Antoine heard the whisper of Howard's voice in her left ear while Imran's orders hit his right. She replied to the both of them with the utmost simplicity, saying "Oui." She drew a detonator, and pressed the red button with a giggle, listening to the following explosions for a moment before drawing her MP5 and moving downstairs, quiet as a mouse. Once down the stairs, she was faced with a surprising sight. Hiding next to the doorway, she saw a hotbed of activity. Men with AKs were flitting about, carrying containers out of opened doors, and there was still one more floor below her. Antoine sighed and called in "Imran, theres a group on the next floor, I'll deal with them." She took a deep breath and readied herself, it was time for open battle.

Flipping around the corner, bullets raced out in graceful arcs, popping through the skulls of the men whose rifles were most quickly available. Seconds was all it took to empty the SMG's clip, dropping the most immediate threat. She allowed her weapon to clatter to the floor as she drew her knife with one hand and P226 with the other, charging the remaining foes, of which she counted 8, 4 of whom carried containers with bio-hazard symbols. Her Camilius embedded itself in the neck of a box man while her other hand trained the pistol on a pair of men whose pistols were lined up. She pulled the trigger twice and watched both die, but not before a round grazed her thigh. Blood welled and rolled down while Antoine flinched slightly in pain. She lined up her sidearm, however, and gunned down the other two just as they opened up with their pistols, Thankfully, however, they all missed. She then dropped the empty sidearm and picked a few throwing knives out, throwing them quickly into the necks of the last three. She spent a minute re-collecting her SMG, Pistol and knives before moving to the next floor, reloading as she went.

This floor, thankfully, hadn't been breached quite yet. Standing at the secure airlock were another 10 men, each having AKs. They had heard the gunfire, however, and were on alert. Antoine slunk into the shadows and decided to start breeding paranoia. There were plenty of shadows to exploit in the hallway leading to the airlock, and she intended to. However, she realized that she had to be expedient and so, with a mental sigh, retreated to the previous floor. There, she claimed a fragmentation grenade from one of the fallen men and returned downstairs, moving swiftly and silently. 7 seconds later, all 10 men were dead, but the airlock was wrecked thoroughly. Poking her head through the destroyed door, she was relieved to find the other side of the airlock hadn't been breached. So, she radioed in "Both floors cleared, Mes Amis."

Howard climbed down out of the tree, sliding his unused arrow into a slot in his quiver once he is on the ground. No need to check the suits, no way the pilots could survive those explosions. He then headed for the gate the runners had taken. Once there he scouted the area carefully, after a short moment he found trace. He touched his mic, "I'm going on a stalk...we have runners, and they aren't going to make it to safety. I'll meet you at extraction bravo. Going silent..." He switch off his mic and coms set then, so any noise wouldn't spook his prey. He got his bearings...then vanished into the foliage.

Ahead of him, about 10 minutes or so ahead, eight soldiers ran into the wilds. Heading towards a secondary base location, a place where they could send for pick up and relay that the main base had been hit. They could get picked up, and debriefed there. But first they had to make it. The eight men jogged through the undergrowth, using head lamps to light the way.

Howard ghosted through the foliage leaving little to no trace of his own. He knew where to step, knew what he could and couldn't touch. These soldiers didn't. He found boot prints, a dropped magazine of 5.56 rounds. Broken leaves and branches. He picked his way along the trace carefully. Murmuring softly to himself, "Fools...don't know the way of the forest. Don't know the call of the wild..." He stepped over some stone carefully, not wanting to disturb the spider hiding under one of them, waiting for it's next meal. Howard kept on moving. Stopping suddenly and sniffing the air, "One of them is smoking...polluted tobacco no less...insult to mother nature..." He picked up his speed.

It took him a few more minutes to catch up to them. He could see their head lamps now. He blinked several times getting used to the hit to his night vision. HE stopped and ducked when one of the soldiers suddenly opened fire on something. A fire from the hip at something in the undergrowth. Howard watched a pantheress lop off into the foliage.

That was the last straw.

These men had sealed their fates.

He drew an arrow, having modified it to broad head. He waited. And took his first shot.

The soldiers never heard the arrow, and no one at first noticed as one of their number took the arrow right to the back of the head. He didn't have time to let out a cry of pain or surprise before dropping dead to the jungle floor. The remaining seven didn't notice anything until another one of their number took a second arrow to the heart. And he had time to let out a bark of pain before keeling over. The other six looked at the arrow in confusion. Not sure who could be using such a primitive item. Two more of their number got even more primitive examples. As a pair of tomahawks came flipping out of the darkness. One man took the 'hawk right to the forehead. He didn't even have time to register it in his mind. The other man took the 'hawk right to the stomach. Even if he could get it out, things would be ruptured, he'd die from that.

Four remained. And they were now fearing for their lives. Another arrow came whizzing out of the forest. But they saw it coming this time, and leapt out of the way. And began to fire wildly into the forest in the direction it came from. Unbeknownst to them Howard dashed in behind them and retrieved his 'hawks while they weren't looking. As they turned back to check on their comrades. They didn't notice the missing weaponry.

Howard sheathed one of his tomahawks, and drew his combat knife. As the last four were picking over their friends, he charged in again, silent, and deadly. Like a predator running down it's prey. One of the men cried out in pain and fear as Howard cut him deep and long across the back of both of his legs. He stumbled from his cut tendons. And had to use his gun as a crutch. Howard came in again before they could recover. The next man grabbed his throat as Howard slit it open as he ran by. One of the men got off a wild shot that missed Howard my miles. The remaining three men looked about trying to figure out where he would come from next. They again didn't expect the tomahawk to come whirling through the night to take out the hobbled man.

Howard moved in for the final kills. The last two remaining men looked about in horror and fear. One of them caught sight of Howard as he seemed to melt out of the night. But he wasn't fast enough, as Howard let out a whooping warcry, and stabbed the one who spotted him high on his right shoulder, then used his tomahawk to sweep his legs out from under him. He left his bone handle knife in the man's shoulder and drew the second hawk. Using it to catch the wild swing of the last man's rifle butt, turning it aside. Then with a vicious three hit combo reduced the man's neck and ribs to pulp.

