Alex was surprised to discover people searching through the rubble of a near by blown out building when she returned, did something happen to someone?! She panicked for a moment and started to run towards the scene but when they announced they had discovered them alive she came to a stop with a light sigh escaping her lips. Making her way towards Sergeant Harald she took a glance to the people outcold, at least they were alive so ti was their complete win.

However she could not help but think about the many imperial bodies that now littered the town, in times of war leaving the dead to fester would spell ill will and poor conditions so imperials like her would normally burn their dead and keep the dog tags. "Sir. If I have your permission I would like to start gathering the bodies to dispose of them. Leaving them around like this would be unproductive to holding this line." Not to mention a big impact on moral when they started to decay, besides if she was going to get rid of them she wanted to do it the proper way which she was sure the others would not.

Despite his plan to police the bodies the next day, something in Glaive's tone gave Harald pause. '... I won't order you to do it tonight, it's something we can do in the morning, give them a proper burial. But if you want to do it now, I won't stop you. Just make sure you get some rest too, Private.' Glaive was a bit of a mystery, he thought later on, sitting alone in the attic. She didn't act like anyone he had ever met and didn't talk enough for him to gauge her personality. Pretty much all he had to go on was her service record, which contained glowing reports from her trainers but little else... Certainly no personal details. Maybe she wasn't Gallian? Expat Imperials were pretty common, as were Federals. A voice interrupted his musing, which turned out to be Durandal. 'Hey, take it easy Private...' She staggered about as if drunk, setting off alarm bells in the back of Harald's mind. He wasn't a trained first aider, but knew his way around injuries. Whatever she had done, Durandal could be at risk of further injury if she wasn't careful. He slid down the attic ladder and reached out just in time to stop her falling. 'Hey, look at me. My eyes, here.' Unfocussed, slow moving... shit. Probably some kind of head trauma, really not his area of expertise. He walked her over to an armchair, setting her down gently. 'Durandal? Come on, talk to me. Where does it hurt?' He knelt down before her and reached for his ragnaid, unsure of whether it would do any good.

James looked towards the house the others were in from his position in one of the more wrecked ones, his rifle aimed out of some well placed boards so he could pick off any infantry coming up the road that he heard or saw. He knew they probably had orders to rest up, but sleep evaded the militia-attached soldier as he looked out the partially destroyed doorway towards his squadmates. After the argument he and Durandal had had, he didn't feel like dealing with anyone else. Sure, he shouldn't have kissed her, but no one seemed in any rush to get them medical supplies and he needed to do something to try and keep her from falling asleep. Bunch of militia numbskulls. If they took the time to train these guys in at least basic field care, then Lilly wouldn't have lost more blood during the loss of pressure on her wounds. Riserre went too damn far...

With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall behind him and looked out towards the road. Even if they'd miraculously come out of the fight without any serious injuries, they let Imps get away, meaning they'd be back with help. The wounded were important, but so was keeping the Imps from coming down on them with their, right at that moment, superior force. He settled to keep his own watch until sleep took him and he laid on his belly, sighting down his rifle, the damaged sniper against the wall behind him, and settled in for a long night.

"Attenborough...?" Regan Durandal gazed hazily at Sergeant Harald, unsure who the blob supporting her was, exactly. He set her down in an armchair, much to the private's relief. "My head... and my back." She put a hand to her head, as though trying to sooth some stinging wound. "I'm... causing trouble again, aren't I?" She smiled apologetically for a moment, before returning to her misery. "Heavy... Mnn. Nngh...!"

She winces, her headache magnifying and multiplying. She cradles her head in her hands and forces herself to breathe. After she gasps for air, her breathing changes and becomes very measured and controlled. It progresses through several phases, gradually slowing, before she gives a final, slow heave of an exhale while she sits back in her chair. "The roof must have- Mn... hit me. I got off easy. Somehow."

Despite the relatively nice weather and all the free time he had, it was a depressing day for Zeal Ashart. Today, he would be sent back into the line of duty after only a month or two of training, and there was no way in hell that he would feel confident at all in his fighting abilities. The Mags MXX was a good, reliable gun that didn’t jam and was easy to clean…but the roar of the submachine gun, as well as the jittering recoil of it was really damn scary.

