(If Queen isn't posting, then I'll have something up.)

Jan sat back, just thinking, the next song just as good as the last one. This was a Classic Rock radio, shit, it was just a Good Music radio to Jan's ears. It was wicked, no less. And Scott did seem confident, even though this was a death mission. Jan chortled a little at the idea, not loudly, but in a way that he just didn't see it, not himself at least.
"Sounds romantic, but you can't count me in, I'm afraid. I can't promise I'll be able to run the bar. And even if I did...you'd have to source some Lech, not just Carling. You Brits might do some Ales good, but leave us to do real Larger." Jan said, chuckling, in a semi-nihilistic way, but he knew that it wasn't all bad. Somehow, he just had to look on the bright side, and know that these few hours would be the last that he'd spend with his team. He had to make it count, in some way. 
"It's Vodka you want, get all those youth in, and the rich Russians on holiday in Barbados. They like that shit more, the world's moved on from just quiet bars I hear. But you know, it's always worth it. Gotta be Dabrowka, not that fucking paint-thinning kitchen cleaner you Russians call Vodka." Jan said, chuckling at the comment, a stereotypically Polish one, in regards to Russian vodka. 
He looked through the folder, looking back to Zhenya, nodding.

"I guess that means there could easily be someone watching, now you mention that. But I'll take your word for it. Thanks." He said, looking over the schematics, of the street, of the area that they were heading into. It seemed tense, but the facts somewhat corroborated. There was an office building, abandoned, that they were going to use. Third floor, and they had a whole setup. Minimum, forty men on this operation. Armed well, and likely able to contend with the Police and any RRFs, or Rapid Reaction Forces that the Danish SF and Police had in place. In order to take that down, Jan knew that it would take a hell of a lot more than just speed. They'd need to clear the staging area, fast. Medved would be a great asset to lockdown any escape routes, but that wasn't perfectly sealed, if they rushed out. And if they headed straight onto the Strøget, they were going to likely set up a place for maximum effect of both the device, or anything else they had planned. Stopping them there and there was a key. They could try and find another staging position, or something else. But whatever it was, Jan knew that from what Victoria, Zhenya and other intel he had seen had said to him, was that he considered this the only credible threat. A threat that the Danish Authorities had let fly over their heads. Not that it was their fault. But it was a time when Jan knew he could stop another Grozny, and that mattered to Zhenya, he could tell. That innocents, people with no reason to die, would be killed instantly and others burned, scarred, and dying from radiation poisoning. A huge diplomatic stifling, and the world turning back to hell. It would be nasty. But it had to change. And Jan knew full well that he had nothing left to lose. His country would not want him. Nor would NATO. His team did, but after this, he knew that the debt of what happened in Afghanistan would be paid, and that it would be his time to walk away, and let the others run, whilst he became public enemy number one. Sometimes, the world was dark in the way it worked. Jan was fine with that, and whilst today would be a sacrifice above and beyond many of which a special forces operator would be used to taking, it was one that he knew he couldn't have found better support for.

Looking back, he saw Neil and Wendy, the two snipers, a bit grizzled, but up to task.
"You're rather quiet then?" Jan asked, as Neil chuckled, opening his eyes as he looked to the front, to the Pole.
"I just came out of a Gulag, and haven't even caught near enough sleep. Give me a break."
"You been Russified by Zhenya then?" Jan added, as Neil laughed, looking at the AS VAL in his hands.
"No, it's just a fucking neat weapon. I'll give that to your weapons industry, Zhenya. A 9x39mm cartridge, and it's practically a silent assault rifle. Simple steel. I guess it works best with a rail, mind. Those sights are horrible." He said, Neil peering over at Zhenya, as he shrugged his shoulders.
"Sorry. But you Ruskies are probably used to the closed pictures. It's functional, but doesn't work well for range, not on this one at least." He said, aware that the AN-94 that Zhenya had, could have a horrible iron sight picture to any Western SF operator, but no doubt, was something to Zhenya was ideal, below his PSO optic. Jan looked out of the window, at the blurry rain and hail, as it slowly became more sleet-like, as they headed northwards, towards Flensburg, the edge of the German border. Turning his head, Jan looked over to Zhenya, as he knew there was an air to clear.

"I guess it hasn't been the most easy-going of relationships. I'm sure you understand, this wasn't ever going to be a match made in heaven. Shit, I'm amazed that we haven't already killed each other. A Russian and a Pole working together. Fuck, you can't write that stuff." He simply said, as Neil looked over.
"I bet you could, if you read enough Tom Clancy. I've suffered under your prison system and worked under yours, and both times, I've frozen my ass off." The Australian added, as Jan said, thinking back to Turkey.
"And it's why you do Alpine training, Neil. Kurwa, Zhenya didn't even induct you to the worst of their system. The Far East, over in Magdan, I hear it hits -50 as a high temperature of the day." The Captain replied, as he looked to his 416, the conversation at least taking up some of the time. They were across the Danish border, and 
"Maybe. But it's the heat I'm used to, I'm afraid. Try sitting in 45 degrees temprature and aim a Mark 11 accurately. I can do it, I don't think Sergeant Derzhavin could." Neil wiped the sweat from his brow, a cold sweat, but one from wearing all this kit none the less, as he looked over his own VAL, particularly the Aimpoint that sat on the top rail. 

(One more from everyone in the car, then I'll have us pulling into Copenhagen on my next one.)
(Also, the most fucking cheeky bit of banter at the end of my post. It's not breaking the fourth wall, but if you can tell, you'll chuckle.)