Peacekeepers IC (Operation: Clear Skies)

[Anowa]

OOC

The crash course Valeska had planned was simple as oe could get in these circumstances. It was simply how to put it on, and how to patch it under duress. No CS gas room, no waiting for a few hours. They didn't have time, the flight itself might take too much time anyway. Despite the admittance that they may already be too late, she had everyone shuffled to the craft they'd be airlifting in. And boy was it a big one this time.

A C-17 Globemaster III, at times like this it's speed would help, second only to the C-5 in terms of heavy lift planes. Technicians were loading in a Blackhawk, likely for Cyril to use for orbiting the building with the marksmen... or Door gunners.

Either way it'de make them a force to be reckoned with once it got everything reattached. Once the rotary craft was locked in, the people started filing in, the operators themselves, and the technicians who would be putting the craft back together. A few of the armory personnel brought a couple crates of 7.62 belts, so it seemed like someone would be using the door guns at least.

One thing Valeska couldn't get over as the ramp started closing, was how sweltering hot it would be when they got to Dubai. Despite the awiated heat, nothing burned brighter than that one spot in Valeska's mind that surveyed everything in a briefing. From the Sarin victims to the building blueprints themselves. Including the red and yellow patch of blur on one of the suspects shoulders.

The flag of either the Soviet Union or China, and China didn't use AK variants anymore.

Despite how unlikely it would be to find someone wearing a flag of the USSR on their shoulders, it was within the realm of possibility, during the collapse of said Union, a lot of equipment disappeared, and a lot of people went AWOL. If they weren't simple army regulars -which they likely weren't if they've made it this long past the USSR's expiry date- than Cyril was right, they didn't have the numbers. The Pole's gaze flicked over to that of the Blackhawk, 'Though we do have the firepower.'

[Krugeristan]

Akarah followed close behind the rest of the operators, but closest to the Afghan woman, as they hadn't had time to talk. Maybe I shouldn't try to talk to her. Allah might just have her get wounded or killed to test me again. Maybe I shouldn't try to talk to her because then my emotions will start up again.

His mind wouldn't be at ease until they acknowledged each other's existence. That, and the fact that he missed Najid, and still wanted to apologize to Catarina for failing to rescue her properly. Why is my mind still going back to that?

It bothered him that much. He didn't want to retreat into the recesses of his mind again. It was too dark. It was too full of horrible memories he didn't want to relive.

But it was too late. The black memories wrapped around him, and all he heard was Marimov throwing the grenade, the grenade exploding, followed by the gut-wrenching sounds of Valeska removing Catarina's damaged eye.

It bothered him that much. Akarah found a place where no one was standing, and threw up in front of the entire team.

[Kyraina]

Joseph, dressed in the USAF Airman Battle Systems-Ground Uniform, sat the bag that held his CBRN gear, along with the cases containing his M60 and Kriss Vector .45 SMG, and saw Akarah throw up and the O-9 stood up and walked over to the young man, while a USAF Senior Airman came and cleaned up the puke.

Joseph then reached down and pulled the young man to his feet. "Hey kid, you okay there? The ride a little rough for you or was it what happened last mission? Did you never see anything like that happen when you was fighting in Syria? Missions can go smoother or go all to hell. Any way kid what's on your mind?"

[Krugeristan]

Joseph, dressed in the USAF Airman Battle Systems-Ground Uniform, sat the bag that held his CBRN gear, along with the cases containing his M60 and Kriss Vector .45 SMG, and saw Akarah throw up and the O-9 stood up and walked over to the young man, while a USAF Senior Airman came and cleaned up the puke.

Joseph then reached down and pulled the young man to his feet. "Hey kid, you okay there? The ride a little rough for you or was it what happened last mission? Did you never see anything like that happen when you was fighting in Syria? Missions can go smoother or go all to hell. Any way kid what's on your mind?"

"Last mission . . . it was about the last mission . . ." Akarah said. "I never saw anything like that in Syria! I didn't see anything like it in Afghanistan either! Never once have I had to watch someone take someone's eye out and never once have I felt like a complete failure!" He covered his face. "I just . . . I replayed Odessa in my head. The same way I've been replaying Yemen for the last two years."

[Kyraina]

Joseph, dressed in the USAF Airman Battle Systems-Ground Uniform, sat the bag that held his CBRN gear, along with the cases containing his M60 and Kriss Vector .45 SMG, and saw Akarah throw up and the O-9 stood up and walked over to the young man, while a USAF Senior Airman came and cleaned up the puke.

Joseph then reached down and pulled the young man to his feet. "Hey kid, you okay there? The ride a little rough for you or was it what happened last mission? Did you never see anything like that happen when you was fighting in Syria? Missions can go smoother or go all to hell. Any way kid what's on your mind?"

