Task Force Godfather: Archangel Cell (IC/Open)

[Kyraina]

OOC
September 9th 2016, 0916 Local
Agios Gergios, Greece

The base used by Archangel Team was hidden in plain sight on a uninhabited island. On the surface of the Island is a wind farm that powers the base. On the Southern End of the Island was a underground dock housing two Flying Boats, 2 Beriev Be-200's, and several seaworthy vessels(boats, yachts, and ships). Both were seating in a drydock, so they could be loaded and unloaded easily, both maintained by a loving maintenance crew. The docks and the base where connected by a series of tunnels. On the Surface, A spruce security team keeps watch on the surface, while a engineering team watched and maintained the wind turbines.

The base itself housed a meeting hall, several shoot houses, a firing range, apartments for cell members, and offices for each section, and finally a garage for the several vechiles that Archangel had, these included everything from Sand Rails, to modified Trucks and SUVs. Some of these Trucks and SUVs where Up armored.

Meanwhile in the Meeting Hall, Maks was having a meeting with William, Owen, Joseph, Valeska, and other unimportant section chiefs. They discussed readiness, funding and other things before being dismissed.

A Few minutes later Joseph and Valeska were their way to the Mess Hall, where the rest of the Field team of Archangel was enjoying Breakfast.

"So Valeska, what do you think of our Cell Lead, Section Chiefs, and our field team members? Don't be afraid to include me in that. I know some have been here for months, while some just arrived here yesterday." Joseph said to Valeska and Joseph walked through the tunnels to the Mess Hall.

[Krugeristan]

Upon arriving at the main base of Archangel, Akarah suddenly felt a longing to be back in Syria. He suddenly felt like he was going to be forced into something with disastrous consequences on his morals. Sure, Task Force Godfather wasn't UN, or NATO, but it was made up of shady people, people, he feared, may be . . . not as anti-Arab Spring as he was.

That, simply put, was his biggest fear. He figured this was probably why he didn't do things like this often. Some people would argue he was part of a team in Syria, but that was different to him. In Syria, the army had a common goal, a common goal he shared and valued, but this particular team here, in Greece of all places, was made of people whose goals he was completely unsure of.

When he entered the base, he wasn't sure of the mindset of the leaders, either. Would they allow him to speak to them, or shut themselves out, away from the others? That was the first thing he wanted to know, because it just felt like it was most important for leaders and soldiers to know each other.

At least Assad had gotten to know me. Akarah entered the mess hall, looking around, shyly, until he noticed a group of people sitting at a table, just talking. He didn't know if they were just soldiers or the leadership, but he approached them anyway. "Um . . . excuse me?" he managed to spit out.

[Anowa]

"So Valeska, what do you think of our Cell Lead, Section Chiefs, and our field team members? Don't be afraid to include me in that. I know some have been here for months, while some just arrived here yesterday." Joseph said to Valeska and Joseph walked through the tunnels to the Mess Hall.

[OF-1]Valeska Kowalski
The Polish woman sighed, "They all seem professional and straight to the point, generally what one would look for in any paramilitary organisation, honestly I think they're the best fit. You are you, not the best pick but far from the worst, you're still rather freash minded about all of this and you have experience... Unlike the rest of the team... We've got two people who served with a military directly before coming here. And she was with the German equivalent of SWAT." She shook her head, "I'm pretty sure we're fucked in that regard. Especially with the possible 'dynamic' between al-Akarah and Afran. Guess I'll have to play moderator for them."

But as always, the pink haired amazon looked on the optimistic side of things, "At least we have a nice base, and we aren't at risk of getting pot shots taken at us through African jungle or Afghani desert. Hell if we get leave we're within spitting distance of Athens. I always wanted to go to the Parthenon."

[Fridur]

Drake Brown, Agios Gergios Island

After taking a surprisingly heavily armed boat to the island, Drake stepped onto the docks, he looked around at the great Archangel base. "Damn, what a budget we have." He said to himself while lighting a cigarette. The dock seemed busy with people hurrying to and from checking supplies as his boat was full of boxes of what he assumed was ammo and food. He grabbed his AK74 and Makarov after slinging his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the apartment sector. He didn't have much in the way of possessions as he was released from prison only two days prior. He was able to get his laptop back with all of it's anonymity programs still downloaded and un-bugged, his smartphone, his pocketknife and his prized pistol back. The pistol got him out of countless situations. It's build made it easy to conceal and damn near destructible. As for his AK. He always preferred Russian rifles over many, their price wasn't the main feature but the durable nature of the Russian made weapons attracted Drake to them.

After reaching the surface of the island he looked towards the mainland of Greece, it brought back memories of arming countless underground cells within Greece. Millions had been made in that country and he got absolutely nothing from it. It was essentially his last deal before being caught. He thought of the times he sold thousands of weapons and ammunition to the Kurdish fighters. Yeah they're good people, I hope my weapons do something for them. he thought to himself. Knowing he must not be the only operator on the Island, Drake set off to find the rest of his people

[Nations United for Conquest]

Classified Location

The front bow of the frigate cut graceful through the long rolling waves of the violent sea of which it floated over. Both the sky and the sea where as black as space, making it nearl impossible to tell where the sky was meeting the water. The only slight indication was the large mist created by water caught in the massive flood lights positioned on the front of the ships bridge. The bridge was largely dark and empty, only manned by a few senoir sailors and the captian. It was a small skeleton crew, if you could call it that. The deck of the ship was a different story. Stacks upon stacks filled the ships several sotries high, a dangerous cargo for the waters which they travelled, yet a nessacry shipment for the task at hand. The port edge of the ship however carried a far more interesting cargo. Several men dressed in nearly all black stood side by side near the edge of the boat. Each man was wearing a black tactical rigging, though they lacked the flags that would sit on the shoulders of a typical uniform. But these were no typical men.

