Welcome to Bad Company (IC/open)

[Gvozdevsk]

Ostrava, Czech Republic
August 15th, 2015

For a few weeks, the city of Ostrava was at the frontline of the war between Russia and the West, being held primarily by Czech, Slovak, Polish and Ukrainian troops, who had retreated into the Czech Republic as Russia overran their countries. The Czech army was determined to turn Ostrava into NATO's Stalingrad, hoping a victory against the unstoppable Russian war machine there could turn the tide of the war in NATO's favour. But support for the rest of NATO was limited, with the major powers attempting to prevent a breakthrough into Germany through Poland. Russia pounded the city with air and artillery, eventually forcing most of the NATO troops out.

What Russia didn't count on was Bad Company moving into Ostrava shortly after them, on their quest for gold. They didn't know if the Russian military would keep any gold near the front, but where there were Russians, there were likely mercenaries nearby. And where there were mercenaries, there was gold.

A communist era apartment block on the southern edge of the city, heavily damaged by Russian artillery fire was where Bad Company made their temporary headquarters until they leave Ostrava, or until the Russians find them, whichever comes first. The apartment was outfitted with everything necessary for an HQ, an armory stocked with whatever weapons and ammo Bad Company could scavenge from NATO or Russia, a medical bay, which was poorly equipped to deal with anything more traumatic than small caliber gunshot wounds, and a makeshift briefing room. Somehow, there was even still electricity and functioning cable in Ostrava, so the briefing room also had a TV scavenged from one of the apartments in the building. As well, the briefing room had a few refrigerators with whatever drinks and food could be scavenged from in the apartment and had a few tables set up around it. And truly, it will never actually function as a briefing room, it will just be the closest thing to a lounge our band of misfits has for the time being.

One of these rogue soldiers was a young Russian-Estonian woman by the name of Alyona Sidorova, formerly a marksman in the Estonian Army. Before Bad Company, she served two tours of duty in Afghanistan, fighting in Helmand province alongside the British Army and then, early in World War III, saw the entire Estonian Army shatter against the unstoppable Russian advance before redeploying to Ukraine. She considered defecting to the Russian Army, being an ethnic Russian who could speak the language fluently, but when she heard of Bad Company, decided they were a better choice than joining the Russians and so under the cover of darkness, she abandoned her unit and found Bad Company, who at the time were operating in the Ukrainian city of Donetsk.

Currently, Alyona was on the top floor of the apartment building, which had become a sniper's nest of sorts. Through the scope on her M14, she scanned the roads for Russians, while a cigarette hung out of her mouth. But of course, there were no Russians. The Russians haven't bothered to check this far south into the city yet, all they expected to find were damaged buildings and the abandoned, burnt out husks of self propelled howitzers, not a group of unpredictable rogue soldiers motivated only by money. After getting bored of not seeing anything, Alyona extinguished her cigarette on the floor, and made her way downstairs to the briefing room/lounge. Most of the other soldiers were in there, either sitting and chatting amongst themselves or crowded around the TV, hoping to enjoy some half decent television before it became 24/7 Russian propaganda. One one of the walls, the snipers of Bad Company kept a kill tally as a sort of friendly competition between them each time they moved to a new area of operations. None of them currently had any kills since arriving in Ostrava.

Alyona decided to check one of the refrigerators in the briefing room, there was very little of anything in it. Even though Bad Company had plenty of scavenged rations, those are not something anyone wants to live on for any amount of time.

I should probably bring up the idea of looking for a supermarket to loot for food and drinks, Alyona thought to herself as she grabbed a can of cheap Czech beer from the fridge. With nothing else to do, she sat at a unoccupied table, set her beer and M14 down on the table, and began field stripping her M14 in order to clean it.

[Altito Asmoro]

Ostrava, Czech Republic
August 15th, 2015

The medical bay, is existed in this temporary HQ. With the electricity running, it's fortunate as it ease the problem of seeing the wounds during midnight and evening, but it's also extremely poorly equipped. The medicines are all only able to deal with small caliber gunshot wounds, more than that, it cannot. There's medicines lying on the top of the table, with a bottle of beer. M4 is stacked near the chair. There sitting on the chair is Francois Serrano, the former combat medic of French Army. His poor actions regarding the corpses earned him the punishment and arrest. He was able to escaped during the destruction of his transport to the military prison in Poland, as he was dropped there to helped NATO soldiers, by rescuing them.

