TASK FORCE AEGIS | OP. AMAZON | SAFEHOUSE THREAD

[Ontorisa]

Out Of Character Thread || Operation "AMAZON" IC Thread || Safehouse Thread*

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TASK FORCE AEGIS SAFEHOUSE
MANAUS
Province of Amazonas, Brazil

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The city of Manaus was a bustling city, despite the heavy military presence by local Brazilian Government Forces in wake of the Blackbear Movement's (MUP) presence in the area. As civilians milled about, cars rode past assorted checkpoints and military Toyota Hiluxes, a small, rundown looking house could be seen tucked in the back alleyways. This house, was supposedly abandoned for 8 years, back when Manaus was a desperate fight between the Brazilian government and the insurgents. Within this house were a multitude of various, and expensive looking military hardware, as well as a small, fully-stocked armoury, and three men: MARCO, ALVES, and of course, Hoffman.

Both Marco and Alves (obviously not their real names) were attachés from the Brazilian Special Operations Command (C Op Esp), and were meant as local interpreters between Task Force Aegis and their Brazilian counterparts. As this was a joint operation between C Op Esp and Aegis, the two had to work close together. Tonight, was the night where they would commence Operation Amazon against the MUP's presence in northern Brazil.

"Alex," Marco, a fairly tall and older man, stood beside Hoffman was he said his name. "Where is your unit?"

"On the way man." Hoffman responded, gesturing to outdoors. "We had different inserts and are finding our own ways here via civilian transport."

"And their equipment?" Alves, the younger of the three, piped up from the corner of the meeting room; what used to be the living room of the house was now covered in old furniture and various ashtrays filled to the brim with cigarette butts. "How did they smuggle it onto civilian transports?"

"The CIA flew in their equipment last night and deposited it here." Hoffman waved his hand, dismissing the thought. "Besides, if they're missing anything, I both have a reason to yell at the pencil-pushers up north, and also they're pretty fucking smart, they can figure it out."

"Roger." Alves shrugged and produced a cigarette pack from his front breast pocket, taking one out and lighting it. "Can't wait to meet their friendly faces, yeah?"

Hoffman grunted, stepping a few steps back from Alves' smoking habits as the room fell silent once again, with only the nighttime traffic outdoors the only sounds present in the house.

[Kyraina]

MSgt. Joseph "Bear" Bridges
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus
Province of Amazonas, Brazil

Joseph, better known as Bear, wove through traffic on a motorcycle despite a prosthetic lower right leg. The Big Native American had already been in country for a week chasing down leads up and down rivers of Amazonas but hadn't made much headway. The Locals were very tight lipped even with a Brazilian Spec Ops soldier helping him out and had more inline with the Blackbear movement then they did with their own government. It was the same issue He saw in both Afghanistan and Iraq, were the locals fell more in line with the Jihadist (Well, other then ISIS) then what they did with a corrupt government propped up by a non-Islamic foreign government, because the Jihadist made the locals fell like they was Afghan or Iraqi were, if they helped the US they felt like they was selling their soul to the devil. His contact with the Brazilian spec ops, PAULO, was right behind him on a KTM Adventure Touring bike. The Dou had just gotten back into town after several hard days of boat rides, rough to no roads, and in the saddle of a motorcycle.

The Dou pulled into a side alley by the safe house, Bear grabbed a box out of the saddle bags, pulled out a small match box, a cigar cutter and a somewhat expensive Brazilian Cigar. He had cut the back end of the cigar off, put in his mouth, and lit a match, and then finally the cigar, Taking a couple long puffs. He looked over at Paulo, who nodded, and the two men entered the safe house after they had checked their tail to see if they had been followed, which they hadn't been.

Paulo walked over to Marco and Alves to give his report, while Bear walked towards Hoffman, the other Delta Force member and someone he had worked with a few times before a RPG had taken his lower right leg, and had him out of action for 2 almost 3 years, while he still puffed on the cigar and made sure to blow the cigar smoke away from Hoff.

"Well Hoff, I've been in country a week trying to get intel, but the locals outside the City would give the Afghan Villagers a run for their money on being tight lipped and unhelpful. Spent the past week going to different villages up and down the rivers, and even following trails or following old intel, and not a damn thing. I doubt that even if I had more time I could make inroads. Its like our buddies over there said, but It didn't hurt to verify."

He drew a deep long puff, before blowing the smoke out his nose.

"It's good to be back working with you again. It's been along time since we was Helping the Kurds in Syria."

[South Americanastan]

Sgt. Jack Masterson,
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil

Jack walked down the streets of Manaus towards the safehouse. The streets bustled with life, and Jack snickered at the abundance of military Toyota Hiluxes, a vehicle he had become intimately familiar with during his time in the Middle East. He made sure to walk quickly, as Manaus was infested with insurgents. In a way, the city reminded him of Baghdad during the start of his tenure in Iraq, bustling with both civilians and hostiles, with almost no way to tell the two apart. Except this time they weren't hunting for the remnants of Al-Qaeda, the leaders of ISIS or the Taliban. This time, they were hunting for the leaders of the Black Bear Movement.

He lit a Marlboro Black and leaned against the side of the alley. He promptly stood straight up, disgusted by the grime and dirt on the wall. Jack smoked the Cigarette all the way down to the butt, and snuffed it out with his boot. He looked around to make sure no one had followed (And, more importantly to him, to see if another homeless person was about to harass him for money again) and then entered the safehouse.

"'Shit, When I was told I was being assigned to a Black Ops group, I expected housing that didn't look like it was about to collapse. Could be worse though, at least it's not another fucking tent." Jack spoke with a heavy New York accent. He walked over to the armory, and began looking around.

He picked up his M16a4, and began cleaning it, despite the fact that it did not need any cleaning.

"So, what's the plan? How much biohazard shit am I going to have to clean up?"

[Futrellia]

SSgt. Augustas "Aug" Katelynas
Arriving at Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Brazil

---

"Right here." Said Aug, the early 2000s model Toyota Corolla taxi stopping in the middle of the congested street as motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians passed. Handing the barely bilingual driver a handful of Reals, it was most likely more than what was required. Aug opened the back passengerside door open slowly, as to avoid surprising anyone on a motorbike that may have been traveling a little too close to the car. Augustas climbed from the car, dragging behind him a cheap duffle bag he'd gotten from some general store back in Lithuania that he couldn't remember the name of. He had instructed the driver to drop him a block behind where the safehouse was. It could have been chalked up to paranoia, but Aug liked to be careful. This was his first multi-national deployment with an elite squad that nobody else knows exists. Last thing he'd want to do is, somehow, tip off any watchers nearby.

