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The Circuit: Amazonia - EP 1 (IC; Open for New Characters)

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Cylarn
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The Circuit: Amazonia - EP 1 (IC; Open for New Characters)

Postby Cylarn » Mon Mar 22, 2021 3:59 pm

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EPISODE 1 - ROUTINES


0600
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Esteban felt that the inclusion of a metal porch and folding gazebo tent outside of the front door of the trailer was a superb move on the part whomever was tasked with setting up the Samael team's lodgings. In total, two trailers had been donated for the team to use: a single living space trailer complete with a kitchen, dining area, and bunkrooms; and a second trailer hooked up to a generator and water system to serve as the combined shower space and latrines. Sitting under the gazebo atop a folding metal chair and nursing a suspicious joint and a blue metal mug of black coffee in the same hand, Esteban silently appreciated the accommodations. The team was primarily, almost overwhelmingly, former military and had surely slept in more spartan conditions. Three hots, cots, and a shower. What more can you ask for?

A light rain descended upon Almodavar that morning, and gray clouds obscured the sun to the degree that the jungle remained dim for the unaided human eye. Calmed by the pitter-patter above him and the low hum of an air conditioning unit behind him, Esteban allowed the joint to work its magic as his eyes lazily gazed upon the rest of Park Center. It was the only spot of civilization around; a collection of paved roads, brick and concrete buildings, cleanly-mowed lawns, and plenty of streetlights casting Park Center under an all-reaching dome of light. The jungle surrounded Park Center, trees and bushes swaying lightly in the rain-flecked wind. The roads were dead, save for a lone pair of headlights passing between the faint partition of palm trees within the park. Esteban made an alternating move of taking a sip of his coffee followed by a puff of his joint, holding the hot as he swallowed the coffee. His throat buckled, chest heavy, and he coughed. His eyes grew a little heavier, but he now turned his gaze to the vehicle.

The flickering of lights in the nearby aid worker barracks diverted Esteban. The majority of the rooms in the old hotel were now illuminated, although Esteban could not see what was happening within. Morning muster? Under the glow of the street lights, figures clad in white rain ponchos soon filed out of the buildings and into the rain. A poorly-cohesive line began to form, leading over to a large wooden gazebo that contained rows of picnic tables. Individual white figures paced around the line; even in the limited visibility of the early morning, Esteban could see clipboards in their hands. A few were passing in and out of the gazebo, moving as if they were corralled a herd of cattle. That's a muster.

The unfolding muster would have appeared routine to Esteban, had the white Tacoma not pulled up in front of the hotel. The white ponchos skirting the line with their clipboards and radios quickly bee-lined to the driver-side door. Esteban took hold of the joint in his free hand and gave it one last puff before crushing it on the ground. The truck had entered the park, from what Esteban had gathered. The apparent group chaperones swarmed it, as if looking for meaning. To Esteban, the situation now bore all the hallmarks of eventually coming their way. With that in mind, the contractor stood up on his feet and entered the trailer.

Only the kitchen light was on; Esteban turned it on earlier to make coffee. The atmosphere was empty, silent. Either the squad had yet to wake up, or they had yet to leave their rooms. The long hallway leading to the rooms sat still and dark with its doors closed. Esteban shuffled into the kitchen, setting the coffee mug down as he rustled his Gore-Tex off. After tossing the jacket onto one of the plastic chairs in the dining area, he turned his attention back to the kitchen. Dirty plastic blue cups and white plates stained with sauce and meat and beans sat in one of the two basins that made up the kitchen sink. The team largely ate together the night before; the first dinner in country for them as a group. Esteban turned on the faucet to the hottest setting and the basin began to gradually fill up. While the water flowed, Esteban took the opportunity to procure a white ceramic bowl and a box of Frosted Flakes, setting them beside of the sink before reaching over to turn off the water.

After fetching his milk and filling up the bowl, Esteban made his way to the table to consume his breakfast. The squad should be waking up soon. From his seat at the table, he peered towards the kitchen window. Esteban could see the headlights from before, and they were drawing closer into view. Esteban scooped up a spoonful of cereal and put it in his mouth; the work day was about to start.
Last edited by Cylarn on Tue Mar 23, 2021 7:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Bolslania
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Postby Bolslania » Mon Mar 22, 2021 6:41 pm

0601
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER



Brett stooped as he exited his room. Samael had provided relatively high quality board for the contractors. At least compared to what the Army gave him. He stretched his neck as he looked around. Most of the doors were still closed. Looks like he might be the first one up. He had on a pair of cargo pants and his fireproof base shirt on. The pants were tucked in military style into his boots. He strolled into the kitchen area as Walsh prepared his breakfast, observing silently as a vehicle's headlights swept across his chest.

"Morning sir." He said. His voice was quiet, but not hard to hear. Only a trace of a New York Italian accent in his voice. He knew that he technically didn't have to call Walsh sir, but he had never really met the man before, and Walsh was one of the more senior members of this operation, so it probably paid to be respectful.
New LGBTQ+ protections passed, also the Lunar colony reports a serial killer on the station, officers have been dispatched to investigate.



Check out my Napoleonic Era Alt-History RP!


1. Constitutional Monarchy that functions as a Federal Constitutional Republic
2. The Flag represents the European Union (stars) and the Prussian/German Monarch who sits on the throne (Black background and Eagle)
3. Tech level PMT verging on the brink of FT

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Cylarn
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Postby Cylarn » Mon Mar 22, 2021 9:10 pm

0602
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


In mid-bite, Walsh looked up to see that Signorino had entered the kitchen. The large New Yorker had stumbled in, quietly greeting his counterpart with a 'morning, sir.' Esteban paused for a moment, and then took a bite of his cereal. I'm not a sir. Esteban, despite having reached the junior officer ranks of the Mexican Navy, never much considered himself a sir. Team leader or not, he was a part of the team. Signorino was a colleague, above all. The team was living in close quarters, and thus Esteban wondered, as he munched down the flakes, if any other members of the team were going to cling to their military bearing.

"Drop the sir and pick up the remote," Esteban said in a mildly jocular tone of voice, scooping back into the bowl with his spoon. He looked over towards the twenty-four-inch plasma screen TV that was mounted on the wall to the right of the hallway, just cattycorner to the door on one side, parallel to the kitchen, and diagonal with the kitchen table. Esteban took another bite of his cereal, and looked to the window. The bulbs were gone, but he could tell that the vehicle was now sitting just outside the trailer. Amid the tapping of the rain upon the insulated metal roof and the mechanical whirring of the AC, the faint sound of a truck engine could be heard.

