---

Before they'd all arrived, Franklin was enjoying the silence that had come around. It, in a somewhat sadistic fashion, was now something of the normality, where every Operator simply walked around and pondered of what the next step was. For more than a month or two Rainbow had been sitting alone in a shallow ditch, awaiting reassignment and the chance to redeploy onto the frontier against the White Masks. The devils, they were, and even the angels of Rainbow themselves didn't seem strong enough to combat them. Less than an hour ago, truck loads of equipment, able bodies and unfamiliar faces began to arrive in one long convoy. No one uttered a word, besides a few individuals, whilst everyone else just kept their silence and followed their superior into the base's facilities. In this instance, they were all led into the main hall of the Operations Department, a warehouse stacked atop of underground training facilities and administration desks. The hall acted as a widespread briefing room for more than the standard Squad-of-Five sent at a time, something that allowed more general announcements to be made at. They all gathered, loosely detached from one another in an informal formation that didn't fully go up to the code some trainers wanted, and waited for their introduction to be made.

Franklin was stood aside, watching them and eyeballing them carefully. A single finger rubbed through the lightly-dashed facial hair that surrounded his jaw. All of them, to him, looked peculiar. He didn't like to place it upon them, but they were replacements without a doubt. A truly twisted and sickened fate for those who survived to bare awe at. Even from a distance, Franklin knew that Mark and Mike both had fierce flares in their eyes, staring down their newfound allies to ensure they knew who they were to these soldiers. Mike, of all people, was against the idea of recruiting new individuals. He understood the importance of refilling the ranks and expanding their arms from the once broken mess they were left within, but he just didn't like to see his friends replaced by more of the sort. Franklin could understand this from an outsider point, but even as serving member of Rainbow, he saw the difficulties in replacing the fallen.

There were many, all in different shapes, sizes and with different equipment. Most of them stood in basic coveralls and were not wearing the specialised attires that would be worn on the battlefield as it would seem like a waste. Only the few who were attempting to assert some sort of false dominance over the rest wore their gear, which was largely looked down upon by the veteran members of the team. Franklin saw a few proteges that were on a recommended list from certain Operators that were no longer with them. It was what every Operator who was enlisted into the team had to do. At some point in their career, early on, they had to find promising proteges to take up arms in the event of expansion or replacement. Most of those here, however, were not from those lists. He wasn't sickened by their sights or general appearance, not at all. However, Franklin did find slight discomfort in knowing this was the way in which they had to forget the ones who were not so lucky.

Franklin stood in a line, arms folded behind his waist and hands atop one another. Bound by a respective pose of formality, something Mike had wanted to increase since his promotion, he awaited their leader's arrival promisingly. Not too far from him was his friend, a lasting friend, of Mark, who was beside Jessica. Jessica was in the same boat as Franklin was. They weren't operators for Rainbow before this, despite their military background, and were some of the underdogs to the pack of wolves that had gone into Vegas. Even a month or two after the incident, Franklin still hadn't asked her how she was coping with the loss of her friends. He was technically still her boss, despite their promotions to Field-Operatives, but he wanted to see it more as a camaraderie and friendship, or more, than anything else. Rainbow was built upon trust and the bonds between Operators, and right now she was one of the few he could fully place trust in.

Though heavily debated upon, Franklin was only authorised to see the names and nationalities of those who were to join them on that day. Six was reluctant to let him find anything out about them until they themselves spoke to him. When in a meeting to debate the point, she simply spread her opinion across and said it was too professional. Perhaps she wanted them to build their understandings of one another naturally. After all, it did work for when Franklin was invited into the programme. Suddenly, however, Mike finally arrived, and to which, all of the previous Rainbow operators formed a tight salute. Most of the newer soldiers were not fully understanding of his position and merely watched, but all of those who knew Mike, as Thatcher, held their signs of respect at its top reading. He walked up slowly towards a podium. There was no need for a microphone as the acoustics of the hall alone were enough to project his toughened voice.

"At ease, operators." With a wave of a hand, those he knew were instantly stood back into their attentive, though relaxed, formations. A somewhat spiteful eye preyed upon the new Operators before he sighed heavily, rubbing his hand deeply through his beard and returning to what announcements he was inclined to make. "So you're finally here, amazing...Great to see you have the patience to sit in a truck and travel, I'm sure that's going to get you in a head start, ahead of the competition, right?"

With the hall, a bit confused of his casual yet harsh tone, stood in silence, eventually he began to slowly clap in a somewhat sarcastic manner. Franklin couldn't help but grin, very subtly to himself at the tone he had chosen. Unlike Six, his professionalism was one of a kind. It still showed that despite the crimes and atrocities they'd been through, he was still Thatcher. Indeed he was, as he continued to clap, slowly, for a solid ten seconds. A few wrinkles tightened around his face as canyons were made beneath his brow. He wasn't amused nor easily impressed by first impressions and appearances. They would have to earn his respect, regardless of what Six had stated to them during first contact.

"You are, supposedly, the world's Elite; a union of peacekeepers that are sworn to protecting the lives of the innocent and vulnerable during conflict. Whether or not you look the part is for Six to decide, not me. I'm supposed to be welcoming you to our establishment and make a short brief on what to expect in our time of operation, but to that I think you are somewhat deserving of the truth without any sugar-coating..." Already, he was taking it into an unpredictable direction, stern faced with every word he spouted from his lips. This was his time to assert his position of authority, make them understand the risks they are in and remind them of what has undermined them in recent months. "You are walking into a trap like no other. You all have a lot to live up for, being the dastardly replacements for our comrades who are no longer with us. I'm sure you were told about Bellagio, though it was hard to miss. We lost a good chunk of our bulk right in those corridors, to a weapon that we cannot help but deem inhumane and unsanitary to the peace we are supposed to preserve. Bollocks to that, you might say, but remember that these Operators amongst the dead were tenfold in experience, skill and intelligence than you lot will be. You have a lot to live up to, and trust me you'll want to. No longer are we in a room of mistakes and misunderstandings; we are in the big-league, the one behind closed curtains where your deaths will be forgotten throughout history if you do not watch your corners, backs and arses whenever you are sent out into the unknown. Pay attention to every word your veteran comrades say and take it by heart as if it were the bloody law. You'll be lucky if most of you even survive...Welcome to Rainbow, please pay attention to my accomplices to my right and remember their names."

Mike began to go through the lists. From all the trainers, survivors and newer faces, the three in particular he told to pay attention to were Jessica, Harold and Franklin himself. The triage had been members of Rainbow early on, though from a background state. Out of the three of them, Harold, under the alias of Krieg, had the most experience out in the field as Elias' protege and student before his demise. Jessica and Franklin, on the other hand, were those who were managing Rainbow from the inside and supporting their every move with maintenance and vigilance over the equipment they used before being trained and transferred, recently, into the Field-Operations team. Mike highlighted these three the most as they were to be the most frequent advisers that they would use outside in combat. All three of them were viable for command, in some way, and keeping tabs with their newfound comrades. Mike knew that it was unlikely that during their downtime and in between operations it was highly unlikely that any of these operators would approach the trainers like Gilles or Lera, but knowing these three were to be joining them in the field at around a similar level might have given them more confidence and painted them approachable. Either way, Mike wasn't likely to be chatting to them casually until their trust and selves were proven in the line of duty.

"You have room assignments for you in enclosed envelopes on the desk before you. Collect the one with your name attached to it and it will provide you with details about your placement in the Living Quarters further away from the Operations Department here. Inside said envelope will also be Six's assigned Operator Alias that you will strictly use in the field. Remember it and remember your allies. You have the rest of the day to yourselves before we start CQC training at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Dismissed."