The result of what he's done turn him into a Bad Company soldier. That's it. Now, however, Francois is sitting on his chair, with his first aid kit, almost unused, also in the medical bay. He's reading a book he found, a fiction, of French's origin, as he found it during the scavenge process in Ostrava days ago. He's sipping his beer sometimes. For now, though, he's relaxing.

[Romic]

Fredrick was sitting in the lounge/briefing room they made in the temporary HQ. HE was plugged into his MP3 listening to Trio Sonata No. 1 by Johann Sebastian Bach. It relaxed him in these tough times of war. He kept only one headphone in so he can still hear the others. He knew he was a bit of an outsider, he enjoyed the little things as they came. He however was not a fan of the little food they had. He gulped down what he could and chewed a stick of his favorite mint gum, that he looked forward to every time. He rationed it carefully though. He never knew when he was going to come across another pack.

Fredrick didn't smoke nor drank so he was a bit more different from the rest. He did however keep a bit of smokes and drink for trade, he felt that these around here were like gold. Need extra good food? Trade a small bottle of whiskey. Need some gum? Trade a few smokes. This he learned was the best way to barter.

He started to count the rounds in his magazines. Two full C-Mags, four full 30s, and four HE grenades for his launcher. He started pondering to himself if he should trade a pack of smokes for a frag or two. He then looked through the window and took out his binoculars in the distance he seen what looked like a supermarket. He got a little excited then he looked briefly down the road. There sitting on the side of the street like the Holy Grail was an old pickup truck.

Fredrick rushed to the counter in the lounge and found the aging map they've been using of the town, looking at it he realized they didn't go to it sooner. It wasn't on the map yet. He then went back to his perch on the other end of the room waiting for the boss to come in to share his findings. This he realized might put him on the map for this team.

[Galdius]

Effy sat quietly in the lounge of the rather dated, half destroyed USSR era housing block as she smoked one of her last lucky cigarettes, savoring the strong taste and enjoying the distinctive aroma it emitted, she had the feeling that she wouldn't be able to enjoy such luxuries as good cigarettes much longer. It made her, surprisingly, miss home, something that she had never really felt before. She had always loved her job, the adventure and danger that it brought the adrenaline rush that she loved and often chased, but for once in life she wanted to return back to England, back home away from the madness of war that she once relished in.

But of course, she couldn't now, she was considered deserter and traitor to her country, a disgrace to the uniform that she once wore with pride and honor, if she went back now, she'd be serving jail time inside a military prison, where should would no doubt last less than five minutes with her background and heritage.

Even if she could go home, her parents wouldn't have anything do to with her, they had given her everything, money, an education, a lavish home and most of all, a well payed job. But she threw it all to join the British armed forces. She often pondered what lavish lifestyle she'd be living right now if she had taken that job. The big house, the fancy car and the money she'd have to roll in. But she'd be lying to herself if she'd say she'd prefer that when she'd first signed on. The big house? Nothing beats sleeping rough in an old USSR era shithole in the middle of a hostile warzone. The car? Why have a Rolls Royce when you can have a Land rover Pathfinder WMIK, after all, the Roll Royce doesn't come with a GPMG. And the money? She had grown up around it, had been fed with a sliver spoon, the rush of adventure seemed like a good trade in.

Taking her last puff from her death stick, she snubbed out the ash on the aging sofa before leaning back as the young German rushed into the room, seemingly clutching a map. unlike most of the others, she hadn't heard much about them, other than that he was a Sergeant in the German army, she didn't even know his name. clutching her M4A1 in a patrol ready position, she made her way over to him, somewhat interested to see what he had discovered on the map.

Coming up to the corner, she perched up beside him before giving off a friendly smile in his direction. "So kraut?" She joked to get his attention. "What have you found out?" She asked, nodding her head over to the map that he had rushed in with. "I hope its something good, because I'm bored out my fucking mind sitting in this soviet era shithole of building." Effy concluded, offering out her hand towards the German as she introduced herself "Second lieutenant Elizabeth Lowsley, at your service."