Augustas walked through the crowded sidewalks, his blue mask shrouding most of his face while a solid dark blue cap covered the rest. He kept his head angled downwards as he passed through, bumping and rubbing shoulders with the crowd of people. He'd eventually arrive to the location the Safehouse was supposed to be. At first glance, it was a run-down piece of shit, matching the surrounding neighborhoods of this god-forsaken country. His nerves were beginning to get the better of him as he took a deep breath, regaining his composure and preparing himself to meet his fellow teammates.

"Štai mes einame." He said in his native tongue. It brought him some comfort, being in a land so much further than he's gone with the Land Forces back before his selection to Special Forces. He continued his walk forward. He reached the door and heard the ending segments of a conversation. at least it's not another fucking tent..... Augustas took a deep breath, looked in all directions around him, ensuring there were no followers or curious fellows, and opened the door. Revealed by the opening door was a group of men, appearing to be just as hard men as his training had made him into. He didn't speak, simply nodding his head to the others as he closed the door behind him. He sat the duffle bag full of extra clothes, hygienic supplies, and toilet paper down next to him as his eyes scanned his new home for the duration of this mission.

"Home sweet home." He said.

[Bolslania]

SSgt. Ragnar Monsen
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Brazil

Ragnar exited the taxi two blocks away from the safehouse, thanking his driver and handing him the agreed to price of the ride. Luckily he had found a taxi driver who spoke English. He grabbed his duffel from the trunk, which contained a selection of civilian clothing, and strode off towards the safehouse. His eyes were on the swivel, this wasn't the first time he had been in an insurgent riddled nation. Nothing caught his attention as he reached the door. He made one final check of his surroundings before heading in. He opened the door as Augustas Katelynas said something in what he guessed to be Lithuanian, following it up with English. Jack Masterson was cleaning his M16 pattern rifle and enjoying a smoke, and Joseph Bridges was talking with Hoffman and their local counterparts.

"Evening gentlemen." Ragnar said. He didn't comment on the state of the building. There wasn't much better in this region, plus, he'd slept in worse. He walked over to where his gear was, silently opening it up and briefly inspecting to make sure everything was in the bag and in sound condition. Little bit damp, but that was too be expected in a place like Brazil. It still looked like they were short a few members, and he hadn't been informed as to when or if they were moving out, so he decided to cool his heels until Hoffman made an announcement.

[Hastur]

OFw Charlotte Lehr
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus
Province of Amazonas, Brazil

---

Manaus was an attractive place. A grand city in the northwest territory, arrayed on the picturesque locale of the shoreline of two colliding tributaries, the Rio Negro and the Amazon River. The largest amazon in the world encircled it on three sides, nature crashing with metropolitan neighbourhoods in the exterior region. Historically It had started as a fort before being refined into a town in the eighteen hundreds, where it took off thanks to the rubber industry. The exporting at the time making it one of the wealthiest municipalities in the country, and it was, being one of Brazil’s most culturally vibrant locales.

It was a breath of fresh air in contrast to the routine places that they committed her to. Lehr getting set up what few days beforehand she could to capture the character of the locality. Spending her days among the populous, wandering between the metropolis’s districts and the outer regions of the jungle, using the public transport systems as frequently as possible. Lehr preferred to observe everything, take it all in, read the uniformity and ambience. She found it was an important factor to blending in, something she could only do to a certain degree thanks to her absence of education of Portuguese and her being white. It at least made it smoother to go to ground if a catastrophe ensued. She could always play the role of the dotting tourist.

Charlotte found the heat to be lethal. She had toiled in an analogous environment during jungle training in Belize with the British, but it was cooler there. Thanks to the situation being so close to the equator, the highs reached additional levels. She kept herself light, wearing an array of mute coloured garments, a simple V-neck, jeans, comfortable Nike sneakers and a simple canvas bag with the essentials, but even then, she found it undesirable. The Munich local struggling with it as she proceeded towards the safe house on foot.

Checkpoints were everywhere. Local government forces, a mixture of police and military, were monitoring for MUP movement. The armed force riding around in Toyota Hilux’s marked with military insignias, the men around them looking mean with their mixture of FALs and MD97s. Corruption was a distinct worry for Lehr, chiefly with the police units. She had heard the horror stories, and recognized it was near systemic thanks to the poor wages and a wealth of crime. That meant she could not altogether trust them, requiring the use of caution. Lehr simply continued past them, looking confident, paying them no mind for now. The troops only expressing her a fleeting glimpse as she went her way.

The safe house was tucked away within the winding alleyways of the city. Lehr stopping shortly away from it as she observed, the rundown house looking like hadn’t experienced a person in years and sincerely needed some TLC. A suitable spot so long as the people didn’t see them coming in and out. Lehr sauntered up, drawing a mental note of the entrance and exits, and where the alleyways led before entering the building itself. A damp smell invaded her nostrils as she pitched the door wide. The abandoned nature definitely not being a front despite the clear renovations to the interior, gun cages, military hardware everywhere, with some additional and much less important necessities being sporadically positioned.

Much of the team already lingering around, talking amongst themselves, one of them, even smoking a cigar. She knew them all in some way or another, direct or indirect, as likely was the case for them. Lehr continued past, ignoring them from the time being as she walked over to the armoury cage, looking past to inquire if her gear had arrived unmolested. Her eyes peering through the lockup as she scanned over the impressive line-up. Sure enough, her equipment lay perched on their rack, waiting to be used. Lehr only blinked, turning to find a seat, seeing a crusty couch. Sitting down and getting as comfortable as one could, she lifted her bag off her back, unzipping it to extract a bottle of orange liquid. Disregarding the bag to the side as she took a lengthy sip from the plastic container. She peered around at everybody more distinctly. It seemed like not everyone was here yet. Lehr had time to kill. Leaning back, Charlotte extended her arms along the back, looking skyward, eyes embedding in the roof.

Is that a hole?

Her ears perked up to a dig at the living accommodations. Jokes being thrown back and forth between the bantering soldiers. Charlotte titled her head, staring over at the pair.

“This is marginally better than when I was living rough in Munich.” Lehr scoffed, turning back to starting at the roof. Scanning the flat roof and isolating the holes that harboured within. “That place didn’t have the couch.”