The last man watched as the figure above him spun, and with a neat little half splits move buried both tomahawks in the man's chest. Howard looked around, checking every last corpse, then grabbed his knife and disappeared into the undergrowth again. He had a ways to go to get to extraction point bravo. He did turn his radio on though, and set a soft blurt of radio static to Imran letting him know the stalk was over.

(Keeping continuity. I'll make it so that we all have one more post to make in theatre, then we'll bring around the two new characters.)

Svetlana looked over, watching as they emerged.
"So, we got a plan for that?" She said, laying down fire on them as they responded with 12.7mm fire that hailed down, even sending Svetlana to a relative hardpoint behind a container, as she heard two incredibly loud explosions. She heard the two suits get torn apart, by what she could only guess was integral explosives. She moved out, the heavily armored Babushka now back into the line of fire, and directing shots downrange, the secondary explosion of one of the heavily armored suits going up as it didn't faze Svetlana to say the least. Cool guys don't look at explosion- and Svetlana took a guess that applied to the other sex too, so she went about her regular buisness, rather than concerning about the fact that it was going up in a hail of flame and shrapnel. The vehicle pool had also gone up, as the armored vehicles inside were pretty much torn to bits too, or at the very least, rendered unusable.
"Yep...nicely done, I felt the heat from that on even my skin. Imran, what's the situation inside?" Svetlana said, as she moved out, taking out a machinegun post as she felt the bullets ping off her suit, an awesome feeling, but one that she felt still adapted to. She kept up the fire, as she knew that she, along with the other heavy, Bjorn, were making more than enough noise out here and really scaring the shit out of the enemies.

Meanwhile inside, and Imran was pushing in, flanking each corner out, as he swept his Mk48.
"Seems clear, you've got most of them on you. Antoine, good work down there. I'll meet you downstairs, we'll get our shit and get out of here. Howard, keep finding what you can in terms of patrols. I think we just destroyed their leverage...and you know, most of their shit. I think our work it almost complete." Imran simply said, the exoskeleton responding very, very sensitively to his finest movements, as he swept the area that the team's inflitrator, Antoine, had already covered. He made his way down a set of stairs, and moving with a certain pace, was keeping an eye out for any enemies. There were dead guys, and they were carrying crates of some sort. He didn't like this at all- he had to have a look, and keeping a head around him, looked over to one. He moved the body over and saw the metal crates- all of which looked very, very well reinforced, and surely, nothing could be breached in this thing. He got back to moving to Antoine, as he kept the Mk48 to hand, looking over at the MP5-armed female that seemed to be like a Ghost.
"Well...this looks tidy, but the grenade could have damaged this shit. Careful next time on that aspect. We've got to get these samples back to the airlock sealant, then leave it to the chemcial warfare team to deal with." Imran simply said, as he walked over to the airlock, looking in, seeing nothing moving within, as he cocked his Mk48.
"Spectre, this is Raven. We've secured the facility, most of it looks like it's cleared, and Black Eagle and Viking are up top with Lasanga turning anything into scattered pieces that's running now. We're looking at a high-grade Artemis raid- we racked up kills of two Class Two Mechanized suits if I saw correctly through Black Eagle's headcam, and a few armored vehicles too that were stashed. AK-12s throughout, a few other interesting weapons too. These guys were armed well, but they've left with nothing."
"Understood, Raven. Extract's coming, Brazilian forces will move in shortly to clean up- Artemis looks like it's escalating whatever it wants to do, things could get busy in the next few days." Imran heard Spectre say, as he looked over to Antoine, picking up two crates himself, as he moved over to where the airlock door was, and a small hatch right by it. Sliding one of the crates in, he guessed that when the system cycled through, it would put the crate on the other side- a transport system of some sorts, perhaps negating the need for actually putting it through the door. When he pulled the hatch down, to even Imran's surprise, it was what happened, and the next crate went through, one of a handful.
"That wasn't too bad. I mean, apart from the fact that we've got enemy mechanized armor suits, and you know, modern Russian weaponry, it's all good..." Imran said, chuckling a little, as he heard a loud explosion go off upstairs, Svetlana quickly answering.
"Sorry, sorry, I hit a oil tank of some sort! It's all good!" She said swiftly, as Imran chuckled, covering Antoine.
"Yeah, I bloody hope so. Let's deal with the last of this and get going, Antoine- Howard, if it moves out there and doesn't seem to look like a friendly Brazillian SF unit, then they're fair game."

Fucking server...

Damn

Damn

Howard crept his way through the jungle undergrowth. Part of it was lit up by fires from the compound. And this worked as a beacon and unofficial return call to any patrols that were out at night. Howard watched one right then. They were moving at a decent clip, but not that fast as only one of them seemed to have a working headlamp. He quickly turned his radio off when Imran relayed the objective to keep taking out patrols until pick up arrived. He intended to do just that. But that sudden blurt of static and chatter was pretty loud in the relative quiet of the jungle. He ducked low as one of the patrolmen stopped and looked out into the darkness around him. The whole squad stopping, and the one with the headlamp passing the bright light over the foliage.

Howard hrmed softly, trying to piece together a way to make this work. He slowly drew his Honey Badger. He tucked rifle butt to shoulder. Then sighted into the C79 sight. The 3.4x scope working very well in the light. He he took a few long deep breathes, then squeezed the trigger. The round hissing out, heading right for the man with the lamp. The bullet whickered up, and took out the lamp, but left it's wearer unarmed. Because of the sudden darkness. Several of the men fired blindly and Howard counted atleast four friendly fire incidents. One man getting 2 bullets into the spine, another dropping to the side gripping his throat where a bullet had cut the artery. And the last howling in pain as a bullet punched through his bicep. Howard sheathed the carbine on his back, and drew his bow next, pressing buttons, an arrowhead screwing silently onto a shaft. He smiled, drew the arrow, and crept out to a firing position. Leaning partially out onto the path, taking aim and firing. The arrow burying into the ground at the feet of the remaining men.

