Captain David Stevens was watching a newsreel in the officers' mess hall. The Japanese had captured Singapore from the British and had had great success in the Pacific. The Marines were shown fighting on a far off island, and a few pictures were shown from North Africa. General Rommel had made a retreat and the Allies had advanced. David was watching the newsreel with a keen eye, thinking of his unit and how they would survive in combat.

The Allies' High Command had learned from the Westminster League: do not send a rag tag groug of supers to the field. Amateurs will get killed, and more letters will be sent to mourning relatives, or worse, the Axis would get an edge in the "arms race" of enhanced individuals. The League had engaged the Germans' own "all-star" team, and according to the two survivors, the Swiss siblings the OSS had recruited from Britain, the team destroyed the Hydragruppe compleately, but were annihilated by a SS company in the end. They had been holed in a French chateau, and the company had assaulted the building, taking it room by room.

The Task Force had been training for the last couple months rigorously, and they had even been given their own barracks to use. It was only a small building, built quickly and very ascetic by design, but it served its purpose. They had separate dormitories for the women and the men of the unit, for the sake of some privacy, but in the end, they lived together. The unit used it mostly for sleeping, anyhow. The unit had had many lessons and plenty of training all across the Camp Toccoa, ranging from explosives to small arms and hand-to-hand combat. David had personally taken care of their PT training from the beginning. They still had to work their camaraderie, though. They weren't an easy-going bunch.

They were a mixed bag of individuals, to say the least. Taken from different nationalities and branches of service, they truly were a melting pot. Some of them didn't have much combat experience or training, but they were getting closer being deployed to their first mission together. Their training would be complete by summer, if the OSS didn't get trigger happy. And they probably will.

As the picture ended, David walked outside. The air was still chilly, but the sun was shining, and it was a perfect spring morning. There were some patches of snow on the ground, but it was good enough for David. They were going to run up the Currahee. Again. The unit didn't like it, but they had to do it, for the sake of their fitness and training. He walked towards their barracks. A few privates saluted him, and David saluted them back. He knew there were some rumours concerning the Task Force circulating in the camp. That they were a bunch of freaks of nature. Perhaps they were, but they were his freaks and comrades-in-arms.

David was walking towards the unit's barracks, and a voice called out "Captain David Stevens, I presume?". David snapped out of his thoughts and turned towards the voice. A middle-aged man, looking gaunt faced and lean, almost malnourished and dressed in black clothes, approached him. He was wearing big, aviator-styled sunglasses.

"Yes, precisely. And whom I might meet?" he answered, acting cautiously.

"Special Agent Richard Hanks, FBI." The man offered a hand. "I am on a business of utmost national security, and I may have heard that your unit of... extraordinary talents might help with this trouble I am having."

"We might", David said. He looked around and asked softly. "What is it about?"

"I will tell about it later with more details, Captain, but there's a spook at loose in New York, and he might be someone like you." The agent spoke now with almost a whisper to David. "There are too many ears here, and the whole situation is delicate at best, but I'll be briefing you and your unit after lunch. Colonel Clarke knows already about my situation. I'll be seeing you later."

The agent departed, walking with a fast pace from David. David watched the man with curiosity and alarm, for some reason the person had unsettled him. Guess I'll learn more about him after lunch.

David walked quickly the rest of the way to the barracks and entered. The unit had a small break between their training activities, and they were resting in the barracks. Lunch still was a good time away, though, and the Task Force would run the Currahee. "Attention!" David said, relying on his commanding tone more than on volume. He waited a couple seconds before continuing. "We are going to meet a very important person today after lunch, but before we do that, we are going to run the Currahee, so grab your PT gear and assemble outside."

Kaneda was relaxing on the bed that was assigned to him, nothing much but a single mattress resting in a thin metal frame. He looked up at the roof of the building and played around with his family ring on the necklace. He could feel a spring jab into his back and groaned, he then closed his eyes and thought to make himself lighter, the mattress started to rise and decompress and the spring no longer poked in his back. He sighed in relief and continued looking at the ring.

He thought about all that had transpired, the experiments back home in Canada, the training, the excitement he first fell when he gained his gifts, then thought of the men coming to take him and his family away. The promise that he made to his family and the long drive in a truck with people he did not know all the way down to the states and ending up in this barracks.