[Anowa]

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_{Staff Sergeant Nevaeh "Nev" O'Davoren
Explosives Tech/Demolitions
TF Aegis Safehouse, Manaus
Amazonas, Brazil}

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_{1025 Hours}

---

It reminded her of Brunei in selection, or Kuwait in the summer. The awful muggy heat that was so far diconected from her homeland. It was a heat that didn't even allow you to sweat properly from the humidity. The moment you stepped anywhere that wasn't climate controlled you were soaked through. For the most part it smelled like a godawful mix of London and the jungle, reeking of bodily expulsions and washed up flora and fauna from the river. It stank of death, which was probably appropriate given the area's crime rates, the fact there was an active insurgency, and the fact she'd had to skirt over two dozen checkpoints so far.

Nev had elected to walk, play the role of a ditzy tourist, disposable camera hung around her neck, boonie hat on her head, and map tucked in to a pocket. Her backpack was filled with less touristy things, the actual camera she'd been using to mark down various checkpoints and then mark them again on her map for future reference. Having the safehouse in the city unfortunately always meant having to navigate it. Said map was honestly the most important thing on her, and on a further note, the most incriminating thing. Had that map not been on her she wouldn't be skirting checkpoints left and right. Another part of it was getting an understanding of what routes Grizzly could take to get around the city if he was moving, which if he was smart, he would be.

Skirting checkpoints meant going through shady alleys, and she didn't have anything more than her hands to stop any goon with a knife, bat, baton or gun, such was the nature of being as clandestine as she was now.

The last few alleys were quiet, desolate, and notably trash filled. It sent alarms off, because if not even any sort of good Samaritan came here, it meant.

Yup, there it was.

At the end of the alley, two men stood staring her down, which meant- The sound of footprints behind her, a single set, she craned her neck and saw a knife.

"Não olhe para mim, vagabunda!" The man very obviously brandished the knife, and Nev's eyes went back to the front. Now one man was watching the alley entrance as they both approached, also carrying a knife.

How things went from there depended on what they were gonna loot her for. "Carteira, agora!"

"I don't speak Portuguese."

"Wallet, Gringo!"

Nev pulled the wallet out of her pocket and barely managed to get it clear before it was roughly yanked. As it was opened, the only thing being cash in it brought a look of joy from the man who took it.

They started conversing in Portuguese. And not too long after, the money was yanked from the wallet, and said wallet was tossed in to her face unceremoniously. Picking said wallet up, Nev sighed. That went about as well as it could have all things considered. It seemed both here and back home a good majority of thieves only wanted cash or watches. And she only had one of those two things. Well, two, the other wallet she had in her backpack had a good portion of cash in it as well. If one lived in metropolitan England for any period of time you picked up on using an extra wallet. Not that a single person fucked with you if you were wearing a sand beret.

A few dozen meters and Nev hopped the fence into the backyard of a dilapidated house. The grass was dead, the flowers were dead, and the wood boarding on the windows was also probably dead or dying. The first indication any burglars or squatters would have that something was wrong was that the rear door was well oiled. Almost as if the wear and tear on it was fake. Stepping in to the building it seemed she caught the tail end of the conversation. She stood in what looked to be a mix between kitchen and dining room, in front of her was a hall leading to the bathroom on the left and the foyer and living room straight ahead. It seemed she found herself at the tail end of the conversation. Namely one about the living conditions.

Nev couldn't add much to the conversation, but staying silent as she walked in (besides the floorboards) would've been rude, "Locals could be nicer. Only other city I've been mugged in was Preoria." she unceremoniously dumped her notably civvie backpack on a cot and rooted through it for the camera and folded map.

"Hoffman." she called the man's name before underhand tossing the camera and map across the room. "Spent the better part of the last three days playing the role of the dumb white tourist marking out checkpoints and taking pictures. Still no clue where Grizzly is but I know what routes he can probably take around the city to avoid most of the checkpoints. I've put a P besides the ones I know don't change, the ones that did change I've marked with a C, and the ones I'm unsure about I've just put a star next to them. If they're anything like us, they'll likely put checkpoints back in those locations eventually."

With that, Nev dug out her Benelli and went through the motions of cleaning it.

[Dayganistan]

Sgt. Ryan Harris
Manaus, Brazil

Despite having spent the vast majority of his military career in hot environments, the heat of the Amazon was almost too much for Ryan. Syria, Afghanistan, Libya, there were all dry heat. His home base with JTF2 in the Dwyer Hill suburb of Ottawa was humid during the summer on account of the nearby Great Lakes, Ottawa River, and St. Lawrence River, but nothing like this. The humidity in Brazil approached the point where you could no longer effectively cool yourself through sweat evaporation. The ancient Toyota Corolla taxi he was riding with its lack of air conditioning certainly didn't help. He had nearly emptied the large bottle of water he bought before leaving the airport. His fiancee had been spending the past year trying to convince him to plan a trip to India to visit her family there but if the weather would be anything like what he was currently experiencing in Brazil, he wasn't sure if that would be a great idea. Before long, the taxi approached an area near the safe house which he recognized from provided reconnaissance photos. It looked like a particularly rough part of town. But how much rougher could a Brazilian favela truly be than Raqqa or Tripoli?

"Stop here," he said to the taxi driver. He got a response of "You sure, gringo?"

"I'm working for a charity, they sent me here to teach English to kids." he handed the driver 20 American dollars and got out of the taxi, bringing his civilian looking backpack with him. The trip cost significantly less, but he figured the driver was probably living in a similar favela struggling to make ends meet. The charity cover story was what he had committed to when entering Brazil and was the one he was going to continue to commit to for the duration of the op. He started to walk through the favela, the buildings getting more and more run down the further he got from the main street until he reached the safe house. Another run down building, unassuming with all the others around it. He walked in and several of the other operatives assigned to this mission had already arrived. He had yet to meet any of them, and hadn't had time to even read any of their files. They were allies, they were elite special operators from around NATO like himself, but they were all unknowns to him. Once inside, he noticed the hole in the roof. This was the same NATO that could commandeer one of Gadaffi's palaces as the headquarters of a special ops task force in NATO, but in Brazil they put their operators in this dump. The perks of illegal black operations.

"Well shit buds, welcome to Brazil I guess," he said to nobody in particular, his voice carrying a clearly Canadian accent that might be more at place with an ice hockey player giving a post game interview.