"Last mission . . . it was about the last mission . . ." Akarah said. "I never saw anything like that in Syria! I didn't see anything like it in Afghanistan either! Never once have I had to watch someone take someone's eye out and never once have I felt like a complete failure!" He covered his face. "I just . . . I replayed Odessa in my head. The same way I've been replaying Yemen for the last two years."

"Kid, you should be so lucky. I have had several failures in my times. When we get back I'll tell you a few." Joseph said with a smile on his face and a far away look in his eyes. He then shook his head and looked back at Akarah

"While the mission wasn't a true success, it wasn't a failure. The girl is going to live, while our security/interrogation section is working on getting intelligence out of the members of that rouge group that we captured. Our job, well many times we won't have 100% success, mainly partial successes as far as objectives are concerned, and maybe some failures as well. I wish I could tell you things will get easier but they won't, it will seem like it, but it won't. The advantage will hardly ever be ours, but our job is to adapt and over come those advantages thaat are stacked against us. So tell me how a Yemani was/is fighting for Syria."

[Krugeristan]

"Last mission . . . it was about the last mission . . ." Akarah said. "I never saw anything like that in Syria! I didn't see anything like it in Afghanistan either! Never once have I had to watch someone take someone's eye out and never once have I felt like a complete failure!" He covered his face. "I just . . . I replayed Odessa in my head. The same way I've been replaying Yemen for the last two years."

"Kid, you should be so lucky. I have had several failures in my times. When we get back I'll tell you a few." Joseph said with a smile on his face and a far away look in his eyes. He then shook his head and looked back at Akarah

"While the mission wasn't a true success, it wasn't a failure. The girl is going to live, while our security/interrogation section is working on getting intelligence out of the members of that rouge group that we captured. Our job, well many times we won't have 100% success, mainly partial successes as far as objectives are concerned, and maybe some failures as well. I wish I could tell you things will get easier but they won't, it will seem like it, but it won't. The advantage will hardly ever be ours, but our job is to adapt and over come those advantages thaat are stacked against us. So tell me how a Yemani was/is fighting for Syria."

"I lost everything in Yemen. The president was overthrown, rebels were running all over the place. They shot or blew up everyone in the village. I was unconscious and bleeding . . . when I woke up, everything was gone. My father was going to go into Sana'a to see if one of his friends' daughters could marry me right before the rebellion happened. The riots kept him from going. Even though I didn't want to get married, I didn't want that to happen. With that . . . I left, and I made it a priority to get to Syria, because I had nothing left in Yemen and I didn't want to fight with the Saudis. Assad's forces seemed like the only way to go for me. The battalion I was put in was messy, all made up of people my age, most of them hadn't received a lot of training. Six weeks later, we were fighting ISIS and Free Syrian Army regiments in eastern Syria, and I felt like I belonged somewhere."

[Kyraina]

"Kid, you should be so lucky. I have had several failures in my times. When we get back I'll tell you a few." Joseph said with a smile on his face and a far away look in his eyes. He then shook his head and looked back at Akarah

"While the mission wasn't a true success, it wasn't a failure. The girl is going to live, while our security/interrogation section is working on getting intelligence out of the members of that rouge group that we captured. Our job, well many times we won't have 100% success, mainly partial successes as far as objectives are concerned, and maybe some failures as well. I wish I could tell you things will get easier but they won't, it will seem like it, but it won't. The advantage will hardly ever be ours, but our job is to adapt and over come those advantages thaat are stacked against us. So tell me how a Yemani was/is fighting for Syria."

"I lost everything in Yemen. The president was overthrown, rebels were running all over the place. They shot or blew up everyone in the village. I was unconscious and bleeding . . . when I woke up, everything was gone. My father was going to go into Sana'a to see if one of his friends' daughters could marry me right before the rebellion happened. The riots kept him from going. Even though I didn't want to get married, I didn't want that to happen. With that . . . I left, and I made it a priority to get to Syria, because I had nothing left in Yemen and I didn't want to fight with the Saudis. Assad's forces seemed like the only way to go for me. The battalion I was put in was messy, all made up of people my age, most of them hadn't received a lot of training. Six weeks later, we were fighting ISIS and Free Syrian Army regiments in eastern Syria, and I felt like I belonged somewhere."

"Kid, I am sorry for your loss, I lost my family when I was deployed to Afghanistan in 2007 to 2008, my parents, my kid, my fiancé, and her parents where killed in a car crash. It's our fault that ISIS is what it is, we pulled out of Iraq to Early, after we we overthrew a dictator we should have never overthrown, and then that chemical weapon that went off in Damascus, but no evidence that it Assad, or the FSA, so we didn't do anything, and then ISIS sprung up form that whole mess. Now ISIS is trying to push into Afghanistan, but it can't do that with the ground it's losing in Syria, and Iraq. As far as surviving this, well listen to everyone that is ranked above you. We all have done different jobs, all come from different back grounds, different Religions, so we all handle the same thing in different ways. We will all offer you advice, we will give it to weather you want it or not. Now if you listen to it, that's up to you. We are all here for you. We are all siblings in arms now. Being teammates means while we may not like each other, we do have to protect eachother, and to tell others when some thing is wrong. We all have to be on the same page. Also if those that are higher rank then you give you a harder, then follow it, unless it breaks the Laws of armed Conflict. Those above you are your lawful superiors, but don't be afraid to question a vague order, but dont question a order based off of personal bias."