And without another word, Mike took his papers from the podium and left, storming through a door leading further into the depths of the Operation Department. Franklin, standing slightly at ease, looked towards his previous employee, Jess, and sighed heavily. It was going to take a lot of getting used to and he was certain she knew of it. Hopefully the cast they were now responsible for were up to scratch, but he didn't dare say anything aloud. Instead, he simply stared at her with the look that explained everything. He hoped that she mutually understood him at this stage...

Jessica watched as the mug span around the microwave, the digits counting down at an achingly low pace. Tick. 30 seconds left. Tock, 29 seconds left. Down and down it counter, the ceramic being bombarded with invisible rays of pure energy. The future was now, and it was contained in a radiation-resistant metal box used for cooking food. Her chips were slowly getting cold, and the cottage cheese (the closest thing she had to cheese curds here,) was a bit... Well... Not quite right, but she needed something comforting tonight, more than ever. At last, the machine in front of her beeped, and she took the mug out, unceremoniously dumping the entire load of vegetarian gravy onto her meal, then chucking the mug into the sink and sitting down on one of the sofas, fork in hand.

If anything, it seemed more sinister. It had all the elements that she knew from her childhood, but it was just not quite right. Cottage cheese just wasn't good old fashioned Quebecois cheese curds, and vegetarian gravy... Well, she supposed that onions and garlic were only part of gravy rather than the entire thing for a reason. He heart wrenched at her as she bit down, trying to hold back tears as she stared across from where she sat to the bar, where photos had been propped up of the operators of the past. One of them, in particular.

She knew it as plain as day. It was taken by a news photographer outside of the Presidential Plane incident at London Heathrow. Elias was gesturing at the cameraman to move, whilst in the background her and Emanuelle were figuring out why there was a glitch in her shock drone. You couldn't see either of their faces- her own was obscured by Elias' hand, whilst Emanuelle was wearing her full balaclava, but it still gave her a twinge of memories, causing her aching heart to tear a bit more at something deep inside of her.

"Ici, il y a un petit problème dans le moteur juste là," she had said, her screwdriver pointing to the wonky motor. Speaking in French to other native speakers had easily been the best part of working with the GIGN as a whole, she had to say.

"Oui, je le vois. Je vais resserrer cela et ça devrait bien fonctionner." Twitch had also had her tools out, and had done the required work on it before experimenting with moving it about remotely. When that worked, she had returned to the frontlines, Jessica retreating back into the service tent as Elias moved back up to prep for the assault.

That had gone off flawlessly- why had Vegas not? Instead, she was left with a pit in her stomach as the news reported increasingly awful things happening in Vegas- her only connection being a computer screen that she had been told by Six to not bother with after the mission had been aborted. Finishing the bastard, not-quite-her-childhood poutine, she walked over to the photo, letting a few tears roll down her face as she bit down on the edge of her lip.

"Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien. Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal tout ça m'est bien égal. Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien c'est payé, balayé, oublié, je me fous du passé." Her singing voice was shit, but she continued singing the song for Emanuelle. For Seamus. James. Jordan, Jack, Miles, Eliza, Julien and Gustave and all the rest of them that had died. "Avec mes souvenirs j'ai allumé le feu, mes chagrins, mes plaisirs. Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux. Balayé les amours avec leurs trémolos. Balayé pour toujours je reparts à zéro."

---

---

She stood there, in the back, trying not to draw attention away from anyone. Most of the new recruits were wearing BDUs or coveralls rather than full combat gear, but a few had a little more specialist uniform. She was especially looking for the new Canadian operator- she wasn't sure she knew him that well. Sure enough, there was a man wearing a Canadian patch. Tall, bearded. A little like Sebastian. A lot like Sebastian, actually, although apparently not in attitude to gear, if that mechanic department staff member wheeling a massive crate marked with PROPERTY OF THE CANADIAN MILITARY: TOP SECRET was anything to go by. They were hardly their predecessors, with their mechanical gadgets, that much was for sure.

Not to mention the uniform that said Canadian operator was wearing as well. It wasn't at all suited for the weather, although perhaps it had been more appropriate for Canada in Winter- with the arctic print camouflage and the extra padding for heat when you had to crawl fifty metres under barbed wire in sub-twenty degrees because the drill sergeant decided that your bed had one too many wrinkles than was allowed. Or because you had to, and arguing would just raise it to two hundred metres. Not that that was even half of it, but that had been a particularly bad experience, since it had't actually been in JTF2 training.

Mike gave a gruff and no-nonsense speech to the new recruits. A little unfair, these were all trained and experienced operatives, not nine-month wonders fresh from the barracks, but she supposed that nobody was in the mood right now. The impervious atmosphere of death and depression that hung over Rainbow was so thick that you could reach out and pluck it from the air. When her name was called, she gave a smart salute, but didn't bother introducing herself. There would be plenty of time to do that, she was sure. Instead, she watched as they picked up the neatly pressed envelopes with their names embossed on them.

---

Christ it was warm in here.

Jackson was wearing certified Canadian Special Forces CADPAT, certified up to -30 degrees: the kind of cold that would freeze your lungs with each breath and send daggers into your bloodstream. Here though, it was practically balmy. Five degrees outside, he had heard. So, here he was, sweating his damned balls off whilst a Indian guy with a British accent prattled to him about how he was under-qualified. Joint Task Force had sent him into the middle of fucking... Well, that wasn't exactly known to them, but still. The guy himself had said, the world's elite. Although, he didn't exactly agree with 'peacekeeping.' He wasn't a NATO blue helmet- he was a soldier. If the government wanted him to march to another country and kick a native directly in the balls, he was only going to ask how hard.

Not that he said any of that to the guy, of course. He kept his fucking trap shut, and just nodded as the crew was introduced. A few other French speakers. The main boss. A German, a... alright, he had no idea where a 'Tiania' would come from. Alexandr was a Russian name, he was pretty sure. Tze Long? Fucks sake. Then came names he could recognise. Jessica DuPont. That was the other Canuck- fine fine. Harold... Guy wasn't even paying attention to the rest of them, and a guy called Frankie. Oh, and accommodation on the table. Mayfield. J. CAN. That would be it, he supposed.

---

---

Harold was not surprised when a troop of new recruits walked into the G.M.D Department. He had woken up early specifically to get this done before they arrived, but it seemed that time had not been on his side. He quickly picked up the new ballistic glass plate and slotted it in, a magnetic screwdriver tightening everything up. Last training exercise had been with blanks, and they had cracked and chipped the glass in numerous ways, so he was fixing that. Minor tweaks to the place where he slotted his arm through to make sure that it still fit- he had been bulking up in preparation for going on missions once more.

There was a clank and a few of the rookies turned his way as he eased the construct down onto the floor, before bracing it. The straps were perfect; they fit snugly and he could easily rotate his arm around to a degree without feeling it chafe or pinch. The glass could be a better quality, it seemed to have a slight grey tint to it, although maybe this was a deliberate new policy to avoid being blinded by the light like some previous operators had been.

To the recruits, he would have seemed like an anomaly. He wasn't in any specific files as he hadn't been given a callsign under the previous operators, and yet here he was, clearly not a member of the new shipment, wearing combat boots and trousers, a long black top covering up his top and providing a little padding for the feat of lifting up the shield. His shotgun was also on the table and he pulled it up, placing it in position atop his shield, away from the recruits.

He didn't bother responding when his name was called. Let them figure him out when he was in front of them on the battlefield.