Each man stood there, stern faced, staring at a small boat slowly being lowered into the choppy water lapping at the side of the ship. The lack of idenfiaction and smiluarities of their weapons, as each man carried a M4 slung over his back, made it difficult to tell the men apart, espically who was in charge. But as the men slowly entered it became more apparent as the one of the men took a position towards the front of the ship, accompaning the captian of the small craft. Most of the other men filled into the small cabin like area of the boat. They sat, 3 men to a bench staring towards one another. Not a word was spoken, no one had much to say, they were all perfessionals and had run this a thousand times over. A quick glance over the team of men would give the impression that were statues, never moving, never afriad, quite unnerving actually. But a harder look would reviel the fidgiting and nerviousness each man carried. Some were checking the chambering of their rifles, others adjusted their helmets, but most just sat there tightly gripping their weapon to point you would think it would crumble. No man was afriad of the mission that awaited them, but rather the waters which they traveled. Each man could feel the rocking of small boat as it tumbled over the waves. The last thing they wanted was to die here in this small boat.

Much was the same story on the deck of tiny boat. The captian was hard at work in the wheel house, making the tiniest little adjustments to keep the ship on course. Although it didn't show through man's balaclava he was quite distressed at the situtation. The smallest mis-calculation could send the ship under, crew and all. They'd be miles away from the closest shoreline, much less a friendly coastline. Each man knew the dangers, yet each man was willing to except them. It wasn't like they had much to lose either way. The man sighting next to the captian, wore a very different expression, well the visable part at least. His greyish blue eyes cut through the fog and rain like search lights, sweeping back and forth across the bow of the ship. He was deep in thought, highly visible in his creasing brow. He was looking for something, yet he wouldn't see it unless they crashed into hit. Soon there was a low beeping noise coming from the wheel house, exchanging a small nod with the captian the man headed down to the cabin of the ship.

Opening the doors leading into the cabin, he came across the sight of the men doing their various pre-mission rituals. As if from silent command all of the men turned a stone hard gaze on the man in the doorway, quickly forgetting any other thoughts they may have had. The man tapped on his right wrist before holding up three fingers and walking back towards the bow. There was three minutes until drop off, and then hurried to prepare. They double checked their mag pouches, made sure they had their helmets tightened, double checked the sights and chambers of their weapons, and slung their rifles onto their backs once more. By the time they emerged from under the ship there target was insight. Directly to the port side of the tiny ship was a massive wall of metal seemingly flying straight out of the sea. After few more seconds it became appaerent they were on the side of a massive container ship, much like the one they had been launched from. Two of the 7 men brought forth small tube like contration from the floor of the ship. Aiming high into the fog there was the unmistakeable sound of compressed air as two long rope seemling dissapeared into the mist above. Tugging carefully on the ropes, the men began their asent.

Arriving over the railing the men quickly spread out into a semi circle sorrounding the area inwhich they arrived. A quick tug gave the ropes away, and the dull purring of a motor could be heard moving off into the darkness. The rocking on the deck was just as bad as on the boat, even worse given the ships size. Regardless the men split into two teams, on of 3 the other of 4. The team of four moved quickly throughout the small stacks of containers, searching each one's label and markings carefully. The other team moved carefully towards the bridge of the ship. Much to the same setup of the previous ship it had but a skeleton crew, missing armed guards and all. The three men stacked up on the door, and with silent communication broke it down, busting into the small bridge. Several sailors and a captian were stunned at the suddeness of the men's entrance. The breachers took advatage of this shoving the closest men to the ground before giving the other men the stocks of there weapons. With the bridge secure on of the men, the leader, moved towards the center council wuickly removing a small box, and searching through a box of papers. Finding what he needed he stuffed them into his vest, giving a signal to the other men to begin dragging bodies out of the bridge.

Back on the deck of the ship several men laid bound near the edge of the ship. The other team had returned carring several large blocks of concrete and some smaller wooden crates. The newly arrived men quickly stacked their boxes further away from the edge and began fastening the bound men's feet to the blocks of contrete. It was at this time that some of the men began to wake up and realizing their situtation began to call out to the men it what sounded Indian, although it could have been an sort of middle eastern or asian langugue, since the weather made it nearly impossible to hear, not that it mattered much. A quick nod from the soldiers ensure that ropes were secure, and the blocks pushed off the side. Moments later the sound of blades slowly chopping through the air could be heard as a small unmarked helicopter landed on the deck. Off stepped several armed men, mostly Russian made fire arms, but a couple of German made SMGs could be seen, mainly MP5s. A man quickly approached the leader of the group speaking in fast Russian, asking him a simple question "Где это?(Where is it?)" Without speaking the man handed over the small black box and a folder stacked with papers. The Russian man shook his hand as a smile cross his face. The other man's face still had a hard look on it as the shaking greatly increased...

---

Alois Fischer
Agios Gerios Island

It was a bright morning, and sun was had been laying it's bright goldens rays across the water for sometime now. It make a cheerful sparklying against the crystal blue waters of the medditereanian sea. The waters around island were relatively calm with a slight breeze from the north doing very little blue waters, besides making some small chopping in the water. The small little dinghy was powered by a small motor possitioned at the back, making a soft and sometimes studdering, purring sound. Something like a cat that was stretching after a long day of cat stuff. The boat was mostly wood and held only two people. A decent sized man sat laying towards the front of the boat, he had a long and hardened face, as if he had spent to many days working under the sun. The other man was a bit young with a more young and virgin face, obiviously not having seen much of the world, or work for that matter. He sat at the back of the boat carefully working the motor. The middle of the boat was occupied with several small bags, and a larger square case. As the boat half way floated it's why into the dock the man from the back slowly approached the sleep man. He tried calling out to the man, but no answer was recivied. He looked a bit frightened as he approached closer to the man. He had recived the "offical" report on the man, and was a bit worried about waking the man. But he had no choice. As he grabbed the man's shoulder he was only able to move him a couple times before a hand squeezed around forearm. It felt like an iron had just clamped arounds him and he gave a shout as his arm was twisted and he was almost pulled to the ground.

