day. What fun.

He glanced sideways on the far wall. His X-rays and several saved readouts still hung there, and it showed what he'd been through, and what he'd survived. A crack in the skull that required a metal plate as well as several deep-tissue stitches. A pre-hospital amputation below the right knee. Another similar amputation on the right arm below the elbow. The left leg and foot was broken in several places. Several ribs were cracked and broken, and there appeared to be internal bleeding. What the x-rays didn't show was the missing tissue on the right side that revealed internal organs and bones, the damaged right kidney and right lung, the major concussion, the broken eardrums, several burns of every degree, and non-functioning appendix, spleen, and gallbladder.

Looking back on it, he wasn't sure how he survived, and he barely remembered any of it, both due to the concussion as well as the massive amounts of anesthesia. He still couldn't quite get the staff to fill him in, but he got the gist of it. His concussion had subsided with little lasting damage. His head had indeed been plated. He'd received several dozen stitches in various spots all over his body. His gallbladder and appendix had been removed. His kidney and lung had been transplanted with artificially-grown organs, and his spleen had recovered. His eardrums had healed. A mixture of "new skin" as well as stem cells had been used over his right side to replace the burnt and missing tissue, and it was setting slowly. His ribs had been set and were healing slowly, the same went with his left leg. The internal bleeding had been staunched. This was all very basic remedies to his injuries, and on top of this, his limbs would be treated and that would have been it.

However, he was not to be let go that easily.

The Remnant government had made an offer to the command staff of Task Force Atlas, and together, Remnant medical personnel that had been shipped to Fort Bragg worked with on-base medical personnel to attempt a new medical procedure that had only been attempted on a few other people so far in the United Remnants of America, and not to the end-requirements that would need to be met here. They were going to try something revolutionary.

The attachment of battlefield-capable prosthetics.

And so it had begun. The right leg was first, and from what he was told, the surgery and attachment took almost twenty hours as the doctors attached the artificial limb to the stump, first by placing a seal on the stump to block new growth and to allow the limb to be replaced. The staff also sewed the remaining living nerve and muscle tissue to the seal through several ports and bolted the seal to the remaining bone. This would keep the seal in place. Next, the artificial limb was essentially "plugged in" to the body using the seal and the ports on it to connect and lock onto the limb, connecting the ports to receivers on the limb which would transmit nerve and muscle movements back and forth. This would allow the recipient of the limb to "feel" the limb as if it were real. A similar process was repeated the next day with the right arm.

It had been roughly a week since that, and he still told them that it didn't "feel like new." He could feel the limbs, alright, and they moved fine, as the physical therapy showed every day, but they felt numb. The staff said this was normal, as the limbs were only pressure sensitive, and even then, they weren't as finely-tuned as living nerves. The technology was still developing, hence the ability to replace the limbs through the seals. They promised that in the coming years, more sensitivity, and maybe even hot-cold sensitivity, would be developed, but he doubted it. He was stuff with this.

The upside, if there could be one, was that the staff had told him that by the end of his therapy, the reaction time on the limbs would be faster than naturally possible, and while that wasn't useful for a leg needing to work in time with another leg, his right hand could pull a trigger faster than anyone else. He would have had a faster draw had it not been for the fact that his elbow and shoulder were still natural. The staff also told him that he could get additions to his arm that would let him control drones with gestures and they could even attach a resistant LCD screen and a miniature computer to his forearm. That made him slightly less pissed off. But only slightly.

All in all, he guessed it was lucky he had survived, despite how ironic it was. He'd always loved technology, but now he'd gotten closer to it than he liked. He just wondered how much longer it would take the staff before they finally released him. "We need more time," they always said, "More tests. And we need to see if your body will reject the implants and prosthesis." He obviously wasn't rejecting any of it, but whatever. What he said didn't matter here. However, one thing did matter.

1st Lieutenant Nikolai "Koopa" Kovanich had come back from the dead. Koopa had survived, and now the only thing separating him from the field was time.

[Hurtful Thoughts]

[This bit is set before Blind Knife, so... before Koopa gets back]

After what seemed an eternity, Kayora emerged from her barracks, wearing hardly anything besides a bra, panties, and wrapped in a surprisingly clean set of bedsheets poncho-tarp style and gathered around her trim waistline with some boot-laces [see instructions-codex, heretic]. While Arike followed going fully-regimental, her already prominent figure seeming about ready to bust out of her uniform at every step.

In a makeshift pile was a laundry-triage of bedsheets and clothes that needed to be washed, some probably more than once.

Kayora didn't even blink to lead the way over to the quartermaster's, seeking fresh clothes since hers appeared to have been ruined beyond the point of being fit for wearing outside the barracks. Arike was coming along too, since naturally the specialist was more than capable of responding in-kind, having officially and fairly 'won' their wrestling-match, although neither of them were against a friendly rematch every now and again.

First on Kayora's priorities, was to be re-measured and to send those numbers back to New Roanoke Island for a fresh pair of Yanitarian-designed "stealth-suits" and just needing to make-do with whatever spare uniforms were available in Fort Bragg. With a pleasant nod, she agreed to help re-measure Arike if she'd help with her measurements.

^Just figuring you were getting curious where she'd been.