And he’ll be using it to gun people down in the frontlines as well. Kill or be killed. No hiding and scouting allowed. Zeal chewed his thumbnail as he sat in the mess hall, watching other trainees and fresh recruits going about with no concern at all on their face. Those lucky reserve bastards, able to just have fun and patrol about within the confines of this fort. Jealousy and anxiety clouded his eyes and silenced his hungering stomach, as the chicken and wild rice soup before him grew cold.

Ah, what he would give for the Imps to just go home already. What he would give to be reunited with his sniper friend. What he would give for his mom’s spaghetti. He heard that some people would shoot themselves in the foot to avoid military service, but he wasn’t even a Scout anymore. It probably didn’t even matter if he was ordered to limp towards the enemy like a proper meatshield.

With a melodramatic flop, the ash-haired boy planted his face onto the wooden mess table, sighing like an old widow that just lost his animal companion.

Elise hadn’t expected the military to want her back. She’d finished her training, and more or less assumed that would be it. Yet here she was, waiting to be sent out into the field and join one of the active squads fighting in the war. She hadn’t been told much, but why else would they bring her back? Maybe one of the husbands she’d angered had powerful contacts. Well, it didn’t matter much either way in the end, for now she’d enjoy exercising with other women and all that came with that.

However, it was time for her to eat so she’d made her way to the mess hall. After grabbing a tray and getting her food, Elise took a seat at one of the tables where people were already seated. The food seemed better than what she remembered, but it was doubtful it would remain the same out on the battlefield. As she ate she listened in on the conversations around her, and before long she had added her voice to one of them. Would she be serving with any of these people? Elise had been told stories about how soldiers didn’t like making friends sooner or later, because they’d seen too many of their old ones die. People did die in war, she knew that, but she didn’t want to shut herself off from the world because of it. Besides, she might be the person who ended up dead.

So much stupidity to save two people from the collapsed building. Hunt and Durandal seemed to bicker about Hunt kissing Jatmoore. She couldn't tell why Hunt kissed Jatmoore other than the obvious, but she wanted to chew both of them out regardless. Though it seemed Harald intervened between the two and gave them a much calmer response than what Celeste would have given. When the Sergeant asked her what happened to Sykora, she merely shrugged, she had no idea what happened to her when the building collapsed.

Some time went by, though how much was unknown, she wasn't keeping track for sure. But all seemed to quiet down, even her. People were actually working to save those that were severely injured. That's when she overheard the mountain of muscle and Harald arguing. Jeez, like the two fuckwits who argued over Lilly as she was bleeding to death. But from the sounds Harald wasn't in any mood to deal with anyone's shit. And she herself wasn't in any better of a mood, and briefly isolated herself to vent away her anger.

When she came back from her isolation, the sergeant ordered those who were still there into what could actually be called a house. Though she brushed it off to see if the destroyed house had something good to give the squad. Though she guessed most of it was buried underneath the remaining rubble and damaged beyond repair. She did find a mostly intact seat cushion. Good enough for her at least, something to rest her head on. And went to find some place that was secluded to sleep, or at least take up another watch position. But it seemed she stumbled into the same place Hunt had settled in at. "Well, I hope you don't mind a slight bit of company." She said as she tossed the cushion down and placed her lance and rifle nearby. "Just leave me be while I sleep and we'll be cool." She said with a faint smile, obviously tired. "But do wake me up if the Imps are going to storm the castle". And laid down, facing away from Hunt. Though Celeste went out like a light once her head met the cushion.


Everywhere except the mess hall seemed to have little to no social interaction. And while Skye would like to socialize with those avoiding it, she settled with those that actually wanted to. A particular one caught her eye, a female, as she initially sat down with the group same group Skye was conversing with. The person didn't speak for a bit, making Skye unsure if she was just warming up to the conversation or was just there to listen. Though the answer to that was given shortly after she joined, as the person joined in on the conversations, jokes, stories, etc...

Skye would have loved to serve along side all these people, but she understood all the active squads needed members. Though she kept having fun and conversing with everyone at the table anyway.