Alois stared up the man who now lay on the ground massaging his arm. Seeing as Alois had woken the man apolgized, but Alois only gave a slight shake of his head. Throwing his gear over his back he stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. The island looked simple enough. It had the classical green rolling hills one would associate with a greek island, and a few rockier out croppings, but besides that it looked quite normal. Quite a wonder he thought, at the time it must have taken to form this island and get the terra-forming just right. As he approached deeper into the cove he got a full understanding of the size of the base gazing upon the large opening presented, and the faint outline of what looked like a tunnel system. From his position he couldn't quite make out the markings of the signs. Approaching the doorway he was confronted by two heavily armed gaurds. Thay had strange looks on their face, likely due to the clothing of which Alois wore. He had one normal olvie green BDUs and a frsh pair of combat boots. On the top he wore a grey colored tee shirt, with a light green over Jacket with the sleeves rolled up three quaters, and a balck cap to match. The guards spoke english well, although he could detect a trace of a greek accent in one of the men. They had asked for an ID and he produced on from his left hand pocket. Looking over it careful he handed it back to Alois requesting he place his weapons into a tray before passing through. He complied placing his gun case in the basket and retrived his USP from his holster. After passing through security he allowed them to be placed in the barracks, yet keeping his USP in it's holster

Now moving towards the tunnels he saw a sign labled "Mess Hall" and decided it was likely the best place to run into the other members of the cell. He had already eaten that day, during a stop over from South America to Spain and Finally landing Greece where he took a boat to the island. Yet he moved down the long tunnel eventually coming out into a large room lined with benches and tables. Looking around he found it largely empty except for a small group of people seated at a table off to the side. They seemed occupied with conversation and had not really noticed his precense in the room. Not that he really cared that much. Training his ear correctly he was able to make out a bit of the conversation at hand. A fairly young arabic man who couldn't have been more than 22 had entered the room and began talking to the others. He carried himself in a strange way. It was apperant that he had some type of military training, yet had an almost uncertantcy to himself. He seemed almost nervious around the others and a bit uncertian of himself. He could easily understand he had likely seen something times in his service, and at such as young age it must have some impact on him. The others carried some what of a more experienced military feeling. The man carried himself like a leader and seemed more confindent in his word, and appeared to be only a little younger than himself. Getting a better look at his face, he could pikc out some of his German features, although he appeared darker than Alois, hinting he was likely not a pure German. The woman shared simualr features, although didn't give off a German feeling towards Alois. She was likely Austrian or Polish. After he finished servaying the group, he moved over taking a seat across and to the right of the German looking man.

[Fridur]

Seeing a rather confident looking man walk into what seemed like a mess hall, Drake followed. After reaching the door he confirmed that it was indeed a mess hall. After putting out his cigarette. Drake walked into the hall. He saw a group of people engaged in a conversation. As well as a man fairly close to the door on the mess hall. He observed the room, it was fairly big with a cafeteria style of benches. Upon entering the room, Drake took off his Olive Carhartt baseball hat and stuffed it in his back pocket. Walking up next to the only guy not engaged in the conversation (Alois) and said "You new here too?"

[Altito Asmoro]

OOC
September 9th 2016, 0916 Local
Agios Gergios, Greece

The base used by Archangel Team was hidden in plain sight on a uninhabited island. On the surface of the Island is a wind farm that powers the base. On the Southern End of the Island was a underground dock housing two Flying Boats, a Convair R3Y Tradewind, Beriev Be-200, and several seaworthy vessels(boats, yachts, and ships). Both were seating in a drydock, so they could be loaded and unloaded easily, both maintained by a loving maintenance crew. The docks and the base where connected by a series of tunnels. On the Surface, A spruce security team keeps watch on the surface, while a engineering team watched and maintained the wind turbines.

The base itself housed a meeting hall, several shoot houses, a firing range, apartments for cell members, and offices for each section, and finally a garage for the several vechiles that Archangel had, these included everything from Sand Rails, to modified Trucks and SUVs. Some of these Trucks and SUVs where Up armored.

Stella Schneider

The Archangel Team's base is actually quite of a good base. On an island, near Greece that is relatively in peace, save for the debts and conflicts over Cyprus. Other than that, it's quite normal. They have drydock (obviously), they have wind farm (Ooh la la!), they have teams of security watching the island, maintenance and engineering teams. Shoot houses, firing range, even apartments. Garages too. She had set up quite for a while after her long period of training. She had set up inside a room of herself, there's the calendar she bought off earlier while still in Greece, some snacks for herself and a new binocular for herself. She had brought up her rifle while on the way to the firing range for testing the rifle.

Firing range is not empty, but definitely not full of people. Rather, there are few people, from the security and from the crew, trying on the guns. Maintenance and engineering surely need to keep their hands on the guns well, in case of an attack. Unlikely, considering the need of a large and well-trained and well-equipped force to keep the security at bay while checking inside the island.

She checked her rifle, loaded it up, before aimed it and fired few rounds on the target.

[Kyraina]

Joseph Bridges
Mess Hall

"So Valeska, what do you think of our Cell Lead, Section Chiefs, and our field team members? Don't be afraid to include me in that. I know some have been here for months, while some just arrived here yesterday." Joseph said to Valeska and Joseph walked through the tunnels to the Mess Hall.

[OF-1]Valeska Kowalski
The Polish woman sighed, "They all seem professional and straight to the point, generally what one would look for in any paramilitary organisation, honestly I think they're the best fit. You are you, not the best pick but far from the worst, you're still rather freash minded about all of this and you have experience... Unlike the rest of the team... We've got two people who served with a military directly before coming here. And she was with the German equivalent of SWAT." She shook her head, "I'm pretty sure we're fucked in that regard. Especially with the possible 'dynamic' between al-Akarah and Afran. Guess I'll have to play moderator for them."

But as always, the pink haired amazon looked on the optimistic side of things, "At least we have a nice base, and we aren't at risk of getting pot shots taken at us through African jungle or Afghani desert. Hell if we get leave we're within spitting distance of Athens. I always wanted to go to the Parthenon."

