Jarek was relieved to hear the order to leave and he subconsciously urged Nikolaj to walk faster. The sooner and further away they got from the enormous heap of explosives, stored in even worse fashion than his textbooks in high school, as difficult as that was to achieve, the better.

Walking out, it felt like a different city. The sun was a bit higher, of course, but the strangest thing was the sudden silence. They rushed in with bullets bouncing off the transport and the .50 barking back at the numerous skinnies, but now they could almost march down the street, undisturbed. Nikolaj found some ruins down the street and decided to confiscate them. Four walls and a flat roof made of questionable materials. The Dutch had the same idea and Jarek hurried to find solid cover before everything was taken. Now that the action has subsided and his brain slowed down, the adrenaline started to wear off and fatigue and hunger started to set in. Covering his face with his shemagh and adjusting his goggles, he crouched behind one of the walls and observed the commotion in the building, waiting for the grand finale. He couldn’t help it, but he hoped a few skinnies would get into that building right before the detonation.

Tyler followed his squadies out of the room, sweeping the lines as they went just in case someone was still crazy enough to be in the building after the shit kicking they had gave them before. He swept through the building carefully, picking his way along. Covering corners, and keeping an ear on his CBRN monitor earplug just in case something starts to beep. Settling down on a corner covering their front, he waits as the rest of the team files past and out into the open. He takes up the rear again as they move out and down a few alleys and out of the danger area.

After they got clear and everything is set up he calls out to the group, "No clue what that place was built out of. If you have masks or something to cover your face with get it on. Last thing I wanna do is write up a report because some one breathed in Asbestos or inhaled some mouse droppings or some shit like that. Don't give any of us safety and CBRN specialists more work." As he said this he sealed on his breathing mask. Making sure it is strapped tighter, made sure the filter on it is screwed on securely. He quickly took back watch on an angle, facing down one line of the street they hid on. They may be nearing the end of this operation, but that doesn't mean they have any reason to let down their guard just yet.

He hunkered down against the wall and the pile of trash he's using as cover. He waited, wondering if this would sound anything like the time he was in the States of the Fourth of July.

The explosion rocked the ground, as the dust kicked up, the building completely vanishing, as did most of anything down the street. The noise of it was gargantuan, and the ground itself felt like it shook for a good second, before it stopped. By the time it was visible again, there wasn't much left of it all, the building looked like it had fallen like a pack of cards, most of the structure completely gutted. The noise itself, and the sheer amount of PETN that had been detonated left very little, and it took over a minute to really just understand just how fucking massive the explosion had been...this was more like a controlled demolition, Nikolaj thought to himself.

"Nice, nice! Clear your ears!" The Dane added, as he looked across, moving out as bits of everything rained down, small bits of gravel and concrete, gently filling the area in dust. He had to wipe his Oakleys once more, his F2000 raised as he adjusted his throat mic a little with his left hand, before speaking in.
"Yankee One-One, this is Echo Actual, we are moving to Primary LZ, we'll have smoke for your arrival, how copy?"
"Understood Echo Actual, awaiting smoke."
"Okay then...Goldfarb, you're up on lead, we follow in a column, we're headed down to the beach. Take us there."

Moving through the streets, Nikolaj let the Israeli take point, the whole unit aware that while this area was pretty much pacified, in a city like this, it was always . Moving between a pair of old crumbling buildings, the team made it onto the beach, where Nikolaj knew that the extraction was due. It was a good stop, neither too exposed from RPG fire or small arms, yet clear enough for the Royal Navy Wildcat to park itself onto the sands with ease. Taking the smoke grenade from his carrier, the Dane gave a simple pull of the pin and threw it forward, the blue smoke rushing out of the canister before it eventually became a far greater cloud, Nikolaj moving through and holding a position on the beach proper, adjusting his sunglasses once more as he kept his position.

The beach was cleared, and the Wildcat was already on approach, sweeping in as the skids slowly and surely scraped the sandy shore, Nikolaj posting his knee into the sand as he covered. The team began to clamber in, two by two, moving in pairs and filling the innards first, before Nikolaj moved up himself. Throwing himself in, Nikolaj clipped into the side of the Wildcat's right door, the seating inside offering enough room for about six, but the whole team being about eight, it meant that two were on the sides, and with Nikolaj being second to last in, he was standing on the skid, leaning off the side. Not the best place for the acting leader of the team, and one that was turbulent, very, very noisy, and would do for now, knowing that Volkov was among the first in. Rifle high and pointing out, he looked inside, before adjusting his comms.
"All members accounted for, we are clear!" Nikolaj had to yell hard to the pilot of Yankee-One-One, barely even hearing himself, as the pilot gave a simple nod.
"Copy, Echo Actual, we are dusting off." The helicopter's blades thundered, pummeling the sand and the air around Nikolaj hard, as it got louder, crecendoing almost in a sense as it pulled off the beach, the skids taking less weight as the helicopter gave a turn and headed 45 degrees away from the beach, toward the sea, and towards the deployment of Assault Craft that were sitting offshore, a small cluster of Dutch Marines still heading into the city from the looks of things, as Nikolaj looked back in, looking over the team. They were dealing with themselves, any scuffs, any injuries, anything that was something they could attend to now. The operation may have been over, but Nikolaj knew there was one hell of a lot of paperwork to do when they arrived back in Djibouti, and back to Chievnor. He couldn't wait to see Merlin again, just to have him

------------------------

Pulling into Chievnor after what felt like minutes to Merlin, but was actually two hours worth of driving, he breathed out, looking across.
"Well then. This is what being in looks like. Chievnor." He said, clearing his throat as he took a little water from his bag, sipping it a little, before putting it back.