Evan's Post

"I'm not that old..." Evan growled as he looked over Kyo's injured form. Poor kid lost his leg. Might not be able to walk properly for the rest of his life, and probably wouldn't be able to swing the sword he loved so much with any effectiveness. His days in the army were through. Nodding to Private Bons, Evan asked for his help. "Hey kid, you wanna come? Could use the extra driver." Evan's choice of Bons was twofold. For one, he didn't trust the Darcsen's medical abilities worth a damn, and wanted someone who seemed to have a bit of proper training with him in case Kyo woke up and started screaming. Secondly, he was able to drive the APC as well, so they could rotate driving positions half way there and at least catch a bit of a nap in the back.

Sensing Bons' reluctance, Evan grunted and spoke before moving to lift their charge. "Come on, boy, don't be like that. I need someone with a bit o first-aid know-how in case he wakes up. Now come on, help me lift him."

---

Evan was surprisingly quiet for the ride back to Fort Breda, mostly just stewing in his own anger and frustration. Said irritation also prevented him from sleeping at all on the way to the fort, despite having a few hours to rest during the shift change. Today was not going to be a fun day...

---

When they arrived, Evan groaned, rubbed his eyes and shuffled his way to the back of the APC before dismounting and helping Bons carry Kyo to the medical tent. The drop-off was surprisingly quick (probably due to the hour of the arrival), and the orderlies were able quickly rush Kyo inside for better treatment. They had to answer a few questions of course, about Kyo's injuries and condition (which Bons was thankfully able to supply) before being released, but the process was remarkably streamlined. Shrugging to Bons, Evan commented "Well... Guess that's all we can do. You'd better go get some grub like the Darcsen asked. I'll start lookin' around for some more soldiers."

... but of course, finding wayward soldiers at this early hour proved nearly impossible. After about a half-hour's searching, Evan had yet to see any unassigned militiamen (or women). Sighing, Evan trudged back to the APC, drove it to a proper parking position, and laid down in the back of it. While he waited for the base to come alive, maybe he could get at least a little rest.

---

*CLANG!!! CLANG...CLANG!!!*

... Just what WAS that racket?! Evan had been laying in the back of the APC, and had just about managed to fall asleep when he was woken back up by the sound of metal collisions. Pulling himself up, he looked around and saw a blonde lancer lifting weights just a little ways away from his napping spot. Guess the base is starting to wake up. Rubbing his eyes and trying to shake off his sleepiness, he hopped back out of the APC and went to approach the girl. Even in his tired state, he had spotted that she was without a squad insignia on her uniform.

"Hey! Lancer! Ya mind cutting out that racket for a moment?" Evan hollered as he walked over to her. "Ya new on base? Private... uh... " He stole a quick glance at her name tag. "Private Muller? Doesn't look like you have a squad." After a brief round of small talk, Evan pulled out the old acquisition paperwork that Captain Meulemann had given him and held it up before speaking again (he made sure to cover the 'vehicle' and date parts with his hand). "Well anyways, Squad 4's short staffed so under orders from the cap'n, you're to fall in with us. Come on, follow me. We gotta find some more orphaned militiamen." Evan waved for Private Muller to come with him, and quickly pocketed the forms before she had a chance to actually read them. Sure, it wasn't like he ACTUALLY had any of the authority to steal these soldiers away from the base, but the darcsen would be pretty pissed if he came back with no one. Besides, the forms looked official enough and name dropping the Captain would probably be enough to convince any new recruit who wasn't familiar with base procedures to come with him.

---

Evan did another quick sweep around the base, but didn't see anyone at supply, the range or milling around the barracks or garage. In fact, the base seemed to have quieted down again, and he dared say there were less people about than when he had started. Checking his watch, he immediately realized why this was. Breakfast time. If any recruits were around, they would probably be in the mess hall chowing down and making ready for the day's activities. "Well I guess that leaves the mess hall. I'll check around there for some more peo-" Evan's comment to Private Muller was interrupted by a loud growling coming from his stomach, causing Evan to look down at his gut sheepishly. "People, and a meal. We're gonna be leaving once everyone gets ready, so you'd better get your gear together and down some grub as well. We'll meet up at the APC in... oh about 40 minutes. See ya."

Once Private Muller was gone, Evan immediately bee-lined it for the breakfast queue, desperate for food. The watermelon and rations from earlier had long since worn off.