[Krugeristan]

"I lost everything in Yemen. The president was overthrown, rebels were running all over the place. They shot or blew up everyone in the village. I was unconscious and bleeding . . . when I woke up, everything was gone. My father was going to go into Sana'a to see if one of his friends' daughters could marry me right before the rebellion happened. The riots kept him from going. Even though I didn't want to get married, I didn't want that to happen. With that . . . I left, and I made it a priority to get to Syria, because I had nothing left in Yemen and I didn't want to fight with the Saudis. Assad's forces seemed like the only way to go for me. The battalion I was put in was messy, all made up of people my age, most of them hadn't received a lot of training. Six weeks later, we were fighting ISIS and Free Syrian Army regiments in eastern Syria, and I felt like I belonged somewhere."

"Kid, I am sorry for your loss, I lost my family when I was deployed to Afghanistan in 2007 to 2008, my parents, my kid, my fiancé, and her parents where killed in a car crash. It's our fault that ISIS is what it is, we pulled out of Iraq to Early, after we we overthrew a dictator we should have never overthrown, and then that chemical weapon that went off in Damascus, but no evidence that it Assad, or the FSA, so we didn't do anything, and then ISIS sprung up form that whole mess. Now ISIS is trying to push into Afghanistan, but it can't do that with the ground it's losing in Syria, and Iraq. As far as surviving this, well listen to everyone that is ranked above you. We all have done different jobs, all come from different back grounds, different Religions, so we all handle the same thing in different ways. We will all offer you advice, we will give it to weather you want it or not. Now if you listen to it, that's up to you. We are all here for you. We are all siblings in arms now. Being teammates means while we may not like each other, we do have to protect eachother, and to tell others when some thing is wrong. We all have to be on the same page. Also if those that are higher rank then you give you a harder, then follow it, unless it breaks the Laws of armed Conflict. Those above you are your lawful superiors, but don't be afraid to question a vague order, but dont question a order based off of personal bias."

Akarah took a breath, feeling somewhat better, though one thing remained on his mind. "Sir . . . there is one thing I feel like I have to do, and that's to see Catarina when she wakes up in the hospital. I don't know why. I feel like I need to, largely because I feel guilty. Is that . . . wrong of me to feel, or think that, or just . . . wrong that I feel compelled to do that?"

[The Central Shadow Nation]

Lance Corporal Eric Voydelevich arrived at the aircraft, carrying two bags both in a olive green drab color scheme. The difference was in size, the bag containing CBRN gear noticeably larger than the other one. That second bag contained Voydelevich's MSBS Radon assault rifle. Upon arriving, the operator noticed an Arab man vomiting. Eric stared for several seconds before looking away and getting closer to the ramp, standing up the case of CBRN gear and waiting for his teammates to board the C-17 Globemaster III. A few thoughts entered his mind, having to do with Eric not getting a chance to meet some members. By now another operator had went over to the previously vomiting man and began to talk.

As more members entered the Globemaster and Eric found himself standing with pretty much those two conversing operators Eric lifted the bag of CBRN gear and entered the ramp of the large transport aircraft. Eric stored his gear away and walked back near the ramp. He gazed at the two men and a few operators who were also boarding, waiting. Eric had never been to Dubai but had always wondered what it would be like to live there. It, and some of the country of UAE had western culture written all over it yet ran on traditional religious laws. Very interesting. The architecture style was also different, including that of the Burj Al Arab. Eric started thinking back to the briefing. Intel had led the Peacekeepers to believe all civilians, except for the six targets supposed to be extracted, were killed. A bold move but kind of foreseeable to Eric. The hotel was large, and keeping track of who the civilians were and what they were doing in the 648 foot tall structure would cause problems to the terrorist operation. Eric winced at the possible mass murder that had probably already occurred before the Peacekeepers would even touch down in Dubai.

While he was thinking he realized he had been continuously looking at the two talking operators. He took a few steps back into the interior of the C-17, hoping that he hadn't disturbed one of them. The Lance Corporal took a deep breath. 56 floors. Nerve gas. 6 hostages currently alive. This was a whole lot of shit.