Moments later, the forest was again lit up by light. And sound and screams. As the HE arrowhead, the size of a large marble goes up. Enough explosive packed in there to make a Hummer driver think twice of proceeding. Collapsing the bow. Howard drew his 'hawks again, very quietly stalking forward. Checking the moaning bodies. Many of them had compression injuries. As he went he counted almost all of them with internal bleeding. As far out as they were. Howard didn't need to do much. Except to sheath one tomahawk and draw his knife. Putting one man out of his misery honorably. As he was aware enough to die in slow excruciating pain rather then quickly like the rest as their bodies shut down on them over the next few seconds. Howard then proceeded on, turning his radio on again, "Two groups down. Proceeding to find somemore." He crept off in the direction of a secondary pick up position. And in the direction some tracks were headed.

Antoine nodded, saying "Oui, Mon capitaine." With that, she carefully picked her way out of the bunker, MP5 in hand. Once she was outside, she grinned and looked around at the results of the handiwork of herself and the team. She slung her weapon and slid right into the shadows, watching Svetlana's cleanup work. It was a sight to behold, that big suit of armor firing that equally big gun. Then again, she'd never understood why Svetlana liked to be in the open so much. Antoine herself was always happy to stay in the shadows, unseen and unheard by friend and foe alike. She shook her head slowly and drew her MP5, proceeding to purge the outer areas of the facility.

People tried to hide, but they didn't know they were facing the master. A man tried to hide in a tree, just to tumble out of it with a knife in his throat. A little bit later, another attempted to conceal himself within the shadows, just for a knife in the shadows to slit his throat. Another even tried to hide inside a truck, he didn't realize a frag grenade was rolled under the very same truck, seemingly from nowhere. All those attempting to hide from Scimitar's swing were met with its silent enforcer. Nobody escaped Antoine alive, and nobody ever knew what had happened

With the hiders done, she slipped carefully back to the front of the base and continued to observe. Any runners would meet a burst of 9mm rounds from a silenced weapon before she moved. Between her and Svetlana, there was no hope for survival for Artemis. She carefully picked her way over to the destroyed remains of the mechs and examined them with a critical eye. Her charges had done their work indeed, the men inside had been cooked in the tomb of their own armor. She nodded to herself and radioed simply "No more escapees."

Imran finished sealing the last crate back through, into the secured position, the airlock damaged but intraversable unless you waded some serious industrial equipment down here- something he'd leave for the Brazilians to go through themselves when needed. Moving up, the exoskeletoned soldier clambering up the stairs rapidly, he arrived at the top and saw the aftermath of what was going on, every last man dead. The noise of a tilt-rotor V22 could be heard in the distance, as Imran moved back up, to ground level from the submerged region. Antoine and Howard had been vicious in purging the last, and Svetlana's M134 and the several barrels it had finally no longer spewed.
"All Scimitar units, back to my location, middle of the compound. Got a smoke LZ up- we are leaving- Howard, leave it to the SF, they'll die in this jungle if they don't get found anyway, and they can remind their paymasters we weren't fucking around today." Imran simply said, as he checked his Mk48, holding the weapon in one hand as he saw Svetlana walk over, the mailed fist of Scimitar along with the axe-wielding Viking that was Viking coming over two, reinforcing the idea that you didn't take them out with regular methods, such as bullets or grenades or whatever. Heavier things would do, but still...even Imran, in what he knew, could acknowledge a few reasons why not to fuck with them. The V22 began it's approach, coming down hard a few meters away from the smoke, as Antoine and Howard were coming back, the femme fatale and the Mohican bushman who was again, literally wearing a bush that Imran reminded himself was a tactical ghillie suit, were proud of their work.
"Nicely done again. SF are a minute out, I say we leave, while we can- the vehicles will make their way back to us, that logistics' problem to deal with." Imran simply said, as he watched the rest of the team move into the V22, to get extracted. Eventually, as everyone piled in, Heavies at the back in particular, the tiltrotor kicked up dust and was out of the AO as soon as it entered, headed back to Rio to get them flown out to Bouvet back on the C17, and again, ready for whatever was needed.

Two Days Later
Bouvet Island
0500 Hours

It was early morning, and yet Imran had already gone for his morning run. The subterreanean site was useful, as there was a lot more to it than you'd expect. And finding Svetlana, doing pull ups off a bar in the gym in her tight....gym equipment was an understatement for what any man would see if they even spent a second in there. But for now, Imran was doing a circuit of the runway, cleared of ice, as he saw the cool glacier's air. He wore a Nike T-Shirt as well as his Turban in combination with his jogging bottoms, this being combined with a pair of earphones, that had some badass rock loudly playing, as he ran past the coastal sea defenses, the tetrapods and sea wall holding the aggressive South Atlantic from eroding the base away. The former Norwegian Airbase had been almost completely unknown to NATO and even Argentine or UK forces, it was completely and totally unknown- and the way Scimitar had it, was simply through them simply not requiring such a presence in this part of the world any longer. The clouds were only parted by the sun in places, but it was cold, and running had brought Imran's body temperature, used to the searing heat of Pakistan, to something reasonable. He had some people to contact when he got back- new blood, blood Scimitar would need to combat replace a few people, and it was something he was used to. Svetlana was a rather permanent feature, as was Howard and Antoine, but others sometimes came and went. And as he began to finish the lap, already feeling pumped as the song ended and he paced past the vehicle depot, he exhaled hard, looking at his wrist. Five seconds off. Not bad, considering this morning was about ten degrees colder at -20 than last time, and he had to be careful not to pull a muscle.

Meanwhile in the gym, and Svetlana, wearing a sports bra and a tight pair of underwear, was doing what any man would simply want to happily die watching, as she kept on pulling herself up and down on the metal pipe on the roof of the gym, the small but concentrated gym having everything, and anything. For Svetlana and Bjorn in particular, a few concrete blocks and various other strongman equipment had been placed in one end, that Imran would only ever imagine lifting with his exoskeleton, and even then, it would be hard. This was in stark contrast to the normality, or at least, for SF operators, what a gym would look like, with appropriate kit. Svetlana would lift it regularly, whilst armored up, a big concrete ball and happily carry it 50m, to place it on a pedestal- this was strongwoman training, and it was something that was harsh on the hands and muscles, leading to occasional injuries that the physios themselves even grossed out in, but managed to fix. Somehow, Svetlana was more competent at just taking the pain, getting a set of bandages on or pushing it back into place, and onward. And that was fine, as she pulled up, her two melons wobbling accordingly, aware that she hung about 10m off the ground, above the rowing equipment. At this hour of the morning, some were just asleep, and others just did activities. One level below the gym, was the training grounds, both VR and a specialized compartment including a salt-water tank and a CQC training ground, where Svetlana would sometimes...well, have some fun.