---

Once he had acquired some form of sustenance (even if it was army food), Evan began looking around for a place to sit. Spying an empty seat between a rather talkative group and a thoroughly depressed looking man, Evan walked over, sat down, and began to consume his food at a pace that blurred the line between disgusting and impressive. Once he was finished, he sat back and stretched, just listening to the conversations floating around the mess hall for a few minutes. Eventually the group to his right split up, leaving only a pair of girls. Now that he had a chance to get a word in, Evan spoke up. "'ey excuse me, ya girls new on base? Been assigned squads yet? What about you, Mr. Slouch?" Evan elbowed the man flopping on the table beside him for emphasis.

Upon receiving confirmation that none of the trio had actually been assigned squads yet, Evan clapped his hands together happily. "WELL THEN, you're in luck. Squad 4 is shorthanded right now, so under the authority of Sergeant Harald and Captain Meulemann, you're all gonna fall in with us. Grab your gear and meet me at the APC by the garage in..." Evan checked his watch to make sure that his timings were correct. "20 minutes. Then we'll drive ya to the rest of the squad." With that, Evan pushed himself up from the table, dropped off his dishes and headed back to the parked APC.

---

A thoroughly perplexed Bons was waiting for him when he arrived, obviously confused about where Evan had been for so long. "Sorry, kid. Took a bit longer to do the round up than expected. Everyone should be here soon." It took a while, but eventually the new recruits started to trickle towards the APC. Leaving Bons to explain the situation and mission to their new found squadmates, Evan hopped into the drivers seat of the APC and started it up. Once everyone was on board, they departed with haste and Evan began the drive back to meet up with squad 4. Wonder how many people the Darcsen's gotten killed in my absence...

Not 40 minutes ago, Emmaline's body was burning as though someone had stuffed a pile of hot charcoal in her arms and lungs.

Not 30 minutes ago, Emma had doused those flames in freezing cold water. If she spared any, even her tears might've froze if she stayed any longer than the few minutes she could endure.

Not 25 minutes ago, Emmy was practically cooking her esophagus with piping-hot ham and bread. She could still feel the grains of sand crunch between her teeth, courtesy of yesterday's training course. Thank God there was cold milk to down it all.

Not 20 minutes ago, Muller was naked in front of both men and women in a tiny barracks for over the 24th time. By now, it was nothing to be concerned about, nothing unusual for a leaving private to go put on the freshest equipment possible. Nobody explicitly cared, and neither did she.

Not 18 minutes ago, the lancer was breathing in alternations of warm, dry air (the mess hall) and humid, cold air (outside). Now it was just stuffy (in the APC). Stuffier than a stuffed turkey on Passover.

God, it was stifling hot inside the blast suit. While Emmaline's hairs clung to her face, she had the pleasure to observe her allies clad in much lighter outfits. The ruffles and puffs of their suits had nothing but free skin and flesh underneath. As for Emmaline? Plates, upon plates, upon plates, upon plates...

...even if it was an anti-infantry lance, Emmaline felt a little obnoxious for lugging around so much equipment. Look at that sniper there - see how quickly he could move, or those scouts? See how small, yet effective those weapons were?

...wait, what was the fun part of being a Lancer again? How co-

Right. The tank.

Speaking of which, she was inside something akin to that. An APC was the name, right?

Just to make her point, Emmaline made a long, almost exaggerated sigh, which promptly broke into a light, cheery hum of a jig from her hometown. This wait could be long if no one else was coming...

Elise had eaten too slowly and been left with the darcsen of the group, only to have a superior officer recruit both herself and the darcsen to the same squad. Oh that was just great. She should have left instead of answering him. She’d been about to get up and leave, but now that would be complicated. If she disobeyed a direct order from a superior she’d get in more trouble than any darcsen was worth, not that they were worth much to begin with.

“Yes, sir.” Elise said with a cold tone, as she stared in front of herself and gripped the tray hard. She got up from the table after he’d finished speaking, placed her dishes with the others and left the mess hall. Hopefully the enemy would be aiming for the darcsens so she wouldn’t have to deal with any for long. She didn’t want to think about how that might end.