"You will always find a worst fit before the best fit. It usually happens that way in my experience. Any way, if you need help with the moderation between al-Akarah and Afran let me know. I may not be a Muslim, but I have worked beside people that wanted me dead just because I am not white, but a half breed. I'm half German and Half Creek, Native American. Don't get along with people in my reservation, and been targeted by Aryan Brotherhood Members while in the Military and TF-GODFATHER. Just don't expect me to Start saying stuff in Arabic and reading out of the Quran. I'm a bit helpless when it comes to Religion. Anyway we will be one mix and matched field team that is for sure, never had this many New guys to the task force in one cell before. Anyway other then those two hose do expect the rest of the team to gel? It will rough that's for sure. Been in Godfather five years and it hardly is smooth as far as unit cohesion." Joseph replied as they walked into the mess, got breakfast. Which for Joseph, that was Bacon, Scrambled Eggs, Sausage, Biscuits, Gravy, and finally a bowl of rice and raisins with a glass of Gatorade.

He took a seat and looked over at Valeska. "Yeah, I hope we get some long weekends. With School going, living commendations here, my job, and my son attending a Boarding School that caters to English Speaking kids in Germany, I won't get to see a whole lot of him, might have to look into buying a seaplane, one alot smaller then the two in our docks. Any way, getting to go to Athens and the ruins of Sparta will be cool, plus we are not but a couple hours flight from Italy and Turkey as well." Joseph said as he ran a hand through a hand through his short dark brown hair, that had natural blonde highlights, and then adjusted the sleeves of his Under armor Freedom Line T-shirt, but the sleeves only half hid tattoos that where on his left and right upper arms, but before anything could be said a young Arab man walked up to the table that Valeska and Joseph were seating at.

"Um . . . excuse me?" he managed to spit out.

Joseph looked at the young man and smiled. "Howdy there, how may I help you?"

Then before he could get a answer from al-Akarah, a German and then a American sat down at the Table as well.

"Howdy you three? Anything I can help with

---

Owen Sharp
Firing Range

Owen had gotten back to the the armory/firing range before Stella had arraived and was going about his usually paperwork when he heard several people firing at his firing range, so he got up and went to the firing range and noticed a woman using a 417 at the Range. He noticed that she had some misses, but most of the rounds where easily grouped around where the heart would be on the silhouette target.

'Ma'am, spread your feet a little bit wider, and what's the amount of pressure your trigger is set at? I might be able to tinker with it to make it smoother." Owen said to Stella after she emptied a mag.

[Anowa]

-snip

Valeska frowned as she poked at the bowl of rice, "A part of me think that Schneider and Fischer aren't going to see eye to eye for whatever reason. And then there's Kiefer, they guy who supposedly got the Victoria Cross, while in the Navy. I've heard of people doing so if they're Gurkhas or fighting in the forties, but nowadays. I call bullshit, especially since he's still combat capable."

She glanced up from the Asian dish, and spotted two of their subject of conversation, "Speak of the Devil."

"Um . . . excuse me?" he managed to spit out.

As Akarah and the other duo settled in, Valeska became distinctly aware that herself and Bridges lack of ID. Both in the classical sense and in the sense that neither had any ranking badges anywhere on them, bridges on his Tee, and Valeska with her tank top. It was then she also remembered that she technically held a higher rank than him in conventional forces... She was pretty sure she was the only field officer on base actually.

She gave a slight smile, she could have fun with that. But back to the ask at hand she surveyed the trio that hat sat at the table. Akarah -as expected- moved with a purpose but was anxious, understandable given the mass amount of western based soldiers present. No doubt someone would say something at the wrong time. When that happened Valeska sincerely hoped that it would just be fists that flew.

Next was Alois, who also moved like he had somewhere to be, that somewhere being here evidently. But his background was what was of interest, that man was a figurative ghost in the machine, his files were illegitimate that was for certain, and were it not for his subtle reputation and PMC references he wouldn't be here. No doubt he served with a Tier One team at some point otherwise he'd be unable to tell his arse from his elbow.

Then there was Brown, Second Generation Irish, former Cavalry Scout, soon after became a PMC and then a gun smuggler. Another misfit. Originally chose life imprisonment over the term here. But calmer heads apparently prevailed. Not much else to go on about there, except for his distinctly military mannerisms.

The kicker is that by technicality Akarah was the highest ranking of them. A man who fouhgt for a suspected war criminal could technically give orders to the Cav Scout and Tier One PMC. Were it not real life Valeska would have laughed, but as it stood, she just took a spoonful of rice and watched the conversation.

[Krugeristan]

Great. Akarah glanced around as others began to pour into the base. The only one who had spoken to him had greeted him with a strange word that indicated the man was probably American: "Howdy", the word was. Akarah only knew it was American, but that was it. He wasn't sure if it was a greeting or an insult. Taking it as a greeting if it was an insult would make him look dumb, while taking it as an insult if it was a greeting would make him look . . .

Like a typical terrorist.

That wasn't what he wanted to look like, so Akarah gave the "Howdy" man a blank look--until that man and the others at the table decided to turn their attention to the other new arrivals. Akarah looked at the new arrivals, then back at those sitting at the table, his expression a little more sad. He gave a slight shrug, muttering, "What the hell?"

The pink-haired woman had glanced at him. Akarah frowned at her, unsure of what to say or do. It's OK. They're Western. The needs of the Western soldiers come first. That's perfectly OK, he thought sincerely.

[Nations United for Conquest]

Alois Fischer
Mess Hall

Alois had heard the foot steps of the man approaching behind him as he moved towards the others. He didn't pay him much attention, being focused on listening to the others than looking over the man. He would get a chance once he sat down, or later on if the man decided against it. however unlikely. New people often, espically in a work place gravite towards others of the same roles. It was something seen in almost all militaries, PMC or otherwise. No sooner than Alois had sat down the man from earlier walked over, and began trying to engage in converation. He looked over at the man before evening beginning to say a word. He looked a bit older than himself, and might have had an inch or so over Alois. There builds were quite simular, and his face showed some classical Irish traits, and his voice carried a slight accent. He was likely a second or even possibly a 3rd generation Irishman, although he couldn't be certian. Before he had a chance to open his mouth someone at the other side of the table realized their precense.