He gripped the ring tightly one last time and put it back under his shirt. He then sat up and looked around, he was excited that there were others like him, at first he thought that he would be the only one, to be experimented on so that others might attain his gift. But that was not the case, instead there were a good number of others with their own unique talents and backgrounds. As the training went on he could only feel that he was being closely watched, being a half-Japanese, half-German didn't help matters and his Asian heritage was clearly a reminder of what they were fighting over in Eruope.

Kaneda took a deep breath, he just had to prove to them that he wasn't what the media or local gossips say, calling his kind a traitor, a spy. He just wanted them to understand that he is willing to sacrifice everything to protect his home and his country, just like everyone who signed up to fight. So he trained hard, always giving his best and for the most part he didn't get much flack, not as much as he expected which he guessed was nice.

As his mind wandered he could hear the sound of footsteps entering their living space, his training taught him that someone was coming for a visit, probably something to do about training commencing when they were done their break.

"Attention!" A voice commanded, and as he looked over to where the voice was coming from he realized it was Captain David Stevens. He quickly got off his bed and stood up straight and thought himself as his normal weight again, he then followed with a salute and then placed his hands at his sides. "We are going to meet a very important person today after lunch, but before we do that, we are going to run the Currahee, so grab your PT gear and assemble outside." The captain continued.

A visitor? Who could that be? I hope that it's someone with something to actually say, instead of just progress reports and boring military type interactions from superior officers. He thought to himself and came to the conclusion that any break in this routine is welcome.

"Sir, yes sir." He responded as he went for his clothes in a box at the end of the bed.

He then began mentally preparing for the run that was about to take place, he didn't know what the Currahee was but as always, it wasn't going to be easy or much fun. But orders were orders and he wasn't going to be the one to stop following them now. Too much was at stake for him to be messing around. So he grabbed his PT gear and put it on before heading outside. When he left the barracks he took in a deep breath as a breeze came, much better than the dry air in the barracks.

While others took the chance to rest up before they began their morning drills and exercises, Johnathan sat calmly on his bed with a book opened up in his lap while his back rested against the wall that his bed rested against. He possessed several textbooks that were unlikely to be found in the footlockers of the average grunt, the largest of which was the massive The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics: A Textbook of Pharmacology, Toxicology and Therapeutics for Physicians and Medical Student, an absolute godsend of a textbook for those seeking information on the various brands of medical drugs and their effects, through he had heard that the authors and the publishers were already planning on reprinting it to introduce more information on more recent innovations and the results of clinics that had been underway when the book was published.

Despite the amount of medical textbooks, that was not the subject that he was currently enhancing his mind with. While some might have found question with his choice of reading material, he wasn't going to deny the fact that he was attempting to learn how to speak and understand German; If they were going to be operating in Germany at some point, he would rather understand what the locals in the field were saying.

Still, he looked up as Captain David Stevens arrived to make his announcement. With the standard response of "Sir, yes sir!" He calmly slipped his bookmark onto the page that he had been on before slipping off of his head, taking the chance to don his PT gear quickly in silence before heading out after Kaneda. While some might have looked at the man with distrust and suspicion, Johnathan could only reason that if there was a risk of him being a spy for the Axis' then he wouldn't have been allowed to join the military, let alone be recruited for a unit like the one they were in.

Belasý did not enjoy the training camp. She'd been through basic and various other training three years ago, and most of this was more of the same. But she knew they needed it -- especially the raw recruits. Westminster had been a disaster she'd seen coming miles away, and the fact they'd done as well as they had was testament to them being extraordinary individuals -- and not in the sense of having their wretched powers either.

The team building exercises that made up the rest of their training were even worse, for all that she was trying to work with the others. She couldn't handle socializing as they did, couldn't manage to break out of her shell. And they could tell she didn't want to be there, that she did not like their company. But she wanted to kill the Germans more than she wanted to be alone.

She saw the man with the thin build and the dark clothing approach their captain on his way across the yard. He wasn't a common sort, not at the training camp. Probably some sort of business, but he'd headed for Captain Stevens with deliberation. So business with him -- or with them. She wondered idly if something had come up.

She got to her feet as the captain drew near, saluting smartly and following him inside. Izkry was quietly helping another young man with German pronunciation. Johnathan was very young, the sort of green idealist that would either harden up or end up dead. If he was lucky, he'd keep some of that bright outlook, as Izkry had. If not...well, at least he'd be better able to handle the fighting.

When Captain Stevens called for attention Izkry quickly rose, draws ng himself up to his full height. The news of some bigwig turning up after lunch was intriguing, but first another run of the Currahee. He quickly grabbed his gear, catching Bel's eye as she slipped out on her way do the same. Her expression said that she thought something was up. Maybe they were going to be taken out of training early. Bel would like that.