Stepping out, the morning summer air was crisp, but cold, the rain subsiding by now. Merlin looked across to Olivia, slinging the bag out with him, the P226 tucked away in a holster.
"We're going to get you to the Physio first, because whatever might be in your system, could be fucking with you. Then you can grab some sleep in the bunk, over that way. You look like you're in need of at least a day's worth." Merlin said, as he pointed across at the wooden hut, the darkness covering the airfield at this time of morning, with the sun barely coming up, the sound of seagulls and hubub in the distance as some sort of vehicles were being dispatched somewhere.
"We'll get to work on refreshing you tomorrow, for now, just R&R, Sergeant. Take whatever time you have to take, just get your mind back together."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------





“If you run with wolves, you will learn how to howl.”- Unknown

7th July, 2020
1600 Hours
Royal Marines Base Chievnor, Devon, United Kingdom

The firing range was sheltered, underneath a metal cover, and offered a range of targets in the particularly short range- from around 20m, to 200m, it wasn't far at all, but for Merlin's purposes, it was enough. He still wore the same sort of clothes from a couple of nights ago- but instead of the jeans, Merlin wore a pair of MTP trousers, and a pair of Wiley X sunglasses over his eyes, no beanie over his medium-length hair. He clutched the SCAR tight in his Mechanix wearing hands, looking down at Olivia, knowing she had tooled up and was getting back into firing a rifle. It was fast, but they needed her back into operations quick, and from what he could tell, Merlin guessed she was holding her own again.
"Anyway, go for 150, four targets, clear them out. You've had clean shots so far, your marksmanship is still on point. Keep it up." Merlin simply said, his voice commanding, authoritative, crystal in the way it came across. Pointing the rifle down, he hit the safety, standing up tall as he looked back over at Olivia once more.

"I'll start triggering the range, remember the pattern. Remember, this is a refresh. Not a competition. Or else we drag the lads in and get pints involved afterward. It never ends well." He said, as he slung the rifle down, wearing a belt with a couple of 7.62mm mags stowed in the front, chuckling a little at his last statement. It had happened, and surprisingly enough, it always ended up going differently. The following chugging of cider was not something many SOF units would permit, but this was how Merlin ran his ship, and when the worst shot was revealed, it was always entertaining to see a pint downed in five seconds or a particularly shitty punishment being doles out to everyone. Confidence-building stuff, Merlin said to himself. It worked. Mostly.

The team had returned the last evening after spending the afternoon waiting for a transport plane from Djibouti to the UK, via France, and following a debrief, meeting Merlin once more, the debrief having copious elements of the explosion footage played over again, they were left to their own devices, to just be ready for deployment in the next few days. Intelligence could take time to recover, and in this instance, it was looking very clear. The PETN wasn't local made, it was imported, and 250kg was clearly enough to be able to make some serious fucking boat-based bombs. It was beyond the remit of regular Pirates that operated in the Red Sea, it was clearly Al-Shabab making move, something bold but very, very stupid indeed. The other incursions into Somaliland had delivered, but it was all short-term gains, and no doubt, a unit different to Echo or the Dutch Marine Corps were going to have to continuously keep the threat at bay. Still, the find that Echo had made was significant, and tracing the stash was the next objective- going back over Nikolaj's footage from his TOS, as well as local intelligence on the ground would be responsible for that, and it would take a little while to do.

Chievnor had died down as a Royal Marines base in the last four years, though it still acted as the helm of command for the 24 Commando, Royal Engineers, and was a significant airfield in the South-West for the British military. The compound set aside for Echo was on the coastal, western side of the base, covered by a fence of it's own. Within that compound a Barrack inclusive of a small mess and bunks, the covered firing range that Merlin and Olivia were inside that could be reconfigured for mock-ups, assault courses or any other training purposes, alongside a small vehicle pool that had a few civvy and military vehicles within it, a briefing hut, alongside a couple of other buildings that were either places to rehearse structure entry, or just left a little derelict. Being fairly cut off, there was hardly anyone here, bar for Echo, as well as other general administrative staff that kept things ticking over, be it in SIGNT or other minor roles- though they still required a particularly high clearance that almost no branch of the British Armed Forces would demand. The other side of the runway predominantly had cargo aircraft, only one singular C17 sitting empty, and a host of military vehicles used by the Royal Marines- predominantly Jackal and Husky vehicles, being tooled up for deployment or back from a tour, the rest predominantly used by the Royal Marines for their benefit, numerous barracks, storage hangars and vehicle pools scattered across. But Echo had it's presence here, albeit quietly.

The sun was out, and it was just over 25C, a temperature where it was good. For a couple of the team in particular, it seemed like the right weather. A barbecue was going outside, and for the moment, Merlin didn't entirely know where everyone was, though he knew a couple were definitely making some sweet-smelling burgers and sausages on that Barbie, and the rest were inside. A couple of members of Echo were on leave, and could be taken out of the Task Force if they decided not to come back- it had happened before, where they either returned back to national service, or just left the forces altogether. Not Merlin. Not yet, he thought to himself.

"Okay, targets front!" He yelled, his instructor voice booming throughout the covered shelter, echoing across the concrete sides, as he slid the large handle down, the steel, human-outlined targets popping up down range behind plywood and concrete blocks of cover, ready to be shot at. After this, Merlin could kill for some food...maybe not literally, but he wouldn't mind a burger, an excess between the team's intensive training. That, and the fact he wanted to see Echo's little display team come in.
"How are those burgers coming along? You best save me one!"

--------------------------------

15,000 feet higher, and you could already feel the air's crisp coldness, even in the bright afternoon, the innards of the Hercules feeling chilly as would be expected at this alttidue. Looking back over at the other two, Nikolaj knew that this was Dominique's territory, and for some reason, Aleksandra and Dima had come along, for what was going to surely be one of the more interesting of his skydives. Not an entirely practical HALO or HAHO, not for insertion or to get to a particular reconnaissance spot, but rather, this was for fun. Fun. Actual, fun. He had maybe a couple hundred, but someone like Dominique, this was her spot, this was perhaps for her where she was most comfortable, thousands and thousands. A Parajumper lived for this, he simply did this for function, when kitted up for a long-term operation of either reconnaissance or direct action, he guessed to himself. It was a way of entertaining the rest of the team, chilling out after their operations, and hell....why not.