"The kids out there were doing a muster," he said as he yet again scooped up some flakes. A craving fell into his altered mind. "Check and see if the sausage links I bought are still in the fridge. If so, let's split 'em."
Last edited by Cylarn on Mon Mar 22, 2021 9:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Bolslania
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Bolslania » Tue Mar 23, 2021 6:57 am

0602
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR, PARK CENTER


"Sure thing." Signorino said amicably. He picked up the remote and flicked on the TV as he looked out the window, indeed the Rangers were lining up in the rain, for muster it appeared.

He cracked open the fridge. There were the sausages. He picked them up and set them on the counter, pulling out a pan and filling it with water. He dropped the sausages in, turning on the heat. He had learned this technique for sausages from his mother, first you boil them to cook the inside, and then you cook the outside in oil.

Signorino could hear the truck's engine outside of their trailer.

"Do you think we're going to have guests?" He asked of Walsh, leaving the sausages to boil, leaning his hands on a open space of counter, facing Walsh, as the TV rattled on in Spanish. It sounded like some Peruvian news station. He didn't understand a word of it.
New LGBTQ+ protections passed, also the Lunar colony reports a serial killer on the station, officers have been dispatched to investigate.



Check out my Napoleonic Era Alt-History RP!


1. Constitutional Monarchy that functions as a Federal Constitutional Republic
2. The Flag represents the European Union (stars) and the Prussian/German Monarch who sits on the throne (Black background and Eagle)
3. Tech level PMT verging on the brink of FT

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Cylarn
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Postby Cylarn » Tue Mar 23, 2021 6:58 am

0602
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


The television screen illuminated, revealing a high-definition resolution of a news program; specifically, a weather segment for an Iquitos-based news corporation. A Spanish-speaking woman of fair looks motioned to the graphic behind her, particularly to a wave of blue covering a geographical area that roughly encompassed Almodavar. As the sausages crackled amid the oil and heat, Esteban shoved the spoon in his mouth and finished off the scoop of flakes, looking over to the TV.

"Rain is to be expected for the following three days for the entirety of the Amazon region," she stated, very matter-of-factly. "But after that, two retrieves are coming our way in sunshine. That is all for Channel Six Weather. Stayed tuned for additional news updates."

Walsh took another bite as the TV cut to a commercial. An exuberant, swarthy man was standing in front of a car dealership, with rows of Renaults waiting behind him. Signorino spoke up, asking if they had guests. I 'guest' so. Walsh started laughing loudly and jovially to the unsaid pun.

"I 'guest' so," he managed to say between a hearty laugh and a chuckle. A few seconds passed, Walsh took a deep breath; he had cracked himself up. "For real, yeah. I saw the white ponchos put there. No Rangers or anything; I bet you they're all passed out drunk."

Setting down his spoon, Walsh stood up. He wasn't dressed too dissimilar to his American colleague; Esteban opted for a brown t-shirt and a pair of tan cargo pants. The only differences were his noticeably untucked boots and an unbuttoned navy blue shirt with the sleeved rolled up to the elbows. Attached to his rigger belt at his right hip was a Glock 19 colored in a green mop-up, safely secured within a tan retention holster. Esteban shuffled into the kitchen and stood with Signorino, his eyes peering out of the window, down upon the truck. No one had climbed out and the engine purred lowly. The silhouette of a single figure could be seen in the driver's seat of the truck, holding their right hand to the side of their head.

"Huh, might be a minute. Think they're on the phone?"
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Bolslania
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Bolslania » Tue Mar 23, 2021 7:06 am

0602
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR CAMP CENTER


A grin crept on to Signorino's face at Walsh's pun, a chuckle escaping his lips. He regained his composure as Walsh joined him by the window. He turned around, the two men looking through the rain, trying to assess what was going on at their front step. The locals were still lined up, their white coverings standing out in the brown and green of the Peruvian Amazon.

"Huh, might be a minute. Think they're on the phone?"


"Could be. Should I go get the others up?" Signorino said as a reply to Walsh's musings. Through the rain he couldn't make out what the driver of the vehicle was doing, but if they were going to have company, Signorino thought it would be fitting to have everyone awake. As they observed the truck, Signorino reached over and turned down the heat on the burner, wouldn't want a housecall to ruin breakfast, he grabbed up the remote and killed the volume, the news anchors talking on in silence.
Last edited by Bolslania on Tue Mar 23, 2021 7:35 am, edited 4 times in total.
New LGBTQ+ protections passed, also the Lunar colony reports a serial killer on the station, officers have been dispatched to investigate.



Check out my Napoleonic Era Alt-History RP!


1. Constitutional Monarchy that functions as a Federal Constitutional Republic
2. The Flag represents the European Union (stars) and the Prussian/German Monarch who sits on the throne (Black background and Eagle)
3. Tech level PMT verging on the brink of FT

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The United Federation of Terrans
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Postby The United Federation of Terrans » Tue Mar 23, 2021 7:42 am

0603
TRAEGER, ERIK
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


The patter of rain on the roof sent another flare of annoyance through Erik as he tugged on his Kydex thigh holster. He had flown commercially to the region, his weapons and kit having been shipped courtesy of Samael, but the airline had lost one of his duffels. By luck, he still had his mission critical equipment and clothing in his remaining bag; but the missing bag held most of his quality of life gear. His ponchos, tarp, extra clothes, wet wipes, and other assorted gear were now lost somewhere in the airline. The representative Erik had spoken to promised to ship his bag to his destination or his home address when it was found; but Erik had little faith in that.

That meant it was time for a requisition form; putting Erik at the disadvantage of looking ill-prepared. But, Erik had operated in Africa enough to know the necessity of his missing gear; so he would endure the humiliation for now. Until then though, he would have to beg, borrow or steal something of that nature.

'I'm sure the reserve as a spare poncho somewhere.' Erik comforted himself with that thought as he clipped his holster to his web belt and and tightened the straps one final time. Satisfied, he stood from his slightly rumpled cot and did a once over of his "uniform".