[Kyraina]

"Kid, I am sorry for your loss, I lost my family when I was deployed to Afghanistan in 2007 to 2008, my parents, my kid, my fiancé, and her parents where killed in a car crash. It's our fault that ISIS is what it is, we pulled out of Iraq to Early, after we we overthrew a dictator we should have never overthrown, and then that chemical weapon that went off in Damascus, but no evidence that it Assad, or the FSA, so we didn't do anything, and then ISIS sprung up form that whole mess. Now ISIS is trying to push into Afghanistan, but it can't do that with the ground it's losing in Syria, and Iraq. As far as surviving this, well listen to everyone that is ranked above you. We all have done different jobs, all come from different back grounds, different Religions, so we all handle the same thing in different ways. We will all offer you advice, we will give it to weather you want it or not. Now if you listen to it, that's up to you. We are all here for you. We are all siblings in arms now. Being teammates means while we may not like each other, we do have to protect eachother, and to tell others when some thing is wrong. We all have to be on the same page. Also if those that are higher rank then you give you a harder, then follow it, unless it breaks the Laws of armed Conflict. Those above you are your lawful superiors, but don't be afraid to question a vague order, but dont question a order based off of personal bias."

Akarah took a breath, feeling somewhat better, though one thing remained on his mind. "Sir . . . there is one thing I feel like I have to do, and that's to see Catarina when she wakes up in the hospital. I don't know why. I feel like I need to, largely because I feel guilty. Is that . . . wrong of me to feel, or think that, or just . . . wrong that I feel compelled to do that?"

"Kid, I hate to break it you you, but that's one thing that may not be able to be done. She most never know that she was rescued by a multinational team. I'm sorry but there are rules and procedures we have to follow to keep Peacekeepers in the shadows, our identities are top secret now, we never existed once we joined the Peacekeepers, and won't exist again till we leave. I will see what I can do, but the most I will be able to get you, is a phone call saying she is awake. I'm sorry CPL." He said with a sigh as he understood Akarah's feeling.

"To think or feel what you are feeling is wrong? No, it is not. Life is about what we feel, and what we do. There is no better feeling in life to be holding a baby, that is your flesh and blood. Many people in the world look for the meaning of life, but what's more meaningful then doing our job, and making the world safe not only for use, but other families around the world. The most precious thing in the world is life, and those who you surround yourself with."

[Relikai]

Lock and load. That was what she needed to do.

Shiori Ackermann nodded at the training. She was experienced in CBRE, as well as chemical warfare. Fresh out of a mission to secure radioactive materials , Shiori felt ready, almost as if the briefing was a carbon copy of the one she received in Munich. Hopefully the rest were familiar... they had to be right?

Now in the military transport, Shiori leaned back and rested. She will need it. Clearing one's mind before moving into hell, unsure if the suit or equipment would protect her fully, it would be a good time to make peace with oneself.

[Svebia]

The Silver Lion

Manfred Landau checked his Maschinengewehr, making sure all the individual parts were secure before stuffing it in a duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Stepping into the American Globalmaster C-17, his boots clanking on on the metal flooring. His eyes glazing over to the blackhawk inside of it, a small smile forming on his lips. 'Whoever was picking a fight, was gonna get the flames.' He thought to himself, sitting down and strapping himself in. Looking at the German flag on his arm and images of home flying through his head. "I thought the Afghanische was going to be my last time in the deserts of der Arabien." He said to himself. Almost silently. Checking to see if anyone was near him.

[Krugeristan]

Akarah took a breath, feeling somewhat better, though one thing remained on his mind. "Sir . . . there is one thing I feel like I have to do, and that's to see Catarina when she wakes up in the hospital. I don't know why. I feel like I need to, largely because I feel guilty. Is that . . . wrong of me to feel, or think that, or just . . . wrong that I feel compelled to do that?"

"Kid, I hate to break it you you, but that's one thing that may not be able to be done. She most never know that she was rescued by a multinational team. I'm sorry but there are rules and procedures we have to follow to keep Peacekeepers in the shadows, our identities are top secret now, we never existed once we joined the Peacekeepers, and won't exist again till we leave. I will see what I can do, but the most I will be able to get you, is a phone call saying she is awake. I'm sorry CPL." He said with a sigh as he understood Akarah's feeling.

"To think or feel what you are feeling is wrong? No, it is not. Life is about what we feel, and what we do. There is no better feeling in life to be holding a baby, that is your flesh and blood. Many people in the world look for the meaning of life, but what's more meaningful then doing our job, and making the world safe not only for use, but other families around the world. The most precious thing in the world is life, and those who you surround yourself with."

"I haven't been able to surround myself with anyone. I've been jumping from place to place, never had the time or even the courage to deepen relationships. I don't know if a phone call will help, and only Allah knows when I'll leave. At least I'll have a new purpose if I leave, and that'll be to go on a wild goose chase to try and redeem myself." Akarah looked Bridges in the eye. "If there's one thing that really gives a man purpose, it's looking for something or someone without any leads to get you started."