The bearded spic was lying on a bed, not doing much, his eyes closed as he seemed to be sleeping just before moving one of his hands to the comic he had on the side of his jacket, closing it and crossing his arms once again, staring onto the bed above him. He did not like this place, not even a little. It was like a summer camp, but with not so many activities and more yelling, way more yelling. Training? Why does a guy like him need training? He already survived the catastrophe of the Westminster League, what the hell did he need to train at?

Besides, some of his old partners were in the group, at least the siblings. He didn't like the sister, not even one bit: Why did she dislike powers? They are awesome if used appropriately, even if they are used for whatever reason you want to use them, they are fun and cool as hell. He stood up slowly, not really paying attention to anything that was going on, nor the visitor as he started to mumble a song, it was heard coming from his own spot, moving his hips side to side as he tried to accommodate to the rhythm of the music itself "Paradapa, pa, parapa, paradapapapapa parapa..."

He saw Captain "Esteves" come into the room, putting his jacket onto the bed and rolling his eyes, giving his back to the man that "saved his life" by giving him a chance at redemption and defeating the Axis, again. Goddamnit, how many Nazis did he kill while going solo? More than all of the group altogether, that I'm sure of. Anyhow, Óscar heard the Captain called them to get their PT gear to make a run to Currahee, like any other time. But that time, that time was different. He didn't know what was it, but he felt something was off with the Captain, giving him a lazy salute before going behind "The Kid", AKA Izkry, tapping him on the shoulder.
"Hey, amigo, is this a routine thing or...you know, the capitán seems a bit off."

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The barrack the rag-tag team of unlikely teammates was not as bad as Anton had expected it to be when he was transferred there. Having been in a P.O.W. camp in Canada for a while, he had somehow grown accustomed to the lack of proper beds, good meals and the radio that he and his comrades of pilots had been lucky enough to enjoy back home in France. This barrack was much more like it. Nothing too fancy, but better than the shacks he and the other prisoners had to live in. There were even Germans there...How dared they?

The team had already been through one session of training that morning. Nothing Anton hadn't done before, though the lack of armed guards around you did wonders to keep up the motivation. Those inside the barracks had decided to take the time to rest before whatever more excercise Captain Stevens had for them afterwards. Some took a nap, some probably meditated, and one read a book. And Anton? He was more sensible.

He was shaving.

The face of the tall and lanky Frenchman was once again cleanly shaven, except for the moustache upon his lip that he treasued. A prisoner at the P.O.W. camp had suggested to shave it off because of reasons. Anton had suggested the man go do something very unpleasent to himself, and walked away. Here, however, he felt that he was welcome to dress and shave in whatever wish he wanted. And besides, the rest of the team didn't look down upon him quite as badly.

As he had just wiped off the last patches of shaving cream from his now shaven cheeks, he heard the door to the barracks open. Turning around, he saw Captain Stevens march in.

"Oui, mon capitaine!" Anton replied back to the Captain, hurrying over to his bunk to put away his shaving-kit and get his gear ready.

"I don't know what you're talking about, 'amigo'," Izkry told Óscar, his tone cold. Just because he wasn't as overt about it as his sister didn't mean he approved of desertion either, and the man's blatant disrespect for both officers and comrades grated on his nerves. "Whatever comes, we shall all find out after lunch."

Dismissing the bothersome Spaniard to look after himself, Izkry took a moment to clap Johnathan on the shoulder. "Gut gemacht. You learn fast -- much better than me, for all I have tried." The young man's smile was bright as he mocked his own accented English. He grabbed his PT gear from his locker and quickly went about changing, talking as he did. "Bel, she is the one that is good at languages -- not that she will speak much." His time in the Swiss army meant Izkry had no trouble talking and working -- and he moved fast when he had to. Before long he was ready to head outside.

Belasý had vanished into the ladies' dormitory to change. In the interests of teambuilding she got the attention of both Zhanna and Maria, letting them see her PT gear long enough to draw the proper conclusions. She rarely spoke if she didn't have to, but at least she made the effort to communicate at all. She didn't spare them any further attention. She was the first outside ready to go, and she started stretching while waiting for the others. Most recruits hated the Currahee. Belasý actually enjoyed it, always pushing herself to go just a little faster, to work just a little harder. She took pride in keeping herself in excellent condition, and while running up and down mountains wasn't as good as swimming the steady rhythm of her steps and her heart was soothing.