12 hours earlier...

Northern Afghanistan....

A small village had just finished their prayer, and it was quiet. The peaceful sounding town was in a valley, controlled by insurgent cells of all kinds. They all had one thing in common, they all hated americans. And lucky for them, two were right in the middle of the town. Suddenly gunfire erupted from the entire town. Gun fire went through the alleyway as Iceman fires down the northern half of the alley way. "OH SURE JUST GO TO AFGHANISTAN FOR A FEW DAYS! THATS IT! NO SHOOTING I SWEAR!" Iceman yells to Spectre. He fires a burst from his M16 into the alley way killing several insurgents with it. "I SWEAR TO GOD THAT IS THE LAST TIME I LISTEN TO YOU!" Iceman yells over the constant gunfire from them and the insurgents.
"It isn't my fault. I wasn't the..." Fires 7 rounds on semi automatic from his AUG dropping an insurgent with each bullet. He then continues his sentence. "One who began talking about how he hated the heat here. Because of your big damn mouth we are in the middle of a firefight!" He continues to fire from his crouched position in the alleyway. The alleyway maybe 10 or 15 yards wide. and it was covered by tarps and drying clothes from the locals. The insurgents fired down the alley hoping to hit the duo as they continued to lay down more fire than an entire platoon of rifles could.
"You know what! Fuck you Spectre! this is the last time we ever do a mission like this again!" Iceman yelled to him and then fired a burst of 20 rounds killing atleast 4 more insurgents as they tried to shift positions.
"FINE!" Spectre yelled. "When we get on the evac chopper we will swear never go on missions gain!"
"FINE BY ME!" Suddenly several insurgents fired on them all at once and the duo opened fire again dropping most of them. "Crap, reload cover me" he drops his 100 round beta mag and goes to grab another. As he does this Spectre in his armor stands stretching his aug out with his right hand down Iceman's side, and pulling one of his Black Talons to aim down his side. He begins firing his aug on semi automatic and his black talon as the insurgents attempt to move in on their position. After he reloads iceman sends the radio signal of two beeps to their helicopter and suddenly three black hawks and 4 apaches come over the hill, courtesy of General Anderson. "Alright roof go go go" Iceman says as he pushes open a door and enters the building. Spectre goes to follow but soon sees a shoulder mounted RPG aimed at him. He raises his black talon and shoots the Insurgent, but it was too late. The RPG flew out and slammed into his chest, shredding his armor and sending him to the ground. Spectre attempts to get up, and thinks he is done for. Iceman rushes out firing his M16, and grabs SPectre pulling him into the house and up the stairs with his help. The duo are spotted by the helicopters and the Apaches begin to lay cover fire as a black hawk comes in and hovers to get the two on board. Iceman and the crew chief get Spectre and his armor onboard, piece by piece. Finally they took off as the insurgents began to rush towards the black hawk. As they flew off they could see people coming from all over, armed with weapons, to the town.
"You boys are lucky we got there in time." The crew chief shouted over the sound of the black hawk. "I got orders for you two. you are going to some place called Bouvet. Generals orders. The duo look at eachother and chuckled as Spectred shifted and his armor just fell off as he did. But he luckily got what he came for, a hard drive. And the General got what he wanted, as they left an entire mountain was caught in an explosion from the inside.

Current time: 0500......

Bouvet Island..

The two sit on a Osprey that was re routed from a nearby carrier on it's way to the Mediterranean but was redirected to assist with their drop off. Iceman was in a full tactical body armor used by most Special forces, the camo was a naval camo he got from the Carrier on their stay there. Spectre on the other hand, wore a sleeveless shirt and tactical trousers, having enough pockets for extra clips and other things. And he also wore Green tinted sunglasses. and a Balaclava. His suit of armor in three bags beside him. The osprey comes in and lands on the island to drop the two off. They grab their gear and get off quickly so the osprey can return to it's mission. Spectre carried two bags on his back and one in each hand. his AUG was slung so it was on his chest incase he needed to fire quickly. ICeman had all of his gear in his three bags, including his rifle.

Antoine was back at base, hidden in the shadows as she watched the Osprey land. They were getting new blood today, and she was, as ever, watching. They didn't seem too impressive, of course, just like average SF. Then again, if they were here something had to be special about them. She easily moved amongst the shadows, watching them while remaining completely hidden and cloaked by darkness. She was curious about the one who had his rifle still. It indicated a lack of trust which, when new in Scimitar, was probably a good idea. Casually patting the pair of weapons she always kept, her P226 and Camilius combat knife, she debated on stepping out to meet them.

After a moment, she decided it'd be too stressful to try and carry on a conversation with new people. So, she slunk back into the base without a sound. Carefully entering the common area, she sat casually in the shadows. For now, she was the only one in here, but that could change. Leaning her back on the wall, her eyes scanned over the usually occupied room and she sighed. It was a shame people were transferring out of Scimitar, she never liked goodbyes. After all, usually when they left was just after Antoine had summoned the will to befriend them.

Howard stepped out of the shadows. The tactical ghille being a near perfect tool in this environment. Fronds of ferns and bits of grass and other fauna hung upon it. He literally looked like a walking bush as he reappeared in the compound. He calmed stepped up into the evac vehicle, as if nothing mattered. A job well done after all. He let his carbine swing, the muzzle pointed towards the floor of Osprey. He smiled broadly, "I left quite a few squads out there. Natures way will take it's course." He sighed and leaned back, relaxing, intending to catch a little shut eye before they had to board the C17 home.