Coyote brown cargoes hung loosely over well used Bates, their tan coat paled from use and exposure. His Crye combat shirt was tucked in and the sleeves rolled to mid bicep; leaving his tattoo on full display. On habit, Erik did a once of over of his stubble and found that it was growing out faster than usual.

'Another thing for the to-do list.' The medic added it to his mental list as he exited his room and made for the kitchen. Two others had beaten him there.

The audible sounds of conversation mingled with those of a TV and the smell of cooking meat hit Erik as he stepped into the kitchen. Walsh, one of this contract's team leads, was positioned by the sink. A bowl of cereal in his hands as he glanced between the TV and the other occupant of the kitchen. The other occupant was.....

Erik couldn't remember the man's name. He remembered the man's accent, too similar to a few other Americans Erik had worked with. But he couldn't remember the man's name. All he could remember was that the man was a support gunner who had hauled a platoon's worth of ammo cans with him. He made another mental note to find out the gunner's name without appearing like he didn't know it. With that problem pushed back that left Erik free for greetings.

"Guten Morgen." Erik made sure to give a respectful tip of the head as he said it. Respectful, but not in the rigid matter of militaries the world over. With that... Erik gave a mental kick as he realized he had spoken German; a common expression to be sure but one they might be unfamiliar with. So he came to a faltering halt and fixed what was hopefully an apologetic look on his face.

"I meant good morning. Sorry."
My travels take me many places, from the scorching sands to the cold, dark vacuum of space. But I always return to my friends and family at The Pub.

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Bolslania
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Postby Bolslania » Tue Mar 23, 2021 7:59 am

0603
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Signorino looked over his shoulder as their Austrian medic came in. Another former military member, his sleeves rolled up to the bicep, exposing a tattoo. Traeger spoke in German, quickly translating into English as he realized his lingual mistake.

"Buongiorno Traeger." Signorino said, hopefully the context would be all the translation that was necessary. Signorino stepped away from the window to make space for Traeger, gesturing out of the window.

"Looks like we might be receiving guests." He said to Traeger, catching him up on the morning's events.

Signorino returned his attention to the sausage, the water was at a slow rolling boil, he grabbed some paper towels, and used a pair of tongs to relocate the sausages from the pan to the paper towels, emptying out the water into the sink with a plume of steam. he set the pan on one of the unoccupied burners as he patted the sausages dry. He opened up a cupboard, poking through it for a moment as he searched for the olive oil.

These are some pretty nice digs Signorino thought as he grabbed up the bottle of oil, dribbling a small amount into the pan, he returned the oiled pan to the hot burner, dropping the sausages back in. The sizzling of the cooking meat reminded him of home, and his time in the Army. He was a barracks favorite for his cooking, that is, when they had anything to cook with. A weather bulletin was being silently delivered on the TV, it looked as if this rain would be the normal for a few days.
Last edited by Bolslania on Tue Mar 23, 2021 8:03 am, edited 3 times in total.
New LGBTQ+ protections passed, also the Lunar colony reports a serial killer on the station, officers have been dispatched to investigate.



Check out my Napoleonic Era Alt-History RP!


1. Constitutional Monarchy that functions as a Federal Constitutional Republic
2. The Flag represents the European Union (stars) and the Prussian/German Monarch who sits on the throne (Black background and Eagle)
3. Tech level PMT verging on the brink of FT

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Cylarn
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Postby Cylarn » Tue Mar 23, 2021 8:31 am

0603
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


"Could be. Should I go wake up the others?


Before Walsh could answer, someone greeted the duo in German. Quickly, they apologized and corrected themself; Walsh looked over, seeing Traeger, the medic. He gave the man a reassuring nod, and reached over to retrieve his mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Who cares?

"You're alright, Chief," Esteban stated as he passed by Traeger, heading towards the bunks. He turned around momomentarily. "I'll wake the others."

Esteban turned around and made his way down the hallway, silently appreciating the fact that he had showered shortly after 0530. With two steady, loud police-style knocks, he banged on each of the doors for the bunkrooms.

"It's six! Let's rise up!"

With that, he paced his path back into the kitchen and retrieved the remote. Esteban paused, taking the opportunity to peer out of the window. He's still talking. Esteban turned himself to face the TV and raised the remote. His thumb pressed down on the volume button, raising it to twenty bars. A male and female anchor were speaking, as footage of a protest in Lima was broadcast onto the screen.

"...Supporters and members of the Popular Force have taken to the exterior of the Congress building to protest the arrest of former First Lady Keiko Fujimori on charges of corruption...
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Bolslania
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Bolslania » Tue Mar 23, 2021 8:46 am

0603
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER,
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Signorino nodded to Walsh as he went back to wake the other members of the group. Signorino looked at the TV as protests in what looked like Lima were broadcasted on the screen. It was something about the former First Lady.

A quick glance out of the window revealed that the truck was still in front of the trailer, lights on and engine running. Signorino noted that both Walsh and Traeger had their pistols with them, and Signorino decided to join them in that decision. Looking at Traeger he spoke

"Could you watch the sausages while I get my pistol?" He asked of the medic. Traeger was equally as buff as Signorino was, maybe even a little more so. Walsh was a little leaner, still in excellent physical condition, but he wasn't a slab of beef like many PMCs.
New LGBTQ+ protections passed, also the Lunar colony reports a serial killer on the station, officers have been dispatched to investigate.



Check out my Napoleonic Era Alt-History RP!


1. Constitutional Monarchy that functions as a Federal Constitutional Republic
2. The Flag represents the European Union (stars) and the Prussian/German Monarch who sits on the throne (Black background and Eagle)
3. Tech level PMT verging on the brink of FT

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The United Federation of Terrans
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Postby The United Federation of Terrans » Tue Mar 23, 2021 8:59 am

Bolslania wrote:"Could you watch the sausages while I get my pistol?".


0603
TRAEGER,ERIK
BARRACKS TRAILER,
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Ja, no problem.” Erik replied to the gunner as he took over the pan. He wasn’t much of a cook, microwave meals were usually his fate when he had to cook anything. But his wife had taught him a little of this over the last off cycle.

So while he tended to the sausages he glanced at the TV and the coverage of the riots.

“Think they’ll cause us trouble boss?” Erik said while an overzealous protestor tried to mount the police line and received a baton for his trouble.
My travels take me many places, from the scorching sands to the cold, dark vacuum of space. But I always return to my friends and family at The Pub.