Izkry joined her before too long, looking far less enthused. "Yet another run up Cursed-rahee," he sighed, with an exaggerated look of despair. "How many times can they make us climb it before our footsteps pound it flat, hm?"

The Spaniard backed up in surprise, frowning his eyebrows as he just waved his hand at him "Yeah, blame me for choosing vida over death..." he says to himself, going into the nearest dormitory to change. Pulling up his shirt as he winces in pain, an old scar still haunting him to today. It was located near the waist, almost 2 inches in length and presumably made with the pointy end of some weapon, more than likely a knife or shiv. He groaned slightly, taking off his shirt entirely now, scratching his arms, some crude tattoos on his wrists.

He then proceeded to slowly insert himself into the military attire "I was made for clubs and shit like that, not this..." he thought to himself as his eyes scanned the room around: Loads of beds in the same room, almost no space to walk trough them, everything being tightly put together, to maximize the space the room had to offer, which was really not a lot. Óscar sighed loudly, sitting on the far end of the bed for some seconds, scratching his beard and closing his eyes, thinking.

"I'm not a bad guy...I mean, yeah, I deserted but I was going to die either way! That League had no fucking clue how the axis-controlled France was, but I did. And now the siblings are mad at me because of abandoning them: Well, fucking obviously! I was forced into this shit, why did I have to take care of two kids that pretended to be soldiers?" he then shakes his head, grabbing his normal attire and putting it back where it was, not really paying attention to how he tidied it up. "Jesús, but I pretended to be a soldier too...all of that fucking Viking nonsense, come on Óscar, this is war! Now you guys have better chances, just, trust in your squad...not that we're going to leave the training fields early either, heh." He stopped his thinking, slowly walking out of the building and reuniting with the Captain, giving him a more formal salute now.@Oak7ree

"Hey, uh, Captain...do we really need to run on the mountain again? I mean, we should probably take some training on our powers every once in a while, right?" he said with a light-hearted smirk, in an attempt to make the Captain change his mind.

Johnathan couldn't help but turn to look at Izkry with a small, bashful smile as he politely bowed his head while he answered "Danke, through I still have a long way to go before I'm confident enough to try and hold a conversation in Germany..." While he was somewhat used to being praised for his achievements in academy, it was still nice to hear someone offer him a compliment. While he hadn't known Izkry or his sister for very long, it was interesting to meet people who had been in Europe and seen the situation over there themselves... even if Belasý seemed to possess a hatred for the Germans that was rather unhealthy for any worshiper of god to possess.

He couldn't help but notice the brief interaction between Izkry and Óscar and the... well, mild hostility that seemed to be between them, through he had no idea as to why. While Óscar was quick to head off to somewhere a little more private in order to get changed, Johnathan considered just outright asking Izkry what the problem was, but quickly decided against it, instead asking "So Izkry, where did you learn german?"

@shylarah

@MegaOscarPwn

David turned to the Spaniard, taking a look at him and returned to his salute. David could see some serious potential in Oscar, but the man had clear problems in his fighting spirit. David took a softer tone than usually, but kept his eyes directed at Oscar's own. "Private Guijarro, even if we have all kinds of powers, sweating now can save blood and lives later. And we'll get to use our powers, don't be concerned about it. Take the running as a character building exercise."

David turned away from the young man, he said to the rest of the unit. "Private Guijarro here has just aired his concern; will our training pay out. What is the point of running to the top of the mountain, if we have superpowers to blast at the Axis Powers? We've used hours on the shooting range, on the class rooms, and ran up the Currahee quite a few times, and what is the point? My short will be yes, it will pay off. Everything you do on the battlefield has to come from the flesh memory, and that will keep us alive."

Maria Marjorie Moretti despised coerced physical activity.

She absolutely despised it.

Which, understandably, made her entirely unsuited for "basic training", or whatever the hell the government was calling the torture facility known as Camp Toccoa. Maria's opinion of the government, in general, was quite low. Aside from the fact that she had spent the entirety of her life breaking the law, Maria was resentful of the fact that anyone could have power over her. I already have to deal with this whole giving-birth-to-a-girl bullshit, she thought. Why must I put up with more men telling me what to do? Indeed, Maria had discovered that there was only one thing that had remained constant thus far in her life: men were continually screwing her over (or she was screwing them, but that was beside the point). There were the scumbags in London who had robbed her mother and effectively sealed Maria's fate as a, well, whore, and then there was her father, who was an utter fool, and on top of that, there were the policemen and judges and military officers who all decided that Maria would be best used in an effort to fight yet another goddamn man.