Jamie Underwood

---

Jamie Underwood, soon to be known by Rainbow as 'Slug' (an attractive nickname), stepped off the back end of the military truck that transported her there. Dusting off the front and hindquarters of her blue and black military fatigues. The top was stuffy and uncomfortable, but she would put up with it to look good in front of her superiors.

She stood, straight backed, head held high, chin up, hands at her side. Her dark brown hair was tied into a tight bun, and contrasted with her white skin. Listening intently to Mike, her facial expression grew slightly worried. Before her was clearly a very jaded man, who told them that their deaths were more than likely and they were walking into a trap. Her squad leader at the FBI was much better at giving speeches than this guy. Mike? Thatcher? He hadn't introduced himself, but he was very well known so she could only assume. She hoped he learned to ligthen up and be mean instead of just depressing.

Still, when he called her name, Jamie dutifully replied, "Sir," and quickly saluted. That way all her new squadmates would know who she was. Always respect your superior, no matter what. That's advice her brother told her, and she intended to follow it. She could keep her thoughts to herself- unless he could read her face well enough.

She relaxed a little bit, glancing around at the new faces in the hall after he left.

Lots of different people from lots of different places, but everyone here carried an aura of competency about them. Though, one recruit in particular caught her eye. Just from what he was wearing, he seemed to be FBI, like her. Since they had the day to themselves, Jamie decided he was her best shot at getting a friend due to their common background.

"Hey," she said, speeding up her walking pace to catch him before he wandered off somewhere. Once she got his attention, she bounced in front.

"My names Jamie, pleasure to meet you," She said, extending her right hand. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but were you FBI before coming here?" Jamie asked, raising an eyebrow and the corner of her lip into a wry smile.

---

Aleksander Raimos almost appreciated the rather "cloak and dagger" approach Rainbow was taking as he stepped out of the armored van, taking a moment to reach towards his back instinctively. Aleks twitched, with every muscle in his body tensing as he paused a second, calculating where his shield would be. He relaxed as he continued walking once he had remembered it was safe... in a locked box inside of another locked box that was certainly being carted off towards his personal quarters. If it wasn't, Aleks would have to figure out what to do from there and control his urge to start fighting.

Aleks was surprised to see other "recruits" wearing their full gear during the introduction. He couldn't fathom the disrespect they were trying to display. He took note of those trying to show off, made sure to not interact with them. Well, he wouldn't exactly be talking to anyone, so I guess that didn't really change anything.

When all gathered together, Aleks stood with his back straight, feet shoulder-width apart, and his hands behind his back, right over left. He was a rather large and imposing figure in most situations... but given he was with some of the most elite soldiers and operatives in the world, he actually fit in rather well. He never really liked wearing the standard issue FBI navy blue coveralls given they were a little tight in the arms and rear for him, but it felt appropriate for the first day on the job. His eyes wandered over the other operators, before his eyes locked on another American in the room. Clearly FBI, you could always tell when you went through the same training. He didn't hold the gaze long though. He didn't want to leave the impression that he was "social."

When Aleksander heard his name, he didn't change his stance at all, but did bellow out, "Sir!" His voice rang with a slight accent, one that had mostly boiled away over his years in the States. Aleks wasn't exactly happy to be talked to like someone with no experience prior to this. When you've been nearly blown to Hell more than once, you typically earn a little respect. But it was clear Thatcher wasn't exactly going to be friendly. Managing to survive a mission that went to complete shit because Rainbow didn't know what they were walking into... apparently that earned the hard-ass a chip on his shoulder. One that Aleks would love to remove for him if the White Masks weren't a serious threat.

With the information session over, Aleks made his way to the table to grab his packet and check his room designation. The quicker he got back to his room, the less he'd have to see people who would try to talk to them. And that's when he heard the voice. Shit... alright. He watched the agent bounce in front of him, her bubbly attitude making Aleks nervous. His open hand instinctively clenching into a fist at his side for a moment, before releasing as he gave a nod of his head. "Aleksander Raimos, former SOU operative." His hands didn't move to grab hers, instead he just stood there awkwardly in the middle of the room as others were leaving. "I am glad to be working with a fellow American..." His accent became slightly more obvious when he wasn't speaking his name and former allegiance. Aleks would get more anxious when speaking to others outside of the field. It was words that led to the death of his sister, after all. Words were more terrifying to the Greek-American than a bullet or bomb at this point. Something his therapist had pointed out for years when he was younger.

If Lee had the choice to wear his combat gear out of combat, he'd gently reject the offer. Even though he liked his job he didn't have the willpower to keep the gear on the whole time. Even if he was invited to a super elite special forces of the best operators of the world. Instead of sitting inside the full armor gear for the whole time he wore only the top and the pants of his military uniform, just so that ones who knew would recognize what Brigade he was a part of before joining Rainbow. "Have pride in the Brigade", his superiors said. Lee had nothing against the idea.

Lee stopped tapped his finger against his leg as the truck came to a halt(he has been for the last few minutes as he got bored). At long last he was going to see how the Rainbow would give its rookies an orientation on what they'd be doing while they were a part of the team.
Soon after he was lead to the Operations Department along with the other rookies Lee could feel that there was a speech coming up. And as expected, Thatcher, an operator if the Rainbow team, stood before the recruits to give a speech.

Lee was used to listening to speeches. Boring or interesting, back in the army there were plenty. But of course, this wasn't one of those boring speeches he had to try hard to stay awake in. It was a rather straigtforward words of a veteran who experienced the Bellagio incident, among with the loss of his colleagues. No useless words, or stereotype welcome lines. 'Welcome to Rainbow it is.' Lee thought. He listened along to the end of the speech, concentrating to each word the new superior told him. Things were going to be harder now, much harder.

Looking around, Lee saw a literal melting pot of people. They all seemed to be from different nations of the world, wherever that had a CTU active. Some were in their full gear and some weren't. At that point Lee wondered if he himself would seem like he was in his "full gear"-because, obviously(for him) he wasn't. There were quite a lot of other things to wear over the camouflage clothing, and maybe he might go on about it for a few minutes if he was annoyed.

Shaking the negative thoughts aside, the Korean operator made his way to the desk, his eyes moving from envelope to another to find his name written on one as soon as the words were close enough to read. In no time he found his sitting on the middle of the desk, and reached for it. He stepped aside and opened it up, checking the living quarters info as he slowly walked towards the exit.

---

Daniel was exhausted, he'd just come off a CIA babysitting job in the States, they were working with others to gather intel on Vegas incident as the reports called it. He'd call it a bloodbath, he'd been the only GST not on a mission or assigned without a word he caught the first commercial flight for the U.K. once he arrived the transfer papers had begun meanwhile he prepped his mission kit. He wasn't used to the idea of this by the books lets wear our colors openly stuff. He was in intelligence, a spook to most of the proper military types and police organizations he was nothing but trouble. Of course, he'd do his best not to let it slip that he was Ghost or a spook he was here to help them take revenge, he went back to never existing after this was done probably never even record he was in Rainbow.

He'd arrived in civilian clothes, unlike the others he didn't have a uniform and no doubt they wanted him to stand out for the older operators to take notice. He wore a pair of jeans and a white hooded jacket similar to his combat kit, he was sure he'd get funny looks but what mattered was his skill. He'd been a Ghost for years he'd served in places and conditions people here had probably never experienced, he'd had training in everything Rainbow did except usually he worked with fewer resources and far less restraint. Settling into a seat he relaxed as introductions began.