She quickly retrieved her few belongings from the barracks, then got her sniper rifle and headed towards the garage where she had been told an APC would be waiting. Elise climbed into the APC and waited for the others to arrive, but didn’t say much once they had or when the APC begun to move away from the base. There’d be time to get to know some of them later. At the moment she was in a bad mood due to the sudden, random deployment with undesirables.

'You're alright lass, don't worry.' The Sergeant tried to sound reassuring as he checked over Durandal's head wound, keenly aware that he had no damned idea how to treat it. He tried waving a can of ragnaid over it, just in case. 'Should have been wearing your helmet, Private.' He tapped his for emphasis. 'They can take a good hit, provided you're lucky.' Not that Durandal could be called lucky, after having a house collapse on her... But she seemed to have herself under reasonable control. He pulled up a chair and set in for a long night of watching her, making sure she didn't drift away into sleep. Seemed the best thing to do at the time.

---

0635 1st April 1935 EC
La Haye Sainte

Fortunately, it had been a quiet night. Harald's greatest fear had been an Imperial counter-attack in the early hours as the rest of the squad slept, but the road remained mercifully empty. Flicking away the the umpteenth cigarette of the night, he leant over to check on Durandal once more. She had stopped replying an hour or so ago, but didn't look like she had lost conciousness or anything; in all likelihood she had just fallen asleep after what, for her at least, must have been a brutal ordeal of a day. Not many soldiers lose their entire squad and get drafted into another for a serious firefight in the same day. He lay the back of his hand across her brow, testing her temperature; more or less normal. The others wouldn't be up yet, not if they had any smarts. And that gave him time to prepare some brekkers.

An hour later, the first of them started to filter down into the wrecked kitchen, where Harald had commandeered the auger. 'Morning kids. I reckoned you could all do with a decent meal before we start work; hope you like beef.' Stocked full of fresh cut wood, the auger held two pans; one contained a thick looking stew complete with thickly cubed meat and vegetables, while the other was just hot water. 'Grab yourselves a mug; the owner left some tea and I'm sure they'd love to donate to the war effort.'



Why do I always get stuck with the meathead... Lack of sleep had worn away at Alonso's already frayed nerves, leaving him nervous and twitchy in the back of the APC as they trundled back off toward Le Haye Sainte. He tried not to look at the recruits they had picked up, unsure of how Carn had elicited their help. Maybe he didn't want to know. His gaze rested resolutely at foot level, praying the time passed quickly in the crisp morning air. It didn't. Eventually the silence proved too much and he ventured a peak at the four new soldiers. Another Darcsen... At least there were no foreigners this time. After a long second, he tried to start a conversation. 'So... You guys uh, you seen much action?'

Despite his best efforts, James didn't fall asleep until about an hour before they'd had to be up and the sound of others moving around woke him quickly, his initial reaction to sight up down the road and look for Imperial soldiers. Then he realized that it was time to get up and groaned. He hadn't had so little sleep since the Imps first pushed over the border to invade Gallia, when his unit was frantically retreating after loosing their outpost and the Imps were right on their ass. Valk today's going to be long. Standing, he nudged Celeste into wakfulness with the butt of the damaged sniper rifle. "Hey, Corporal, up and at 'em from the sounds coming from next door. Smells like food too." Not waiting to see if it actually worked, he carefully steps over her and heads for the house, stepping in and setting both rifles to one side of the doorway before joining the small line that had formed for the Sarge's food. Hell yeah, real food! Plus it meant James could save his special stash.

His depressing flopping and general inactivity, however, was soon interrupted by the appearance of an older soldier, a red-headed musclehead who apparently was using his position as Squad Leader or whatever to pick up girls as well. Letting out another bleating sigh, Zeal got off his ass and allowed himself a moment to admire the two freshly recruited members of his new squad.

Well, actually, no, there wasn’t much to admire at all. One of them was a Darcsen that was way taller than himself, while the other one, despite having a rather fine derriere, looked like a psychopath with her albino nature. Not exactly people that Zeal felt like he could get comfortable with, but hopefully the rest of Squad 4 was better than that? Putting his hopes in his heart, the ashen-haired male when back to his quarters and picked up his stuff. It had already been packed the day before in anticipation of this, and, without any further delay, he strapped on his backpack, made sure his gear was in place, prayed that he wouldn’t get blasted to bits by a tank on his first day, and marched out.