[Margaux]

GSgt. Fenrir "Czar" Romanov
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Brazil


He holds his small map in front of him. Looking at the various sites in the city. The city was alright, he supposed. The heat was a bit much, but nothing he couldn't handle, if they needed to sit outside for bit of time. The streets and sidewalks were crowded. Civilians and tourists mulling about. They seem to automatically give him a wide berth. No matter how much he wanted to blend in. He couldn't. His size and build gave too many red flags.

He was dressed in a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His eyes were mostly covered by a Miami Dolphin's baseball cap. His 'civilian' pack is latched around his chest. He tried to dodge the checkpoints that were scattered around the city. Soldiers and police always watching the people. The Toyota Hilux's of the military were present. The insignia's give them away. As well as their heavily armed individuals.

Czar kept a steady pace, always letting his eyes roam the scenery. Marking everything down mentally, to write in his notes for later. He didn't care to hide, just letting his confidence and normal quiet nature take him through the masses. He knew the soldiers were watching him. But, they didn't seem to stop him. Every now and then he would slip into an alley way, just to lose any of the eyes or if anyone was following him.

A few more blocks, and he begins to see more familiar places as he walks. Places he saw in the pictures given for where he had to go. Czar slipped into another alley way. Hoping the safe house had a backdoor. He saw an old fence and pulled himself up and over. He landed with a loud thud. The safe house looks like his parents home, back in the states. The house did in fact have a back door. He yanked open the door and entered. He flicks his gaze back and forth. Taking in everything he had too.

It seems the door led him into the Kitchen/Dining room area. He could hear a conversation in the next room. He dropped his pack on the counter and enters the room where the voices are coming from. He stops in the door frame and looks around. Looking at the different soldiers in the room. He doesn't say anything, but instead just nods. He finds any empty wall and leans against it. His weight making the wall and floor creak. He stays there and just listens.

[Herador]

Sgt Harry Quinn
Quinn residence
Navarre FL

The apartment was nearly silent, but that was usual before Harry left on deployment, he looked up from the dinner he was cooking to try and gauge what Nina was feeling. She had never outright complained about his work, at least not directly to him, but that didn't stop him from worrying about her worrying. Chuckling at the thought, he turned back to the Kofta he hoped would cheer her up.

"So, I guess I'm leaving at the crack of dawn." The words were out before he could stop them and he winced. Why did he say something? There was a ritual here and he just stepped out on it.

"Oh?" She said, noncommittally. She didn't look up from her computer sitting on its desk tucked into a corner of the apartment's living room.

"Yeah, need to get to PNS." From there it was a short hop to Miami and then to Manaus. Glancing at the bag he had prepared he was reminded of his passport. 100% legitimate and government-issued, when he arrived to check in he would be Eduardo Mendoza, a Mexican immigrant and Spanish teacher in Miami. "If you're up for it, you could drive me down."

"This is for work?" She asked without looking up. Nina always talked about what he did like that, it was never a "deployment" it was a "business trip" or "work".

"Yeah." She knew, this wasn't a new conversation.

"I might be able to." She still hadn't looked up.

"Well, Kofta's finally done, I have your plate ready. Take a rest from trying to save the world and come have some food." It was a joke, but she had tensed up when he said it. Damn.

The meal passed quietly in the summer heat, the only sound was the gentle purr of the fans the pair had set up everywhere. Harry didn't try to engage Nina, she needed to be ready to talk before they got anywhere. Settling in for a long meal, Harry looked out the window, they weren't close to the beach but they still had a good view and the smell of the salt rolled in through an open window. He had looked Manaus up a week ago, it was going to be hot, hotter than Florida and somehow more humid, and without even the ocean, Harry couldn't see the upside to it.

"What are you going to be eating tomorrow?" Nina asked suddenly.

Harry was caught off guard by the question, she had never been interested in something like that before. "A ration, probably." He finally managed to stumble out.

"No." She said firmly. "What are you eating tomorrow?"

It took him a minute, but then Harry caught on. Nina was always sharp like that. "Oh." He stammered. "South American food, probably."

Accepting that was probably the best she was going to get, Nina took his hand from across the table and squeezed it. "You make really good Kofta. We should have it again when you come home."

Harry smiled. "Of course."

---

Sgt Harry Quinn
MANAUS
Province of Amazonas, Brazil

"Fuck." Harry swore quietly. He was splayed out on a bench waiting for a cab to take him to a cafe nearby the safehouse address. His flight had been considered early after the pilot had shaved nearly forty minutes off over the Caribbean. Peering around, he was surprised, for a city with an insurgency problem, things seemed normal. Fewer tourists, though sharing a country with Rio will do that, but still, there were families walking around like everything was normal. Harry tugged at his long sleeves, starting to regret his tattoos for the first time in a long time. "Screw this," he grumbled, standing and picking up his bags, he strode towards a vending machine, buying himself a coke and relishing the cold and the terminals shade. "Why can't I ever go somewhere cold."

Before he had more time to grumble, a cab pulled up that matched the number the dispatcher had given him. Climbing in, he switched to Spanish. "Good afternoon, do you speak Spanish?"

"A bit" the cabbie growled back. It was stiflingly hot inside the old sedan and Harry gathered that he wasn't in the mood for a conversation.

Content to let the driver do his job, Harry settled back into his seat. "Ready whenever you are, friend."

The drive through Manaus was slow going, the rush hour traffic seemed to have kicked off early, and the heat in the cab made it even worse.

"Just you?" His cabbie growled back to him.

"Yes."

"You didn't want to go to Rio de Janeiro?"

Harry had to remind himself it was an honest question, Brazil had invited them in, but he still chose his words carefully. "Too crowded for me, too many Americans."

The driver laughed for the first time. "Too true. How long will you be staying?"

What was this guy, Border Control? "Maybe a week. I have some time off and I wanted to get away."

"You're a teacher?"

"Spanish teacher, yeah."

"Where at?"

It was nothing, Harry had to tell himself, just a cabbie making conversation. "Miami, but I originally taught in Mexico."

"And you don't like Americans?" The cabbie was laughing again.

Harry shrugged. "I like their money."