The speech was nice but it wasn't for someone like him, Daniel understood what they were going through. They were running down the list of more veteran members, senior staff as it was hurt no doubt. The crowd meanwhile was nothing than replacements they weren't comrades, it had no doubt angered the other operators to see all the new faces where comrades should have been. Daniel didn't plan on dying and he certainly didn't plan on letting anyone he was working with die due to bad intel, he was a comms specialist and a sniper he'd make sure they knew what was behind every door.

The civilian clothed man walked up taking an envelope, he'd made a request to keep his old code name... He didn't like the idea of changing it. Smiling as he looked it over he paused a moment looking at the other operators unsure if he should mingle or press on towards his room, he was tired but... First impressions could only be made once and it wasn't like he needed the extra sleep. He saw two other American Operators chatting, from what he could hear they were FBI.

Of course, how would he introduce himself? Spectre former Army Ranger now assigned to Rainbow, yes former military here in civilian clothes. That wouldn't raise flags, for the moment Spectre decided to hang back he didn't know what exactly to say but he figured it best not to just wander off to find his room even if sounded perfect. He wanted the people here to trust him or at least know enough about them that he wouldn't be afraid they would ostracise him for being a spook rather than military or police, especially when Ghosts considered the whole world as there area of operations.

Jamie Underwood

---

Not realizing the extent of Aleksander's hesitation to speak, Jamie assumed he was just a little shy. Well, she thought, sometimes people just need a little poking to come out of their shell. So that's why she suppressed her laugh when he didn't accept her handshake. After wavering for a moment, she decided to use her outstretched hand to reach up and slap him on the shoulder, all chum-like. As slightly awkward as it was, Jamie decided to push forward in her endeavor to make friends.

One thing she noticed was his charming accent that she couldn't quite place, but it sounded European.

"Me, too. It is the greatest country on Earth, after all," Jamie said semi-sarcastically with a smile, hiding her genuine patriotism behind a jokey tone in her voice. She looked down briefly at the envelope she hasn't opened yet, before looking back at Aleksander.

"I recognize a different accent there, Aleks. Can I call you Aleks? I can't put my finger on it though- sounds...European?" She shrugged as the inflection in her voice when high-pitched. Jamie had a mid-western American accent, obviously a native. In her mind, her plan was to get to know all of the other operators one at a time. Some people had this 'professionality' about them she thought was the wrong way to go about it. If she didn't know the people she was fighting with, how could she trust them? If it fell upon Jamie to take the first step in initiating social interaction, then so be it. Plus, it was fun getting to know new people.

---

Aleks sighed as the prolonged interaction continued. His years in the FBI never forced him to "make friends" with others. He was always a guard dog who executed his orders as necessary. And yet, here another American was standing between him and his daily routine. Relax and Breathe. You are in safe company. The towering man closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. As Aleks opened his eyes, he saw the agent before him was intent upon trying to make friends, and Aleks wasn't getting out of this one.

"Born in Athens. I am an immigrant, came over when I was young. America is my home, though. And I plan to protect it and the rest of this world." He gave a small smile that to anyone outside of Aleks' family would see as a grimace. Aleks rarely smiled since high school, and he made a note to not try that again anytime soon. These were his comrades, and keeping them relatively on his good side would be the best course of action. "I look forward to fighting alongside you, Miss Jamie." And with his bellowing goodbye, Aleks attempted to walk past his comrade and towards his own room, where he could quietly commence in his usual routine.

Ahmad kept quiet in the truck, his eyes glancing over the area as he drove to where he would finally be a member of team rainbow. He had some of his personal belongings and equipment in a duffel next to his feet, though most of his gear would probably already be at the base. He wore an FDE colored military t-shirt that hugged his muscular body and brown cargo pants. His Jericho 9mm holstered on his waist. He had five hours on a plane to think about what he’d do once he got to the base. How he’d introduce himself, who he’d like to meet first. Though he knew the attitude would likely be grim. He, and all the other assumed recruits were replacements. If they were anything else, they would have been in Rainbow originally. As the truck came to an abrupt stop however, he decided it would be best to get straight into business. He had a lot of proving himself to do, and he had a lot of terrorist hunting to do as well.

He grabbed his duffel and hopped out of the back of the truck, coming up behind a lot of new recruits from all different backgrounds. Many them gathering in a warehouse in front of him. He seemed to arrive just in time as he saw the newly appointed leader of Team Rainbow, Mike Baker, stepped up to a podium. Ahmad listened attentively as the understandably jaded man made his speech. He had big shoes to fill, but he was more than capable of filling them. His time in the field and his time with rainbow proved that. After Thatcher finished his speech, Ahmad only realized more that he had to prove he could fill the shoes of the fallen heroes. He began going through names, and Ahmad tried to take note of everyone as he quickly went through them. It was a full assembly of nearly all the top counter terrorism units in the world. He felt a little unease as his name was called, though he just nodded as he stood in a relaxed but respectful stance. He felt having a moniker like ‘Hero’ would come off as arrogant. Though it’s not like he gave it to himself, it’s just something that happened to stick.

Mike finished his speech by informing them that training would start tomorrow, and Ahmad tried to focus in on that. He knew his personality could come off as carefree and laidback. Something he wasn’t keen to showing Rainbow, or his new peers anytime soon. First would be business, to prove himself in at least the training before really starting to socialize with the team. Rainbow was an airtight team with camaraderie coming out of their ass. Though that kind of thing always took time to build. Thinking to himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere however. He picked his duffel bag back up and began walking over to the table where some of the new recruits had already gone to pick up their room assignments. He stopped as he noticed a woman bounding her way over to chat with another recruit. He saw that one of them was FBI, where Ash had been transferred to long ago. Maybe they knew each other, it would make it easier for them. He didn’t pay attention long enough to see them converse as he finished making his way over to the desk and grabbed the envelope on it. He took a quick look around him one more time before he quickly went to settle down in his room.

Jamie Underwood

---

Jamie nodded sagely, looking wisely into the distance as Aleks explained his origins. "Americans are born all over the world. That's what my dad always said." Jamie rememberd with a half-smile. It was melodramatic but she always liked the idea behind the phrase. Aleks bit his tongue, or something, and said it would be good to work with her.

"Well, yes, it'll be good to work with you, too, Aleks. We should..." Jamie trailed off as Aleks quickly made his daring escape past the energetic woman. Jamie was a bit naive but even she could tell, at that point, that he wanted her to shut up. A little hurt, and a little amused, Jamie shook her head as her new squad mate walked away.

The rest of the audience was already clearing out, so Jamie stood in the middle of hall for a little bit. She swung the envelope and generally just looked casual for a bit. Leaning up against a nearby wall, Jamie opened up the envelope. Confidential, top secret, classified, yada yada, Jamie slid the sheet upwards and read her alias with a disappointed grimace.

Slug.

Great.

Luckily for the young operator, her name was given with good reason. A bunch of mechanical talk Jamie could actually understand followed the alias and her room number, basically boiling down to: We're giving you a badass shotgun. Okay, Jamie thought, I can work with this. With a smirk, she inserted the packet back into the folder and attempted to walk back to her room. Briefly, she got lost and had to ask a grumpy person for directions, but she got there in the end. CQC in the morning- Jamie felt anxious yet excited about the prospect. If it was a paintball match- hah, she would demolish anyone in Rainbow! Unfortunately, the idea of getting beat up by some massively skilled person in a sparring outfit wasn't as appealing. Still- she'd try her best to not disappoint.

Jamie spent the rest of the night getting out the pre-event jitters by doing push up and sit ups in her room.