[Romic]

Fredrick smiled back and decided to play a bit of a joke. "hallo ich bin Fredrick von Berlin and English is my primary language even though I am from Germany."

Fredrick noticed the distinct smell of smoke on her. "Do you have any frags? If so I'd be willing to trade smokes and the information for one." He smiled, as a gesture of kindness he gave her one anyway.

He knew everyone was bond to find out the intel he had but he wanted to go in first to get any delicasies he could get for trade first.

[Galdius]

"Well, It's a pleasure to meet you Fredrick." Effy replied as she firmly shook the man's rather rugged hands. "Guess that's a good thing." she remarked about fredrick's comment about English being his first language. "last time I spoke German was back in school." Effy continued, sporting a wide grin. "Wouldn't want to butcher your country's language now would I?"

"Do you have any frags?"

The smile quickly dropped as Fredrick was seemingly trying to barter some supplies out of her with the promise of information and luxury items, primarily cigarettes, he had given one for free, seemingly as a gesture of kindness. "That obvious eh?" She sighed, the smell of the cigarettes was no doubt rather strong and distinct. "I think I have one." She answered, her grin now non-existent. "Here it is." she uttered under her breath as she removed a M67 fragmentation grenade from one of the pouches that remained attached on her belt. "What brand are these cigarettes you have in your possession?" she asked curiously, still clutching the grenade in her left hand, the last thing she wanted was to get scammed off for some cheap shit that tasted vile. If it was the case, she'd probably just have to cope with the coming withdrawal effects after she smoked her last few luckies, but she had a feeling that the cravings would be the least of her problems in the coming weeks.

[Romic]

Fredrick seen the displeasure "Sorry about that, I dont need it I was going to keep it incase I ever needed it." As she asked what kind he kindly replied "World famous Marlboro. Keep the frag." He tossed the woman the pack of smokes. "I tend to want people to like me more than think Im extorting them. As for the info, as long as you agree to help me get the good luxury stuff first, I'll let you in." He pointed at the map "there is no supermarket here" he whispered "The map is a few years old, I was looking through my binoculars and seen one about 300 meters from here, barely visable from the roads cause of the apartments. There is a truck up the road that we can use to get supplies in bulk from there to here." He looked at the woman "What do you say friend?"

[Galdius]

"Cheers." Effy smirked, rather grateful for the free cigarettes and the free information. Catching the packet of cigarettes in her hand before placing it into one of her various pouches on her tactical vest. Effy moved closer as Fredrick motioned towards the map of Ostrava. She scanned over the map, taking quick mental notes of the area that surrounded the apartment that they had set up in.

"The map is a few years old."

Looting whatever was left at the super market could be quiet problematic, especially the distance that the supermarket rested from the makeshift HQ, if any Russian forces were set up in the area and caught them looting, they would be in for a firefight. And if they retreated back to HQ with some units following them, it could mean that HQ could be met with some more howitzer fire. "Its risky." She remarked. "With it being this close to base and the possibility of hostile forces in the area, if anything were to go wrong it could spell the end for our little HQ and mission." she added, venting her possible worries to fredrick. "I'd recommend taking this up with a few others, I'd think it'd be in our best interests to scout out the area first."

[Romic]

Fredrick looked at her for a second "Your right, however if the ruskies find any of us anyway the base could be doomed." He looked at the map and thought of the truck "What if we do go alone and rig one of the buildings on the way. Make it collaps on the road and block them. We would have very short ammount of time to react and get the hell out of there."

Fredrick's mind wandered for a second "We should tell the others." He held out his hand "A bit cliche but have some vodka. I dont drink, however you may enjoy it."

[Gvozdevsk]

Now finished with cleaning her M14, Alyona reinserted the magazine and cycled the bolt, the distinctive sound echoing through the building. This was when she heard two of the others discussing a plan to loot a supermarket. Can't hurt to join them, she thought as she slung her M14 over her shoulder and walked over to the two soldiers. One was a German man, and the other a British woman.

"I heard you two are planning to go looting supplies," Alyona said. Her English was nearly perfect, but she spoke with a heavy Russian accent. Anyone would probably think she was a former Russian soldier, were it not for the Estonian flags on her shoulders. She then took a look at the map of Ostrava that the German brought with him, noticing how old it was.