A few days later, back on Bouvet Island

Howard carefully stalked the ice shelves of the island. There wasn't alot of wildlife on the islands, some penguins, seals and ocean birds for the most part. He had a rifle on hand, but it wasn't loaded with rounds of any kind. They were non-lethal tracer rounds. A good way to practice was to take these rounds, and take shots at penguins and seals that were unmarked and untagged by ecologists. Performing a sneak up on a pod of seals or a colony of penguins, without letting them know you're there really helped the skills. Animals being more observant then humans by a long shot. It was here, when he was observing some penguins that he spotted an Osprey, heading towards home base. He quirked an eyebrow, whispering very quietly, "New blood? Or is one of our current group moving on I wonder..." He shrugged and turned back to the penguins, he brought the unscoped, Mauser M98 hunting rifle down up from under his left arm. And took aim at the penguins. The low velocity, sound-dampened round didn't need to hit the penguins. It's send out coordinates to notify, anonomously various scientists about the location of the penguin population.

He pulled the trigger, and the rifle bucked.

He moved on before he could spook the penguins any further, having done his job, and not hurt a single bird. Maybe he could head back to base. Yeah sounded like a good idea. To check out who is coming in, or going out.

Imran was watching them come down, already a smirk on his face, as he watched the Osprey touch down, rolling onto the taxiway.as he looked at the ramp at the back opening up.
"Good to see you, welcome to Bouvet Island. The most remote island on the planet." He simply said, watching the two men emerge, one wearing a fairly moderate set of medium armor, wheras other just wore a shirt and some trousers, and looked...different. He looked normal, but something to Imran suggested he had something within him, something Imran had a feel for. It wasn't normal.
"Anyway, I hear good things, especially of you, Spectre. We're going to have to settle you into the place, the team's all over the place. But there's quarters for you, and training begins in three hours. Name's Imran Malik, or Raven. Remember it." Imran said, as he looked over.
"We're nice people. But think this is a party palace, you decide to threaten one of my men, you won't have time to think of consequences. I keep a stern eye on new candidates. One that tends to pick the weakest quick. The hardest, toughest, and ultimate warriors survive here. And my job, is to make sure that you A), hit that category, and B), Maintain it. Don't meet either, you get flown out, and you go back to whatever you came from. But I keep some details close, ones you wouldn't like to know about that process." Imran said coldly in his harsh Anglo-Pakistani accent that sounded posher than any, as he looked over at the Osprey, hovering over to a different position, where it headed to fuel and get the crew onto the tarmac.
"Follow me, gentlemen. You will be sorted out in time. But you'll be forged in fire. We test people differently. Physically, mentally and psychologically, you pass, and you go through every requirement we ask of you. Except one. The Scimitar Test." Imran said, chuckling.
"The fucking, Scimitar Test. It has a 70 percent survival rate, and from that, only twenty percent go through. 20 percent. Know how much that is?" Imran added, looking over.
"We took 30 people last year. 30 percent are sadly dead of that bunch, so you know, nine people have had to be buried in the ice and remain MIA. Both giants, people this high, people like you. Then twenty percent, six- six fucking people, in one year, actually passed. From those, I'll pick who goes through, and who goes back based on any other judgement. Make no mistake- got a problem with the system, you can ask anyone in that bunker there...or anyone watching the pair of you from either close or afar, that it's a fairly good system to really weed people out. And no, don't think of anything conventional." He added, as they headed for the bunker, a lift available, as they headed for it. A set of stairs went down, but the lift would be more handy, for getting to the subterranean quarters.
"I like getting into the nitty gritty, to get you aware of what comes. But I won't give it all away, that's harsh. It will push you beyond physical and mental limits, and will break you into a million pieces, before asking what's left of you to sweep away the pieces." He added, as the lift took them down.
"The unexpected void, the total confusion and the lack of orientation is what kills people. I'll give you that advice. You won't be in a reality that perhaps you'd be operationally trained for. And just if you tell me you're the best awarded soldier out there, the ultimate. You may not pass. Those who do, have a very different way of thinking. A way of thinking that fits with Scimitar's." He added, as they came to the quarters level, as the cage opened up.
"Yours is at the end Spectre, and Iceman, yours is on his right. Numbers ten and eleven. They are barebones empty, but make yourself at home and add what you want. You'll be brought to the test in time. You seem nice, so try not to die. I can't spare the paperwork. Have fun." Imran said, walking back into the lift, as he looked back.
"One last thing. If you do decide this isn't for you, now is your chance. We'll put you back on the Osprey, fly you to Cape Town, and you'll be back in Afghanistan in no time. With some changes, of course, that come with the process of being here unauthorized and out of Scimitar. You understand?" He said, looking with a steely look, into both of their eyes.

Svetlana gave one last hard rep, dropping to the floor hard, as she stood tall. She wondered about Bjorn- since the op, he had been rather quiet, just wanting to go to his room to think. So even though Svetlana gave no real developed thought to men, at least talking as a friend would get it out of him. It wasn't right. Walking into his room, he saw him there, just leaning back on his bed, just a bit down. She shut the door, the light on inside, a window in the concrete actually displaying the snowy ice outside, though it was just a video feed, to simulate a glacier view. The sealed door was soundproof, to a relative extent, and could only be opened by Imran, or Bjorn. The fact he had left it open had let her walk in, however.
"Hey." She said, looking over, already leaning against the wall, looking inside, at his stuff in general, and the Swede on the bed.
"You look like shit, to be fair." Svetlana said, aware that Bjorn was heightened in her presence, but she just wanted to talk, for now at least.

They looked at each other, this man seemed to talk forever about this program. "Well sir you probably wouldn't need to do much changing if you wouldn't blurt everything out here on the pad sir." Iceman said trying not to be disrespectful to their potentially new commander. Spectre remained silent the entire time they both talked. "Sir we also wish to start our training now. We've been sleeping most of the way here and we are well rested. But Spectre here won't be performing his absolute best. His armor got shredded on our last op and he hasn't had time to repair it." Iceman said, hoping Imran would understand if he didn't perform amazing during the tests. But Spectre knew he wold perform well. He had sometimes performed missions without his armor on and he did well enough to survive.

Howard knelt on a rise outside the base. He watched the Osprey touch down, and disgorge it's passengers. Two people, men by the looks of them. Professionals too by the looks of them. He didn't need to hear what Imran had to say to them. He remembered a version of it that he was given when he first showed up here. He remembered most of the tests. How he had passed the majority of them with flying colors, and set the first records then promptly broke those records that dealt with marksmanship and long range interdiction and shooting. Those records had never been broken, yet. He grinned broadly as he got back to his feet.