---

Jane's arrival at Hereford Base had been less than eventful, to say the least. It was different than Hong Kong, sure, but Jane knew that she wouldn't be spending much time here in the first place. A twelve hour flight was more than enough time for her to process what was going on and what was going to be happening. She was here for a reason, which most likely involved being away from places like this base. In a way, Jane felt like she was at home, even if she'd only been here for only a few hours. Sitting in the private vehicle taking her to base, she had on her olive green SDU uniform. It was something she had worked hard to earn the privilege of wearing, so it was pretty much guaranteed that she was going to flaunt it wherever she could, despite her having to swap it out in just a few moments.

The vehicle came to a stop, and Jane was more than obliged to see herself out of the vehicle. Stepping out onto the tarmac, Jane pulled her duffel bag out of the car and proceeded to make her way into the base. Glancing around, she could see a numerous amount of figures trailing behind her and in front of her. More than likely, they were here for the same exact reason Jane was. As it appeared, it looked like that there was going to be quite the amount of people having the same experience as her. At least integration into the most clandestine of clandestine units wasn't going to be an experience Jane was going to undertake by herself.

Finding herself in what was probably the world's deadliest room, Jane took a seat and glanced around just to see where everyone was from, if possible. They had a pretty good crop here, which was good since that most likely meant every country sent their best. Suddenly a voice came from up above and Jane was obligated to listen. To summarize, it was your average spiel about how dangerous being in a special operations force like this was. Everyone knew what they had just gotten themselves into, and they were all more than willing to accept it. Then, afterwards came the roll call. Everyone was going to be getting top secret folders that people were all going to find out the contents of in a matter of minutes.

As the speech ended, she walked up and waited for the already collected crowd in front of the pile of folders. After the crowd cleared, Jane took the folder and waited until she was out of the room to peek at the contents. She was going to be known as Trojan, which was a bit odd for her but she was going to be taking it anyway. Stepping into her living quarters, she set down her belongings and began to get set up. It was going to be a good experience, and Jane was looking forward to working with this crop of people.

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

Villamor air force base, 4:00 P.M., an unfamiliar aircraft silhouette sat in the middle of the runway – a private jet commissioned by Rainbow for discreet travel. Thomas was set to board an hour before it even arrived, the extra time allowed him to say his farewells before being sent across the globe to meet with other elite operators. He shed no tear, he wasn’t that sentimental, in fact he was nervous more than he was sad. He found himself looking back at the beginning of the Scout Ranger Selection course – everyone is stripped of rank, everyone is equal, everyone has to prove themselves. “Ingana nasad na” he whispered to himself in his own dialect in an attempt to calm himself down. He had gone through this before, it wasn’t a big deal.

He walked out of the hangar wearing an OD green T-shirt, a pair of woodland camo pants, standard issue boots, his M1911 holstered to his hip, and two bags slung over him. One bag contained his equipment, the other was filled with extra BDUs, extra clothes, and toiletries. He took a moment to look around the base and felt himself let go of all the other things in his head.

“Sir!”

He turned his head to see who was shouting – it was the pilot, “It’s time to go!” the pilot had an accent Thomas couldn’t quite place, it was a lot like British or Scottish, but it wasn’t really the same. He jogged towards the steps on the plane and climbed up to board the passenger compartment, he placed his bag on the carpeted floor and opened the file he was given to catch him up on the situation. The now infamous Bellagio Incident was detailed carefully, some details were left covered in black ink. He couldn’t help but notice how similar the experience was to the Marawi Crisis but compressed into a small hotel and a matter of hours, he thought back to one experience when in Marawi where he called in an APC, only to have its engines catch fire due to an RPG. He pulled out much of the crew, some were in need of immediate amputation and treatment for burns. It made sense why they were suddenly on the look out for new talented operators, they needed replacements.

“Hala buanga, naunsa to sila?” He was left shocked as he found the list of K.I.A. for the incident, some with names that are still blocked in ink – so many dead operators. He closed the document and processed how the people who survived must’ve felt and how they would feel about other people coming in to fill their places. Thomas already experienced that feeling of having someone close to everyone in his squad die only to have the spot filled by new blood the day after. It was difficult, it was frustrating, it was almost insulting – the man that he knew in that spot wouldn’t have ever done anything like what that rookie did, but that man was gone and this rookie is trying his best. In that moment, his thoughts spiraled into a deeper and deeper hole, thinking about how many friends he’s lost over the years, how many funerals he’s attended, how many times he was called in to be a replacement for someone like that – new blood. He didn’t expect a warm welcome, he expected to be treated how others treat replacements – with disgust and contempt.

He sat back in his seat and tried to get some sleep, Thomas knew that he and the others probably won’t have much of it.

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

Thomas arrived at an air field a few miles away from Hereford Base was, from his window he could see a familiar looking sight – a truck with tarp spread along the top. He rubbed his eyes for a second and blinked twice, he pushed himself off of the passenger seat and grabbed his gear and took a stride towards the exit. As he climbed out he first gave the men meeting him a crisp salute and a firm handshake and without a word he climbed into the truck as quickly as he came out the plane. He remembered the times where he and his other teammates would have to ride alongside their dead, covered in white or black tarp, he wondered whether or not the previous rainbow operators had to do the same after Bellagio.

He was distracted from his inward thoughts by the mere smell of the country, it was so different in many ways; it was a lot colder than the Philippines, it wasn’t raining as much, and unlike the Philippines the U.K. actually experiences snow cover. Although, it wasn’t cold enough yet for snow to start falling.

When he had arrived at Hereford base, he grabbed his equipment and went into the designated building where other operators were gathering. Unlike the others, he carried his equipment, not because of pride or a false sense of machismo, but because he didn’t really need much it was tolerable to carry – but because he didn’t want to be the odd one out, he placed his bags near the entrance to retrieve later. Inside he was met with an array of different operators from different corners of the globe with different backgrounds and levels of experience. He was surprised to see some people in battle dress uniforms and just uniforms in general, was it to represent pride in the patch? He didn’t know, he wasn’t even wearing a BDU or a coverall uniform – essentially he was unidentifiable in terms of nationality. However, he wasn’t the only one there who was the odd one out, someone came in with just casual clothes – in his mind it was practical, they weren’t expecting combat, but he was armed for one if ever it occurred. Inspecting the room further, it was apparent he was one of the shortest operators in the room, it wasn’t even a contest and his mocha colored skin also stood him out from the crowd, his facial features were different to those who came from South America – no he wasn’t from anywhere very familiar and it was understandable really, the Philippines isn’t really big on the international scene, the only people who would have the tiniest chance of recognizing where he’s from are Americans who’ve trained in the Philippines during their joint training exercises.

It was then he noticed something else, everyone in the room was just standing there, waiting for something, no one had ordered them to do anything the past few minutes they were here. Without warning, a man arrived and some gave him a crisp salute as he entered the room, he too followed their example – better to be respectful than to be sorry later. When the man signaled at ease, Thomas immediately thought back to his drills, feet apart, hands behind the back left over right in a cross. When the man finally spoke, he wasn’t at all surprised with what he had to say – they were replacements, they were new blood, rank or status didn’t mean jack here because in that man’s eyes they were all equally unimpressive. He understood why, he had gone through this with the Scout Rangers and the Light Reaction Regiment, it would’ve been foolish for him to even think he could get a free pass in Rainbow – no he had to earn their respect and their trust the hard way.

When he started to call out names for each recruit, he heard virtual silence until one operator responded with a loud resounding “Sir” and a salute followed by another who followed her example but this time without a salute. When his name finally came up, he replied in the same way they did – in the same way he has done for many years, “Sir!” he gave a crisp salute with a satisfying heel click, and a straight, no nonsense expression on his face; when the man moved on, he just as quickly and crisply snapped back into his at-ease position.