The C130 was carrying a bunch of RM vehicles for delivery up to Scotland for an exercise, but by some madness, Merlin had managed to convince the ATC, and the pilot, to circle and to get the aircraft to an altitude for a jump, for Dominique's sake. It wouldn't even be too big a diversion...and by the time the door had gotten to halfway open, the three would be out into the salient. It felt dodgy, but even Nikolaj felt good about this. It was a chance to relax, at the very least.
"So, we're following your lead then?" Nikolaj asked Dominique, the three seated close to the rear door, the plan being that they'd try and land in the area right in front of the currently sheltered gun range, after having a little fun in the sky. Adjusting the rig on his back, Nikolaj wore a grey jumpsuit, the cuffs done up to his elbows, even owing to the fact that it would still be fairly warm at this altitude itself.

For his part, Richard sat to one end of the firing range, close to the lit barbeque grill. A folding table in front of him was covered with the paraphenalia of gun maintenance, along with one empty bottle of San Miguel, and a second he was working through. A cooler to one side held numerous other bottles for the rest of the unit to partake from. As the Israeli cleaned his Tavor, he whistled off-handedly as he sipped from the brown-glass bottle, squinting skyward to pick out the shape of the C-130, or peer at the antics on the shooting range alternately between cleaning his rifle.

Just inside the big sliding door of the gunshop, Tyler has several cases, bullets, a package of primers and propellants. As well as a bullet press set up on the edge of a table. He's standing in such a way that he can watch the target practice and also take part in what's going on at the barbeque. At the moment he's cleaning out a bullet case with a wire brush. He'd exhausted his supply of wild cat rounds during that last deployment. So he needed to make more, while he's at it, there is a box full of various other calibre cases and bullets nearby, he might just make some magazines for the rest of the team. Can't stress the effectiveness of ammo with more punch then standard stuff. He had a can of cola nearby which he sipped from as he worked.

The steady click, pop and clatter of the bullet press began as he started to create. The CSOR gunsmith he had learned from had told him it's always best to make your own wildcats, try not to trust others to do it. Unless you were around to watch. Never knew how much propellant they put in, or if they somehow screwed up and the case wall had been weakened, last thing you want is a bullet exploding in the chamber. So he did it all with his own hands.

All the while he looked out the door watching the range and the others at the BBQ. These are his teammates, gotta love the fun.

Dominique looked down at her wrist-mounted altimeter, watching as the needle leveled out at 15,000ft. The last time she’d jumped it was to rescue a downed pilot, a HALO jump of course. This was nothing new. A casual “skydive” as civilians called it. Well, as casual as jumping out of a C-130 in full kit would be. She had never jumped without her combat gear on and so, as always, she stood in full kit looking as if she’d only just gotten off of a post. Everything minus the actual weapons was present. It was what she was used to.

She stood at the very edge of the now open ramp, looking over the terrain that was the Royal Marines base. Her comms crackled to life and she glanced back at Niko and the other two with a grin “Try not to fall too far behind.” She pulled down her sunglasses and turned to face the group, her feet inches from the edge of the aircraft. This was not a career for people afraid of heights.

“Alright, this is not a textbook HALO jump. We have a very small target landing and we’re jumping from a lower altitude. Our deployment altitude is around 3,500ft, however your chute will only automatically deploy at around 2,000ft, so stay conscious of your altitude. I’ll give a heads up when we’re approaching. We’re aiming for our portion of the compound ideally. Bonus points if you knock the beer out of Richard’s hand.”

After the team lined up with some instruction from Oakley --the one hour crash course in HALO jumping wasn’t exactly detailed-- she looked to the the light and raised an open hand up. As the light changed, she clenched her hand into a fist and jumped out of the plane with a roll, letting off a loud “Wooo!” as she did. It was the first time she’d been actually happy in a while.

Aleksandra quadruple checked the straps on her parachute as she stood next to her team members in the C-130. She wasn't afraid of heights, just... well aware of her mortality, and of the tendency of falls at terminal velocity to enforce that mortality in a rather gruesome and spectacular way.

Even so, she quite enjoyed jumping. The big rush of air, the even bigger rush of adrenaline… that and it couldn’t hurt to keep her skills sharp. Just like the time might someday come when she needed to hit a target with a knife while doing a backflip. If she didn’t know better she would’ve thought her bosses had a sense of humor or something silly like that.

Unlike Oakley, she wasn’t packing her full kit, no matter how hard the people with doctorates tried, that plate carrier would weigh several metric shittons, and if she didn’t have to wear it she wasn’t going to wear it. Same went for basically everything else she didn't need for jumping, it was heavy and uncomfortable.

She looked up as Oakley spoke, nodding once she’d finished, giving a quick “Aye-aye” before looking over at Dima. “Хотите, чтобы получить некоторые пельме́ни?” She smirked, lapsing out of English for a moment to speak to the other Russian on the plane, before switching back to heavily accented English, “Assuming the Angliyskiy can suffer our food to exist in their country, at any rate. Failing that, I'm hungry and not a fan of BBQ, whoever sees a promising place first eats free.”

She didn’t wait long for a reply, as Oakley jumped out she was right behind her, doing a backflip off the plane before throwing a snappy salute as she fell through the air.

The position of Jarek’s chair gave him a good view of both the firing range and the barbeque, the latter getting the bulk of his attention. He was enjoying the warm summer evening as well as the large mug of coffee in his hand. The only thing this evening was missing was a guitar. A steady drone alerted him to the presence of a plane. Looking up he spotted a C-130, though he couldn’t guess the altitude, and wondered where was it heading and what was its cargo. The wind brought the smell of the meat toward him and he drew a deep breath, wondering how could anyone resist that and be a vegetarian.