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Cylarn
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Founded: Nov 25, 2011
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Cylarn » Tue Mar 23, 2021 9:10 am

0604
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTRAL


Just as the intensity of the protest increased with an attempted breach of the police line, Traeger asked Walsh if they were going to have any trouble as a result. The cracks of riot shotguns erupted and smoke filled the air as CS canisters were launched into the crowd of protesters. From their end, bricks and other objects started to fly at the riot police. Esteban took a sip of his coffee and looked over at Traeger. It looks like every other South American protest.

Esteban shook his head. "Lima is a world away from us. Some people still like Keiko's dad for killing the Shining Path, but there isn't enough sentiment there for it to spill over into the Amazon."

It was the truth; the Amazon was not Lima, unhindered by the cosmopolitan restraints of the rest of Peru. Uncontacted tribes and illegal loggers and miners alike lived a life away from the drama of the continent. Their own worries and desires always were to upstage any theatrics by the Fujimoris, or anyone for that matter. Life would carry on as it always did.

Esteban motioned to the coffee pot and machine, still hot and with ten cups of capacity remaining. "Help yourself to some coffee."
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Bolslania
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Founded: Mar 07, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Bolslania » Tue Mar 23, 2021 9:19 am

0604
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Signorino stepped to the side as Traeger took over.

"Thanks man." He said entering into the hall. He stepped into his room, he flicked the light switch, the single LED light in the ceiling coming to life.. His m60 was attached to its locks by his bed, and his pistol and holster sat in the drawer of the night table, he fitted the holster to his belt. He pulled back the slide on his Sig Sauer, making sure it was chambered, the brass gleaming under the light. He slid it into his holster, the familiar weight on his hip completing his clothing. He cracked open the wardrobe, pulling out one of his black polo shirts. He pulled it over his head as he stepped back out of his room, going back to relieve Traeger as the Austrian asked about the protests.

Walsh addressed the medic's concerns as the Peruvian riot squad opened up with CS gas. Saying that the riots wouldn't spill over into the Amazon. Walsh offered coffee, and Signorino decided to take him up on that offer.

"Thanks for the assist." Signorino said to Traeger, signaling that he could hand the cooking back over to Signorino. It would probably be another few minutes before the sausages were fully browned all over. He looked out the window.

"Is that truck still there? What's he waiting for?"
New LGBTQ+ protections passed, also the Lunar colony reports a serial killer on the station, officers have been dispatched to investigate.



Check out my Napoleonic Era Alt-History RP!


1. Constitutional Monarchy that functions as a Federal Constitutional Republic
2. The Flag represents the European Union (stars) and the Prussian/German Monarch who sits on the throne (Black background and Eagle)
3. Tech level PMT verging on the brink of FT

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Dayganistan
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Founded: May 02, 2016
Father Knows Best State

Postby Dayganistan » Tue Mar 23, 2021 10:30 am

0603
DEMIR, KEMAL
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Kemal had already been awake for a few minutes when he heard the knocking on his door. Time to go, he thought as he sat on the edge of his bed and slipped on his boots. From outside of his room he could hear the sounds of a TV with Spanish speaking news reporters discussing something, as well as the sounds and smell of something being cooked in the kitchen. Probably some sort of pork product with the amount of Americans and western Europeans on the team and based on Kemal's knowledge of what Americans like to eat for breakfast from the time he spent on training courses in the United States. Unfortunately, he'd have to refuse if anything with pork was offered to him. While far from an observant Muslim he still avoided pork for cultural reasons. It's just not a part of Turkish cuisine so it's a strange foreign food as far as he's concerned.

After lacing up his boots he tossed on one of his moisture wicking polos and fastened his battle belt around his waist. He reached for his Glock on his bed side table, where it sat beside a framed photo from his wedding. Kemal had yet to find out if any of the others were married or family types. In this line of work, whether it's private contracting or special operations in an official state armed forces, Kemal found there's usually two types of men. There's the family men who try to make it work despite the difficulties of their work and the long weeks, months, even years spent away from home. Sometimes it works out for them, sometimes it doesn't, and Kemal hoped he could be one of the ones it works for. On the opposite side, there's the guys who think committed relationships are incompatible with their line of work and either swear off dating altogether or seem to have a different girl every week. Kemal would surely find out soon which ones his teammates were. It's only a matter of time before conversations about life back home come up when soldiers are bored in the field.

Kemal placed his Glock into the Kydex holster on his battle belt and left his room, making his way to the kitchen. Three of his fellow contractors were already there, one cooking sausages. Kemal wanted to cook some eggs for himself, but he would wait until the American was finished so as not to get in his way. The TV was showing scenes of a protest in Lima. A smell of coffee filled the room as Kemal noticed the coffee maker was nearly full. He was more of a person who preferred tea with breakfast, however.

"Good morning," he said to everyone generally as he reached for the plastic kettle and began to fill it with water. He didn't feel a need to say much more. These guys weren't friends, just coworkers. At least for now. Kemal knew that fighting side by side can forge strong bonds. Maybe by the end of their time in Peru he would call some of these men his friends but he didn't want to count on it just this moment. However, given the more negative opinions of Turkey in a lot of western countries these days it probably wouldn't hurt Kemal to try to be more friendly himself. It was fine with rookies in SAT, or the scumbag jihadists in Syria they were forced to work with, to not immediately try to be buddies, but here might require a different approach from his normal way of acting around new partners.

"Do we have a mission planned for today? Or is it still 'stand by to stand by' as the Americans say?" He asked generally to the group as he reached for the box of Lipton tea bags, hoping someone may have an answer.

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Bolslania
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Founded: Mar 07, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Bolslania » Tue Mar 23, 2021 10:41 am

0605
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Signorino looked up from the sausages as Kemal walked in

"Morning." He said, flipping the sausage over. Shit thats right. We've got a Turk here. Fuck. He thought, it had entirely slipped his mind. He stepped back over to the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a box of eggs.

Dayganistan wrote:
"Do we have a mission planned for today? Or is it still 'stand by to stand by' as the Americans say?" He asked generally to the group as he reached for the box of Lipton tea bags, hoping someone may have an answer.


Signorino shrugged as he opened the box of eggs.