When all was said and done, he stepped up to take an envelope from the desk and opened it. He read and double checked each word before turned around and head towards the exit of the Operations Department not even noticing the awkward conversation between two operators. He grabbed his bags and head towards the living quarters. He read his moniker aloud, “Armoury…” his Filipino accent was showing through, “Ah-rrr-moh-rrri” rolled Rs and stiff vowels, not to mention the fact that his accent doesn’t pronounce V, F, and Th. The V sounds come out as B sounds, F sounds come out as P sounds, and Th gets replaced with either D sounds or T sounds depending on the word. He does have formal education in English and attempted to tone down his accent, with moderate success, it was a little more articulate, but with a few quirks here and there.

When he arrived in the living quarters, he started to look for his assigned room. Walking through the corridors he found that the others had already found their room assignments and were making themselves comfortable. When he got to his room, he opened the door and was surprised to see how big and well furnished it was. It was almost like living in his parents old apartment, there was a single bed, there was a TV in a corner, there was a fully equipped kitchen and a stocked fridge, there was even a desk in the other corner that was presumably to allow operators a clean workspace to clean their weapons and equipment. It was home away from home, but somehow he knew they might need it. He started to unpack and arrange his things and prepare for tomorrow, a few minutes of warming up and another few minutes for a short burn routine. At night he cooked himself Adobo and rice for dinner and got to bed to gather strength for what was to come.

---

Ella's journey to Hereford Base bothered her little. With her headphones in and at least 5 language books in her carry-on, the flight was a breeze. Once in the tarp-covered trucks, she kept to herself, keeping just one headphone in, in case of instructions. As it slowed to a halt, all the other men and women dropped out of the tarmac, and Ella followed, glancing around to take in her surroundings. Hereford base seemed small, out of the way, the perfect place for a more clandestine meeting. She trudged alongside the other recruits, and into a dimly lit hall. Ella did note, however, that the acoustics were excellent, and she could feel the footsteps of military personnel reverberating throughout the building. She considered testing a few of her Songbird speakers here, but reconsidered, as it would probably be deemed unprofessional, and she would surely find time for it later.

A hush fell across the gathered group, and there was only one set of footsteps left. Despite not being able to see the mystery person, Ella could tell from the footsteps that it was male, middle-aged or perhaps older, and a veteran of the military, extremely experienced and regimented. As he stepped up to the podium, her assumptions were correct, not that they were often wrong. The man was familiar to her, a colleague of Lesion's, but she could barely remember his name or callsign. Catch? Latch? Match? It was something along those lines.

As his speech went on, not a particularly motivational one mind, she noticed Lesion standing to attention there, and a small smirk came across her face. He looked so ridiculous, all formal and civilised. Most of the times when she had seen him, it was in a more relaxed environment, but she knew how he could be while in the field, and she had heard tales, tales she would rather not share.

As the names came along, she heard Lesion's, and then another name that sounded familiar, Jane Feng, a fellow SDU Operative. They spent little time together, Ella arriving in the Unit much later than Jane, and placed on radically different missions, but she was still aware of her experience and expertise. Ella, Jane and Ying were still the only three women to date to pass the SDU selection process, and achievement that brought Ella a certain amount of pride. When her name was called, she responded with a curt nod and nothing else, catching the eye of the new leader of Rainbow just enough.

When all was said and done, she considered talking briefly to Jane, but she was gone before Ella had the chance. She went to collect her note and promptly opened it. Her alias 'Songbird' was to be expected, as it was the name of the mission that inspired her to become an Operative and her own name of the speaker systems she had assisted the tech department in creating. Without much else, Ella head to her room, which was further away than she had imagined.

Once she was there, she immediately got to setting up flawless surround sound and played a few test samples to ensure that each of the Songbirds was working in perfect harmony. When she was satisfied, she played a recording she had made of the streets of Hong Kong, a small reminder of home. She sat on the bed, and practised her Arabic, while the busy street sounded around her.

---

One by one, everyone started to thin down in their numbers as they all made their own ways towards the living quarters after following the instructions. Every envelope had their number and keycard within it. All of this was straightforward for a starting day, or rather afternoon. Everyone was coming and then disappearing into their own dormitories whilst the veterans of the team were all wandering about, watching them scurry around like ants. Everyone who'd previously been in Rainbow prior to that day was already aware of their rooms and aliases due to pre-briefing earlier on in the month. Everything had fallen into its place; every jigsaw piece was starting to assort itself perfectly into their places. All of them were starting to slip themselves in like fingers to the wrong-glove, awkwardly holding some strange facial expressions amongst their ranks. Some looked a bit too overconfident whilst others seemed a bit formal, the way that Mike would have wanted. Yet it all felt a bit too surreal for Franklin. Yes, they were a military organisation that forged under counter-terrorist operations. Yes, they were a confidential programme that only the elite in NATO fully understood. But no, they were not as strict in the past. Everyone bonded together so carefully, in such a discursive fashion, that they were all practically second-hand family members to one another. People like Elias were always cracking jokes and easing everyone's minds whilst others were fantastic cooks off-duty and aimed to provide a wonderful experience after a hard-day's work. This was different. All of them were not on par with those who were now gone. It felt too harsh to judge and compare them this early on to the fallen he'd grown accustomed too, but yet he still found himself struggling to let go of the friends he'd lost and those he was still trying to find.

He made his way outside, finding that there was no need for his presence in the main hall. Nothing noteworthy was presented towards him, neither were there any words that directed themselves at him. Franklin was just a phantom wandering amongst the sea of new life, though the life may find itself prematurely doomed if they weren't up to adequacy. There was a thin line between life and death on this job, this career to uphold the impossible task of peace and prosperity. Sometimes, though not all the time, there was no room for error, even when off duty. Say something that they might regret, it could bite them harshly in the arse when they stick around on duty. All of the life had its pressures, and yet they were expected to live as regular human beings back here in Hereford's underbelly. What a cruel fate, this was? Sometimes he wished he was still in the Royal Marines, serving in a time where terrorism was handled by the experts.

The trek back to the living quarters was as dull as he'd expected. The rain was starting to come down quite heavily now, as did all typical weather of the British Isles. A vast bucket's worth started to soak into his coveralls and dampen his DPMs beneath them too, making him feel miserable and let out a deep sigh of depressive thoughts. No sunshine could clear this mind, it seemed. Franklin saw a few, only a few, of the new operators making their way over, but chose to keep walking and only interact if interacted with. That was how it went on the first day. If he was going to get to know them at least he could give them the space they needed to find their own place in Rainbow's ranks. The next day was going to be a lot tougher, especially when knowing that it was Gilles and Taina's turn to lead the training session. It was a "Kill-house" scenario, where they would be entering a building that was large but packed full of tight spaces. It was the principles of Counter-Terrorism, these breaching tactics. But then again, the scenario would always have a trick or two up its sleeves, waiting to test whether they could react to unforeseen technicalities. Once again, those were the basics of anti-terrorist operations. Nothing ever went according to plan.

Returning to his abode wasn't exactly a treat. Yes, it was a nice place for what the military and government could offer, but it still felt a little too artificial for him. Something about spending time within the walls, with a large window at the foot of the room, alone and solitary as can be, felt almost discomforting and unnatural to him. He spent so much time simply sharing quarters with other comrades of all types that he simply hated the feeling of loneliness. It was reflective of his third operation, in which he and the batch of newer recruits at the time were deployed into an operation that could have only gone better than the shit-show it had become.