Merlin looked across at Olivia, watching her clip the targets, with a reliable operator's accurate accuracy, the ACR's rounds plinking against the targets down range, as he chuckled, a positive look on his face. A good Merlin was a happy Merlin, watching the SAS operator that he had saved two nights prior get down to her work.
"Nicely done. I'll activate the rest of the targets on the range, I need to get some food, so I'll leave you to it. You're still good for action, Olivia, so I wouldn't panic." He said to her, walking out of the booth as he put his SCAR back on the table, flipping the mag out, de-chambering a round before then leaving it by the other rifles on a rack, knowing it was at the very least, provisionally put away for now. He adjusted his sunglasses over his eyes, flicking his gloves off his hand, stowing them in a pocket in his trousers, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. It was a hot day, and the air felt thin, the summer in full play.

Merlin seemed to hold his presence as good as it was, as he headed outside, or at least out of the covered area. Corporal Owain Hereford was a good man at this sort of thing, the SFSG soldier in his mid-thirties one of the gunsmiths and armorers here, come best barbecue handlers on this home that Echo inhibited. Owain must have stood at around 6"2, and instantly, the most recognizable thing about Owain was his prosthetic leg, almost leaving half his right leg covered in composites and metal, with his left leg cut off from around the mid-shin or so, his left forearm also completely gone, and replaced by a simple prosthetic, nothing complicated. The story was a good one, Merlin reminded himself, it was a story that made his own missing toes look more like a fucking fairytale, that much could be said.

"Please tell me the burgers are done...I could kill a wolf for food round 'ere." Merlin said, as Owain nodded, chuckling. He flipped one off, onto a plate by the side, as he replied.
"First one's yours. I'm not going to fuck with a hungry Merlin."
"When all you can live on is MRE's, I think I could live with myself if I had to kill someone for this...and whatever paperwork's attached!" The bearded Captain chuckled heartily, as he took the burger and slid it into a bun, before biting in deep, then placing it back on the plate as he knew that there would be a few more that Owain was already grilling.
"Lads, the food's ready!" Merlin's voice reached everywhere when he shouted, his regimented boom reaching inside and out, as he took a seat on a white plastic chair across from the BBQ. Looking up, the light noise of the C130 could be heard, and he only grinned, knowing their own display team were coming. Merlin himself looked still imposing, and he wolfed his food down, knowing it was good to have something like this. The team were chilled themselves, from what he could tell. Richard was cleaning his gun, Tyler was making more of his crazy bang rounds, or his Wildcats with whatever amount of powder he was throwing in now, and Jarek was chilling out. It was R&R for a reason, because it wasn't Merlin commanding the team in what was a sandy, explosive shithole as per usual, and a chance to switch off, before switching on once more for more work.

---

The door rushed open, Nikolaj watching Dominique casually put her sunglasses over her eyes, confident in her step. Nikolaj could only guess he was too, well, as best as he could feel throwing himself out of an aircraft at 15,000 feet, as he peered to the needle on his wrist once more, Adjusting his gloves, he breathed out, the full face helmet over his head, as he popped the visor down, following behind the American Parajumper, looking at Aleksandra.
"Got it. I'll follow on you." The Dane simply added, as he patted Aleksandra on the shoulder, watching Oakley go. She knew this shit, and no doubt, as the light turned green, they were running, out of the back of a perfectly well serviced military cargo plane, into the void. And Nikolaj himself couldn't help but grin at the sight of it, Dominique rolling, and Aleksandra backflipping into the sky. His feet charged on the metal ramp, the cold wind gripping, until....

It took hold, the feeling that felt inescapable, the moment of pure ecstasy...Nikolaj had frontflipped out, diving face first to the ground, flipping over wildly for just a moment. It was the strange feeling of watching the plane fly away, into the distance....and look like it was higher and further, though that of course was his relative sighted position to the aircarft. It was the fact that he was now in a place that was turbulent, violent...but free, and a place to enjoy himself, to move about, where he pleased. He stabilized out, looking for Aleksandra, Dima and Dominique, as he arched hard, before moving over towards them. Following close, he came alongside, grabbing a hold of Dominique's right hand, a look of glee clearly on his clean-shaven face, as he knew that Dominique had already flown her fun, probably able to sit-fly if she wished, or whatever crazy stuff she felt like doing, as Nikolaj held onto her, knowing the other two would soon come in...it seemed like he had made it down to her first, and the others would join on.

Tyler came out of the gunshop, a handful of bullets in one hand, fresh pressed and ready. In the other a magazine, into which he's sliding those rounds. He looks up into the sky, squinting his eyes against the sun's light. He nods, "Nothing like a nice recreation jump, wish I had known they were going up. Haven't done a good high altitude jump in years." He slid the last round in, then tossed the magazine up into the air, catching it again. Returning to the gunshop briefly to put the magazine down beside the others he's finished loading. He comes back out and over to the BBQ, "Oh boy what have we here. Self serve on the reserve then?" He grabs a plate and a bun, and spears a patty, and proceeds to make up a nice big towering burger. Cheese, tomatos, lettuce all that good stuff from the toppings nearby. A generous dollop of mustard and he's plopping down in another of the chairs.

He gives Merlin a salute with the burger playfully. Then sets to it. After a few bits he slides a bullet out from his pant pocket, and tosses it Merlin's way. Calling out to him as it lands nearby, "The calibre of your SCAR right? I'm making enough rounds to fill two magazines for everyone. Or there abouts anyway. If anyone wants to try them out on our next op." He takes a bite of his burger looking Merlin's way to see how he takes to the idea.

Aleksandra allowed herself an uncharacteristic giggle of joy as she free fell through the sky, spreading her arms out before tucking them back in as she fell into a spiraling dive. The wind howled past her face and tugged at her hair but she paid it no mind, stretching her arms out before ending the dive with a "roll" backwards. The military base down below looked so... small, like she could pinch it between her fingers. For a moment she remembered her childhood, when she would pretend to be a giant and step on trees - that was sort of what it was like whenever she flew or skydove.