[Anowa]

The Silver Lion

Manfred Landau checked his Maschinengewehr, making sure all the individual parts were secure before stuffing it in a duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Stepping into the American Globalmaster C-17, his boots clanking on on the metal flooring. His eyes glazing over to the blackhawk inside of it, a small smile forming on his lips. 'Whoever was picking a fight, was gonna get the flames.' He thought to himself, sitting down and strapping himself in. Looking at the German flag on his arm and images of home flying through his head. "I thought the Afghanische was going to be my last time in the deserts of der Arabien." He said to himself. Almost silently. Checking to see if anyone was near him.

Valeska heard the German accented voice of what looked like a newcomer musing to himself, "I think an American songs fits well in that situation, 'You can check out whenever you like, but you can never leave.' Though technically Afghanistan is South Asia." She offered her hand to the man, "Valeska Kowalski, JW GROM, apparent CBRN specialist." Valeska secretly hoped that no mentions of 'The War' would be brought up, since there were several Germans and a few Poles. It would likely end as well as bringing up the Crusades in front of the West Asians present..

[Svebia]

Valeska heard the German accented voice of what looked like a newcomer musing to himself, "I think an American songs fits well in that situation, 'You can check out whenever you like, but you can never leave.' Though technically Afghanistan is South Asia." She offered her hand to the man, "Valeska Kowalski, JW GROM, apparent CBRN specialist." Valeska secretly hoped that no mentions of 'The War' would be brought up, since there were several Germans and a few Poles. It would likely end as well as bringing up the Crusades in front of the West Asians present..

Manfred was surprised by the suddenness of this woman, he narrowed his eyes and slowly took her hand firmly in his. A small dust cloud forming from the dust on his gloves bursting outward. "Manfred Landau, Grenzschutzgruppe 9 der Bundespolizei, Heavy weapon specialist, and Squad Gunner." No thoughts of the war ever formed in his head, he was born after the war and only his grandfather served in the Wehrmacht. So he was a post-war 80's baby. In fact, he was only a year older than her at most. "You have a Polish accent." He said, a thick accent in his voice as well. "Northwest Warsaw, Frau Kowalski?" He asked, intrigued by the woman.

[Hansdeltania]

1Lt Jack Nguyen, United States Air Force

As Nguyen changed into his Airman Battle System-Ground, a few things were racing through his mind. The first was obviously the gas; if it was VX gas, he would need to bring virtually his entire MOPP gear, and that would be quite uncomfortable to fight in due to Abu Dhabi's hot weather, or he could fight more agilely but die if he got exposed to VX. The second was his rifle; if the stock jammed up on him in the middle of combat, he could not shoot comfortably, or the gas could be reactive to his weapon.

If there was one thing that the Air Force Academy taught him that would apply to this mission, it would be "Always be prepared." With that, he examined his MOPP gear bag one more time to make sure he had everything—and that everything was in perfect, or at the very least usable, condition—before picking it up and heading off to the armory to pick up his weapon.

---

The Armory

"Bon après-midi monsieur," he greeted the armorer. "Est-ce que mon fusil fixé?"

"Ah, oui...qui était-ce?" the armorer asked in reply. "Le M-4?"

"Oui, celui-là."

"Une minute s'il vous plait." The armorer went to his workroom and searched for Nguyen's rifle. "Voilà."

"Merci Monsieur." Nguyen picked up his newly repaired rifle and tried the stock; it slid like a well-lubricated piston. He slid a few euros, about three dollars and thirty cents, over as thanks for fixing his rifle. With that, he left and headed to the airfield for the C-17.

[Anowa]

Valeska heard the German accented voice of what looked like a newcomer musing to himself, "I think an American songs fits well in that situation, 'You can check out whenever you like, but you can never leave.' Though technically Afghanistan is South Asia." She offered her hand to the man, "Valeska Kowalski, JW GROM, apparent CBRN specialist." Valeska secretly hoped that no mentions of 'The War' would be brought up, since there were several Germans and a few Poles. It would likely end as well as bringing up the Crusades in front of the West Asians present..

Manfred was surprised by the suddenness of this woman, he narrowed his eyes and slowly took her hand firmly in his. A small dust cloud forming from the dust on his gloves bursting outward. "Manfred Landau, Grenzschutzgruppe 9 der Bundespolizei, Heavy weapon specialist, and Squad Gunner." No thoughts of the war ever formed in his head, he was born after the war and only his grandfather served in the Wehrmacht. So he was a post-war 80's baby. In fact, he was only a year older than her at most. "You have a Polish accent." He said, a thick accent in his voice as well. "Northwest Warsaw, Frau Kowalski?" He asked, intrigued by the woman.

Valeska raised a brow at his statement of being in the GSG9. Last she checked they had no need for SAW gunners, being purely a police force, albeit a highly trained one. Even if they did use SAW gunner they had more... Modern, weapons for the occasion. Why he still used the veritable bullet hose was beyond her. Though his rather innaccurate guess of where she was from based on her accent got her attention, at least he had some semblance of foreign cultures. She felt like saying Oswiecim just to see his face, but figured that a joke at the Holocaust's expense was both in poor taste and likely to get her ostracized by everyone on board the plane... And probably everyone else who heard. Maybe her family too. "Sorry, but no. Bialystok, North-eastern Polska. Same half of the country..." She paused thinking back to the first time she'd served with on an international base with US Troops, "...At least you didn't say Indonesia."