The rest of the ride passed quietly and they pulled up just as the sun was blazing over their heads. Paying the cabbie his Real, Harry hopped out and took a long route to the safehouse, making sure to double back once or twice. Was he being paranoid? Thinking about it, Harry realized anyone actually in this line of spec-ops work must think he was being ridiculous, but this was new to him and he wasn't going to be the idiot who burned a safe house. Unless, of course, by being so cautious he was being obvious? Pausing for a moment, Harry shook off the notion and kept going until he stood in front of the door. There wasn't a code, right? A special knock? That seemed silly. Taking a step in and quickly closing the door behind him, Harry took survey of the scene. A pair of who he assumed were locals were smoking and eight other operators were scattered around. Following the locals lead, he took out his own cigarette and lit it, savoring the nicotene for the first time in hours. "Howdy, all." He nodded to them generally before finding his kit bag and looking for a place to sit. Picking a spot near one of the Aegis operators, he rolled up his sleeves and undid several of his shirt buttons before leaning back. Looking at the operator next to him, he noticed her wrist tattoos. "Howdy." he nodded to her as he dragged over a cup to use as an ashtray and started to unpack his gear.

[Ontorisa]

---

Alex "Hoff" Hoffman

1025 Hours
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Amazonas Province, Brazil
Task Force Aegis

---

"Right, we're still getting set up yeah?" Hoffman spoke quickly, as he nodded to Bridges. "Good to see you Bear. How was your flight?"

As more operators began to file into the safehouse, Hoffman took into account each one he saw. There were a few members of Task Force Aegis already here as Hoffman had spoke to Bridges. The moderately-sized living room had started to feel cramped already with the number of people inside, but according to his reports, they were still expecting a few more members. Hoffman would delegate the briefing between Alves, Marco, and himself. This was a joint operation, so they had to coordinate their forces for tonight's operation.

"Gents," Hoffman moved to step out of the room and into what remained of the kitchen, gesturing for Alves and Marco to follow. "What's our support looking like for tonight? I need to know for when I brief my people."

"A-firm, I got a manifest right here." Marco grunted before reaching into his breast pocket of his white and light blue checkered flannel. "We're looking at an operations combat group for each of your teams, about six-pax."

"I'm concerned that we'd be dealing with local forces as well." Hoffman nodded, briefly noting the change in demeanour of Alves. "What's up?"

"We're not corrupt like some of the bad apples in the barrel, is how you Americans say it right?" Alves scoffed, a hint of anger in his voice. "I know good soldiers and good police officers, they're not all bad."

"I'm not saying they are, I'm saying that we can't trust every single one we come across." Hoffman explained before motioning back to the room. "My operatives are getting here, let's go."

As the three men re-entered the living room, Hoffman clapped his hands together and slightly raised his voice.

"Alright, get 'er in here." He called out to the group.

[Ubaria]

2200 Hours - Local Time (AMT)
Van-Lingen, Gideon
Manaus, Amazonas Province, Brazil

10pm. Despite the late hour the streets of Manaus were still very much animated, an ordinary night for most cities and indeed this one was no exception. A cacophony of horns and honks blasted above the general humdrum of stall-traders, late night workers and general pedestrians who swarmed the beaten streets. Through this commotion a figure weaved and wound his away against a contraflow of people. To the general passer-by this man wasn't too much out of the ordinary, dressed in mostly olive with a beaten old tourist rucksack it was apparent he was just another foreign backpacker looking for a place to put himself up for the night. Of course, this man was no average backpacker and was here for a much more covert purpose, thus he had assumed the role of the wayward foreign wanderer.

Gideon had began his journey several days prior from his home in Port Elizabeth, boarding a standard charted flight to Rotterdam where he stayed several days in a local holiday inn before boarding another flight to Manaus via Austin. Several dozen hours and a few hundred kilometers later he touched down early evening and from the airport had taken a public taxi to a local bar several blocks from the organized rendezvous. Of course, he stopped in the bar for a while to sample the local flavour before continuing on foot into the night.

With the sun all set, only the tangible humidity of the tropical amazonian air transmitted a vehement heat so sticky you could almost bottle it. Gideon had been in considerably worse places in his time and though sweat was beginning to perforate his outer layers, he was somewhat used to the climate. After a few minutes of jostling through the city hustle and bustle, Gideon reached the address of the supposed rendezvous, a nondescript residential building, one of many on the street. A small alley located on the side offered ulterior access into the building and as nonchalantly as possible, he slunk into the alley and over towards a steel barred door. He rapped a beat on the door and awaited an answer. None came. With an air of caution he pushed the creaking door open and stepped inside, squinting some as his eyes adjusted to the dim light offered by the single glass bulb.

Through a small hall he could hear voices emanated from a nearby room. He approached and lingered in the doorway.

"Evenin' Gents ... Mevrou" He nodded to the assortment of men who had gathered in the room and then secondly to the woman who was perched on a couch to one side.

[South Americanastan]

Sgt. Jack Masterson
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus
Amazonas, Brazil

As Hoffman talks with the Brazilians, Jack attempts to make a makeshift pad on the back of his rifle to reduce the effect of recoil on his shoulder using pieces of cloth.

It is not going well.

He can get the cloth padding on the back of the stock, for the most part, but he can't get it to stay on. He keeps going, despite the fact that the buttstock is already on the rifle, as he is not satisfied with the buttstock alone. He fiddles with the back of the rifle, attempting to get the padding to stay on the rifle. Soon enough, he manages to get the cloth on the back of the rifle using duct tape. He mounts the rifle on a nearby windowsill to put on the final piece of duct tape, and...

"Alright, get 'er in here"

Jack almost instinctively jumps to parade rest due to the presence of a commanding officer. He drops the gun in his panic. The rifle begins falling off the windowsill. It knocks the cigarette out of his mouth on the way down, and falls muzzle-first on his foot.

Thud!

Shit.

He kicks the rifle towards the wall, and grabs his foot in pain.

Fuck, why did I do that!

He lights another cigarette, and goes back to parade rest in an attempt to save face.

[Hastur]

---

_{Feldwebel Charlotte Lehr
Reconnaissance
TF Aegis Safehouse, Manaus
Amazonas, Brazil}

---

_{1025 Hours}

---

The abandoned building becoming more and more crowded. The first being a notably tall British woman, Nev, who looked like a stereotypical tourist if they plucked her from the early 2000s. Boonie hat, map hanging out of the pocket and what looked like a disposable camera. Charlotte's eyebrow climbed as she stared on, an amused look breaking through her flat expression as the operator making a comment about the local populous and their temperament.

“Yeah, no surprise. You look like a walking cash register. You know most people just use their mobiles now, right?” Charlotte teased, south German accent audible as she passed an observation of the odd touch involving the camera, technology that had become obsolete with camera phones. To Charlotte, anyone using one of those cameras meant they were poor, old or technologically stunted. The latter two were not correct to the red-haired woman masquerading as a tourist, which left the former. For the local thugs looking for easy spoils, it almost surely meant that she would be carrying cash. “Last time I saw one of those was in twenty ten. Really digging early noughties retro tourist look though.” She maintained a blunt, playful grin before her smile fell straight as more men began showing up.