The trek down from the barren hills of the island took him a few minutes. He didn't take any detours.

He slipped onto the base quietly, and made for the armoury. Dropping off his rifle. Then heading into the Common Room. He scanned the usually busy room. It took him a pass or two to spot Antoine. He gave her a nod. Then headed over and sat down nearby. He looked over towards the quarters area. And nodded, "Newbies, Antoine. Newbies." He didn't look directly at her as he brought his head back around, he still wore his ghille suit, the white, brown, grey and blue fabric strips, which he regularly replaced and changed depending on the situation made him look like a blinking Yeti. He leaned over on the couch, making him look like a white-ish form, breaking up his outline.

He did look at her though a moment later, "Any contact yet? Or are they still with Imran?"

Antoine watched as Howard entered, and casually increased her profile and stepped forward ever so slightly to make herself easier to see, since she was comfortable enough with Howard. She stood up and took a seat near him, looking over and nodding at his statements concerning the newbies. After a moment, she said in her usual, soft voice "They're still with Imran. From what I can tell, they're just more SF grunts." She stretched her arms slightly and allowed a soft yawn to escape, so seemingly innocent yet so at odds with the pistol that one could see sticking from her boot.

Glancing over at the area as well, she said with a giggle "You look really fuzzy Howard, almost like a bear." To demonstrate, and have a little fun at his expense, she stood up and walked over. She hugged him and giggled again, saying "Just like my teddy bear as a little girl." She then released him and stepped back, adding "Though, your far more lethal than a teddy bear, Mon Ami." With that, she sat back down and commented "Do you think the new blood will be able to blend in with us? It isn't often that anyone takes to Scimitar really well."

Howard hrmed, "Special Forces? Is that all?" He gave her a little smile as she joined him on the couch. He rubbed his nose, briefly showing off the inside of his ghille. His tomahawks strapped to his chest, his bone-handle knife slotted up between them. He had noticed her supposed innocence, but he knew her capabilites, he knew that if she wanted to, she could completely foil his tracking abilities. And he's the guy who could use the scent in the air of cologne or perfume to track someone through city streets. He smiled a little, "Well Special Forces or not, they'l..."

He stopped as she got up and hugged him. He blinked in surprise. He didn't know what to make of that at all. He sat there blankly for a little then bristled. Fuzzy? Fuzzy!? He is certainly not fuzzy! He opened his mouth to give some indignant speech on his unfuzziness. When he saw the grin on her face and the giggle. And her inclusion of him being alot more lethal then a teddy bear. His gorge calmed and he honestly felt a little stupid for getting angry. He shook his head at her grinning, "Fuzzy huh? Well this bear has claws as we all know. Thank you though Antoine." He gave her a playful wink.

He grunted a moment later, "Will they blend? That's hard to say. I think the telling factor will be how well they do in training, and how well they pick up on each of our roles. And whether or not they can fill a roll themselves. Know what I mean Madam Ghost? A propos de droit?" He grinned at her broadly. He hailed from just south of Quebec, how do you not pick up a little French? His accent is atrocious, but he believed he got the whole idea across with Antoine.

kingkonrad said
The fact he had left it open had let her walk in, however."Hey." She said, looking over, already leaning against the wall, looking inside, at his stuff in general, and the Swede on the bed."You look like shit, to be fair." Svetlana said, aware that Bjorn was heightened in her presence, but she just wanted to talk, for now at least.

Bjorn could feel his hands shaking. Somehow, deep in his bones, that his death would come soon. He had cheated fate too many times, and now his time was coming. If there was one thing he wanted, no, needed to do before then, it was this. Using all of his oratory skills, Bjorn said the most romantic thing he could think of.

"Bitch, I love you. Lets shake the pillars of heaven." With that, he took his shirt off.

Antoine giggled at Howard's use of French and lightly punched his shoulder, saying "Oui, Monsieur." She then casually commented "You know, this team is a bit odd in who it keeps as regulars." She let that comment hang for a moment before continuing "We're always here, so are Imran and Svetlana, yet who else can be called constant? There must be some reason for this. Oui, we are the best in our fields, but isn't the same true for those who cycle out? Why, then, does command always try to hang on to us?" She shrugged slightly at that, adding "It's a mystery, Mon ami, and I don't like things I don't know."

With that, however, she said "Then again, life is full of such things, no?" She then drew her pistol, unloaded it, and pulled a rag from the pocket of her old military jacket that was a constant part of her casual clothing. It was always good to keep it, as cleaning weapons was a productive use of boredom to ensure you didn't have to do it later when more interesting things were happening. She casually sat on the floor and, as she'd done hundreds of times, disassembled the sidearm and began cleaning its component parts. Even as she did this, she said to Howard "You'll have to take me hunting some time, Howie, I'd love to see how my skills compare to the sense of animals."

(BTW, if this is a bit too deep, my apologies. I did keep it within limits, but be warned, boobs ahead.)
(Long, long post.)

Svetlana's eyebrows raised, as she walked back, shutting the door locked with a key card, then walking around.
"How long have you wanted to ask that? Hmm? At least a year, Bjorn. And I thought you were courageous." She said, turning around, as she then undid the clip around her hair, her blonde locks coming down to roughly her neck. She moved her arms around her back, and undid her bra and her underwear, the sports bra revealing two orbs that couldn't have been more undeniably irresistible, and her big rear end.
"But....yes, I think we should." She said, a dirty smirk on her face, as she almost fell atop him, already coming down hard onto him, as she let him get to work. It went on for minutes, the scene mostly faded to black, as she looked down at him, a look on his face. It had been a long time, since she had sex with a man, but he had been honest. He hadn't been himself, and Svetlana already knew that it was like something had come out of him that he wanted to say for a very, very long time, but it had died.
"You want these where I think you want them?" She said, her boobs hanging a inch above his face, the two melons looming and a sight to see.
"Yes. Please, make it go on forever." He said, calmly and quietly, as she simply came down, moving herself down, and her two boobs right into where Bjorn wanted it most. She stayed down, already letting him carry on, for minutes, and minutes. She felt the passion rise up and down her body, but then suddenly, she realized what she had done. He stopped moving. She moved out, and rolled off, quickly realizing his eyes were wide open, and she couldn't hear a breath on him. Sitting up, still completely naked, she pumped his chest, performing CPR, trying to get a beat. Exhaling into his mouth, she pumped more, swearing loudly, as she felt a tear run down her cheek. She did it for almost five minutes straight, the Viking just not waking up.