The ground was nearing, and she figured now was as good a time as any to deploy her parachute, yanking on the cord and touching down a few minutes later. "Well then," she grinned, "that was fun! Thanks for inviting me along, been a while since I got to jump out of a small metal tube hundreds if not thousands of meters off the ground with only a thin piece of fabric to stop me from splattering against the ground!" Her grin turned to a smirk as she put a hand on her waist. "Now, since I'm not a fan of barbecue, who else feels like joining me in looking for something to eat elsewhere?" She would go regardless of whether or not someone accompanied her, but it couldn't hurt to have someone else along for company, and besides - she'd never been in England before. She had no idea where to go.

Theis watched his comrades partake in the camaraderie; these days off were always great, and Theis thoroughly enjoyed them. He looked up at the clear blue skies and saw the cargo plane flying overhead, and the eventual figures of the rest of his friends skydiving downwards. While Theis was trained in airborne operations, he always did prefer to keep his feet on the ground. The divers looked like bullets whizzing through the air and as their parachutes were deployed, they immediately changed to look like clouds floating down towards the earth.

Theis had resigned himself to simply enjoy his own peace and quiet, and just have a nice calm day. One hand in his jeans pocket, and the other holding a bottle of beer, Theis had leaned back against a nearby tree and watched grill do its work. He had zoned out into blissfulness when Aleksandra touched down a short distance away. Her entrance brought him back to reality.

Aleksandra had offered anyone to join in her quest for food, and while Theis didn’t mind burgers and hotdogs, he never did have a chance to check out the country. Even if it would only be a small corner of the Britain, some was better than none. “I’m in, Alek. It would be nice to see what the UK has to offer.” Theis downed the rest of his beer and strode up next to Aleksandra, “Anyone else,” he asked.

Food was done, just what he was waiting for. He finished his coffee, got up and stepped closer to the BBQ, wondering what piece of human garbage cost the Briton a good chunk of his body. "This smells great, what's free?" he asked, pointing toward the grill. "And please tell me there's a lot of it." He made himself a burger and sat back down, observing the small figures in the sky, enjoying the food. It was nice of Crowstep to make some high-powered rounds for others, in case something had to be erased from this world again and there wasn't a pile of explosives handily available. Once again he had to chuckle at the thought of using the Somali's own explosives against themselves.

Olivia had managed to take down the targets with near-inhuman speed. She snapped from target to target with a blink of an eye. One shot per kill. It was quick and professional, just the way she was trained to do. The female operator's leg had healed up considerably since the last time she had seen some physical activity. It wasn't 100% that was for sure, but she was able to be very mobile and quick. At 100% Olivia was deadlier, so every enemy she facex next probably would be considered lucky since they didn't have to deal with Olivia at full force. Her shooting was still on point, which was really nice. As she put her weapon down, she listened to Merlin comment on her sharp shooting skills. It was flattering coming from the illusive Merlin. As he would leave her be to practice more if she wanted to, Olivia nodded and reloaded her gun. Yes, the magazine still had rounds in it but a fresh magazine was a luxury that Olivia intended to enjoy. She continued to shoot away at the targetd up until she heard mention of food. Suddenly the SAS operator's stomach was growling to the point where she wasn't able to focus anymore. It was rather frustrating but everyone had to eat anyway.

She had unloaded her ACR right after she had loaded it, just for safety reasons. This would be the first thing she would do with people other than Merlin so she wanted to make a good impression. BBQ was a favorite of Olivia's, but being the kind of person she was she would allow her teammates to have their share before she'd have hers.

The humming and occasional rumbles of transport engines was a familiar and comfortable sound for the Russian. Growing up in the VDV had ingrained a sense of familiarity into his being that brought a smile to Dima’s face. It was time. Looking around at all of those present, the demo specialist gave a wink and a smile to any who bothered to look his direction and make eye contact. Namely, Aleksandra, who even politely offered him dumplings as the occupants stood and readied themselves as the ramp dropped. “Я не знал, что можно приготовить!” Was the only reply he made before throwing up the universal ‘OK’ sign with his fingers. Once the green light pinged to life, they were off. Feeling his heart pound, the former paratrooper threw himself from the aircraft, hot on the heels of his comrades.

Looking to his Altimeter, Dima made a mental note to pull his chute at around 600 meters. Glancing away, Dima came to realize that the rest of the crew had zipped far below him, much to his annoyance. Despite the fact that he was falling at upwards of 120 miles per hour, Dima couldn't help but think to himself. They had better leave me some food. Fueled by the thought of going without a meal, the Russian brought his legs closer together and his arms in towards his sides, turning the calm decent into a full on terminal velocity dive. I will get my damn dumplings! If the wind had been howling before, it was roaring now as the over eager man sailed past the Dane and American before stabilizing himself again in preparation to pull his chute. Ensuring that the other two were not anywhere directly above him, Dima glanced one last time at his Altimeter, down at the already landing Aleksandra, and then one more time above before pulling his chute. First, a moment akin to hovering hit before all at once the whole world jerked to a stop and continued on again, this time much slower.

Looking up one last time made Dima finally realize that the intent had been for them all to link up mid-fall. Feeling a light heat rise to his cheeks, the Russian focused his attention back to the ground and his intended target. Searching for a moment before finding his countryman, he smiled while bringing the steerable parachute in for a smooth and graceful ass sliding across the grass. Having cut off the Master Sergeant, the FSB operative gave her a goofy but charming smile. “You're going to make me dumplings tonight, right?”

Merlin gave a hearty, strong chuckle, as he looked across to Tyler, the bearded West Countryman standing a good head above the Canadian, as he gave a confident nod.
"They'll punch a hole through whatever it shoots, and 7.62mm is fun for that. I'll give it a go, Tyler." The British Captain replied, as he munched his burger down a little, letting the others self-serve, as he turned to the others that had come out. Olivia had finished up, and the Anglo-Chinese Sergeant was serious, though Merlin knew that in R&R, they could at least let their hair down a little bit. Adjusting his fearsome beard a little, Merlin took a seat on a plastic chair, and looked back as the others mingled around, from the Norwegian medic to the Czech rifleman. Good people, all of them. He had a good selection, and they were operators he could trust to do what they had to, in the same way they held faith in their Wizard. Merlin did wonder, if over 15 years of work in the forces would wear him out, and it was a slow effect, though he felt inside like it was always going to be the precision application of a scalpel to the back of some terrorist's skull...and the business still needed someone like him to direct said scalping and show the rookies how it was done.