First a Canadian, Harris, with an extremely Canadian accent, most likely from JTF-2, whom she had trained with briefly once before. “Yeah, wonderful place. Barring the active insurgency and all. Real gemütlich.” She added, tone flat as the South African entered, who greeted her with a term Charlotte had never heard before, to which she simply greeted back with a tilt of her head. Last in came two Americans. One that looked rather burly, Romanov, while the other did not, the latter choosing to take a seat on the couch with her. The Smoking man, Quinn, offering an uniquely American greeting as he puffed away at his cigarette, using an old mug as an ashtray that he had requisitioned from god knows where in the house.

“Guten Tag.” Charlotte responded in kind, flicking a one-finger salute from her temple as she continued to focus on the roof. Before long the team lead, Hoffman, emerged from the back. "Alright, get 'er in here."

“Best get to it.“ Charlotte added to the cigarette smoking man, getting up from her seat, eyes catching sight of one of the Americans dropping their rifle onto his own foot, before kicking over to the side. Why he didn’t just secure it bewildered charlotte, the gun now being left idle on the floor. She veered from her course, picking up the weapon with one hand, escorting it to the weapon cage where she promptly locked it up. She returned a passing, annoyed glance toward Masterson on the way back as she entered the room where the briefing was planned to go ahead.

[Ontorisa]

---

Alex "Hoff" Hoffman

1030 Hours
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Amazonas Province, Brazil
Task Force Aegis

---

Hoffman watched the events with Masterton unfold, and sighed. How the fuck did this guy get selected to Aegis was completely past him, however, they needed everyone to be on board and ready to go for tonight.

"Right, let's get to it." Hoffman began, pulling out a small notebook from his chest rig, opening it and reviewing his notes. "BRAZCOM has reported that two compounds outside of two major cities have been under investigation and monitoring for quite some time now for suspected weapons running. Initially they believed they were for local drug cartels and didn't act on it, but now they believe these weapons are black market arms finding their way to the Blackbear Movement, or ..."

He trailed off as his eyes narrowed at the hastily written Portuguese name of the Blackbear Movement before shrugging and continuing.

"Or MUP for short. Fuck it, I'm not reading that unless if one of you guys wanna hop in?" Hoffman turned to Marco and Alves, who both shook their heads no. "Fair enough. Anyways, we got two people of interest, or POIs: codenames Grizzly and Domino. Grizzly resides out here near Manaus in a heavily fortified compound, while Domino is outside of Brasilia. Both of these men are extremely important for the MUP, and are reportedly well protected. As a result, Brazilian special forces will be joining us on these operations as we coordinate to simultaneously hit these guys at the same time.

"We'll be divided up into two teams, callsign Vulture. Vulture 1 will be led by myself, and Vulture 2 will be led by Bridges over there. Say hi Bridges, don't be fucking shy buddy." Hoffman motioned to Bridges as he shot a grin to the former DELTA operative. "Anyways, we'll be supported by elements of the Brazilian special forces in form of an overwatch sniper team and a combat operations group of six operatives; callsign Prosper. Alves and Marco are here to help us to translate, but as far as I know, since these guys are part of SCACA, they're pretty much semi-bilingual. Any questions?"

---

OPERATION AMAZON ACT 1
OBJECTIVE: Capture & Interrogate Person of Interests "GRIZZLY" & "DOMINO".
TEAMS:

VULTURE 1 - "MANAUS"

• Hoffman
  
• O'Davoren
• Harris
• Quinn
• Katelynas
VULTURE 2 - "BRASILIA"

• Bridges
• Masterton
• Lehr
• Van-Lingen
• Monsen
• Romanov

OPPOSITION:

• The Blackbear Movement (MUP)

[Herador]

---

_{Sergeant Harry Quinn
Medic
TF Aegis Safehouse, Manaus
Amazonas, Brazil}

---

---

The last minute had been a lot. The woman he had sat next to, German probably, had said hello. Or the german version of hello. Before Harry could say anything back their CO, probably, came in and gathered them around. Then came a dull thud, a gasp of pain, the clatter of metal against a floor. Harry looked up from his unpacking, wincing as he looked over at the unfortunate operator.

Nerves. Harry decided. It's just nerves.

Bossman called out for them to gather around, he remembered. Taking another pull off the cigarette hanging from his mouth, Harry finished delicately unroll another small bottle. He rolled the vial of Ketorolac in his palm before placing it in the little foam insert he made for it in the foam-lined box that was specifically made to hold all his vials that went into the pharmaceutical bag where most of his pills and liquids were stored that went into his pack. Looking back up at everyone getting up, Harry set down the box and got up with a grumble, he didn't like being interrupted when he was going through his things. An airline pilot once told him that if their pre-flight checklist gets interrupted they had to start all over again, and ever since he had done the same with his medical kit, going over every item that should be inside and referencing it against the list he kept tucked inside.

“Best get to it.“ The German woman said, standing up. He watched as she relieved the man of his rifle. Not a great start.

Getting to his feet, Harry made his way over to their CO and found a comfortable wall to lean against, cigarette in one hand and mug in the other. The job was straightforward: make a hole, maybe fight a few goons, snatch the baddie, be home in time for dinner. Still, when the time for questions arrived, Harry's hand came up.

"A few sir, if you don't mind." Pausing, no one seemed to object, so he continued. "How is Vulture 1 going to arrive and leave the AO? What can we expect regarding civilians in the area? Civilians in the compound? And, uh, just how "fortified" is fortified?"

[Bolslania]

SSgt Ragnar Monsen
Task Force Aegis safehouse
Manaus, Brazil

---

Ragnar straightened up from the wall he had been leaning on as Hoffman called them to be briefed. He quietly sighed as Masterson dropped his rifle, and German woman -- Charlotte? -- relieved him of his rifle and locked it back up. Hoffman gave a moment's pause as that unfolded before resuming his briefing. It looked like they'd be working with local special forces. Nothing new for the operator who'd spent his entire military career working with other nations forces.

It appeared as if he'd be working with the big Native American man who, at least at the moment, looked as if he had his shit locked down. Lehr seemed to be competent, he hadn't gotten a read on the Russian or the South African yet.

But then they had gotten stuck with the rifle-dropping Masterson. Hopefully he got his shit together before they went in. Hoffman called for questions, and the Medic, Harry he thought, asked several questions about the specifics of the Op.