"Who knows, there's a truck sitting outside, he's been there for about 6 minutes." He said, pulling down another pan. This was turning into a full breakfast experience. He had been raised to believe that when you cooked, you cooked something for everyone. The Turk, more likely than not, did not eat pork meat for religious or cultural reasons, so it was Signorino's responsibility to make something that would be accepted. Such as eggs. Or at least Signorino saw it as his responsibility.

Turning to the group et large, he said.

"Any requests for eggs?" He asked. He was slightly concerned about that truck. It had been sitting their for several minutes, while he knew they weren't going to be dangerous, it was still concerning.
Last edited by Bolslania on Tue Mar 23, 2021 11:19 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Cylarn
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 14906
Founded: Nov 25, 2011
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Cylarn » Tue Mar 23, 2021 11:39 am

0605
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTRAL


The room was starting to fill up. Signorino, now bearing a firearm on him, rejoined the group and brandished some eggs for the team. The morning was coming together, but they had yet to be joined by the occupant of the truck. Esteban paced back over to the table and regained his seat, just as Kemal entered the room. Esteban set his mug down, took his spoon and scooped up his flakes, looking between the TV and Kemal.

The man was his RTO, but the records of the two men were in opposition. Out of all ninety of the contractors employed by Samael, they were the only two men who had fought in opposing military units. Personally, Esteban never encountered the Turks, having left shortly after their foray into Syria. As far as he was concerned, Turkey was as harmful as Daesh. Hamdana, only the other hand, bore a strong hatred for Turks. The ugliest quality of a beautiful woman, really. For all of the truths and personal feelings, Esteban had no desire to lose focus on his career, by inviting an altercation with a co-worker.

His colleague asked if they had a mission. Signorino enlighted Kemal with the circumstance involving the truck. Esteban chose to speak up.

"All the aid workers appear to be up. I didn't know that they pulled muster at dawn. But eh, I elect that we wait until they walk in or call us."

Esteban took another bite of his cereal, and looked over at the TV. Two commentators were now speaking on the news program, with a ticker and headline reading about the ongoing Fujimori case. They were close to shouting at one another - rival politicians arguing back and forth over the merit of the case. The anchor sat between them as quietly as possible, her nervous eyes watching both men as they grew redder and redder with every shout.
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Hastur
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 194
Founded: Jul 01, 2017
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Hastur » Tue Mar 23, 2021 2:05 pm

0600
PARISEAU, ANNE-LAURE
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER




Pariseau counted the lights that twinkled on and off from within the aid workers compound. Wrapping up the last of her morning cigarette. Taking notice of the rainfall as it chattered off the tin off of the trailer that they were occupying. The aid workers were mustered out for the day. Making ready for whatever mission they had to do. The men and women in white ponchos sauntering out into an undisciplined line heading towards picnic benches. A vehicle approached the line. A white Tacoma pulling up to the front. Some white ponchos gathering round it to engage with the driver. A clear sign that something was going on. Then that vehicle began driving towards their trailers. Parking outside. She knew that they’d be getting their marching orders soon. Likely an escort job for the NGO’s today.

Pariseau put out the stub. Tossing it into an empty water bottle as she closed the window. Getting ready to head into the main part of the trailer. The accommodations were cramped. Four a room, and a dozen guys crammed into a large living trailer like sardines. The tiny bunkroom offered her very little room to move. Only slightly wider than the accommodation of a warship, now throw in that packed with equipment, personal effects and two small bunk beds made it less than ideal. It wasn’t exactly the Hilton or The Ritz, but it was unquestionably better than the accommodations she’d had in Angola, and the income was better here. But it made her miss the Mexican contract. A pleasant hotel and a cushy gig for two months that had her sitting in an unarmoured SUV driving oil executives around.

This one was looking like it was going to be much more of a challenge. The amazon was a unique beast. Jungle training in French Guiana on the other side of the continent’s amazon had showed her that. An already dangerous place, with the illegal loggers that had itchy trigger fingers and a mean streak not helping things. They had built up a reputation as being some bad dudes, having killed countless individuals. That was unfortunately the reason she had to be here. Pariseau and her buddies had to keep the bastards clear of the area and protecting their sympathetic aid workers. A six-month contract that would set her up for a while back home. All she just had to avoid seriously injured or killed.

A loud rattling on the door and a shouting for the team lead caught her off guard. The Mexican marine alerting everyone that it was time to rise and shine. Anne-Laure grabbed her handgun, a Glock 19, and inserted it into the waistband of her tan hiking trousers, near her appendix. Tucking in her pale blue button-up shirt back in as she opening the door, she headed out into the kitchen area.

“Bonjour.” She greeted quietly, her French accent thick as she turned over a cursory nod to the multi-national group that had assembled. Walsh, the whitest Mexican she’d seen, and the Austrian Traeger seemed to be watching news on the TV. The bulky Italian American SAW gunner, Signorino, cooked sausages as the Turk Demir made tea close by. The four men sharing their discussion between the truck that had been suspiciously hanging outside, the news and today’s briefing. All of them seemed like decent guys with really diverse military backgrounds. With Pariseau liking most of them so far. Although she consistently speculated if it was the best idea to put a turk and a YPG volunteer in the same vehicle. Seemed like a potential for a clash if the topic got brought up. He was the second signal qualified guy however.

Anne-Laure’s ears tuning into the argument that was ensuing between the two commentators. Listening to them talking about some Fujimori case as she made her way over to the kitchen counter. Taking a mug of black coffee along with a Pan Frances, a prominent piece of Peruvian bread. Wielding a knife to spread a thin portion of butter before locating a place at the dining table. Getting relaxed as she leisurely ate her light breakfast. Taking in the flavours, her taste buds relaying the fact that the bread had been foritified with lard. A supposedly common practise here, with whole wheat being somewhat hard to find.

“The truck stopped outside of the NGO compound.” Anne Laure added, taking a long swig of the coffee. “Couple of aid workers swamped around it. So it’s somebody important.” She leaned back, finishing the last part of the meal. Letting it digest as she peeked outside to see that the vehicle was still outside. Waiting. The rain still pouring down. Pariseau knew it was going to be like this for a while. It being wet season and all. Her gaze passed onto Erik, whom had been unfortunate enough to get screwed by his airline. Losing a lot of his equipment. ”You might want to ask our dear friends in the white ponchos if you can borrow one, Erik. I’m sure the aid workers would be glad to come to your aid on that one.” She half joked, but getting soaked in the heavy rainfall wasn't fun and the aid workers were bound to have spares.