"This map sucks, we could probably find a better one an abandoned NATO vehicle," Alyona suggested. "But anyway, back to the supermarket raid, if you need a marksman, I'm willing to help."

[Etzopia]

Ostrava, Czech Republic. 2015.
Dmitri was at an apartment, as the raid on it began, the Russian forces started blasting away to little or no effect on Bad Company. "GUYS, AIM PROPERLY DAMN IT!" Dmitri shouted. Dmitri mounted his RPK-74M on a window sill, and started firing at the flanks. Dmitri then stopped firing after his commander started shouting at him to "PROTECT THE LEGIONNAIRE'S GOLD!". Dmitri quickly dismounted his gun and started running to a truck stuck at an alleyway between the supermarket and the apartment block. Dmitri was always in to fighting, not getting rich. He had heard Bad Company, one of the toughest penal units in NATO, were attacking them and wanted the gold. Dmitri mounted the bipod on his RPK-74M on a garbage can.


However, he looked at an apartment building , he knew it wasn't just 'a bombed out old building from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic Era', he knew it was something else. Just then, he saw the Bad Company soldiers chatting about what to do."GET THE GOLD OUT OF HERE AND WE NEED SOME DAMN ARTILLERY" He radioed to his CO . Dmitri started running up to the apartment building, attempting to mount his gun on a destroyed wall. "HEY, WAIT! YOU'RE GONNA DIE!" a Legionnaire shouted. And sure enough, Dmitri was shot. But he wasn't dead. He was wounded. And awake.

[Zataristan]

Simon,in his British Woodland combat uniform like usual,walked through the apartment rooms one by one,seeing the view outside the old Soviet-era apartment and...guns.He went to the food storage and took one Coca-Cola.He drank it,Fresh,like back in England he thought.There are a few Brits other than him in the squad,no doubt.He walked and walked through the room,cleaned his SA-80,fires a bullet out to the window once and then scans his bag for anything he could play with.Well,he apparently found a pack of Marlboro.He takes it out and pulls one ciggarete and lights it.After it's out,he went for a walk again,inside the apartment.This time he found the rest,and what looks like a map on the center.He introduced himself
Oh Hello Mates,I am Private Simon Williams here with the Barmy,and uh...What is up.

[Fiery Armageddon]

Ostrava,Czech Republic
Meanwhile, Salazar was in the armory, gearing up and taking what he thought would help him, or even make the difference, in battle, when he heard Dimitri shouting. He then rushed over to Freidrich, Effy, and Aloyna, and said, "Guys, I would have joined you, but Dimitri's fending off from the Russians out there so come on!" He then rushed out to the sound of battle, and flanked the enemy at the side killing 8 with his Spas, before he ran out of ammo and killed another group of them with his Glock 18. All of a sudden, he heard the roar of an artillery strike inbound, and yelled to the rest of his group, "GET FUCKING DOWN!" Then, the piece of artillery hit a large truck near their position, which luckily wasn't Bad Company's, and yelled, "VERDAMMT!" (Fuck in German)

[Galdius]

"I don't drink." Effy stated, refusing the Germans offer of vodka, who was seemingly getting a little too friendly. "Clouds my senses, but thanks for the offer." she smiled and thanked, so not to be rude. "I'd rather not risk the whole mission for gold going tits up because we exposed ourselves, so that we could grab some unnecessary items." she protested to Fredrick, who was seemingly holding this up in his head as some sort of vital operation. "I don't think collapsing a building is a good idea either." before she could continue, they were approached by a woman with a seemingly heavy Russian accent, while she at first automatically assumed that she was Russian, Effy quickly gathered that she was in fact she Estonian by the flag on her uniform. Not it mattered anyway, no matter what army they fought in or what flag they once bared, everyone here was a deserter and traitor, so she wasn't about to hold any grudges on nationalities.