Ragnar let the medic finish speaking before he himself asked a question. Speaking for the first time to the other operators, he asked

"Any idea as to the layout of Domino's compound?" It was a fairly standard question, hopefully Hoffman had an answer.

[Ubaria]

2230 Hours - Local Time (AMT)
Van-Lingen, Gideon
Manaus, Amazonas Province, Brazil
Safehouse

Gideon scribbled down a variety of notes as Hoffmann defined the plan. The operation - in a nutshell - was a snatch and grab on two particular individuals of interest to both Aegis and the Blackbear Movement, though the major hitch was that their men were located in two completely different provinces and hitting them at separate times just wouldn't do, if one caught wind of the other going down, they'd surely go to ground. 'Grizzly' was relatively close to home whilst 'Domino' would require an extensive excursion to reach.

Information was relatively light for Gideon's liking, of course they had their High-Value-Targets, their locations and their support, but no word on the strength of the enemy, what kind of weapons they'd possess nor the layout or security features the compound possessed. They'd be going in relatively blind.

"When you say ... well protected" Gideon emphasized with air quotes. "What are we talking. Emplacements? Razorwire? Spotlights? And how many goons are we talking. Whilst i fancy our chances against local chop triggermen, we've seen what these guys can do."

[Margaux]

GSgt, Fenrir "Czar" Romanov
Auto Rifleman/Heavy Weapons Expert
Manaus, Amazonas Province, Brazil
Safehouse

He pushes off the wall, and enters the room with the others. After watching one of the other operators drop his weapon. He wondered what kind of soldiers are now in this mysterious organization. As far as he could tell, there were operators from different armies and special forces from around the world. And it seemed some of them have worked together here and there.

Fenrir finds an open wall and leans against it. He opens a small notebook and begins writing. Recording the important notes he will use for later. His team, Vulture 2, will be going after Domino. The one who resides outside the Capital, Brasilia. After Hoffman finished describing their mission. A million questions flooded into his mind. After hearing a few of the others ask questions, he decided to remain quiet.

He moves to a corner, keeping tabs on the conversation. He tips up his baseball cap, and pulls out his map. Czar looks over Brasilia, and looks along the outside of the Capital city. Looking for possible spots where the leader could be hiding. Hoffman will probably tell them eventually, but he wanted to keep himself preoccupied.

[Madrinpoor]

TASK FORCE AEGIS SAFEHOUSE
MANAUS
Province of Amazonas, Brazil

"Damn these mangoes!" Leopold yelled, disrupting the still-lively nighttime market scene as everyone fell silent to stare at him—a rarity in the busy fruit markets of Manaus, even when it was this late. Leopold had crashed his motorcycle into a large stack of mango crates, spilling them everywhere and throwing himself from his bike. Even though Leopold had never ridden a motorcycle before, he thought it to be the best way to get through the crowded traffic in Manaus. And he had to get through the crowded traffic quickly, because he was already late for a very important meeting.

Leopold pulled up at the safehouse where his meeting would be held with a screech. It was an actual house, which for some reason he wasn't expecting (more like a bunker or something) and was in a dingy back alleyway with a smell that made Leopold's nose wrinkle. But what else was there? Manaus wasn't the luxury real estate capital of the world. It wasn't Miami Beach, though people still wore the same amount of clothes. Leopold knocked on the door.

"Leopold Vandermoose, NATO and French Foreign Legion and apparently I am supposed to be meeting someone here who has the name of Alex Hoffman. Is there an Alex Hoffman here? Was I supposed to yell that out loud, because it seems like it would be a secret. Is this the right place? Am I just yelling at a door? Is somebody there? Hello?"

It started drizzling lightly on Leopold's head. This was going to be a fun mission.

[Bolslania]

SSgt. Ragnar Monsen
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Brazil


Ragnar alerted at the sound of someone banging on the door. They shouted in their name and affiliation. It was their ex-Legionnaire Vandermoose. Ragnar broke away from the ongoing conversation and opened the door, hauling the shouting man in and slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Quiet! Unless you want everyone in Brazil to hear you?" Ragnar said closing the door. Jesus Christ, this is going to be a disaster. he thought to himself as he returned to the huddle around Hoffman.

The perceptive operators in the group could see the irritation radiating off of Ragnar, however those not paying attention would not pick up on it.

[South Americanastan]

Sgt. Jack Masterson
Scout/Rifleman/HAZMAT
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil

Jack waited for the other operators to finish their questions. He had a few of his own, but it would be rude to interrupt.

"Just how 'fortified' is fortified?"

"Layout of Domino's compound?"

"We've seen what these guys can do."

Once Ragnar finished his question, Jack decided to speak up.

"Do we have any intel on the amount of men in Domi-"

He was interrupted by Ragnar dragging a man, who looked to be in his 40s, through the door, with his hand pressed over the man's mouth. He could quickly tell by his voice and apparent age that it was Leopold Vandermoose, the oldest man on the team (Other than the Russo-German, of course, but his accent quickly gave away that he wasn't from either of those countries).

"Quiet! Unless you want all of Brazil to hear you?"

"For fuck's sake, Ragnar, he's FFL, not Delta. Cut him some slack, and be a little less rough, he's 48, after all. Anyway, as I was saying, do we have any intel on the amount of men in Domino's compound, or at least their defensive capabilities?"

[Anowa]

---

_{Staff Sergeant Nevaeh "Nev" O'Davoren
Explosives Tech/Demolitions
TF Aegis Safehouse, Manaus
Amazonas, Brazil}

---

_{1030 Hours}

---

Cleaning her Benelli took less than 30 seconds. The nature of the weapon's operation meant it never really got dirty to begin with outside of the barrel and breech face, and smoothbore didn't need a whole lot of vigor to clean. The extent of actually 'cleaning' it was shoving the end of a can of WD-40 into the action and holding the cap down for a solid 4 seconds before cycling the action a dozen times. There was a moment where Nev considered earnestly cleaning her C8 as she leaned her Benelli against the wall next to her cot but Hoffman gave the signal for the jolly collection of folks to gather around before she had a chance.

As everyone was meandering on over, Nev took notice of the American who just sort of left his rifle on the ground, and the Kraut who decided to take said same weapon and lock it back in it's cage. Which was a somewhat concerning level of polarity among the group. Sure, leaving your gun on the ground may not be great, kicking it under your bed, less so. yet being that adamant that all weapons go back in their cage was... distinctly German. Adherence to protocol was desired in most situation, yet there existed cases where you could snip a few corners. No one here was likely stupid enough to leave a weapon in a position or status that made it an inherent threat to themselves or others. Nev had enough faith in everyone else's military to make them not incompetent at the least.