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Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States
P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 20301
Founded: Feb 20, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Tue Mar 23, 2021 2:08 pm

0550
CHURAN
PARK CENTRAL PARAMETER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTRAL


Churan stood up from her hunched position and looked up at the sky above, allowing a light drizzle to fall past the brim of her hat, onto her face. Having water directly pour onto her face was refreshing, and a nice change of pace from the normal humidity that could turn the air stiflingly sweltering. The pitter-patter could either stop, which meant a return to the regular thick air, or it could grow to a tropical downpour. Churan hoped for the latter; it had been a few days since she had been washed over by a proper storm, and she longed to hear the thunder roll over the forest again.

She looked down at where she had been hunching. Between the thick bush and low growth there was a thin sliver of bare soil, covered only by some twigs and brown leaves. It seemed to begin at the forest edge, and then snaked deeper into the undergrowth, to quickly become invisible in the thick plant cover. Churan shook her head and picked up her gear, slowly sauntering across the newly-built airfield towards the barracks trailer.

The aid mission building an air strip straight through a jaguar hunting path was an apt metaphor for their entire presence of the Mission. Through their charity, the AAM was putting themselves in the path of forces they did not fully understand, thinking that the suffering of the indigenous people was caused by their mere absence. In the meantime, the AAM was building the very same infrastructure that made the jungle more and more penetrable. Bit by bit helping to privatise the jungle, so that the local people were more and more reliant on the aid that the AAM provided. And the more people that made use of their medical facilities for diseases that AAM staff brought with them, and the more people had to wear their clothing because outsiders found bare breasts disagreeable, the more the AAM counted it towards their victories.

As she approached the trailer through the thickening curtain of rain, she saw the occupants through one of the plexiglass windows, quietly conversing. Four of them were there now; Esteban, Brett, Kemal and Erik. Of all the people in the Centre, Churan actually found the mercenaries most agreeable, which was an odd thing to say. The idea of soldiers-for-hire, trading their life and limb to the highest bidder for cash, had something dirty about it. But she had met soldiers who traded their life and limb for such concepts as ‘patriotism’, and she hardly thought that was any better. At least with mercenaries, there was some room for morality, in a twisted way. At least these people told it like it was.

That didn’t mean they were any more competent. Sure, they were good fighters all, and most of them could kill her in a heartbeat. Good aim, strong arms, fast reflexes, they had it all. Most of them, however, did not know the first thing about jungle survival. Which was why they had gotten her on board, of course. She entered the trailer and simply nodded at those present, sitting down at the table and taking a few swigs from the rain water she had collected from hanging leaves outside. As long as the rain kept pouring, those puddles were safe to drink from, if you watched out for poison dart frogs. The second it stopped raining, however, those stagnant pools had to be watched out for.

Her English was not good enough to catch most of the conversations happening. Something about a truck… outside… six minutes… She knew the words, but Brett was a fast talker, and in the mumble of strung-together words it was hard to actually know where one began and another ended.

Instead of listening to the rapid-fire English and giving herself a headache, she focussed on the television playing in the background. Fujimori; a women she had never heard from just a year before, and who hadn’t taken long to become her most disliked public figure. There was a sadness about these two men, fighting in a case that would determine the fate of the whole nation, including the Amazon, and the people who lived there didn’t know any of them existed. And the man fighting against Fujimori probably didn’t know they existed, either.
The name's James. James Usari. Well, my name is not actually James Usari, so don't bother actually looking it up, but it'll do for now.

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Monfrox
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33612
Founded: Mar 25, 2011
Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Tue Mar 23, 2021 3:08 pm

0606
OBOLENSKAYA, VERINKA
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTRAL


Verinka had been up even before the rude awakening the other team members received. She had begun her morning routine workout inside her room and was just finished doing her cooldown stretches when the Team Lead knocked on her door. She was about to smart off, but then decided that it was too early in the morning to make bad moods. She threw on her combat pants and the battle belt she had set up the night before with her Sig and bayonet on it. For all her time with the company, this was her first mission with most of the people here. Only a few she had seen before but couldn't remember their names for the life of her. She pulled her light-blue striped telnyashka over herself, a keepsake from her time in the airborne, and stepped out.

The place was sparse, making the most of all the available space that they had very little of. She didn't mind the cramped quarters so much, but it did get in the way of her workouts sometimes. Still, Verinka made due as everyone else did. She had a grin on her face as she walked out, ready and eager to start the day. She stepped in silently and retrieved her bottle of vodka from the refrigerator, popping the cap off and taking a swig straight from the bottle as naturally as everyone else was drinking their coffee. She took a spot leaning on the wall and held the bottle up in acknowledgement as she looked to Esteban.

"Dobroye utro, tovarishch komandir." She smiled wider now, flashing those pearly whites.

For all her nationality and patriotism, Verinka was westernizing quite quickly with her time in Samael. Sure, she kept a lot of the old Russian mannerisms and even the holdovers such as her Kalashnikov-styled rifle and the VDV tank top, but she had also been open to picking up more western equipment to outfit and kit herself out. It was also a bit harder to get the special things from the motherland so that meant she had to settle for what was available on the open market. But she always loved movie nights with the company. She couldn't get enough of the Hollywood action flicks.

"Working today?" She asked, inquiring about their status.
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Bolslania
Minister
 
Posts: 2633
Founded: Mar 07, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Bolslania » Tue Mar 23, 2021 3:24 pm

0607
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


He looked over his shoulder at their local guide who had come in silently. She was slightly offsetting to be around, drinking rainwater that she had found god knows where, sitting silently in what amounted to the corner of the kitchen area.

He noted Pariseau eating a piece of bread with lard spread across it. He nodded at her comment about the truck.

"It would be nice if they just came in and gave us the brief, rather than leaving us in suspense." He said. Pariseau had been designated as his FTL, and the other American, Reyes was a member of FT2 as well.

He killed the burner with one hand as he plucked out the browned sausages with the other, dropping the sausages on a clean paper towel.
"Alright folks, the sausage and eggs are done, who wants some?" He asked of the whole group. He thought he'd at least make an offer of breakfast to Churan and Demir as well, just to be on the safe side. He figured that Churan might be less than excited about western food, and Demir could very well be practicing or culturally Muslim so he wasn't going to be surprised if they passed on the sausage. He greeted Verinka as she walked in, taking a swig of vodka.