[Altito Asmoro]

Stella Obermann

Her occupation as an observer is...less than acknowledged, even by the Colonel when he met her. But to his knowledge, just keep her identity in secret and act normally. Her CBRN training is useful for this current mission, and she's no strange to weaponry and field experience. Bundeswehr and then BND are two different experience, but nonetheless experience. In any case she decided to just waited inside the transport and checking her weapons while in it.

[Dayganistan]

The brief crash course on how to use CBRN gear was almost exactly what Ghazal had expected. Put on the suit and mask, don't get holes in it where the gas can get in, and don't take it off. Not a difficult concept, the difficulty would come if it had to be worn in a hurry, or being worn in the heat in Dubai. But that would be something to worry about later, they wouldn't be in Dubai for a few more hours, and they surely weren't going to put on the suits until they were on the ground

Afterwards, she quickly stopped at her locker to grab her plate carrier, before heading to the armory to get her weapons. They were nothing very impressive. A standard M4 almost entirely unmodified from the variant that was standard issue to American soldiers, save for her additions of a vertical foregrip, Magpul stock, a flashlight, IR laser, Eotech sight with a magnifier, and a tan and brown snakeskin camouflage paint job. Next was her pistol, a standard Beretta M9 left over from the Americans. She always wanted to get some upgrades for her weapons, a new pistol, a lighter rail system for her M4, new optics for her M4, the list went on, but she could never afford such a thing on an Afghan military salary. She was, however, being paid more here. Those upgrades to her weapons could be coming a lot sooner than she expected.

With her gear in order, she made her way to the waiting US Air Force C-17, an aircraft she had seen plenty of times before but had never actually been inside of. Some of the other operatives had already arrived. As she was boarding the aircraft, she noticed out of the corner of her eye the Arab man she had seen earlier throwing up, and another member of the team going to talk to him. He must have seen something really nasty on the last mission. Or, somehow, he was even less experienced as a soldier the Ghazal was. She remembered early in her career as a soldier, having strong negative reactions after missions. And she had seen plenty of things over her career that absolutely disgusted her. She'd have to ask him at some point what the problem was.

With onyl a few other operatives on the plane, Ghazal simply took a seat. There was already a conversation between two operatives going on, but it wasn't something that directly concerned her. So for now, she decided she not to talk to anyone.

[Fridur]

Roman Kolbert, Entrance of the C17

Roman threw his duffel bag over his shoulder. The weight of it taking it's toll on his old, worn body. He wasn't very old to most people but in the military it seems as if one ages twice as fast. Walking to the C17 with one hand still strapping on his holster to his leg and the other holding his rifle he noticed that he wasn't as early as he thought he was. Although it was good to see everyone there. He was sure his Latvian Pattern Uniform would stand out which is why his MOPP suit was an OD green. After finding an empty seat he sat down in and grabbed his communist manifesto from his duffel bag. He began reading it knowing that someone would notice and think of his as a 'Russian Commie.' He's always wanted to read the manifesto as it interested him in what the human brain could come up with and actually get to somewhat work for a few years or so. Roman has been wanting to read Mein Kampf but he knew that a UN operation was not exactly ideal. He also didn't want to start a petty argument with someone over the topic so he stuck to the Communist Manifesto. He wondered if the man sitting across from him with the German flag on his uniform would comment on the German author of this book.

[Nations United for Conquest]

2Lt William Weber
Near the C-17

The last 4 days had been surprisingly relaxing, despite the injuries that still bothered him. The first day was mostly sleep and pain killers and some more sleep. His left shoulder had been giving him the most pain, preventing most movement. As it turned out he had been shot during the later parts of the mission. A stray pistol round struck him just below shoudler. A few more inches and it could of hit his should joint. A hit like that could have put him out for weeks, or even longer depending on how bad it was. Fourntatly it had stuck his armored vest, dropping him flat on his back. He could vagely remember being dragged away by who he assumed was Bridges, altough it could have been anyone. The ringing had gone away for the most part in his head, but if he moved to quick to could disorriant him. The lightest of his injuries, the shrapnel had mostly faded away, although his forearms and lower legs still looked quite red and were hot to the touch. Such was the reason he wore his new uniform with the sleeves rolled up. He had spent the later days in German talking with old friends from the KSK. He wished he was there to meet them under better circumstances, yet remincing about the old days had given him some relief. He had found time to watch over some of the fresh recruits training. He would have liked to stay a little longer, but the call of duty sounded once again as he was called back to base for deployment.