The sound of Nev being immediately proven wrong came from the doorway, and nearly made the woman jump out of her skin in surprise.

"Leopold Vandermoose, NATO and French Foreign Legion and apparently I am supposed to be meeting someone here who has the name of Alex Hoffman. Is there an Alex Hoffman here? Was I supposed to yell that out loud, because it seems like it would be a secret. Is this the right place? Am I just yelling at a door? Is somebody there? Hello?"

She audibly sighed as the Frenchman was let in. She furrowed her brow a bit, not so much at the Frenchman, his toxin laced dressing down was likely imminent from everyone else, right now she was regretting spending two days finding a whole fuck load of paths through town when they knew where the fucker was already.

"For fuck's sake, Ragnar, he's FFL, not Delta. Cut him some slack, and be a little less rough, he's 48, after all. Anyway, as I was saying, do we have any intel on the amount of men in Domino's compound, or at least their defensive capabilities?"

Immediately proven wrong again, "Alright Butterfingers, he also just thoroughly raped our OPSEC by stating his name and affiliation. I don't give a fuck if he wants to tell the Chicom secret police his name and rank, but belting out our fucking affiliation and the full name of one of our comrades, in front of our goddamn safe house is ground for the fucking death penalty in some military courts. Have some fucking gravitas."

She turned her head towards the newly entered Frenchman, "And you, you stunning endorsement for abortion. You say anyone else's full name for the rest of our time in this country, and the last thing you'll see is a fucking ditch on the outskirts of Rio."

She turned back with a somewhat impassive look in her eye at Hoffman, waiting for him to either continue or to literally tear the new guy a new hole to breath out of.

[Madrinpoor]

Ragnar alerted at the sound of someone banging on the door. They shouted in their name and affiliation. It was their ex-Legionnaire Vandermoose. Ragnar broke away from the ongoing conversation and opened the door, hauling the shouting man in and slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Quiet! Unless you want everyone in Brazil to hear you?" Ragnar said closing the door. Jesus Christ, this is going to be a disaster. he thought to himself as he returned to the huddle around Hoffman.

The perceptive operators in the group could see the irritation radiating off of Ragnar, however those not paying attention would not pick up on it.

He was interrupted by Ragnar dragging a man, who looked to be in his 40s, through the door, with his hand pressed over the man's mouth. He could quickly tell by his voice and apparent age that it was Leopold Vandermoose, the oldest man on the team (Other than the Russo-German, of course, but his accent quickly gave away that he wasn't from either of those countries).

"Quiet! Unless you want all of Brazil to hear you?"

"For fuck's sake, Ragnar, he's FFL, not Delta. Cut him some slack, and be a little less rough, he's 48, after all. Anyway, as I was saying, do we have any intel on the amount of men in Domino's compound, or at least their defensive capabilities?"

Leopold pushed away Ragnar's smelly arm.

"Forty..I am not old! I am not that old! Forty-eight isn't old, it's mature! And I'm not some fragile old grandpa! You don't need to be 'a little less rough' with me! Although, yes, please do be less rough, that was quite rude of you."

She audibly sighed as the Frenchman was let in. She furrowed her brow a bit, not so much at the Frenchman, his toxin laced dressing down was likely imminent from everyone else, right now she was regretting spending two days finding a whole fuck load of paths through town when they knew where the fucker was already.

"For fuck's sake, Ragnar, he's FFL, not Delta. Cut him some slack, and be a little less rough, he's 48, after all. Anyway, as I was saying, do we have any intel on the amount of men in Domino's compound, or at least their defensive capabilities?"

Immediately proven wrong again, "Alright Butterfingers, he also just thoroughly raped our OPSEC by stating his name and affiliation. I don't give a fuck if he wants to tell the Chicom secret police his name and rank, but belting out our fucking affiliation and the full name of one of our comrades, in front of our goddamn safe house is ground for the fucking death penalty in some military courts. Have some fucking gravitas."

She turned her head towards the newly entered Frenchman, "And you, you stunning endorsement for abortion. You say anyone else's full name for the rest of our time in this country, and the last thing you'll see is a fucking ditch on the outskirts of Rio."

Leopold stood there, unsure of how to save face.

"Sorry, I...wait—no! You—you think I just yell out secret things? No, obviously I had a plan. Of course I had a plan. That was all planned. See, I know there are enemies in Manaus that would be trying to listen. But this is all a trick, see? If they think I'm giving away our position, then they'll think 'oh, yay, now we know where Leopold Vandermoose's position is...wait, why would he just yell it out like that? Ah, it must be a trick! So then we must search everywhere in the city besides where he said his position is, because that is the logical thing to do.' And they won't find us! Because what they have thought I already thought and because what I said will make them think that it is not what we are doing, they will think that they need to go elsewhere to find us, because they don't think I think what they think, which I do. See?"

[South Americanastan]

"Sorry, I...wait—no! You—you think I just yell out secret things? No, obviously I had a plan. Of course I had a plan. That was all planned. See, I know there are enemies in Manaus that would be trying to listen. But this is all a trick, see? If they think I'm giving away our position, then they'll think 'oh, yay, now we know where Leopold Vandermoose's position is...wait, why would he just yell it out like that? Ah, it must be a trick! So then we must search everywhere in the city besides where he said his position is, because that is the logical thing to do.' And they won't find us! Because what they have thought I already thought and because what I said will make them think that it is not what we are doing, they will think that they need to go elsewhere to find us, because they don't think I think what they think, which I do. See?"

Sgt. Jack Masterson
Scout/Rifleman/HAZMAT
Task Force Aegis Safehouse
Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil

Jack sighed, and took a drag of his cigarette.

Fuckin' 'ey, If he's going to do something like this can he at least save face in a somewhat believable way?

The tone of his voice becomes noticeably angrier, as if a switched had been flicked somewhere in his head.

"Look, Leopold. I'm trying to be less pissed off at you since it's your first day, but cut the crap. We both know that is not, has never been, and never will be how military tactics work. This is the first place anyone would look for us if they heard you, and the best case scenario is that a local gang tries to attack us for our guns. You know this place is crawling with members of the Black Bear Movement, right? Now admit you fucked up, and we'll get on with it. Speaking of which, what should we do now that opsec has been compromised?"