"Morning Obolenskaya, breakfast?" He said. The Russian woman was the loudest of the group, in terms of volume and personality. Walsh was approachable, but not loudspoken. It was strange being in a company with a former member of a military you were trained to combat. It didn't matter much however, she was a coworker.
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The United Federation of Terrans
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1710
Founded: Aug 26, 2014
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby The United Federation of Terrans » Tue Mar 23, 2021 4:26 pm

06010
TRAEGER,ERIK
BARRACKS TRAILER,
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


The kitchen was beginning to resemble last night's dinner. The trickle of team members offering greetings as they claimed spots around the decently appointed kitchen. Most talked about the mysterious vehicle parked outside and whether its presence meant that they would be working soon. The sole exception was their Ranger; a local girl who would have looked the part of the typical safari guide if not for the SIG holstered under her arm. Erik had yet to hear her speak and he wondered if they were going to have to use a translator just to talk to the guide. Such situations were usually the case back in his Goliath Recovery days; and they were lucky even then to have a translator. Some jobs just had the guide gesturing frantically till the team understood what they were saying.

Hastur wrote:”You might want to ask our dear friends in the white ponchos if you can borrow one, Erik. I’m sure the aid workers would be glad to come to your aid on that one.”


Erik turned his attention to the French signal specialist, the joke evident in her voice, and he gave a weary chuckle as he shrugged his shoulders and stood.

"Maybe, I'll be their first aid." He made an effort to say it in English and even gave a chuckle at his own joke as he stood to follow her suggestion. It was a good idea, not the most tactical one maybe, but it would keep him and his gear dry at least. Wet clothes were an issue out here; Africa had taught him his lessons there. He paused slightly to snag a fresh sausage from the American gunner's spread. He paused at the door to throw a light jab in Serbian over his shoulder, he was sure no-one here spoke it. "Idem da uplašim lokalno stanovništvo!!"

Then he lightly shouldered open the door and stepped out into the cover of the trailer's porch. He paused to bite off half of his meager breakfast and to adjust to the muggy air. As he chewed he looked over the mass of poncho-clad figures that huddled around the mysterious vehicle and the larger herd of workers that sat in huddled groups under the gazebo.

Popping, the last of the sausage into his mouth, Erik braced himself and stepped into the cold downpour to make his way to the gazebo. For all his talk of operating in Africa, Erik could tell this place was different. The rain in this place was of a different beast entirely from those of Central Africa. Even the familiar mix of rot, floral and humidity was noticeably different. This place was like a bad case of deja vu; hauntingly familiar while dissimilar enough to keep Erik from his comfort level. It was off-putting to say the least.

'Well, good thing we have the guide. Even if I have no idea if she even understands us.' Erik took what level comfort he could in that statement as he sidestepped the outskirts of the mysterious vehicle's gathering and arrived under the cover of the gazebo. The thrumming of blurred conversations, like that of a secondary school cafeteria, audible even over the rain assaulted his ears. Erik, tuned most of it out till he found the closest English sounding conversation, he was unable to make out any conversations in German, and he weaved his way through the gaggle of tables.

He arrived in time for the table's occupants to glance over at his lack of poncho and seem aghast at his presence. They had the look of fresh aid-workers, college age boys and girls with that mix of trepidation and excitement that seemed to be the uniform across the board for new workers. They also took seemed to lock their gazes on his sidearm. Which, definitely marked them as newbies. Which could either be good for Erik or bad.

"Excuse me, my airline lost my weather gear." Erik tried to keep his accent toned down; he found it helped when talking to the aid workers. "Does your group have any spare ponchos or jacket's?"

Most of them seemed to be avoiding him, apparently not wanting to talk to the guns-for-hire. Two however didn't seem to mind and they tore their eyes away from his FNX to gesture towards the worker barracks.

"Just ask the man working the desk in there." That was a young, blonde with a frizzy braid and glasses fogging up from humidity. Her accent was either Irish or Australian; Erik couldn't tell the difference there.

"We have whole crate loads in there. They won't miss one." That particular proclamation came from a skinny man with an overbite and the generic American accent that Erik had learned was dubbed "Mid-West".

"Danke schoen" Erik kicked himself mentally but carried on; throwing a thumb over his shoulder towards the Samael barracks. "If you need something, ask for Traeger. I'll see if I can help."

With that he left to go see if the pair hadn't just made up a lie to get him to leave. If they did, Erik would have to find a way to get them back, but he would give them points for doing something other then clamming up.

*********
Erik returned to the trailer with this his fresh from the box white poncho still wet from his short lived walk from the hotel. He paused slightly on the porch to let the water run off him before stepping inside and peeling away the garment carefully.

'I miss anything?"
My travels take me many places, from the scorching sands to the cold, dark vacuum of space. But I always return to my friends and family at The Pub.

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Cylarn
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 14906
Founded: Nov 25, 2011
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Cylarn » Tue Mar 23, 2021 4:48 pm

0607
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Pariseau, the Lead for Team Two, made her debut by brandishing a piece of bread as her meal and joking with Traeger about his gear. Esteban looked up and chuckled, giving a nod to Pariseau as she joined him at the table. Sucks to suck, but I got my team covered. He had come prepared; he brought a poncho, wet weather top and bottom, and a Gore-Tex jacket. The team leader shot his eyes to Traeger, giving a nod and smile to the Austrian as a sign that he had nothing to worry about - but the Austrian had already dashed out into the rain. Could've said something last night.

Esteban noticed that Pariseau also witnessed the morning muster and the approach of the truck. After finishing off yet another scoop of cereal, he turned his attention to her. "Yep. Something's up." His eyes flashed over to the kitchen counter, where his Motorola radio sat.

"Nothing on the net, at least not yet."

Churan joined the group, silently taking a seat at the table and diligently eyeing the TV. Something told Esteban that the young - yet very mature, for her age - Yahari woman had no particular love for all of the outside influence in her homeland. He knew that despite all of the foreign exploitation that Mexico was continuing to endure, his homeland at least had a shot of survival. Despite his unfamiliarity with Almodavar, it was clear to Esteban that it was only a matter of time before the Yahari and the Megasa lost their old ways and joined the rest of the continent.