There was a small gathering of recruits by the APC, and after the red-headed recruiter hopped in, Zeal was quick to join him, finding himself a seat by the wall. There was a stony silence within the metal cage, but, well…whatever. The others were probably feeling nervous as well, with the whole war business still not having concluded.

Before he knew it, Zeal was chewing on his leather gloves, contemplating the meaning of life.

The nudging from the rifle gave Celeste a tiny jolt of energy. But it was enough to prevent her from falling asleep again. And a minute or so after said nudging, she stumbled up, taking another two minutes to wake up enough to walk. Picking up her lance and rifle and moving into the intact house, only to drop it near the entrance. She rubbed her eyes as she entered what remained of the kitchen. "Beef? Interesting breakfast option." Celeste said in a tone of voice that matched her tired demeanor. "Better than anything I would have expected though."


Skye couldn't help but feel some relief when the man came to recruit them and a guy from the cafeteria. The pale skinned girl she was left to talk to wasn't much in terms of excitement or conversation. And was also glad to be pulled into a squad that needed people, rather than be put in a squad that was over-encumbered. Though the mention of an APC perplexed her, the only combat capable vehicle she had seen on base so far was a tractor with a machine-gun attached to it. How did they manage to scrap together an APC? Or is it simply a truck with some thin metal plates? She mentally shrugged, knowing she'd get her answer soon enough. First things first, to get my gear together and meet at this APC. "Alright, I'll get my stuff together and meet ya there." She said in answer to the man.

Once she had gathered her gear, she made sure to quickly move over to the APC. Surprised to see it was a repainted Imp APC. "Ya got nerves if anything to have acquired one of these." She smiled at the man. Skye then took this chance to look at the male that was recruited from the cafeteria as well. Fairly frail looking, and made Skye a bit concerned for how he'd fair in combat. But she then noticed the Lancer, probably a recruit from a different part of the base. Looked like she had a fair amount of muscle on her as well, given the fact she was encased in plates of metal.

She could feel the relative unease and general dislike of her. And Skye knew full well why too. Darcsen hate, no matter the degree, was usually present where ever she went. But that's not what was bothering her the whole ride. It was that no one was really talking. Her foot tapping to resonate her unease. The only sounds came from the APC and the surrounding environment. But luckily, someone spoke up, asking if anyone had seen action. "I've seen a bit. Not much to warrant me a medal, or even the right to say I'm a vet. But I was in the army and fought on a front or two." She answered, looking at the person. Though it seemed she was the only one to really respond, looking around at the others, warranting a small shrug.

Elise pondered her answer to the question that the man had asked. She didn’t want to appear too fresh out of training, but lying wasn’t a good idea either. She hadn't seen any action other than exercises during her training. The others seemed content to remain silent, especially the new male recruit who was chewing on his gloves…? However, before she could reply to the question, the darcsen spoke up first. “Still alive, huh?” Elise said to the darcsen with a tone that made it rather obvious she thought her survival was a shame. She stayed her tongue from saying anything explicit along those lines, as the superior officer may butt in and reprimand her if she had.

“I’ve not been in battle before, so I haven’t seen that kind of action much.” Elise continued, but turned to look at the man who’d asked the question. “But I got plenty of action back home.” Normally she would have winked or something after saying a line like that, but it was a man who’d set her up for such a fine comment. The only other females in the APC was the lancer and the darcsen. Instead, she simply grinned as her eye twitched slightly. She quickly wiped the grin off of her face afterwards and leaned back in her seat once more.

Emma took her gloves off and fanned them in the air as the others spoke, so once she felt comfortable enough to slap them back on, she was ready to speak her mind.

"I didn't think the Empire would start from the North, but then again...I didn't think my husband was poor. I must be getting blind...old and senile, and a terrible judge of character if I'm already here...

...I can say with some pride that I was the only woman in my town defending alongside the boys when the tanks came rolling. We lost it, but...well, I did what I could. That's my experience of this blasted War so far..."

For comfort, Emmaline began to tug at her sweater underneath and ruffled it against her torso to let the air circulate.

"...what'd I'd do to drop a grenade inside a tank again..."