Finishing his burger, he put the plastic plate down, looking over at the others coming in above, and the sudden sight of canopies that filled the sky.
"Here's our airshow."

---------

Nikolaj separated off from Dominique, turning before tucking his arms closer to his side and pointing his toes, tracking off away from it, watching Aleksandra do her own thing, just enjoying it all, and Dima sail on by, his near-vertical dive hurling him fast, before he made it to 600m. Looking at his altimeter, he checked his airspace, before arching once more, turning a little and then throwing his pilot chute out.

The canopy roared open, and it was rough, though it was open. The sprawling Devonian coastline stretched below him, and he could almost see Land's End in the distance, with the island of Lundy visible on his right, as he steered towards the east. The airbase was below, as he spiralled the canopy down, whooping loudly as he knew he was flying it like he stole it, and aiming for his landing area, right where he knew Merlin was expecting them.

Gliding in gently, Nikolaj flew the olive-coloured parachute as best as he could, landing on a patch of grass in front of the BBQ area, a little closer than expected, but where he had originally planned to put himself down. The material coming down, he wrapped it up, and slid his helmet off, a shit eating grin on his face.
"It's Jamie Fooking Lannister." Merlin said of the Dane in the heavily accented West Country accent, as he slid the rig off his shoulders and legs, the others already coming down, and in the area. As much as Nikolaj wanted to go for dumplings, he fancied this BBQ, for the moment being at least.

"Hey, I thought I'd only drop in. And you're already there with the jokes." Nikolaj said, taking his goggles off too, as he dragged the canopy and the rig over his shoulders, putting it down on the concrete where the others were by the barbecue.
"We saved you burgers, Nikolaj. Looks cold up there." Merlin added, as the Dane nodded, lobbing his pair of gloves off too as he looked at the fearsome grill.
"It is, and the formation didn't work. How's the Sergeant getting on?"
"Olivia's fine. Handles an ACR like she should. You should ask her." Merlin replied with a cheeky nod to Olivia that seemed suitable to alienate Nikolaj just a tad, as he flipped a patty into a bun, Nikolaj grabbing it as he took a seat, Merlin looking across at the others, who were generally milling around. He didn't mind a small group going off to go get some food elsewhere- after all, they weren't here that often for this long a period of time, and they could see what they could soak up of rural Devon, Merlin said to himself, that would be really nice....a simple buzz in his pocket said otherwise.
"Sorry, Olivia. Good to hear you're getting on well." The First Sergeant said, as he took a seat, Merlin hearing the buzz once more as he stood up as Nikolaj didn't take the notice of Merlin.

It was a quick glance at the phone, but it was barely one that would have easily registered. Before the other operators had noticed, Merlin was already walking to his office, and it was already a reaction that he had made to pick up the call.

---------

Merlin stepped into the quarter, and the phone was tight against his ear, the smartphone an old model, but one that did what Merlin needed it to, without any of the terrors of having it easily hackable or vulnerable to those who wanted to peer.
"Captain Bastion, have you seen the news?" With that, Merlin was round at his desk, his computer from the last decade running in standby, as he punched in a ten-key, mixed number and letter password, the two-monitor setup flashing up mostly papers, but now, he had BBC already running. The scene could only be described in a four-letter word, and while Merlin was used to news like this, it was the sheer rapid response of what it looked like and why he held a phone to his ear right now looking at this that made it so clear. Shit.

"Scores Dead in Barcelona After Bomb Blast"

The article barely took seconds for it's main content to be scanned by Merlin's eyes, as he replied into his phone. The scenes, the sights, the imagery. It was a bombing alright, and the scene looked horrifying. It looked major, and while this wasn't an unknown, it was a connection. A bad one. It was almost certainly PETN, or at least, the same type of explosive. A cafe had been blasted apart, and it looked like on a good sunny day, where many Catalans were out for lunch or socializing, this had happened. Casualties in the dozens, clambering already.
"Seen. I'm looking at it now....you're sure it's connected to our batch? Somali variety?"
"Wouldn't call otherwise, it's the same material composite, we're running preliminaries now. Whoever this is, they have it in continental Europe, and under our radar in a significant quantity....this wasn't a trace amount. We have problems."
"That was fast.....okay, what's Thoraux's call on it?"
"We're finding out where, when and what. Give us eight hours, Captain. It isn't going to be long haul, wherever the hell we're going to find it. Once I call, be ready."
"Fucking hell, that could get messy fast...."
"I'm only calling the best in being messy to solve that problem, Merlin."
"Got that fucking right." With that, Merlin put his mobile down, and exhaled. The door was still open, as he headed out again.

They'd know in time, he'd pass it on when they needed to know. For now, it meant using up the last of this R&R, and he still had a burger or two to devour, Merlin said to himself. Barcelona did not look good. The fact that somewhere, there was a terrorist site that was holding a stash of it was even more worrying. And however much it was, it was in Europe, and it could be in the quantities that would have been alike to what Nikolaj had dealt with. And somehow, Merlin did not like the fact that it had happened like that. It was too organized, it was smarter than usual, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. As for the man on the other end of the phone, it was another contact in the ISA, or the Intelligence Support Activity, attached to Echo and a get-between that would keep Merlin in the loop of what the hell the task force was involved in. And indeed, this was a rare occasion, a response like this wasn't the norm. But it seemed that the previous connection had played to this, and that was why Merlin was in the know, and why it would be of particular interest of them to respond. He headed back to the BBQ, and took a seat, grabbing another burger, garnished liberally, as he took a bite, knowing a couple were looking on.
"We've got a couple hours more of R&R, then I'll run a brief at 2200, I'll get the others notified of that....there might be something that's come up of importance for us. Shame we didn't have more, but work is work." Merlin added, knowing whoever was left by the BBQ would know that for the moment, while the others would find out in good time.