Esteban thought to say something. However, he was interrupted by the arrival of the team's resident Russian, who walked in with her sleeve tattoos and grin on full display. As if it were her morning ritual, Verinka produced a bottle of vodka from the refrigerator and took a swig - all within perfect view of the team leaders. Esteban observed her silently, his face blank even as she greeted him in her native tongue. Signorino offered her some food; Traeger rejoined the group, now with a white plastic poncho. Esteban shot his gaze to Verinka.

"Shitcan that when they walk up in here," he said, his tone one of seriousness. "You better be squared away once we get working."
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If you are serving the US and its allies right now overseas, thank you for what you do.
Recipient of the Best Crime RP'er Award and the Best Crime RP Award for 2013 in P2TM. Recipient of the Best Crime RP'er Award of 2014 in P2TM.

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Monfrox
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33612
Founded: Mar 25, 2011
Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Tue Mar 23, 2021 6:25 pm

"What's wrong, tovarishch komandir? I thought drinking on the job was favorite American pastime?" Verinka snickered at her own joke as she put the cap back on the bottle and returned it to the fridge. She counted herself lucky to be Russian, as she drank vodka so strong that it'd take the chrome off a bumper. That meant no one else dared touch it, and if they did she would "gently" remind them who it belonged to. She took one of the sausages from the plate their Italian machine gunner had put them on and took a big bite.

"Ah, the famous American cooking they talk so much about." She commented after she finished chewing. "Always nice to eat something not minced into liquid for once. Wish cooks in my unit were as good as you."

Verinka helped herself to some eggs, but elected to stay standing while eating. Her accent was a thick as you would expect it to be, and the tattoo sleeves on her arms all alluded to some form of Russian military power, with parachutes and Hinds and APCs. She was very proud to get it done after she left and joined the company. She poured herself a small cup of coffee to have with her breakfast.
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I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
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Bolslania
Minister
 
Posts: 2633
Founded: Mar 07, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Bolslania » Wed Mar 24, 2021 6:04 am

0607
SIGNORINO, BRETT
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


Signorino's lip twitched ever so slightly at the Russian's comment about American's working habits at the same time as she complemented his cooking. He decided it would be fitting to joke back a little bit.

"Unfortunately I did not bring any booze with me so I just might have to deny myself for now." He said with a small grin as Obolenskaya served herself. Personally he didn't drink much, he found it caused more harm than help. Besides, he had a lot more on the line that just his life, so he couldn't afford to put himself at risk on the job. After she moved away from the food he grabbed himself a sausage and some eggs, nodding at her compliment. It was true that military food was not the most pleasant of experiences. He moved back to the window. It appeared as though the muster had ended, and all the aid workers were in a gazebo, hiding from the rainstorm. Signorino didn't blame them, it looked unpleasant out there. He knew somewhere that he might have jumped on the Russian for her brash drinking, but he wasn't an FTL, and hadn't been for almost three years. So it wasn't really his job. The remaining eggs and sausages were still on a plate, for anyone who decided to help themselves to the so named 'famous American cooking'.

The truck had sat there throughout Erik's journey to retrieve a poncho, as well as Churan's entrance into the trailer. It must be something important, but it sitting there for so long must mean that some planning detail hadn't been worked out yet.

wonderful He thought as he poured himself a cup of coffee, taking an appreciative sip before he set into his breakfast. After he finished he would offer to go investigate. The TV continued to rattle on about a criminal case it looked like. Someone named Fujimiori or something. Signorino was not up to date on his Peruvian politics, combined with his lack of the understanding of the spanish language, he was at a loss.
Last edited by Bolslania on Wed Mar 24, 2021 7:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
New LGBTQ+ protections passed, also the Lunar colony reports a serial killer on the station, officers have been dispatched to investigate.



Check out my Napoleonic Era Alt-History RP!


1. Constitutional Monarchy that functions as a Federal Constitutional Republic
2. The Flag represents the European Union (stars) and the Prussian/German Monarch who sits on the throne (Black background and Eagle)
3. Tech level PMT verging on the brink of FT

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Cylarn
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 14906
Founded: Nov 25, 2011
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Cylarn » Wed Mar 24, 2021 7:37 am

0607
WALSH, ESTEBAN
BARRACKS TRAILER
ALMODAVAR PARK CENTER


American. That's always the first guess. Esteban decided to let a small smile slip onto his face as he stared on at the Russian. She remarked about 'American' things, and commandeered a plate of eggs and sausage. Esteban took a sip of his coffee.

"Mejícanos like myself wait for sunset to start drinking," Esteban said. Signorino made a remark about the lack of alcohol. Patience, my Tabbed-and-Scrolled friend. Even if we have to scale that hotel and steal the AAM's liquor, we will have our day. Esteban let pit a laugh and stood up, making his way into the kitchen to snatch up a sausage or two. As he stepped within eyesight of the window, the cessation of the trucklights outside caught his attention, sending Esteban's gaze into alert. The figure was now stride through the standing water and mud, her path leading to the door of the trailer.

"And prepare for briefing," Esteban said forebodingly, raising his voice to notify the team that they had company.

Right on cue, the door opened to a flurry of rain and wind, followed up by a short, white poncho-covered woman who quickly made her way inside. The woman pulled her hood down, revealing a bushel of bleach-blonde hair pulled into a ponytail on the head of a middle-aged white woman. Esteban recognized her immediately. She's the Sunday Televangelist lady. Ashley turned to face the kitchen, looking at no one in particular as her long index finger tipped by a red nail pointed over to the coffee pot.

"Hit me up, boys," she said in a very stereotypical-sounding Southern accent befitting a Belle. Without waiting for a response, she beelined to the table- but stopped just in front of Verlinka. The Russian veteran dwarfed Ashley Barton, but the minister gave her a judging once-over, before flashing an equally judgemental smirk, and turning to take a seat at the table, across from Pariseau and right into Esteban's original seat. He restrained a frown and walked over to the coffee machine, grabbing a Styrofoam cup and picking up the pot.

"So, we have a problem," she began. "Who has a map?"
✎ Member - ℘ædagog
If you are serving the US and its allies right now overseas, thank you for what you do.
Recipient of the Best Crime RP'er Award and the Best Crime RP Award for 2013 in P2TM. Recipient of the Best Crime RP'er Award of 2014 in P2TM.

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