William had arrived at the base the night before the team was shedualed to leave for the operation. He wasn't given much time to unpack his gear or do much at all. He just tried to get what sleep he could before deploying. He had heard news of several new operators, including two rumored to be German, although they were GSG9. In the morning he didn't have much time as he hurried down the base towards the, small bag in hand. Unlike the other operators he didn't carry a large bag containing the suits most would have to wear. He was still listed as partially injuried and thus not allowed to enter the building. Not that he minded, he had alwasy hated the chemical suits from the first time he laid eyes on them. Instead he was much more interested in the black hawk helicopter that would be his mobile fire position for the mission. As he passed around the front of the aircraft, he noticed two German flags standing out against the others. One was a man, who looked as German as he did, but the other appeared to be a little different. She had some of the German features shared by himself and the other man, but she had other features as well. As he boarded the plane he shouted out to the sitting man "Hallo, Guten Morgen. Ich bin Weber. Du?"

[Svebia]

Manfred was surprised by the suddenness of this woman, he narrowed his eyes and slowly took her hand firmly in his. A small dust cloud forming from the dust on his gloves bursting outward. "Manfred Landau, Grenzschutzgruppe 9 der Bundespolizei, Heavy weapon specialist, and Squad Gunner." No thoughts of the war ever formed in his head, he was born after the war and only his grandfather served in the Wehrmacht. So he was a post-war 80's baby. In fact, he was only a year older than her at most. "You have a Polish accent." He said, a thick accent in his voice as well. "Northwest Warsaw, Frau Kowalski?" He asked, intrigued by the woman.

Valeska raised a brow at his statement of being in the GSG9. Last she checked they had no need for SAW gunners, being purely a police force, albeit a highly trained one. Even if they did use SAW gunner they had more... Modern, weapons for the occasion. Why he still used the veritable bullet hose was beyond her. Though his rather inaccurate guess of where she was from based on her accent got her attention, at least he had some semblance of foreign cultures. She felt like saying Oswiecim just to see his face, but figured that a joke at the Holocaust's expense was both in poor taste and likely to get her ostracized by everyone on board the plane... And probably everyone else who heard. Maybe her family too. "Sorry, but no. Bialystok, North-eastern Polska. Same half of the country..." She paused thinking back to the first time she'd served with on an international base with US Troops, "...At least you didn't say Indonesia."

Manfred took off his Gefechtshelm, letting out his fairly blonde hair. "Polen? Beautiful country. Glad to have a specialist on board from our wonderful neighbors." He said, a wide smile on his face. Wrinkles forming in his eyes from the wide smile he was giving her, but this smile turned into a chuckle and a grin. "Indonesia? Why would they think you're from Indone....." He stopped himself with the sudden realization on why. "Oooh...That's rather...er....ill said, one would say? I mean, don't get me wrong. I am perfectly okay, okay. Kay. Okay. With Muslims, Syrians especially. They do not bother me." He said, clearly kinda forcing it out. Showing that he had a slight prejudice against Syrians and generally Arabic people who migrated to Germany, possibly xenophobic but he's tried to hide that part of him. "Bayreuth, Bundesrepublik Deutschland...er...I mean, just Deutschland. Sorry. I kinda miss Bayreuth....I was...what, 8 when the wall came down? Still kinda used to seeing Bundesrepublik Deutschland, instead of just Germany." he shook his head. "Es tut mir leid, I'm rambling."

[Anowa]

Valeska raised a brow at his statement of being in the GSG9. Last she checked they had no need for SAW gunners, being purely a police force, albeit a highly trained one. Even if they did use SAW gunner they had more... Modern, weapons for the occasion. Why he still used the veritable bullet hose was beyond her. Though his rather inaccurate guess of where she was from based on her accent got her attention, at least he had some semblance of foreign cultures. She felt like saying Oswiecim just to see his face, but figured that a joke at the Holocaust's expense was both in poor taste and likely to get her ostracized by everyone on board the plane... And probably everyone else who heard. Maybe her family too. "Sorry, but no. Bialystok, North-eastern Polska. Same half of the country..." She paused thinking back to the first time she'd served with on an international base with US Troops, "...At least you didn't say Indonesia."

Manfred took off his Gefechtshelm, letting out his fairly blonde hair. "Polen? Beautiful country. Glad to have a specialist on board from our wonderful neighbors." He said, a wide smile on his face. Wrinkles forming in his eyes from the wide smile he was giving her, but this smile turned into a chuckle and a grin. "Indonesia? Why would they think you're from Indone....." He stopped himself with the sudden realization on why. "Oooh...That's rather...er....ill said, one would say? I mean, don't get me wrong. I am perfectly okay, okay. Kay. Okay. With Muslims, Syrians especially. They do not bother me." He said, clearly kinda forcing it out. Showing that he had a slight prejudice against Syrians and generally Arabic people who migrated to Germany, possibly xenophobic but he's tried to hide that part of him. "Bayreuth, Bundesrepublik Deutschland...er...I mean, just Deutschland. Sorry. I kinda miss Bayreuth....I was...what, 8 when the wall came down? Still kinda used to seeing Bundesrepublik Deutschland, instead of just Germany." he shook his head. "Es tut mir leid, I'm rambling."