Needless to say, Maria tended to despise certain types men as much as she despised coerced physical activity.

The worst were the men who had too much power and knew it-they were the ones whose hands were the roughest, whose kisses were the greediest (and the sloppiest), whose slaps were the hardest. They were the ones who saw Maria as simply another being created for their pleasure, and they would always see her like that, even if she was wearing a priceless silk gown and dripping in diamonds. Those men were bastards who would tear that beautiful, beautiful silk to shreds in seconds without a second thought.

And those were the men who always, always, always underestimated Maria. Needless to say, Maria took great pleasure in killing them by kissing them without the extra layer of lipstick that served to protect the clients from the poison in her saliva.

Aside from her vendetta against the men who'd taken her life away from her, Maria resented the government because she thought that their current plan was completely stupid.

Really, now, Maria thought scornfully. Send me to Germany, and I'll find a military officer or someone of equal importance to associate myself with, then I'll kiss Adolf Hitler on the lips. Problem solved. I'm wasted in the battlefield; what good are my abilities going to do against bombs and gunfire? Fighting a war was such a messy business, what with dead bodies and blood and pieces of shrapnel going everywhere, and Maria wanted no part in it. Bloodstains were impossible to remove from silk-Maria knew that much from her time with Alessandro Rossini.

There were only two other women in the unit; Belasy and Zhanna. Belasy didn't say much, and Zhanna seemed like she was happy to be there. Belasy had a ferocious intensity to her that made Maria want to roll her eyes. Maria had no doubt of her skill, and she supposed that the other woman had some sort of oh-so-tragic backstory, but then again-didn't they all?

Maria mentally winced. She hated thinking about the past. Both Belasy and Zhanna seemed like the type of people who would heartily disapprove of Maria's decisions and actions, anyway, so it was best to leave that subject alone for the time being. She didn't think Belasy would offer up an explanation of her own history, and Maria would refrain from doing so as well.

One thing that annoyed Maria to no ends, however, was the fact that the government had confiscated some of her most valued possessions. Her pistol, for instance, the one with a mother-of-pearl handle and decorated with intricate metalwork. It was a veritable work of art, in Maria's opinion, worth more than the Mona Lisa. And those pigs had taken her poisoned lipstick, as well as her regular lipstick. The very thought of it made Maria want to violently...well, kiss someone, sans lipstick. Really, though, is the entire military run by fools? Had they not considered what would happen, should my bare lips accidentally come into contact with someone else's skin? There hadn't been any trouble so far, of course (Maria was not inclined to randomly kissing others), but there was still a risk. And Maria would have felt much better about the entire situation with some proper red lipstick on, thank you very much.

Belasy entered the medium-sized room that housed Maria and the two other women, grabbing her PT gear. Maria sighed inwardly, not bothering to look up from where she was combing her hair with her fingers. She hated everything about the place-the food, the beds, the hideous uniforms, the people, the very air she was breathing (not to mention the coerced physical activity). Yet she had no choice, unless she wanted to spend the next ten years-or more-in prison.

After delaying for another couple of minutes, Mara finally got up, took hold of her gear, and glided out of the room to join the others for yet another run up the cursed Curahee. "Glided" being a relative term, of course. It was nearly impossible to appear graceful and elegant when one is wearing a pair of boots and a military uniform, but Maria was determined to master it. She did appreciate a challenge.

"Oh, did you not know?" Izkry was surprised to be asked how he knew German. They'd really not made all that much of a secret of their origins, but it didn't always come up. "Until I was eleven, I lived in Germany, though much of that was in a government facility I did not like. But I am a Swiss citizen now, and proud to be." He smiled, hoping his birthplace would not be a mark against him. "Oddly enough, Switzerland uses a language very like the one in Germany. ...And local dialects are called German too -- Swiss German, that is, but they're quite different."

If Belasý had heard him speaking of their pass before Switzerland she would have disapproved. She preferred to pretend it had never existed, even though she had a strong bias against the German government because of it. She was doing better, at least. She didn't interact a lot, but she didn't avoid everyone as much as she used to. Slow progress is still progress, Izkry thought to himself.