Alois looked over as the German looking man from earlier called out a warm "Howdy" to the group of men who had recently assembled nearby. He wasn't familar with the phrase, and looked towards the man with a stern gaze, trying to get a grip on what the man was implying. Luckly he wasn't the only one, as the Arab man was having trouble understanding him as well. The man cast a puzzling look from the new group to the man and back again, finally releasing a "What the hell" from his mouth before recovering his puzzling look. Alois was just as confused as he was, casting a raised eyebrow at the man who had just approached. He likely understood english slang better than himself or the Arab. Turning back towards the German looking man he caught sight of the woman from earlier. He had noticed her at first due to the bright color of her hair. It was something he had never seen in his serving time, KSK or PMC. She had cast a quizzitive glance is way when he first walked in, but her face had now changed to one of listening, clearly interested in the turn the converation had taken.

[Dayganistan]

Coming from the deserts of Rojava to a Greek island was a major adjustment for Rihana Afran, a former commander in the YPJ, the Kurdish women's militia fighting on the frontlines against ISIS. The climate was different, there was reliable electricity and running water, and she most likely wasn't going to be in charge of anyone for a while. Not with all the special forces types who held ranks in official armies running around this island. Everyone also had a tendency to mispronounce her name, pronouncing it the same the American pop singer she had the misfortune of sharing her name with. She had only been here a few days and was already getting sick of having to correct everyone. But otherwise, living at the Archangel base hadn't been too bad so far. It was a little depressing, living underground, but it was probably better than the crappy run down apartment she'd be living in while working at McDonald's had she actually be able to make it to Sweden or Germany before being recruited.

After her morning run and a quick shower, Rihana was hungry. She quickly dressed herself, throwing on a pair of digital woodland camo pants, faded and worn from years of use in the Syrian desert, and a black t-shirt which bore the logo of a high end clothing brand, most likely a knock off made in China as was most of the civilian clothing she owned. She quickly looked at herself in the mirror, she looked just as much like a militia fighter as she did in Syria. Probably not someone the western special forces types around here would take extremely seriously, even if there supposedly was a respect for the YPG and YPJ within the international military community. Not that it would matter what any of them would think right now, she'd have plenty of chances to prove herself in the field.

After dressing herself, Rihana headed to the mess hall. She grabbed her breakfast, toast with jam, two fried eggs, and a cup of team, and then looked for somewhere to sit. It seemed more of the operatives had just arrived today as there was one table full of people who she hadn't seen yet in the few days she was here, save for the two members of the command staff at that table. She hadn't had much time to speak to them , or really anyone else from the team yet, so she decided to join the group at the table. As she got closer to the table, she noticed one of the men was an Arab, and look even younger than she was. Depending on which country he was from, things might not go over so well once he saw a Kurd. He didn't look obviously Syrian or Iraqi, but she could never be sure. The Arab man seemed to be having a somewhat awkward time with communicating with the others, but Rihana put that down to poor English skills. Her English wasn't the greatest either, but she did feel relatively comfortable with the language and the foreign volunteers she taught Kurdish to never complained about her English being difficult to understand. She also noticed one of the other men seemed to be confused as well. Their American commander must have used some American slang they didn't understand. Luckily for them, she was in just the right place at the right time to provide a distraction from whatever was causing the confusion.

"Excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said. "Can I sit here?"

[Anowa]

-lolwut-

-morelolwut-

Valeska looked at the dumb expressions on the duo's faces. Had her own father not been so interested in Old West films she'd have no clue what the Texan had said either. "He means hello." Glancing up at Akarah she noticed something else in his eyes, something akin to hesitant curiousity. From her time in university she knew that if a single person had a question, than no doubt others had the same question. To the point that she put a little FAQ paper on a corkboard outside her office. With all the different cultures, religious practices, and all that fun stuff lead to a few questions already. Mostly relating to Kosher foods and prayer areas.

"Excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said. "Can I sit here?"

Before Valeska could ask Akarah what his question was, the man's antithesis asked her own question. Sighing Valeska set her cutlery down and settled into her 'Officer' persona. "I believe it better if you did. There's somewhat of an elephant in the room regarding a few of you."

[Fridur]

After realizing everyone was thoroughly confused about the mans form of greetings Drake kind of laughed to himself Dang, I didn't think we would be this diverse he thought. He then sat down next to the man he greeted earlier and listened in on the conversation. He didn't want to appear as if he was eaves dropping but if the arab could join the conversation he could too. Drake sat down at the table and surveyed every ones faces. A few of them were younger than he thought but he expected that All of these young operators yet to see the horrors a long life of war brings he again told himself.

"Hey, my name's Drake Brown, I just got here. Would you all mind to introduce yourself to me?" He asked. His first priority was to get to know the people he would be fighting alongside with. Camaraderie was a large part of functioning as a good team. And he demanded that this team would have that. He didn't want to interrupt who seemed like the leading officer here but he couldn't really converse with people he didn't know.

[Altito Asmoro]

Owen Sharp
Firing Range

Owen had gotten back to the the armory/firing range before Stella had arraived and was going about his usually paperwork when he heard several people firing at his firing range, so he got up and went to the firing range and noticed a woman using a 417 at the Range. He noticed that she had some misses, but most of the rounds where easily grouped around where the heart would be on the silhouette target.

'Ma'am, spread your feet a little bit wider, and what's the amount of pressure your trigger is set at? I might be able to tinker with it to make it smoother." Owen said to Stella after she emptied a mag.

Stella Schneider
Firing Range

She was a bit surprised that someone had given her the advice to do the shooting more properly. Of course she knows how, she's from GSG 9! And already received more training at that wilderness! thought herself inside her mind. However, she decided to listen to the advice and did the fixes on it. Well, yes, it turned out well after the second firing. Her trigger is not the best, as well.

"Ah, yes, thank you for the advice. I believe we haven't met before, right? I'm Stella Schneider, new recruit on the Archangel. Well, not exactly new since I just returned last week after the extensive training in Canada," said Stella as she offered her hand to Owen.

"Considering your advice on the trigger, I take it...you're part of the armory? The armourer, right, the name? Or the specialist? I'm sorry, I'm not quite familiar with the term."