"You've got good ears." Effy smirked, as the woman asked to join her in the little looting operation. "I'd just debating with Fredrick here if its such a good idea." She added, pointing towards Fredrick as she introduced him to the woman. "If anything hostile were to spot us and follow us, we could bring this HQ to a premature end." She repeated to the woman just like she had told Fredrick, offering her professional opinion. "But with your sniper support, that could help out a lot." she concluded, a sniper on over-watch would aid them, having some eyes in a good vantage point would hopefully stop them running blind into hostile patrols. "I'd don't believe I've introduced myself." she said, moving away from the conversation of going onto a looting run. "second lieutenant Elizabeth Lowsley, at your service."

[Etzopia]

Dmitri was wounded and on the ground, he was shot and was bleeding badly. He started moaning loudly and started shouting "Help me! I'm wounded!" he shouted loudly. But no one answered. Just then, an artillery shell blew a building that was overhanging. Dmitri felt he was going to die. And he knew he would not survive. But, the building fell the opposite way from Dmitri. Dmitri was relieved, but he was still wounded. He then threw an empty tin can that was beside him at the apartment building, hoping to get Bad Company's attention.


He kept throwing tins and assorted items at the apartment building in a bid to receive medical attention from medics in Bad Company.
Things were not going well for Dmitri.

[Rupudska]

While the aboveground level of the apartment was pretty badly damaged, underground, things were much nicer. And this is where Lily Dyun, Bad Company's designated sapper, had holed herself in. The area around her bed was surrounded by a mix of tools, lesbian porn mags, Popular Mechanics mags, hot rod mags, and instruction manuals for the various sorts of equipment she kept and maintained.

Dyun herself was sleeping like a rock on the bed, still in her uniform, where she had fallen asleep the previous day after setting up some sandbags near the front of the building. And checking that everyone had enough ammo. Which, for some reason, she was in charge of keeping track of.

The alarm clock next to her bed finally produced enough buzzing to wake her, which was promptly silenced by a swat of her hand. She wiped her face with said hand, finally remembering that she was still in her uniform from yesterday.

God dammit... being surrounded by mercenaries has turned me into a slob. Laughing at this, she sat up and stretched. She could worry about the uniform later. Not like anyone was inspecting her.

[Republic of the Roman Nations]

Sherlock sat in the rat’s nest of a room he had been assigned to quietly tinkering with his SCAR H, his room was in total contrast to the clockwork going on in his mind. He disassembled then reassembled the rifle several times, and then the commotion down the hall caught his attention. His sat listening for several minutes; thought about going with them, then thought better of it. Someone needed to hold down the fort, and it was clear his Social difficulties weren’t going to help them much. He was here to get the gold not make friends… Still he longed to belong to this rag tag group, and maybe in time he would find a way to better serve them. For now he started to work on an escape plan in his head about how he would escape this fire pit should it be compromised. Again he longed to belong, and lit his pipe to ease the pain.

[Kuzbeckistan]

In the Garage of the Temporary HQ was Geralt who was Repairing the Unit's Vehicles. By now the only vehicles Bad Company had were stolen Russian Equipment with the exception of Geralt's Scout buggy. He had been taking a break after spending the whole morning fixing up the vehicles,He sat at the couch drinking Wodka and smoking while listening to the Radio.

Kuba was pretty bored of smoking and drinking, he decided to get back to work. He picked up his tools and got back to work on the APC they captured and his Buggy. The Radio was still on and tuned in to the Polish Armed Forces Broadcast, he would usually send a request to the DJ but he barley plays the songs Geralt wants. The Reasons were either his letters didn't make it or his letters were buried by a hundred other requests. Either way he would still enjoy the songs as they were either Folk or Rap songs.

Geralt took one last gulp of his Vodka bottle and threw it away before going back to work. He gave the last finishing touches on the Company's APC,
With white Paint he had drawn on the front the Cartoon Character Polandball. On the sides he wrote with the Paint Trochę kurwa!.

Kuba glanced at the APC before realizing he had one more thing to add. He had taken out his folded Pin-up poster from his subscription of Playboy and he stuck it on the APC's Doors on the interior. He then opened another bottle of Vodka, took a sip and slumped himself on the couch.

[Mnar Secundus]

Charles N'Vane and Aleksandra Artemyeva could have been said to be hanging out if "hanging out" hadn't implied appreciating each other's presence. They were sitting face to face in the same room; Aleksandra was cleaning her weaponry with meticulous care, as she tended to do by default, and Charles was reading a random book he had found in the ruins - an old Bible. They stayed together for two reasons: firstly, they both hated the cigarettes which were polluting the air in most of the Bad Company HQ, and secondly, Charles was the only one here who could translate Aleksandra's sign language.