---

"Up and at 'em. Fifteen minutes to get your arse's to the South Wing before someone drags you there!" Having woken up the earliest, Liu thought it would make a good sick-kick to push Franklin into waking everyone else up. It was obvious that they were all already awake...hopefully...and were likely finishing off the meals they could cook in their own dormitories. However, it was a necessity to keep the slightly harsh-nature that was Rainbow's rebirth in shape and form. All of the instances of his thick accent booming down the hallway, clenched fist banging quite gently against each door as he went down the line, could be seen as amusing to those who he already knew. He just hoped that Jessica didn't see the outcome and prepared to use it as a method of teasing later on. It was unlikely that she was like that, but there was always the possibility. "Wear combat dressings. All equipment is in the armory within the South Wing. Grab your stuff when instructed and prepare. It's training time, lads and lasses."

The South-Wing had already been set up. With them having fifteen minutes to haul themselves over, Franklin took the opportunity to get a head-start glimpse at where they would be fighting within. From what he could see, it was a one-story building with a high rooftop. All of the formations of walls seemed to be quite daunting to look at. It was definitely preparation for what they would have to face on their first operation, the one that Mike had leaked to the other members only days ago. All of the operators were likely to use non-lethal ammunition for obvious reasons, as training would try to simulate different scenarios as accurately as possible. Usually, ex-members of Rainbow, trainees and non-military staff were hired to act as OpFor, being advised to be sporadic, unpredictable and somewhat outlandish. Most of the time, they tried to mimic what the White Masks had in mind, whether it was mock martyrdom or biochemical situations, all of them were highly lethal. It was difficult to accurately depict what an operation would be like. Franklin knew best that these were the things that didn't fully help those in the field, as it was much worse out there than it was in the confinement of Hereford's training outlets.

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The tiny alarm on his desk began to ring out an annoying sound, it was quiet enough not to be heard outside but it was enough to wake Thomas from his slumber. It was 4:00 AM, he hauled himself out of bed, no doubt there were already people awake with him – after all, habits are hard to break. He made himself some coffee and poured himself a mug full, he then started cooking breakfast. When he was done cooking he got it onto a table and started eating – it was corned beef and eggs with rice on the side, the perfect breakfast, but he only ate half after ten counts, something his instructors would make their trainees do. He opened up a few pill containers for his daily vitamin supplements, it didn’t matter whether or not he took them, but it did help improve his overall health so he took them anyway. When he finished his coffee, he cleaned up the table, washed the dishes, and had a quick shower.

After he showered, he prepared his gear, wore his BDU and readied his equipment. He was wearing his usual woodland camo BDU, his boonie hat, and sniper veil. His BDU was adorned with patches, with the AFPSOCOM patch on one shoulder and the Light Reaction Regiment patch on the other, on the front were various patches of certifications, from the master parachutist certification to combat diver certification. A few hours had passed and it was already 6:00AM, he heard knocking and yelling down the corridor, "Up and at 'em. Fifteen minutes to get your arse's to the South Wing before someone drags you there! Wear combat dressings. All equipment is in the armory within the South Wing. Grab your stuff when instructed and prepare. It's training time, lads and lasses."

He passed by Thomas’ room, and repeated the same thing, funnily enough though, Thomas already brought his armory with him, he grabbed his M1A SOCOM 16” and strapped it to his ruck, he grabbed his M4 and slung it over his shoulder, he then heard another set of footsteps not long after the wake-up call. He took a bit of face paint on his four fingers and ran them down diagonally across his face creating four streaks of black stripes, he then wore the rest of his equipment and followed behind the two men. He made a quick jog towards the south wing, compared to what he’d already endured, a jog was almost like nothing. He made it there a little winded, but overall ready and reporting. He looked around the area and found the two men already there conversing, he decided to keep quiet – it wasn’t a conversation he would want to interrupt. He instead took his time to examine the scenario and try to think of logical and unorthodox methods of entry; he wanted to maximize shock through overwhelming violence and surprise and take control of the situation quickly. However, as he thought out the situation thoroughly, he found that there was no good way of doing that currently, he needs the help of the other operators and that meant getting to know them and their particular skill sets, otherwise they weren't going to cooperate smoothly. He did know one thing though, they weren’t going to make the scenario easy, if anything they're going to try and mimic the scenario at Bellagio hotel.

”Putang ina” he whispered a curse under his breath, he understood what he needed to do, but he didn't have any meaningful connection to anyone, he then commits to another idea – improvise during the exercise. He will get to know them through their actions, decisions, and communications in the training session, after all, training is meant to make people better than they once were, what is failure if you cannot learn from it? That being said, he wouldn't mind talking to people before they get to training, it would be a more effective way of learning from them.

He calmed his nerves and focused himself for what was next, he relaxed and hoped that today would come out okay. A successful mission would be a bonus for what he aims to achieve and he had a feeling that it might not go as badly as he thinks it's going to go. He also noticed that he was at least going to match everyone's outfit now, he had patches galore and even had the flag of the Philippines as a patch on his shoulder above his AFPSOCOM patch. He wore it with pride and he hoped to carry it with him through his service in Rainbow.

---

Aleksander lumbered his way out of the building, eyeing over his room number and key. He found their little moniker rather amusing. They knew his Greek background, but the name Ajax was almost insulting. A soldier who was never quite the best, but rather lived in the shadows of the other great Greek heroes before being committing suicide... a rather harrowing namesake. But Aleks, to some degree, appreciated the recognition of his Greek roots and having a name connected to legend. He'd have to improve upon the name, and make it something even greater.

The Greek-American easily made his way towards the apartment complex, reaching his room with ease. One of the large man's most "normal" skills was his ability to find his way through hotels and buildings. He had a keen sense of direction, especially as an adult. He made not of all exits, both doors and those he could improvise. It was a force of habit at this point.

Once inside his room, Aleks immediately went to work unpacking his things. He had packed surprisingly heavy. He kept a spare sets of kevlar vests and full combat fatigues with him when he travelled here, so that he could do his exercises in a more "challenging" outfit. He had also packed personal exercise equipment, mostly for weight training but he had also packed a punching bag. This was before he even mentioned his toolkit, which had what every mechanic and engineer could hope to have in a pinch situation.

The kitchen was where Aleks was most comfortable. It was fully stocked, and luckily his government managed to provide ingredients he could use to make a few dishes he would enjoy. Aleks was known in his family as the cook after the passing of his sister, having spent years studying her culinary skills. Aleks stripped out of his jumpsuit, instead choosing to wear the boxers and tank top he had underneath. He was living alone, so didn't have much concern over how he dressed when he was cooking. Aleks went to work, crafting some Kefethes and Basmati Rice. To him, this was as relaxing as watching television and or playing a game.

After his hearty meal, Aleks worked on setting up the punching bag, making sure it was well-secured before going into his usual workout routine. He spent a few hours doing everything from cardio to weights to some mild combat practice. He tested out the punching bag, giving it a few swift punches and kicks before finally retiring with a shower and a good night's rest at around 10 pm.

---

His alarm went off at 4 am. It was just enough sleep to feel rested, and he had been following the same sleep routine for a long time. But... he felt off. Jet lag... perfect. He got up groggily and immediately went to the kitchen, cooking up some eggs and sausage. He was too out of it to cook anything fancy, and he had a small bit of work he wanted to get done.

Aleks set up a small table in the living room, off in a corner, and started tinkering with a small metal plate. He wanted to install it on the front of his shield... make it his own. His shield of course would be waiting for him at the training facility. It felt weird not having it on his person, but he felt confident that the group he was working with could take care of a shield and not touch it.

After working on it for about thirty minutes, Aleks began a light morning workout. They would be training later in the day, so there was no point in tiring himself out before things got interesting. When the knock came on his door, Aleks was just getting out of the shower. He spent five minutes gearing up quickly into his fatigues and kevlar before making his way out of his apartment and towards the training facility to begin a tough day's work.