As the others joined her outside, Belasý finished her stretches and stood at ease, though she nudged her brother as a reminder that he should stretch as well. She observed the others as they fell in, the man that looked like someone from the Far East, the earnest young man that Izkry worked with in German, the slightly older fellow that her brother liked talking engines with, the Russian woman, and the woman that acted like she should be in a fashion magazine instead of a training camp. She was amused by that one's efforts to move in combat gear as if on a catwalk. If she wanted grace in fatigues, she needed to move like an athlete, or a predator. Not like some mincing lady in heels and a tight-fitting dress. Belasý had no illusions of who was the prettier between herself and Maria -- and really she rarely considered the matter -- but in combat dress Bel would wager good money that she could manage to be more attractive, especially if they discounted the face.

Izkry had to agree with Captain Stevens' commentary, even if the man was surprisingly kind to a mouthy private. "Don't think having powers is enough. You want as many things going for you as you can get. And you want a team that will have your back. What is the English expression? 'A chain is as strong as its links'?" He knew the coward would understand the dig for what it was, but he didn't see a need to broadcast the man's shortcomings.

Bel was even more pleased than her brother that the Captain was emphasizing proper training. Even if she didn't hate her special power, it was hardly a way out of everything. Trusting completely in any skill or weapon would lead to overconfidence, sloppiness, and any number of other dangerous shortcomings. She glanced up at her superior officer for a moment, bright blue eyes assessing him for the thousandth time. He seemed like a skilled soldier and a capable leader. Certainly he appeared to care for those under his command. But she'd never seen him in a real fight. Captain was a commissioned officer rank, in most cases, and the decorations she'd seen him wearing didn't include anything for combat. He might very well break down on the field. She'd seen it happen before. Officer training didn't guarantee a good officer -- just (hopefully) the right skillset.

To say that Johnathan was surprised to learn that at least two of his squad mates were born in Germany would have been something of an understatement, through when Izkry mentioned that they seemed to have spent a good deal of their childhoods in a 'government facility' he couldn't help but immediately picture some kind of laboratory... with a small children's area in a corner with some books and a few toys to make the mental image a little more colorful and less bleak. He didn't get the chance to say anything more as they made it outside and started their respective stretches.

Standing at attention as he stood outside in front of Captain Stevens as the rest of the squad trickled in, Johnathan couldn't help but look on as the conversation about what sort of training they should be doing with a small degree of amusement. Personally he was all for physically improving his body; Exercise was good at any rate, but he had always found running to be rather relaxing and the run up and down Curahee to be an interesting challenge!

The main complainer was clearly Oscar, who as far as he could tell was here because he got drafted and didn't want to have the MP's come and get him; This was not an acceptable attitude to have in someone whom was going to be watching his back and Johnathan quietly resolved to try and change that in the near future, but first he needed to motivate the Spaniard to stop complaining... and he couldn't help but smile a little playfully as he lightly teased "It's alright to admit that you couldn't complete the run Oscar. After all, no man wants to look bad in front of two beautiful women."

@Bright_Ops

The Spaniard nodded at the Captain, crossing his arms before sighing under his breath "I guess some exercise wouldn't be bad for me..." he said, patting his own belly and smirking slightly "Besides, I can always freeze someone's shoes so I win the race, heh." he thought to himself, before turning his head slightly and looking at the group in general. It wasn't bad, a French guy over there, 2 German siblings, a half-Chinese guy...? He didn't actually know his country, but he was definitely from Asia or something like that. Then we have the Russian woman which was actually quite, uh, let's just say that she could easily win Óscar in arm wrestling. Apart from that, there was also María, the half-Spanish half-Italian lady of the group.

"The best of the Mediterranean, ostias..." he thought, nodding slightly as she saw her around the group "Maybe she hates guys though, best to stay away from her but also have a little bit of fun that doesn't end with my neck on her knife..." Óscar then turned to Johnathan, raising an eyebrow and chuckling loudly as he rubbed his beard "C'mon pal, I can easily beat all of ya in a race up the fuckin' mountain, hmph." he light-heartedly smiled to John "I'm just really lazy. Besides, even though they are indeed beautiful, at least two of them can beat your ass in hand to hand while the other can just seduce you so you let her win...".

The Spaniard lets out a loud laugh, putting a hand on his neck and looking at María, Zhanna and Belasým, waving his hand at them as a very obvious sign that he was slightly more comfortable in this group than he had anticipated, putting his hands behind his back once again as he looks at the Captain "So, sir, anything special planned for today apart from the Currahee?" he asks, tapping his left foot on the ground, quite impatiently. He was REALLY impatient, even though he was as lazy as a wet towel, the Spaniard was always in alert of anything that happened, and that was noted by how he bit his own lips from time to time, making small cuts on them and the tapping of his feet.