They weren't on bad terms per se, but not on particularly good terms either; the circumstances of their first meeting still made conversation awkward. Most people, Charles included, had trouble handling someone who had tried to kill them with a shovel and could have succeeded easily if they hadn't thought better of it. Still, Aleksandra undeniably had skills, and good taste to boot.

The again, Charles himself was troublesome for "most people" - including Aleksandra - to handle in his own right. Even someone like Aleksandra couldn't really feel at ease in the presence of a man who routinely spent hours inspecting his explosives with a loving eye, or chuckled with a twisted grin every time he heard an explosion from afar. She did enjoy his cooking, though.

The room was religiously silent: neither Charles nor Aleksandra spoke, the former because he didn't feel a need to and the latter because she couldn't - and wouldn't have felt like it anyway.

Suddenly, there seemed to be a commotion outside. Both mercenaries looked up from their occupation, and Aleksandra signed: "What's happening?"
"No idea," answered Charles in Russian. "I suppose we should go check."
They stood up wearily and walked out of the room, weapons at the ready.

[Fiery Armageddon]

"Help us! Scheiße!" (Shit in German. If y'all don't need me to translate, just tell me.) Salazar said as he was firing at the Russians. He then noticed Dimitri, another member of Bad Company, lying on the ground in a pool of blood. "Dimitri!" Salazar said as he started to bandage Dimitri. "Somebody, help us!" He yelled as he started to multi-task between firing at the incoming Russians and helping Dimitri.

[Republic of the Roman Nations]

Sherlock softly played a violin he had found in the wreckage of the building. "Funny, this thing is of outstandingly high quality; why would anyone leave something so lovely behind? Huh, perhaps they died." Thought Sherlock, gently placing it back on its shelf. For the most part he had cleaned up the room he was staying in, now it looked much more presentable. He had also found a hidden safe, but had decided that the people who had lived here would need that money much more then him. He looked around, several bullet holes already had penetrated the rooms walls. Not feeling comfortable with the fact that his haven could be breached that easily he had started to stack sandbags along the walls that he had retrieved from basement. It looked like the NATO forces that were here before them had left in a hurry, not leaving much vital goods, but quite a bit of supply that they didn't really have any use for. Thing was, Bad Co didn't have much a use for them either.

[TriStates]

Personnel: Jason William Beauregard "Wild Bill" Bragg; Lance Corporal, U.S. Army
Location: Ostrava, Czech Republic; Landing Zone X-Ray near the NATO Unit Transfer Center.
Time: Present, August 15th, 2015

Another day, another shit hole. thought Jason as he peered out of the helicopters window at the partially destoyed city before him, admiring the way the enemy had reduced even the wreckage to rubble.

Damn-Commies they are, but they sure do know how to their demolitions.

"Hey Corporal," hollared the chopper pilot, "I've gotten word that LZ X-Ray is still pretty damn hot, and I'm no mood for this bird to be some Russians target practice. I'm going to need you to get off while we hover."

Putting on his mirrored aviators, Jason made a exaggerated sad face at the pilot "What's up man, not even a dinner and a show? No damn chivilary from you young bastards now a-days!" said the Corporal dryly. Opening up the choppers door, Jason looked down at the landing zone, and grinned.

No guts, no glory! he thought, putting both booted feet on the heli-skid.

"Geronimo!" yelled Jason, leaping from the still decelrating helicopter, landing feet first onto the dusty tarmac, me shook glanced around the LZ, spying the Unit Transfer Center. Fixing his baseball cap, he marched his way into the offices, confronting a portly Sergeant at his desk.

"Evenin' Mac, I was told that I need to re-gis-tar at this here building, and your the man I needed to see."

Recovering from the shock of being addressed so bluntly by a man of lower rank, the Sergeant recovered, staring at the Corporal with a mixed glance of reproach and wariness. The reproach for the Corporals obvious flippintry when it came to decorum, and warriness because this was the single, biggest man he ever did see.