Valeska simply raised a brow in response, sure he rambled, but given the situation in Germany and the rest of Western Europe, she couldn't really blame him for th einflux of refugees. "I was talking about the flag... not my religion. Though I suppose we're lucky the closest we have to a Syrian is Akarah." The Berlin wall was an interesting subject to say the least, Manfred wasn't much older than she was, "I was six when it fell. Less than two months later my father started building a mosque. Since Polska became a free country again." she snorted a bit, her father was unique. Technically he was an Imam during the communist age, though instead of a Mosque there was the family basement. For a good portion of his life he had a literally underground religious movement. Of course they had a few close calls with the MSW, a few scenes that Valeska later related to Anne Frank's own experiences, and likely her grandparents' as well.

She had fond memories of that time however, not all of it was doom and gloom, "We held a neighborhood party when the Soviet Union collapsed. After nearly fifty years we were Polska again. School certainly changed that was for sure. We learned about so much more than, 'capitalism is bad, starving so neighbor Dorota can be lazy is good'. God, Dorota was one hell of a prick, reported us to the MSW once. That was not too long before the communists were ousted. Don't know where he went after that."

[Svebia]

Valeska simply raised a brow in response, sure he rambled, but given the situation in Germany and the rest of Western Europe, she couldn't really blame him for th einflux of refugees. "I was talking about the flag... not my religion. Though I suppose we're lucky the closest we have to a Syrian is Akarah." The Berlin wall was an interesting subject to say the least, Manfred wasn't much older than she was, "I was six when it fell. Less than two months later my father started building a mosque. Since Polska became a free country again." she snorted a bit, her father was unique. Technically he was an Imam during the communist age, though instead of a Mosque there was the family basement. For a good portion of his life he had a literally underground religious movement. Of course they had a few close calls with the MSW, a few scenes that Valeska later related to Anne Frank's own experiences, and likely her grandparents' as well.

She had fond memories of that time however, not all of it was doom and gloom, "We held a neighborhood party when the Soviet Union collapsed. After nearly fifty years we were Polska again. School certainly changed that was for sure. We learned about so much more than, 'capitalism is bad, starving so neighbor Dorota can be lazy is good'. God, Dorota was one hell of a prick, reported us to the MSW once. That was not too long before the communists were ousted. Don't know where he went after that."

Manfred's smile returned, patting her on the back. "Meine Mutter war Ostdeutche, ich kenne die Kämpfe mehr als ich möchte." He said in his native tongue, almost not noticing it. Hitting himself on the head. "Ach Gott, I keep forgetting you all don't speak German. My Mother was East german, and I'd hear her go on and on about growing up in Communist Germany. Was not a good time for her, but her smile returned when she met my Vater." He said, scratching his chin. "Probably ran his scared ass back to Moskau to continue being a slave of the Soviet regime." He said with a sigh, and a light chuckle. "I can thank God I wasn't born in the Bloc, to have the Stasi watch my every move." He said, sighing once again. He couldn't help but notice how odd this woman was, but not in a bad way. More of an appealing way. Her bright pink hair and marvelously shining green eyes matched her perfectly, you could say in a way. Manfred might end up having a crush on Frau Kowalski. Time can only say.

He shook his head, rubbing dust from his forehead. He couldn't get attached, that only ends badly. As if he'd even ever get a chance, she was vastly outta his league. It was better to just focus on the operation and hope for the best, not only that but a relationship with a Muslim would require one of them to convert, and even God himself would advise against. He sighed yet again. "You got my back, I got yours?" He said slowly.

[Tiltjuice]

Being a Peacekeeper had a slower operational tempo than she expected; it was definitely not the normal UN meaning of the word, trying to deal with Kosovars and Serbs. She'd decided to attend Valeska's CBRN training. It had been a while since her last refresher, and while she still knew how to do it, she probably wasn't as fast as she had been back then. Besides, cleaning her new weapons had taken up only a little of the time coming off the last mission.

Pia blinked a couple times, remembering the chaos of the last one. All the wrong people had frozen, and all the wrong people had acted impulsively. Figuring it was the right idea, she'd at least tried to get to know some of the others, and as she sat down aboard the C-17, she saw that most of those she'd met were there. Depositing her ruck at her feet, with the MP5, ammo, com gear and MOPP inside, she rested her hands on her knees and leaned back, gaze flipping slowly between Shiori across from her and Akarah and Bridges some distance away. Bits and pieces of the men's conversation came through, and she found herself nodding absently in response to Bridges' short speech.

She stopped as another woman, Afghan by the look of her, boarded. Was that...? Possibly, although the odds were against it.

"Mad chemists in Dubai," she commented to Shiori, and anyone else who had an opinion, throwing a cast of gray humor on their impending op. "What do you make of it?"