"I had close quarters combat and a lesson on explosives in mind, but the guest we're getting might change that. He had some interesting things to say." David said to Private Guijarro. "And you still haven't broken my record run of twenty-five minutes, Guijarro."

For a average recruit, running up the Currahee and back to the barracks would take about fifty or sixty minutes, but as the Division had awaken David's powers, he wasn't your average runner. In essence, he was stronger and faster than an Olympic decathlete, but he still had his limits.

"Anyhow", David said to all. He had a hook in mind. "We can stand stand here until Hitler kicks the bucket, but that doesn't change the fact that you have a mountain to climb. And if somebody can break the record time, the soldier will be rewarded with a surprise."

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Anton wasn't sure which of his teammates that he found the oddest; the captain himself was after all Anton could gather a true soldier, a grunt who would take any challenge put upon him with a salute and a 'Yes sir!; the kid reading about medicine Anton though, who he was under the impression would be their saint-like version of an army medic. Always useful, though Anton was afraid of the youngest hurting himself; the Swiss siblings, each with their own special talents. The lady with the power to controll water, and the guy with powers surprisingly akin his own; the Spaniard with more mouth than he had wits and whatnot; and then at least it was the dame; the lady with the power to intoxicate any of her victims just by a simple touch. So powerful only matched by her beauty, even Anton had to admit that. Yes, it was difficult for him to grade the oddest of them out.

No wait, it was Oscar.

Anton had joined the others now standing outside their barracks, waiting for whatever orders David were to give them. And of course Oscar had the nerve to speak like he did to a commanding officer! Anton coughed, he felt personally insulted by such lousy behaviour from a petty private. The others sounded more sane, emphasising the need for 'normal' training as well as team work. "If z'at is an order, capitaine..." Anton started to say while he casually began to jog in the general direction of Curahee before the others. "I will see you at zee top of Curahee. Bonne chance!"

Kaneda observed the team as they came alive with the captain beginning to give orders, he noticed in particular that the two that were brother and sister did not like the spaniard, but he did notice the digs they were giving him. Making comments of desertion to him in both subtle, and not so subtle of way, he felt that he would have to learn more in order to understand their situation completely. He then noticed the man reading books of medical care and was glad to have someone of the medical profession on their team.

He noticed the three woman, each with their own unique personalities, some looked quite capable of handling themselves in war, the third one looked the leaf like she belonged here with them, more like she was suited for espionage type missions. But he learned at a young age that underestimating someone is a quick way o getting your ass put on the floor.

He couldn't help but think about what Oscar said, to use their abilities more. Kaneda admitted to himself that he was interested in learning the extent of everyone's powers. If they want us to bond, we shouldn't be wasting our free time anymore, we are unique individuals and we need to explore the potential of everyone's powers in order to know who and what compliments each other, someone has to suggest this and if it has to be me then I guess that's how it has to go. Been too stiff and rigid with these guys, need to start loosening up, have some fun. He then stood beside the door outside and waited for everyone to be outside then joined the ranks.

"Hey guys, I was wondering if on our next break we meet at the light pole over...there," he said pointing to a light pole that standing by itself behind the barracks on the left hand side of where they were standing. "Just a suggestion since all we normally do is lie around until our next training session. It'll be "fun" trust me! Even you could come join us captain if you want to, you are part of the team after all am I right." He said with a smile as he looked at the team. He then looked straight ahead as one of the team, "the lone ranger" he liked to call him had taken off.

"Well looks like instead of the sound of a gun going off, we start to the sound of a Frenchman jogging, what was that record that was said? 25 minutes? Maybe this will be the day you see it broken." He joked as he began his own run, he strengthened his legs as he simoutaneously made the rest of his body lighter, he then dug his feet into the ground and pushed as hard as he could. His legs thrusted him forward while making his legs as it as his body and a cloud of dust was all that was left behind him, he soon cauht up with the Frenchman and then passed him without his legs yet touching the ground. He screamed out in joy a this was the most freeing moment he had felt in weeks.

@ONL@Oak7ree@MegaOscarPwn@Bright_Ops@shylarah@ayzrules

"Здравствуйте, Как поживаешь? Hello, how is...how ARE....you?"

This was demeaning, Zhanna thought to herself in irritation as she traipsed back and forth across the barracks, a bundle of papers clutched in her hands, and perused what phrase to recite next. She tried to concentrate, tried to sift through the words she knew, trying to separate it from the meaningless French, German, and Spanish that got thrown around. It was almost as bad as when she tried to learn how to read back in Kiev, only without the others laughing at her behind her back. She assumed.