Sombitch must weight nearly 300 lbs, and could probably bench that much easy. and he's damn tall to boot! thought the Desk Sergeant

His main cause to worry was all the ordinance this one man seemed intent on carrying. The Corporal was packing a M16 Grenadier, a M1911 Colt, a damn-it-all Bowie Knife, what must have been at least 4 different types of grenades, and was that a Tommy gun peaking out of his rucksack...

"Sergeant!" hollared the Corporal, in a strict voice usually only developed by senior NCO's, and quite out of place on a Corporal. Nevertheless it got the Sergeants attention.

"Look buddy, I just need you to stamp my papers. I've got places to be, people to kill, and your holding me up."

Stamping a seal of approval and recognition on the small paperbook, the Corporal made the small document booklet disappear somewhere in his ALICE pack. Suddenly, displaying a smile upon the still preturbed Sergeant, the Corporal gave a mock two-fingure salute, saying,"Thanks Mac!"
And proceeded to march out the way he came. Shaking his head clear after the strange encounter, the Sergeant snuck a sip of whiskey from the canteen he hid in his desk and thought, I'm getting to old for this shit!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Making his way amidst the ruins after asking directions toward Bad Company, Jason had managed to scrabble up the ruin of what looked like used to be an apartment complex into what looked like a cross between a military field briefing room, and a newly-trashed college frat house. Walking through a previously destroyed brick wall Jason surveyed the area. From his position, he saw a trio of soldiers jacking their jaws, looking at a map in the middle of the room. One sounded German, the other obviously British, and the third sounded like a genuine Russki.

No, no, no, he reprimanded his thought, that has a different flavor. Lithuanian? Maybe, Estonian?

Huh, well I'll figure it out soon enough. Might as well start with them, he though shrugging his shoulders. Lighting up a Malboro Red, earbuds blaring Craig Morgan "Redneck Yacht Club", he fixed his baseball cap and ran his hand over his Chevron-calvary mustache.

Best make a good impression on the kiddies, seemingly he was the oldest of the group. Approaching the group, he heftied the M16 Grenadier, holding it vertical, the rifle butt on crook of his arm.

"Howdy ya'll! Whats shakin'?"

[Fascist Republic Of Bermuda]

Ostrava, Czech Republic
August 15th, 2015

Yuri Kravchenko, ex-Ukrainian Soldier, sat in a large walk-in closet, dusty, old coats around him, singing softly in Ukrainian. He examined the game of Solitaire laid out in front of him, on an overturned cardboard box, and sipped some warm water from the beaten bottle he had found in a half-empty suitcase by the bed. As he laid down an ace, he wondered how the rest of the men, and women in Bad Company had been recruited. No doubt some of them are only in it for the money at the end of it, the kinds of people that simply do not care about pushing the Russians back, the ones that would switch sides if offered more gold. Those kinds of people Kravchenko despised, as he always thought war should only be fought with higher ideals in mind. Kravchenko, deep in thought, took out a cigarette, just a cheap one that anyone could get for a Hryvnia back home in Kerch, lit it with his lighter, laid back into an old, moth-eaten Trench coat, and smiled. The walk-in closet almost felt like home. Almost.

[Romic]

Fredrick's head shot straight up. The woman seemingly sounded Russian but as he caught a glimpse of the flag on her shoulders where she was really from. After Effy introduced herself he immediately spoke. "The name is Fredrick, and yes the looting is a good idea but slow to progress. A marksman would make a great addition to the team. We could then get anyone trying to tail us out of the question." Fredrick then re thought what she said. "I know the map is terrible, however it will serve its best purpose here since we currently don't have a better map."

Fredrick snapped his neck to the rather large man walking their way. "Hello, is there anyway any of us can help you sir?"

He then looked at the bottle of Vodka in his hand. "Anyone want the bottle? I don't drink and Effy stated she doesn't"

[Republic of the Roman Nations]

Sherlock heard the commotion down the hall, back in their main foyer. This time accompanied by an unfamiliar voice. He waltzed out to see what was going on, somewhat surprised the others hadn't left for whatever exploit he had overheard earlier. He roughly introduced himself; he hadn't said much when he had first arrived so it was time for him to play catch up. He listened to their conversation silently, taking in the sights and smells of the group. Feeling very far from his old home.