---

(Also, remember the future upgrades system? They're coming into play for Antoine/Howard- I think I remember something such as a optical/thermoptic cloaking for Antoine, and a prosthetic-jump system of some sort for Howard, though you're able to choose your character's upgrades, so long as they're not OP.)

"I should mention, Spectre, this isn't a test you do with your armor on. If it was, then the likes of me and you would walk it. It isn't ready yet you two- trust me, you'll be there before you even know it. Just sort your shit, and you'll know when." Imran said, walking away, as he headed back into the lift, going back up to the common room/armory level, where he quickly walked through the room, looking around, already spying the wookie and the femme fatale. This was Scimitar, he reminded himself- and whilst they were very different garments that the the two lights wore, they both knew how to become almost invisible in the right circumstance with them, and that it was something different.
"Ah, Howard, Antoine- seen the recruits? They look like grinder meat, Scimitar test for them in ten, and you both remember exactly how that was. Haha, it will be good to watch. Shit, I need Svetlana actually- give me a second, I'll be back. Radio through to me if you need anything- the armory's open and I think the technicians were talking about some stuff for you both, some upgrades that you were on about to me. Bunch of other stuff- I'll deal with them, then in a couple hours, I'll bring us all up to speed on what we're dealing with." Imran added, quickly realizing where he had to be, looking into the room, as he let them reply, before he had to quickly run back to the lift, already going back down to the quarters, as he wanted to be quick.

Running to Svetlana's billet, he knocked on the door, hearing nothing as he cursed to himself in Punjab. Moving along, he looked in the gym, but found nothing, trying something else. Maybe Bjorn would do for this, perhaps, he asked himself mentally. Yeah, he would. Running to his billet, he knocked on the door, just not bothering this time with waiting for a response as he pulled out his keycard, a universal one, and opened the door up, walking in to see what he wished he could unsee.

---

Svetlana didn't want to call it crying, but it was a set of tears, as she sat by his side, still looking, as she turned her head to Imran.
"It's not what it looks like.." She said, as he walked in, shutting the door locked. Imran couldn't help himself, but he knew that above the boobs and her body, there was her face. But she looked different, just a little torn apart somehow.
"The fuck is this? How?" He asked, as she stood up tall, looking.
"We were having sex....and I went too far. Take a guess." She said, moving her arms to her breasts, indicating in some way.
"I don't even know, Svetlana. He'd dead, you tried to.."
"Of course I did, Imran. There's nothing I can do. He asked for it, you must understand...why'd you think he wasn't so on form over the last six months?" She said, looking over, as she took a seat on the end of the bed. He walked over, looking to the bedside, for any papers, or anything.
"Damn...look, I don't want you gone. That would be a lot of paperwork, and I have enough University shit to deal with. You don't lie Svetlana, I know you well enough. But listen to me. We must sort this out."
"Of course. Asphyxiation of course, so we need to make it look like he hung himself perhaps to make it look like he died from oxygen deprivation- but allow no autopsies or observation. His body must be burned. It would be what he wanted." She said, looking over, as she looked over, wiping her tears, her voice coming back to normal.
"A Viking Funeral. It can be done, but not now. I'll find some rope. Look Svetlana, this isn't what I wanted, but there is nothing we, or you can do. Nobody, NO-ONE can know that you did this to him. I mean, even if they knew that he wanted this...you know."
"Of course." She said, as she dragged him over, into a certain position, already looking over as Imran walked over to a cabinet by the side of the bed, looking for a lace or something that he may have used.

"Fuck...what's that?" Imran said, picking up a tiny film-reel sized canister out of a cooled box, almost not wanting to say it.
"You must understand, Imran. Giants such as me and him....we're a rare breed, when I was young, a doctor in St Petersburg told me best. It's an extra chromosome, but unlike the effects of some, such as Autism or other genetic diseases...it causes this. Gigantism, but without the disadvantages. It scales the human body, explains my...features and my height and my size...and it has no side effects, apart from perhaps the fact that you're socially an outcast for your size, and ones that we haven't really chartered. Early death, organ failures..I will likely not live to see my 60th Birthday, Imran. So this is all that is left of him that will ever last, and giants tend to keep a store, as a just in case. I mean, there are giants out there that haven't got it from that, but they're either shorter, or have Pituitary problems."
"Bloody hell...are you suggesting? You saying your...boobs are from that?" Imran asked, looking over, as Svetlana looked over, both of them aware that Svetlana still didn't have her bra, or her underwear on for now. And it made this entire situation a little bit strange, as she chuckled a little, trying to relieve herself of what happened.
"Ah, Imran....you do know that for just telling you, you'd be in between my cleavage too. But you're a good man, you're clever to know the science, and you have your end of the deal....and besides, if I did, I think I wouldn't want to murder the rest too, it's too early in the morning. One day I'll deal with that canister, da. But that isn't today, to deal with that in relation to me. Ever hear about the Viking at the Battle of Stamford Bridge? The one that killed hundreds of Anglo-Saxons, with his axe before being felled? Probably the same blood. All the stories in Ancient Greece, about Gods? Giants, or at least I think. There's even a Russian Tsar, Alexander III, who had some aspects of it, but don't ask me how it works exactly- but when you hear the stories of him bending coins, and keeping the roof of a railway carriage lifted up, you understand it is something we tend to overlook in the past. We are myths, and history tends to think of us as that, for the good."
"And Bjorn then? He had it?"
"Yes. Same as I do. It's either genetic, or a mutation...but you know, it depends from case to case. Like I said, there's differing kinds. I guess he wanted to just get something out of his system, before he felt he'd die. Bu he chose to die, Bjorn asked me to come down, and while I got carried away, you tell me a giant like that wouldn't fight if he had something better to live for. So keeping some of the genes in the system means at least we'll be around. Perhaps it's that group conscious, I don't care."
"I understand. We can deal with this. But this is between me and you. He died happy at least, remember that Svetlana. Any man would want to die between your breasts, and he was one cross away from going back home and undergoing the rehabilitation process. It isn't healthy, Svets- I developed it with what Chemistry I know alongside the stuff they've developed before from the CIA, and it's horrifying what it does to the mind. But it's repression and a forgetting of details here. A need, and there isn't one case of...well, things coming back to us. Perhaps it was for the best."
"Yeah..."
"Look, you know what to do with this. But right now, we need to do this, or we're screwed. Just tell me this." Imran said, looking over, straight into her eyes.
"What?"
"Just promise you'll leave it at this. Don't feel responsible, or else things get complicated. Please, Svetlana." He said, as she looked over.
"And you're not going to start studies on this and become some sort of fucking lecturer on this, or else.."
"I know. Something for something, Svets. We have training to do- we'll deal with this quickly, then we'll be able to properly make something out of this situation." He replied, as he looked over at Bjorn, Svetlana walking back with some rope. It was a misery buisness, but he had died happily, and somehow, both of them knew that he had the best death he could get in this business. And he was going to have a proper funeral, and somehow, deep down, they both knew that if he believed in his Valhalla so much, he'd probably get there.