---

Lielvarde Military Airfield, Keguma County, Latvia

It was so early that the sun hadn't begun rising. The silence of night had attracted thousands of cricket chirps that filled the area around the airfield, but that soon changed with the loud sound of a landing jet. The Lielvarde Military Airfield was just an hour’s drive away from Riga. This is where the Latvian Air Force was stationed. The airfield was rather small compared to other Baltic military airfields and had only had one lane for taking off and landing. The only aircraft present were some Latvian Mi-17s, American Blackhawks and Chinooks, two polish Mig-29s and a couple of Hungarian Gripens, not mentioning the black jet that had just landed and was taxiing into the hangar where Kirill was.

Kirill stood there in his black uniform wearing a green beret. On his right shoulder he had slung over a large duffle bag that contained his personal items and in his left hand he held a black hard shell case that contained his weapons. Next to him was his commander. He was one of the few original Omega members left and was a man that Kirill had grown to have a lot of respect for.

"I guess this is where we part for now, Gusakov." The commander said, as they were looking at the jet. Although the commander had signed the papers that allowed Kirill to join Rainbow, as per instruction from above, it was Kirill who knew more about who he was going to work for now, despite their difference in rank and authority. Putting down his items, Kirill turned to his commander and saluted him. "Gods kalpot Latvijai un Omegai!" Kirill shouted as the commander saluted him back. After lowering their arms, they shook hands and exchanged smiles. Having picked up his items, Kirill steadily went towards the plane. "Make your country proud!" Shouted the commander as Kirill walked further away from him. A small smirk appeared on Kirill’s face. "I will sir, I will." He whispered to himself.



Kirill was already sitting in the plane's warm cabin. Its crew was in the process of preparing for taking off. Kirill asked the pilot who was passing him: "Excuse me, where are we going again?" "England, sir." The pilot stopped and looked at Kirill. "Ah, thank you." Kirill nodded and the pilot continued going toward the cockpit.

"It won't be a long flight then." Kirill thought to himself. After the pilot spoke with the tower, they began moving towards the runway. After the plane took off, Kirill took a hard long look through the window at the Latvian soil illuminated by the rising morning sun. He understood that he won't be able to see this view for some time now.

---

Hereford Base, England

When Kirill got out of the truck, he stood tall. The reception wasn't something to go write home about, even if Kirill didn't take Thatcher’s speech to heart. He has been through less welcoming welcomes. He was more worried that he had seen only seen unfamiliar faces; some of the operators were much older than him, others - younger. But he understood that all of them were the global elite and were just as good as him - if not more. But the whole atmosphere was off, it was clear that many people weren't even interested in greeting each other. Because of that Kirill just took his envelope and went to the Eastern Wing. There was clearly going to be a division between the newcomers and the veterans for some time now.

He chuckled to himself when he saw his new nom de guerre: "Pravda". He got the reference, but the Latvian newspaper was called "Cīņa", however, he was sure that they wouldn't be able to spell it correctly anyway.

When he opened his door, his eyes were wide open. The place was pretty much an apartment. Hell, one could almost forget that he were at one of the most well-defended and secretive facilities in the world. It was very well equipped for what it was. There was a bathroom, a kitchen with a fully stocked fridge that Kirill found himself checking before everything else, desk with a computer and enough free workspace put more stuff there, two steel cupboards, a TV, a single bed. But Kirill was even more surprised to see that there was enough floor space for him to freely move around the room.

He took off his boots and placed his stuff next to his bed, sat down on it and thought to himself for a second. Afterwards, he began unpacking his stuff out of the bag and settling into the room. He turned on the TV and put it on BBC worldwide, hoping that the TV licence was paid for. He put his own Toughbook next to the provided computer and a couple of files that were given to him by Six previously on the table - his reading materials for the night. As the heavy rain poured down outside, he took a shower and got into his leisure wear for the rest of the night.

---

*GASP*

Kirill jolted awake in the bed and looked around the room, sweat rolling down his face. After calming down, he looked at his phone. It was two hours before his alarm would go off. Putting the phone down, Kirill looked at the ceiling for a while before getting up. After his regular morning warming-up routine, Kirill had a shower and made himself some breakfast with a cup of coffee.

At 6:00AM, Kirill heard knocking and yelling down the corridor: "Up and at 'em. Fifteen minutes to get your arse's to the South Wing before someone drags you there! Wear combat dressings. All equipment is in the armory within the South Wing. Grab your stuff when instructed and prepare. It's training time, lads and lasses."

"Show time..." Kirill thought to himself. He was already wearing his uniform, so it was a matter of just putting on the rest of the gear and fastening it down tightly. He walked out of his room wearing all of his gear, sans the mask that was rolled down on his neck and the helmet that he held in his left hand.

He walked over to the South Wing at a steady pace. When he arrived there, he saw a large one-story building and three men, two of talking. Just by glimpse at the building, Kirill knew: MP5 and flash grenades should be on his load out for today. Not wanting to interrupt them he went to the third guy, a Filipino, who was walking around looking at the large construction, making a plan in his head like Kirill was doing.

Standing behind him, Kirill put his right hand up behind Thomas and, after hesitating for a brief moment, tapped him on his left shoulder. "Good morning! Kirill, Latvia. But you should call me Pravda." Kirill said that as he lowered his arm for a handshake and waited for the man to introduce himself.

"Thoughts?" Kirill asked Thomas, pointing towards the kill-house with his head.
@Liotrent

Pretty nice digs here, thought Jackson. He had never been to uni, but this was what he imagined it would be like if you were studying there. Nothing like the army barracks he was used to, and again, it was warm enough that he he could strip out of his CADAPT as quickly as possible, leaving himself in just a pair of boxers. Not like anyone else would be walking around here to see him half-naked anyway. His body was toned and muscled, but also ringed with scars. There were three, near-identical circle-shaped scars near his left side, and his fingers played across them. You could feel them all tough from the scar tissue, but one of them still had the bullet there. It had gone deep, and there was no reason to subject him to surgery just to pull it out and potentially risk a hell of a lot of complications, or so the docs had said.

Knife scar across his stomach. That had been a lucky break. The mass of scar tissue where he had had a clump of ice been kicked off a roof and tear up his shoulder. Worst of all his scars, and it didn't even have a good story behind it. The burn marks along his knuckles, where a fucker at his dumping ground for unwanted kids, orphanage had put a smoke flat against his skin and lit it whilst holding him down. A dozen and a half more across his body that he didn't want to dwell on much longer.

He walked into the bathroom and kicked off even his boxers, slamming the shower door to and turning it on full blast. The amount of sweat that had built up over the course of wearing that bloody uniform... Ugh, he didn't want to think about it. Soap, shampoo, get himself clean, if nothing else, and then he would blast himself with a liberal amount of antiperspirant. Normally he would do this in the morning, but he just wanted to get clean right now, truth be told.

Without much circumstance, he dug himself out another pair of boxers and crashed down onto the bed, drifting off fast. Long flights would really take that out of you.



It was her job to be ready for the rest of the recruits. To be a bastion- a rainbow, if you will. Which was why she was actually out of the door before Sonar had pinged them all, finishing the last of her bagel. Hereford training base. Time to test the waters, and with the rest of the recruits filtering out around them, she was more than happy to oblige with that. "We using the actual armouries or are we all getting those sodding M16's again?" She tried to keep the whining tone out of her voice, but the last time they had done this, it had been a little ridiculous they had all gotten the American guns.