---

The rubbery sensation of his leather gloves tasted bitter and salty, but at least it was something to focus on. The APC wasn’t a pleasant place to be in, really, and already, Zeal’s mind was going into overdrive, thinking of how much it’d suck if they landed on a mine or something. He needed things to take his mind off his death scenarios, and, thankfully, someone finally struck a bit of conversation, asking if anyone else had fought the Imperials before.

Judging by the general range of responses though, it seemed that most of them were greenhorns that hadn’t actually gone to the field. Oh, that was good. Though the ash-haired Shocktrooper didn’t care much for that Lancer babe’s random racism, he had to admit that he didn’t mind an experienced woman. He rolled up the sleeve covering his left arm and revealed the scar that the bullet left, before saying, casting away the nervous tension in his voice, “I was a Scout for the first part of the war. Did a good job, and even took a bullet for a sniper. 7th Platoon’s Ilya Meredith, if any of you want to confirm my act of bravery. Then they took me back into training because they were running out of Shocktroopers, so here I am.”

“Used to be a precise shot, but now I’m a quick shot.”

At that, he spared a smile of his own, amused by his own random joke.

Evan's Post

Evan smiled as he drove the APC down the road, happy that the new recruits were getting along, or at least getting along as well as they could with a Darcsen in the group. Damn his sleep addled brain, he was clearly not thinking straight when he invited her along. Eh, might score him some points with the OTHER damn Darcsen that sent him on this mission, though. From the conversation in the back, though, it didn't sound like Bons had done a very good job of explaining the mission/situation to the greenhorns.

Banging on the crew compartment, Evan yelled back to said driver. "Hey Bons! Take over drivin' for me, would ya? Gotta explain the mission to the new guys." Once the APC had pulled over and the two drivers had switched, Evan climbed into the APC and stood at the front with his foot up on one of the seats. He was tired and did not have the best judgement at the moment, so perhaps what he was about to do was not a good idea... But there was no way in hell he was going to give a boring briefing like the ones the Darcsen or the Captain. Raising his voice, he began his speech.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, listen up. In a weeks time, the Gallian army will be launching an attack on the Imperials defending the city of Vasel. The imps will be dug in pretty well so to prepare for this attack, squads like us have been sent out to capture important crossroads, scout enemy positions, and potentially assist in the attack if the army starts losing too many soldiers." Well this wasn't working at all... Sure, he'd told them their task at hand, but it was turning out just the same as the Darcsen's briefings... Hmmm...

Raising his fist into the air, Evan began speaking in a much quicker and more spirited voice. For some reason, he'd always wanted to do something like this. "Our Captain, our Army, OUR GREAT COUNTRY, HAVE GIVEN US THE TASK NOT TO LET THE ENEMY TO RETAKE OUR CROSSROADS AND TO SLAUGHTER ALL WHO APPROACH WITHOUT HESITATION OR MERCY!" A pothole in the road shook the entire APC and nearly sent Evan tumbling to the floor from his unstable position. Never the less, he maintained his balance and continued on, waving his arm out in front of him this time. "THE IMPERIALS ARE NOTHING COMPARED TO SQUAD 4! IF ANY RETURN TO FIGHT US, WE WILL CUT THEM DOWN AND SQUASH THEM LIKE THE DISGUSTING INSECTS THEY ARE! AND WHEN THE MAIN ARMY DOES FALTER, IT WILL BE OUR JOB TO PICK UP THE PIECES. IT WILL BE SQUAD FOUR THAT CAPTURES VASEL AND GAINS THE RESPECT AND ADORATION OF THE ENTIRE NATION! DOES AAAAANYONE HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!?"

After answering any questions that came to the best of his abilities, Evan sat back down and chuckled to himself. For some reason he'd always wanted to do something like that. After chugging half of his canteen (his throat was thoroughly parched now), Evan banged on the drivers compartment again. "Hey, make sure not to hit any more o'those potholes, Bons. Ya nearly tossed me outta the APC." Said ribbing of the driver completed, Evan sat back and closed his eyes, hoping to get at least a little nap in before they got back to the crossroads.