[Kyraina]

Joseph Bridges,
Mess Hall
(1)"Sie müssen mich scheißen" Joseph said in German. He shook his head and sighed. He looked at the Ragtag group and smiled.

"Hesci, Joseph Bridges Cvhocefkv Tos." Joseph said in Muskogee. At first he didn't realised he had spoke in German and then Muskogee, then he saw the confused faces, especially at his last phrase, and shook his head again.

"Sorry, what I said was you have got to be fucking shitting me, and Hello, my name is Joseph. Also Howdy means hello as well." Joseph said to the group. He eat part of his breakfast, and smiled at what Valeska said.

"Elephant is a understandment, more like a Persian War Elephant, and a giant Neon Orange one at that. Now, we need to use this breakfast to get to know eachother. Whatever beef you might have with someone due to religion, race, or nationality gets put aside so we can work together. Also by the way I am the Field Commander, The pink Amazon here is my Second In Command. Any questions for us?"

---

Owen Sharp,
Firing Range

Owen watched as she adjusted her stance and fired a few more rounds and all where in a smaller grouping. He smiled at her words.

"I'm the head Gunsmith would be the better way to put it. I am also the fire arms instructor and range master. I am Owen Sharp by the way. If you want, I can either make the pound per pressure higher or lower, depending on your preference." The Brit Replied.

[Nations United for Conquest]

Alois Fischer
Mess Hall

Alois sat there still dumbfounded at the strange words emerging from the man's mouth. It didn't make sense to him, espically in the context. He assumed it was a greeting, but it didn't seem normally. He had spent nearly a quater of his KSK career serving with Americans from all walks of life, yet he had never the word before. It rolled off in a strange way that made it seem almost like jibberish his friends would say when he was younger. Looking around it appeared that the Arab hadn't faired any better, although his face appeared to have a little more distress, like he wasn't exact sure what to think. Looking over towards the Irish man he had noticed a grin slowly crawling across his face. After a few seconds it sprung into some light laughing, obiviously towards the confusion of Alois and the Arab man. He might have been a little ticked off at the man, but didn't let his face show it. He instead turned back towards the sound of his native tongue being spoken. It was coming from the "howdy" man, he didn't doubt he knew German but it was coming out a bit shaky. Due to the man likely being apart from German speakers for a while, he likely lost a little of it to English. His grammar was a bit off, but Alois got the message. He seemed a bit surprised at the situtation created by a simple word. But just as quickly as the German was spoken, some other alien langugue came to fill the gap. He had noticed earlier that the man was to dark to be fully German. Alois had some tan from his pas few weeks in South America, but nothing compared to the man. He was likely some sort of Southern European, languges that Alois was not entirely understanding of.

The man appeared to have noticed the slip of his tongue, as he quickly caught more questioning look from both Alois and the Arab man. Letting out what seemed like a deep sigh the man shook his head a few times and the group of men assembled before him. He then turned a more relaxed gaze towards them and began speaking in English, trying to clear up whatever missunderstanding had happened. He spoke better english now, and carried a small hint of an accent, but nothing compared to Arab or himself. Before either himself or the Arab had a chance to answer the Irish man piped up introducing himself as "Drake Brown." Drake. Alois rolled the name through his head. He had sworn he had met a Drake some amount of years ago. He doubted it was during the KSK, and was likely during his time undercover or working contracts. He doubted it was the same person, but he couldn't help thinking it for just a second. He was roughly the same age, and it could have been quite possible, although he didn't know much about the Drake which stood infront of him. Speaking of which he didn't know much about any of them. There were surely case files somewhere, but he hadn't had the time to review them. He was just getting off a contract when he fly off to Europe.

Alois though about introducing himself, but decided he might want to wait until the others had finished. But he doubted the Arab would go before him. He had noticed immediatly the shyness the man carried as he talked or even moved. There was also the chance that he might say something they didn't like. Alois knew what he must have felt. He had faught alone side men and women from all over the world and could tell the Arab felt largely out of place amoung the others. He may of lacked the experience the others held, espically being so young, or it could be for other reasons completely. Only time would tell for truth, he just hoped it wouldn't be in the middle of a fire fight. But before anyone even had a chance to open their mouths approaching foot steps could be heard on the contrete floors. Alois turned just in time to see a young women speak. She was young, maybe a little older than the Arab man, and she looked Arab as well, yet different than the Arab man. Her skin appeared to be slightly darker, but her face and skin were young an clean. She could have been a fresh recruite if it were not for her eyes. One of the things Alois had always been known for in older units was his unnaturaly ability to understand and learn about people from their eyes. They carried a look of fire, one craving for a fight. There was no doubt she had experience, but how much was another question. She seemed to be more of a infantry soldier, in a similar manner to the Arab man, yet she carried herself in a way that he belived she probably had some ecperince as a leader in whatever military she came from. But he doubted she would be anything higher than maybe E-3/4, she was a bit too young.

As she took a seat the pink haired ladty called out to her, welcoming her, but there he detected a slight bit of worry in her voice. She had mentioned somthing about and Elephant in the room regarding some of the people sitting around the table. The "Howdy" man, who was revealed to be a Joesph Bridges and a field officer, followed up with a refence to the Gulf War and Neon Orange. Alois had expected there to be some problem with an international team, as he had learned in his time with the KSK and other contracts and PMCs. But he began to wonder what could be the problem. The group seemed fairly diverse, lacking the overwhelming amount of Americans other groups had. He began looking around the room trying to figure out what it could be. A few of you He thought. It implied there was likely more than one core problem. He was still a bit confused with the lady. Everyone had seemed reasonable ok up to this point. Sure the Arab still showed some confussion, but that was to be expected as he was sorrounded by mostly Western people. The Irish man, who he assumed to have served, didn't seem to have any problems with the Arab or himself. Alois was non reglious, and large suspected that the others were either Christian or Muslim, but if that was the problem the group was either in serious trouble or the field commanders were completely over reacting. The new woman seemed fine as well. She appeared to be acting relatively friendly towards the others, and not nearly as shy as the Arab man. It only added more confusion to Alois' face as he looked back towards the pink haired women, hoping for some sort of answer. Perhaps there was some other operators on base they might need to worry about, even though the lady seemed to be refering to them. It was quite possible there could be a Russian on the base, no doubt creating some tensions with the Americans or Arabs depending on where they were from. It was possible the they could be from Iraq and Iran, but it was a bit of a stretch. Perhaps one was Isreali, but it still didn't line up with the two people who sat before him. There could have possibly been a Ukrainian and Russian somewhere or maybe even a Chinese and some other Asian nation if he felt like grasping for straws. Instead he just continued looking towards the pink haired lady, one eyebrow raised, hoping for some sort of explianation.