-------------------------

(I'd recommend wrapping up any sections on anyone else, I'll advance it through briefs and so on. Expect the unexpected.)

Freedom. The one word that echoed in Dominique’s mind as she fell through the air with nothing but a parachute between her and hitting the ground at terminal velocity. She looked around, her fellow squadmates having the times of their lives around her, then she looked to the ground. The whole of the military base was now visible to her. Ant sized trucks and armored vehicles swarmed below, while even smaller and barely recognizable soldiers dotted the ground. She looked to her altimeter. 1000 metres and dropping fast.

900 metres. The sickening snap of the parachute chord conjured up by her mind was all she could hear, replaying the event over and over in her mind. The yells of her past squadmates rattled her brain and made the situation feel that much more real.

800 metres. The cracking of branches as she impacted the ground. Dogs barking, men shouting in arabic. Guns going off all around her.

700 metres. More yelling, more barking. The sound of fist meeting flesh. Then darkness. The caves. The months of darkness, torture and pain. The beatings, the burning of her flesh, the nauseating sight of her own blood. So much blood.

600 metres. Shoved back into consciousness by a nagging, high pitched beep in her ear. She reached for the ripcord and pulled it as hard as she could, sending the pilot chute flying off behind her. Then silence, the few precious seconds to brace before the shock of the sudden deployment of the main chute. Dominique jerked backwards as the canopy deployed and exhaled sharply. She looked down now suspended in mid air by a layer of canvas. The airfield was spread out in front of her, and off to her left, the area that was sanctioned of for Echo.

And then it came together. She was way off course.

Dominique pulled hard on the steering line and veered back to an approximation of her intended course, though she was way lower and going way too fast. Not again.

She came in fast and hard, hitting the dirt hard before rolling with her entire body, a dust trail spreading behind her. When she finally came to a stop, she turned onto her back and looked up, removing her mask and sunglasses “...God damnit..”

----------------------------

Ten minutes later she appeared from the barracks, having taken off the majority of her combat gear. Now, Dominique donned a olive drab Parajumper shirt and her usual multicam BDU pants, with her appropriately branded Oakley sunglasses atop her head. She walked up to the group as Merlin walked off and grabbed a burger and a beer without saying a word.

It was going to be a long day.

Tyler shoved the last bit of his burger into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it nearly whole. He coughed, and chased it down with a huge gulp of water from his canteen. he then got up, thumping his chest to clear it, "A few hours huh? Well I'll get those magazines finished up. Two each for the next operation. Everyone can give them a try. I don't want to be the only one blowing foot deep holes through solid cover." He headed back into the Gunshop, and pulled a few of the other smiths over to help him. Showing them how he was doing it. Wildcat rounds being rather easy to make, once you know how anyway.

That would keep him busy until such time as the briefing was called. And the order to get things ready to either go on standby or kit up and head out was given.

As he worked he started to murmur to himself a story it sounded like, "So up north you know, way above 60 degrees. There's this college anthropologist going out into the North Lands, wanting to see if he can get any stories out of the old men and women. All those old trappers right? The guys and gals who still live off the land. Trap for a living, scoring pelts and meat. Anyway this college fellow gets a hold of a trapper named Bill. He's got a friend, called Ol' Huck who lives way up there. Out in a cabin he made all his own...." He keeps on yattering telling this story to anyone who would listen. Working on. Even after that joke story finished he had another one. As some of the other smiths laughed at the last one, Tyler is throwing himself into another one. It's part of his charm.

2200 Hours

The briefing room was an empty shell, or a hive of activity with projectors, maps, kit and other technical equipment lying about. Today, it was somewhere between, and Merlin had it set as he wished, set up for a briefing of the team. The island illustrated was off the coast of Algeria, near the Tunisian border, barely 2km offshore, dusty yet with a little greenery scattered across it's surface.

The aerial contours map, as well as the satellite photography illustrated the island's makeup, a sharp peak on it's northern side, with an approach on the southern side, where the satellite picture showed the make up of a small fishing village, clearly settled in by the enemy, and at the top of the hill, a demolished hermitage of some sort. Only walls of the building remained, but even on the satellite image, the sight of tarps, covers and netting could be seen, as well as a belltower and part of an old church that sat alongside a mostly-destroyed stone wall that separated the hermitage from the village below. It must have been hundreds of years old- it looked like it had been a former Medieval site; perhaps something of the Knights Hospitallier, Merlin didn't care for the History of it all but it had a history long before these men had settled in. The village was abandoned in it's entirety, and was claustrophobic, crammed in on the tiny amount of land that was at the base of the hill, and the tiny winding road that went up it's length. It was barely a footpath, but made it's way to the stone walls and remnants of the site. The northern side of the island was effectively a cliff, but one walkway went down it's side, to a small boathouse that jutted out into the crashing waves. Looking across at the individuals in the room who had come for the briefing, he began, knowing he had the lowdown on the situation to introduce to them.

"Situation is clear, lads. This is our site where they based the attack from. And from the looks of it, we've got one clear shot at it before they decide to go home, or worse, use the rest of their explosives. If this is what we're up against, then we can't take any chances." Merlin simply said, as he looked across as the team seated across the room, looking back at the board.
"I know this is coming as a shock, but from what I can tell, we're the best suited team to take this threat on, given our experience and expertise with these sort of technical issues."

"Anyway, intel suggests a presence of around 40 to 60 militants on the island, all of whom are assumed to carry small-arms of some sort. Trained to various degrees, it's a makeup of terrorists who want to bring their fuckin' Jihad to our homes. How our scans missed this is beyond me. But we know they're cosy here. Ruling out an air assault or a drone strike which would destroy all the intel we can find from this site, or a full ground assault with Support Groups, which would do the same with probably more paperwork and risk, we can conduct a surgical strike that puts us in the line of fucking fire. Hurrah."