---

"DARCSEN!" Evan crashed through the door to the house that the majority of squad 4 was holed up in. Following behind him were the trio of recruits... and Bons. Waving over to the sergeant (who again looked thoroughly displeased with his entrance), Evan made a grandiose bow and stepped aside to showcase the new group of people who would be joining them. "I come bearing gifts in the form of more peons! Hey girls,... and guy. This is Sergeant Harald, otherwise known as Darcsen. Darcsen, these are..." Evan motioned for the group to introduce themselves. Would probably be best to get everyone acquainted ASAP. Once the introductions were finished, Evan thumbed towards the west side of the crossroads. "In case you're wonderin', we parked the APC behind one of the buildings over there. Figured the imps would be less likely to spot it when it's on our side of the buildings. Now. What else ya want from me?"

The power nap had done wonders for Evan, and even though he knew it would only last for a short while, he fully intended on making the most of his (temporarily) renewed energy. Bringing Bons along had turned out to be a great idea. They'd even made good time, arriving a couple hours after noon, rather than in the evening that Evan had expected. Things (at least for his mini-mission) had surprisingly gone better than planned.

Of course, it would be the Darcsen that answered first. It galled him that she had been accepted into the Army when he hadn't met the cut, but Alonso kept that little titbit to himself. Darcsen or no, at least she was Gallian. Better than some. The next woman echoed his unspoken sentiment, albeit with a bit more distaste than he would have used. Her other comment confused him though. 'Other action...? What, border guarding or something?' Alonso's confusion was rooted in his utter lack of experience, more so because his parents had been violently traditionalist and homophobic. The idea of a woman bragging about sexual conquests? Blasphemy. As he was trying to figure out the hidden meaning, the others chimed in. The lancer spoke his language at least. 'You should'a been there last night then. We near enough got wiped by a tank.' Despite the terror of the experience, he couldn't help but feel a flash of pride for delivering the killing blow. 'I got the bastard though, just about.'

Alonso sat back to chug some water as the fourth and final recruit said his piece. Once again the innuendo went well over his head, but something he said sounded off. 'Wait, first part of the war..? It only started two weeks ago! Must have been a light wound then.' He squinted at the Shocktrooper, wondering if maybe he had simply grazed his arm rather than actually get hurt. Unfortunately the meathead interrupted their conversation before he could ask any awkward questions. 'Yeah, yeah...' Once they switched around and got on the move once more, he tried to tune out the booming voice behind him. Didn't really work. Hell, when Carn went into full Sergeant Gusto mode, Alonso jolted the steering wheel in shock. 'Calm down, you old cunt...', he growled under his voice. 'At least try to be quiet.' Technically they were still in unsecured territory. Never knew when another Imp patrol might find them. Carn's 'encouragement' didn't help either and truth be told, he wanted to run into every damn pothole he could find, just to spite the bastard...

An hour later they trundled into the village of Le Haye Sainte, a veritable wreck of a place. Half the buildings were damaged or destroyed and smack bang in the middle of the road stood a wrecked tank. A pillar of smock rose from one of the farmhouses, in fact the only one left standing. 'End of the road guys. Squad's probably in there, rock up and follow...' Carn had already bounded off the APC and his characteristic voice boomed from inside the house. '... Valk's sake. Just go in there.'



Having made damn sure that everyone had gotten a decent cup of stew, Harald was finally pouring his own portion when the door suddenly exploded inward. 'Fucking hell Carn, learn how to knock man!' What was left of his lunch dripped sadly from his upturned tankard and he sighed a deep, resigned sigh. 'Yes, yes, thank you very much Carn. Take Bons and Glaive and start laying those mines. Remember the briefing? East and west roads, about ten per side.' When he had finally gotten rid of the nuisance, he turned to his newly acquired squad members. 'Well, good morning and welcome to Squad Four. I'll be frank, I don't know how he managed to get so many of you. What did he do, just kidnap you or something?' He leant back against the kitchen sink, sipping a cup of tea with a bemused, if tired smile. 'As PFC Carn mentioned, I am Sergeant Harald, your new squad leader. Squad Four has no officer, don't ask, don't know why. I've had to pick up the slack, so I'll be relying on you all. I look forward to working with you.' Giving a little bow, Harald couldn't help but notice the high percentage of women in this new cohort... Not that it was anything new to the squad, Hell, half of the men had quit or been transferred already. Maybe the Captain's just an old lech, he thought amiably.