[Krugeristan]

Akarah glanced at Alois before looking back at Valeska and Bridges. What the hell are they talking about? While pondering the "elephant in the room" statement, Akarah noted the arrival of a Kurdish woman. Nothing he had to worry about unless she started spewing anti-Assad rhetoric.

Focusing on Valeska, Akarah was struggling to contain his frustration at everyone else, who seemed to have an easier time just waltzing in and talking to people. Fine. I can deal with rude people. Clearly, no one had seen him there, and decided to just barge past him to introduce their sorry selves to the commanders. The last thing Akarah wanted to do was start a fight, but he also felt like lessons on manners might be necessary.

So he simply glared at Valeska, muttering, "Are you kidding me, lady?"

[Anowa]

"Are you kidding me, lady?"

Valeska remained stony faced, once again Bridges made thing complicated with his use of idioms. What the fuck a 'pink amazon' was Valeska didn't feel like she wanted to know. But at least he didn't commit some cutural faux pas... Yet.

"Corporal Akarah, nothing about what I'm about to say is in any manner humorous. And I will only say it once. Any internal conflict among the team will result in one of two things happening. You will either wash up on a Hellenic or Turkish shore among the dozens of other refugees from Arabia, or you will be dissolved in a barrel of acid, and I very well know how to dissolve bone. You all no longer exist under your country's charter, nor under the UN's charter. From here on out you will remain professional or better with one another. Otherwise you'll be given a nine millimeter retirement plan."

The liberal Muslim's gaze started flicking between Akarah and Afran, "Corporal Akarah, Private Afran, I want you to look each other in the eye. Because there is a chance that you may have shot at each other during the ongoing Syrian Civil War. Now that you are here, you are no longer enemies. I understand if there will be tension, but I'm not asking that you be friends, I'm not even asking you to like each other. I'm asking for you two to cooperate. If you two end up becoming friends than that is all the better, and there will definitely be no issues. But if you want to remain strictly co-workers than that is sufficient."

With her tirade done, Valeska picked up her fork, "Lieutenant Valeska Kowalski, Jednostka Wojskowa GROM. Junior Field Commander and enthusiast of explosions. I figure a team like this should get introductions out of the way."

[Kyraina]

Joseph Bridges
Mess Hall

Joseph looked at Drake and nodded in greeting. "Glad you are here with us Drake. Now let's get introductions out of the way, get done with breakfast, and we will show you the facility and to meet Maks, William, and Owen." Joseph said as he took a drink.

"Also sorry on the random language switching, it happens when I am surprised. Grew up learning three languages at the same time. Father is a German Immigrant to the States, and my mom is a member Of the Muskogee (Creek) Nation. It will happen at times, especially when I get a surprise outside of a stressful situation."

[Krugeristan]

"Are you kidding me, lady?"

Valeska remained stony faced, once again Bridges made thing complicated with his use of idioms. What the fuck a 'pink amazon' was Valeska didn't feel like she wanted to know. But at least he didn't commit some cutural faux pas... Yet.

"Corporal Akarah, nothing about what I'm about to say is in any manner humorous. And I will only say it once. Any internal conflict among the team will result in one of two things happening. You will either wash up on a Hellenic or Turkish shore among the dozens of other refugees from Arabia, or you will be dissolved in a barrel of acid, and I very well know how to dissolve bone. You all no longer exist under your country's charter, nor under the UN's charter. From here on out you will remain professional or better with one another. Otherwise you'll be given a nine millimeter retirement plan."

The liberal Muslim's gaze started flicking between Akarah and Afran, "Corporal Akarah, Private Afran, I want you to look each other in the eye. Because there is a chance that you may have shot at each other during the ongoing Syrian Civil War. Now that you are here, you are no longer enemies. I understand if there will be tension, but I'm not asking that you be friends, I'm not even asking you to like each other. I'm asking for you two to cooperate. If you two end up becoming friends than that is all the better, and there will definitely be no issues. But if you want to remain strictly co-workers than that is sufficient."

With her tirade done, Valeska picked up her fork, "Lieutenant Valeska Kowalski, Jednostka Wojskowa GROM. Junior Field Commander and enthusiast of explosions. I figure a team like this should get introductions out of the way."

Knowing that wasn't why he said, "Are you kidding me?" Akarah glanced over at Private Afran, tilting his head a little, before looking back at Valeska. "I think introductions are . . . kind of important. If you know what I mean. I'd rather know my team personally than not at all." She seems like an absolute bitch, Akarah thought. I'll probably get along with the Kurd before I get along with . . . this. Valeska's comment of just "getting introductions out of the way" hurt him greatly, and he even looked at Afran, offering his hand to her. "You know, if she doesn't want to do introductions, than we can go somewhere else and introduce ourselves without being looked at as sentimental weirdos."

[Fridur]

After staring with a rather sour face at the young Arab man. Drake was extremely confused. What in the hell goes through this guys head? Drake thought. There must be a serious divide between us westerners and this arab. The other female who looked somewhat Kurdish didn't seem this vocal about her opinions. Drake shot the man a frustrated and angry look after choosing to remain silent. Drake took off his Glasses and fiddled with him to keep himself from yelling at the young arab. He ran his finger along the frame. The words "Libertas" were on the left frame. He had them engraved after coming back from an arms deal with the Kurds. Drake fully supported the Kurds, he so badly wanted to see them gain independence. It was his only deal that wasn't purely money driven. The Hamas, Al-Qaida, all of these he was only in it for the money. He made an internal note to put in his contacts after going back to his apartments. Having his glasses with him in prison he was kind of excited to put in contacts again and not have the restrictions of conventional glasses.