---

Twenty minutes later, and Svetlana and Imran had left it at that, to some degree. Bjorn hung in his room from the lampshade, a harrowing thought, and his will by his feet, Svetlana at least putting his underwear on to give him some dignity. Svetlana had gone to suit up, and the rooms that Spectre and Iceman were in, Imran had already gone to deal with. The Scimitar Test was a horrifying experience, and it did what many military tests simply didn't do. It threatened their lives, and Imran had recalled times when they had to recover bodies. It wasn't pleasant.

The knockout gas had been pumped into the two quarters from the canisters mounted within the radiator, taking less than 30 seconds to come in. The rooms had been locked, and they were fairly sealed, doing what they had to. It was a nasty method, but these raring recruits, Imran reminded himself, perhaps found at the moment that their lungs filled quick with the gas was that this was serious. And it meant two bodies to drag. Svetlana had gone to suit up, but hadn't taken her GMG, and the test was already set, if Imran remembered correctly how this would look. With a bit of help from her, getting it set was fairly quick, which was always a relief.

The chamber was two floors down, the lowest down of the subterranean facility on Bouvet, and was a strange and ethereal place. There was quite a large room, about the capacity of two shipping containers, and another one sat in the room ahead, sealed by a large naval metal door. The two wingsuits that Iceman and Spectre now wore were red, both still completely out for the count, wearing a specialized pair of goggles and haptic equipment integrated into the wingsuits that put them into a completely different world- one that wasn't a metal container, but a pitch-black mountainside that felt frozen. It meant that it felt real, almost unquestionably so, the wind from a fan on the far wall and the motion sickening and horrifying. But it wasn't that that did the job. It was just a simulation for a good reason, because the two nozzles on the side of the tank, had already started pouring salt water in from the South Atlantic, coming up to Imran's soles, himself now wearing his proper digital uniform, a mixture of UCP and a hexagonal silver. A tiny metal prong sat on the floor, that sent a current through that was able to deliver a shock roughly weaker than a Stun Gun, and it was consistent through the water. Perhaps when they woke up, they'd be feeling like they're be awakening to falling towards a cliff, but when they realized that when they tried to pull their chutes, Imran knew they'd only do one thing- and it was that which sucked them straight from their simulation into a reality, of a flooding room with freezing salt water that had current running through it. It fucked up the muscles, with twitches and shocks that could easily destabilize the body's own nervous system, nothing permenent but enough to really fuck someone up. Iceman and Spectre were about at the roof of the room with adequate room to at least react to the simulation via the haptic system, attached by a tether that in reality, was impossible to feel, but visible. A crash would send them to the floor, the tether would break and they'd fall almost three floors- enough to break a few bones, to say the least.The two would be tested simultaneously, but that was fine in itself. Walking out, he sealed the first training room, the invisible door on it's side leading to a instructor's viewing point, where he took a seat, able to look into the training area, from the start to finish. Many died here, from the current, drowning in this part, as well as occasionally taking a 9mm that was ultimately fatal because they ran around a corner like a lunatic. But if they held their nerve and kept the air in their lungs, they'd be able to figure out reality from virtual, and make it through. And if that didn't kill them, the assault course and the close quarters section could easily.

Beyond the first room through the reinforced naval door that lay at the far end, already deeply submerged, lay a water drain that preluded a daunting assault course in the second room, followed immediately by the close quarters combat course. An intensive scheme indeed, but it was required. It had a pair of G36A2 Assault Rifles at it's start, and many surprises along it's path. Ones that weren't just artificial. The shock test broke people- it was whether they could operate at maximum capacity after that that Imran cared about. And Svetlana sat at the end of the close quarters course, as one last surprise, aware that she wasn't a target to be beaten. But to be attempted. And she had no qualms about breaking people in half until Imran said stop. Targets could fire back, targets could easily do a multitude of things, move around, or even completely teleport. It was a mindfuck, in any aspect. A horrifying one. But it separated the wheat from the chaff. And whilst Special Forces training could train a man to be unbreakable, and competent at doing the impossible, this was different. It was a shock to every sense, and would require an operator to go beyond a normal means of what they already knew, to succeed.

From the control room, he looked over, as the system, fully activated, recognized that they were both awakening. They were being flung into the fray, as Imran spoke into their earpieces. The room was halfway filled with water, still filling as the pumps quietly worked, the saline sea water something they'd literally drop into, as soon as they themselves hit it in the simulation. Perhaps only after realizing their chutes weren't going to work.
"Welcome to the Test. LZ is on your HUD- Good Luck out there." Imran simply said, aware that they were going, and the wind turbine in the roof was billowing cold air, already adding an simulation to what they felt through the haptics, the false senses that they were feeling pressure from the wingsuit, and the VR working full pelt to put across the idea that they were in almost a pitch-black environment, by a mountainside, hurling at almost 200mph to the sea for an insertion. But Imran knew that they'd have worse, far, far worse, and they wouldn't even know right now what was real and what wasn't.