"It maximizes our chances of finding the PETN, any intel, HVTs as well as co-ordinating fire onto the site. Some vengence too, but I'm calling it out now, that isn't our objective....if it fucking was, we'd be using meat cleavers, not suppressed weaponry. If we do this right, we can find what we're looking for, before any of it goes to ground." He added, as he looked across as his men once more, as he flicked to another slide.
"The Algerians have not been diplomatically notified about this, mainly because our SIS doesn't enjoy telling them that there's terrorists on their turf, and that any provocation or disruptions would lead to, well, you guessed it, these bastards running to ground where we can't find them. This isn't a usual task for a regular SF team, like I said. We haven't got time, and we're on hand to make the most of this opportunity, before it slips away." Merlin said to the team on their chairs, looking over at the points on the map that he'd marked up.

"We're dividing into two. Nikolaj will take Oakley and will infiltrate the northern coast, this rocky hellhole here, using an SDV to get in undetected. You'll be Echo Black. They'll sabotage the boathouse on the northern coast, and then move up into the remains of the bell tower that sits outside of the walls, to provide overwatch using both drones and DMRs to pick away targets of interest, as well as give us a forward observation post. They'll use grapples, and various other kit to avoid the stairway upwards- a Claymore set at it's base would immobilize any runners easily. Using the Nanos*, we'll be able see into the compound, and establish what the sit rep is from there on out."

"As for the rest of us, you'll be under my command and we'll conduct a sweep and clear on the southern side, using darkness and a RIB to hide our approach. In comparison, we are Echo White. We'll quietly infiltrate the village and thin the militant hold there, and when ready, make an assault up the hill, clearing the hermitage and the island of all hostiles and finding whatever intel we can find. Likely we're in for a treat, if the intel is right, so we need EOD on hand, and we're going to need a load that maintains itself as flexible. We are bugging out with Vulture, a MH-6 posted to our unit that is on a 10 minute call once the operation begins, and they'll take both teams out of the AO. We'll have one Reaper on standby for more firepower when we need, but we don't want to rely on it, only to hit entrenched or harder targets that we can't go around, or give us a moment of opportunity."

"Anyway, the gist is we take them from both sides, find any actionable intelligence; manifests, plans, stores, and any remaining PETN, and put it out of action. HVT wise, we are expecting an Abdullah Faisal Ramin, a suspected planner of the attacks in Barcelona and a man on multiple inteligence agencies' watchlists, to be among the detail there. Order is shoot to kill if he's armed. If we can take him, be very, very fucking careful; as with all of them, suicide rigs are still a potential, and this man could be the same. We want to be sharp with this; we don't waste time lighting them up more than we need to, before the Algerians notice what the fuck is going on. I don't need to repeat this, but from our current situation, it suits us best to not have them know until our operation is complete and we are Oscar Mike home."

"Nikolaj, Dominique, you're using rebreathers and dive gear to make your way onto the shore, and you'll need to take silenced DMRs, alongside PDWs for this run if you want to provide overwatch. Everything silent- you're not expected to fire a round, but if you find yourself in a position where you can take shots and help us out, mid to long-range accurate firepower is the call. You know the score. For everyone else, keep it versatile, standard night run. We need firepower, but it has to be suppressed if we want to keep a low profile for our approach. We're carrying both subsonic and supersonic ammunition, for when sound suppressors come off, and IR strobes due to the night nature of this op. It's a mixture of close to mid range, so bear that in mind on your kit."

"So, I would say that it'll be a tricky one. But we have a plan and we can execute it, and so long as we work within the parameters we've got, we can do it."

"Anyway, we deploy at 1600 Hours, tomorrow, and our plane leaves tomorrow at 1200 from here. Mission is a go from 2200 hours, and myself and the lead team will conduct the assault on the village at 0200. Get your shit together, and be ready. This is what we do best, ladies and gents. Unless you have questions, you're dismissed." Merlin added, the tall and heavily bearded SBS operator finishing distinctly, after the long brief. It had been a lot of information to take in, and even Nikolaj could tell that the infiltration work itself was going to be interesting, that was for sure. It was a difficult assault, but it was doable, and they could get what they were hunting, if they didn't run into any more traps than they could see so far. The Dane could guess Merlin had a reliability in the members of his team to get the job done, but something told Nikolaj that Merlin was going to do something fucking savage to someone again. Operations like this brought it out in him, he thought to himself. No vengence, oh of course he'd say that, but beneath the facade of a planning, careful and co-ordinated Captain, was someone who'd done some more than nasty things to a foe.

Merlin let the team go, as he looked across at Aleksandra, watching as she stood up, the lights now back on and the bareness of the room visible
"Volkov, a word. Stay here for a minute." He said to her, his voice in it's own right able to almost catch her, and pin her to turn to face the Captain, or at least, so it would come across.

----------------

*Drone roughly the size of your palm, with a camera attached that allows for combat units to have a "peek", but without anything big- it's difficult to hear/detect. FYI, used by British forces.)

@kingkonrad

Aleksandra sat ramrod straight as Merlin briefed the team. She mentally ran through things in her head, calculating out which weaponry to bring with her. Both she and Dima could serve as EOD... but she couldn't rule out things potentially worse than regular explosives - thoughts of choking gas filled her mind, and she quickly blocked them off by going back to the weapons. She would probably take the Pecheneg - extra ammunition, good supporting weapon, also good at putting holes in walls and in terrorists hiding behind those walls.

As the briefing finished she stood with the rest of the team, moving to leave the room and go prepare. The R&R had been rather short lived, but then, she hadn't exactly expected a month long vacation in the Swiss Alps either.

"Volkov, a word. Stay here for a minute."

She jumped slightly, pulling a sharp about face to look at Merlin curiously. She stood straight and unmoving, immediately responding, "Yes sir?" Her curiosity was evident when she spoke, and she raised an eyebrow, "What is it you need, sir?"