Not that she needed to speak their language to know who they were, of course. Stalin wasn't going to let the other Allies have the Daughter of the Revolution without knowing exactly what they planned to do with her, and if the briefing Zhanna got shortly before she set out was any indication, the NKVD had been quite diligent in finding out what kind of people the Americans wanted. The Frenchman who could repair anything (she had looked forward to meeting him), the Japanese-German pagan that thoroughly scared everyone in the room, the German siblings and the Spaniard from the first attempt at this team; it wasn't a lot, just the basics in order to know which one was which, but she felt it would be wise not to bring it up once she figured out how to passably speak English. Some of the files they had about the Yankee seductress in particular were...interesting.

Before Zhanna could take another crack at the phrase pamphlet, Капитан...ahem...Captain Stevens entered the barracks and made his announcement to the group. Luckily she managed to catch the gist of the order with her shaky grasp of English and collected her things in preparation for more training. As they got into position and the others argued with the Captain about some milestone, Zhanna thought back to a year ago when a general she was acquainted with loudly complained that 'The damned Yankees spend more time drilling then they do fighting!' Based on what the experience here had been so far, Zhanna had to admit he was right. Granted her only real experience in the military came when she was largely cannon fodder, but it was still impressive how often she and the others were put through drills and exercises that the officers back home would have considered excessive.

Not that she didn't mind, of course. Growing up doing farm and factory work made physical activity easy, and at times she actually did enjoy going on these training regimens, learning new techniques and generally staying active. Glancing towards the seductress gliding onto the field looking irritated, she got the feeling that she was alone in that sentiment. Smirking, she shook her head dismissively and, noticing the Frenchman and the Canadian had started running off towards Curahee, quickly broke into a jog and went after them, with a cursory "До свидания!" to the others in the team.

Óscar laughed at the Frenchman, shaking his head "Hey pal, I think we're supposed t-Oh come on!" he stopped talking just as he saw the Russian female follow the "Franchute" with a jog, turning his head to the Captain as he moved his hands to them and then to the mounting, repeatedly "A-Are we supposed to begin now? You won't even tell us when?" The Spaniard then rolled his eyes and sighed, starting to jog at a moderately good speed, slowly catching up to the Russian female "Я догоняю!". He hated when guys took advantage of the situation, like, "Oh look at me, I'm going to be the first one to start because the Captain hasn't said anything, bah bah bah..." Agh, hijo de puta.

Just as he started jogging, he gave a pat to the Captain's shoulder as he went over him, turning his head slightly again and looking at the two siblings, winking at them as he "shot" at them with his hands, before going back to the race and literally going pale as he saw the mountain. He had gone up there a bunch of times, but for fuck's sake, now they had to beat the Cap's record, which was better than an Olympic athlete. The heat started to punch in, and even though he had lived in hot countries for most of his life, he still was affected by it. Óscar moved his hand to his trousers' back pocket, taking out a medium sized bottle water and opening it as the liquid from inside of it started to gravitate around his head, closing his eyes for a second before he sighed in relief: Now he had a ring of cold water around his neck and head, keeping him cooled down.

This wasn't so bad. He had free air conditioner, a good walk around the mountainside...although he had to admit that the place was pretty, really pretty. Óscar wasn't thinking about the women in the camp, at least not now, he meant the small amount of nature that surrounded the barracks and the base in general. He was used to nature by this point, but everything used to be dry and orange. And now, everything was alive, it was all green, almost as if mother nature herself gifted this gorgeous scenery to the camp itself, just to satisfy it's desires. He then looked up to the top of the Currahee and forgot everything he just said: He was fucked. "Me cago en Dios..."

Three miles up... three miles down.

Johnathan had heard a few of the solders around camp say that when it came to the run up Mount Currahee; Three miles up, three miles down. It wasn't the kind of run that you sent the physically unfit on right away, you had to build up to it otherwise people were going to drop like flies.

While some of his teammates were quick to jump the trigger and get started, running and jogging up the trail without even waiting for the Captain to start them off, Johnathan actually remained where he was to keep an eye on his teammates. He had already made the decision to jog alongside the slowest member of the team. Partly it was so that he could help encourage someone who might require it more then the front runners, but it also put him in a good position to aid anyone who tripped or who weren't in a good enough condition to continue on their own.