[Nations United for Conquest]

Alois Fischer
Mess Hall

Alois face began to return to his normal expression, that is if you can call it that. He still sat will a largely unmoving face, and his brows still slightly furrowed. But he was no longer confused, or rather not as confused as before. The man who had introduced himself as Joesph seemed to be a decent guy, if a bit oblvious. He had misjudged the group on the beginning, but seemed to be coming around. He held a more friendly feeling and face than many of the others sitting around the table. He seemed fairly relaxed in a similar manner to Drake who still sat slightly behind Alois. He appricated the straight forwardness and over all calmness the man carried with him. It was something he admired in a leader. The women on the other hand was a different story. She seemed to be a little more jumpy than the other man. She held a more serious tone, but not in the way Joesph did. She felt more commanding, but still blinded in a sense. That was at least how Alois thought about it.

He was proven mostly right only a few seconds after Joesph had finished talking. Before either himself, the Arab, or the new lady could talk the Pink haired women cut in. She had noticed the small words muttered by the Arab as during the conversation. He was oblivously had some troubles with his emotions. He could tell from the way he walked, to the way he had spoken to the others. He might have been able to hid it in his face, but his words and body told a different story. He made a mental note that cards might not be the best game for them. He was obviously mad at the Woman, and Alois could see why. There was no doubt the Arab, who turned out to be Akarah, was Syrian or at leats fought there, when it was revealed the woman was a Kurd. Alois had respect for them as a fighting force, yet could see why the Arab and her might not get along. But they seemed to be doing alright. Neither had made an gesters or faces or spoken words towards each other. They were acting quite professional, until the "Pink Amazon" as Joesph had called her, butted in to give talk to Akarah. She was giving him quite a donward tone, which was expected, but largerly unesscary in his opinion. He could already tell the man wasn't taking it too well. Alois looked up the Akarah, prepared to calm him down if it came to it. He noticed him clenching his fists earlier. For the moment he quickly removed his hat running his hand through his hair, before returning the cap to it's place. He then looked around him, returning his glaze towards the end of the table, shaking his head and muttering in German to himself "Was zum Teufel..."(What the hell)

[Kyraina]

Valeska remained stony faced, once again Bridges made thing complicated with his use of idioms. What the fuck a 'pink amazon' was Valeska didn't feel like she wanted to know. But at least he didn't commit some cutural faux pas... Yet.

"Corporal Akarah, nothing about what I'm about to say is in any manner humorous. And I will only say it once. Any internal conflict among the team will result in one of two things happening. You will either wash up on a Hellenic or Turkish shore among the dozens of other refugees from Arabia, or you will be dissolved in a barrel of acid, and I very well know how to dissolve bone. You all no longer exist under your country's charter, nor under the UN's charter. From here on out you will remain professional or better with one another. Otherwise you'll be given a nine millimeter retirement plan."

The liberal Muslim's gaze started flicking between Akarah and Afran, "Corporal Akarah, Private Afran, I want you to look each other in the eye. Because there is a chance that you may have shot at each other during the ongoing Syrian Civil War. Now that you are here, you are no longer enemies. I understand if there will be tension, but I'm not asking that you be friends, I'm not even asking you to like each other. I'm asking for you two to cooperate. If you two end up becoming friends than that is all the better, and there will definitely be no issues. But if you want to remain strictly co-workers than that is sufficient."

With her tirade done, Valeska picked up her fork, "Lieutenant Valeska Kowalski, Jednostka Wojskowa GROM. Junior Field Commander and enthusiast of explosions. I figure a team like this should get introductions out of the way."

Knowing that wasn't why he said, "Are you kidding me?" Akarah glanced over at Private Afran, tilting his head a little, before looking back at Valeska. "I think introductions are . . . kind of important. If you know what I mean. I'd rather know my team personally than not at all." She seems like an absolute bitch, Akarah thought. I'll probably get along with the Kurd before I get along with . . . this. Valeska's comment of just "getting introductions out of the way" hurt him greatly, and he even looked at Afran, offering his hand to her. "You know, if she doesn't want to do introductions, than we can go somewhere else and introduce ourselves without being looked at as sentimental weirdos."

Joseph Bridges
Mess Hall
Joseph had his head down as he went back to eating his food, and sighed at what al-Akarah said.

"Or you can just do it here, and get it done with and out of the way. Well as far as sentimental weirdos go, I have no problem with you dragging a blanket around and sucking on a baby bottle. In fact I would love to see a grown man do it. Now let's get these introductions out of the way as we have things to do and people to meet. Do I make myself clear?" Joseph said with out looking up from his food.

[Dayganistan]

The Arab man was confirmed as having been Syrian, or at least having fought in Syria and not on the side of the YPG and SDF. This could be an issue. And when asked, he didn't say them fighting on different sides wouldn't cause any issues. In fact, he almost seemed offended by the pink haired Polish woman. She did seem a little extreme, but having formerly been a commander in the YPJ, Rihana knew sometimes you had to be tough and make sure that people knew you were serious. The threats she used seemed a little excessive and along the lines of something Daesh would do though, so she could see how the Arab man would have been offended. One thing was for certain, with the tension going around at this table< Rihana knew this wasn't going to be anything remotely like the groups she commanded.

Finally, the team's commander spoke up, practically forcing everyone to get the introductions out of the way. About time, someone needed to get this over with so they could all get back to doing... whatever they were all doing before.

"Well first of all, since our Syrian friend hasn't said anything about it yet, I'm willing to put differences behind us and focus on our experiences fighting common enemies. Unless he fought for Daesh or al-Nusra, but I don't think he would be here in that case," she began. "Now let's get these introductions out of the way. My name is Rihana Afran. I was a commander in the YPJ, but apparently here I'm the lowest rank possible. I was fighting Daesh, al-Nusra and the Syrian army since a year after the civil war began in places like Kobani, which I'm sure you've all heard of. So you don't have to worry that I'm lacking in experience."