The road wasn't an easy drive. Each bump and pothole sent the old, rusted out bus rocking and shaking, tossing the passengers about. Each person was jammed together on pleather seats that looked like a wild cat had gotten a hold of them, holding their allotted belongings in their laps, being tossed against one another every five or so seconds. There was no air conditioning, and the drive was three hours. Not much was said. Not much could be said. The guttural roars of the bus's engine made sure to drown out any other sound.

---

Sasha once believed that hell was a makeshift medical tent in the middle of a battlefield, the cries of dying soldiers surrounding him, his own, blinding pain. Now, he knew better. Hell was a screaming metal death trap of a bus rolling at 15 miles an hour through a jungle with humidity so high it should be raining. The Russian was pink in the face and glistening, clearly not used to the heat that Venezuela had to offer. After three agonizing hours, he would have given his other arm to get off that damn bus. He shifted his duffel bag uncomfortably in his lap for the millionth time. They were finally approaching a clearing, and a wooden sign along the so called "road" read Camp Sunshine. He breathed a sigh of relief. Finally.

When the bus came to a stop and the doors opened, the campers piled off eagerly. Sasha stepped out to feel fresh air on his face, and possibly a dozen mosquitoes biting him all at once. They gathered into a group around a man wearing old army BDUs. As the last person stepped off the bus, the man blew a whistle sharply to gain their full attention.

"Attention campers! I am Joe, and I am your head camp councilor here at Camp Sunshine. For the next ten weeks, you will follow my every command. I will not command you wrong; if you die here at camp, it is because you did not follow my orders." He spoke in a loud, clear voice, akin to a drill sergeant Sasha remembered from boot camp.

"Behind me is the camp bulletin board, where updates will be posted regularly. Here you can find your tent assignments and the camp rules. Camp Sunshine has three rules: Don't murder other campers, don't die, and don't try to run away from Camp Sunshine. Today will be your first and only free day; camp activities will begin tomorrow at oh five hundred. You are dismissed!"

With that, Joe turned, showing off the rifle strapped to his back as he walked away. Sasha thought he seemed a bit intense, but that wasn't really his business, he supposed. He approached the bulletin board to see which tent he would be in. There was a distressed looking map of the camp printed next to the tent listings, showing where his new home for the summer will be. With that, Sasha picked up his duffel bag and headed that way.

Alec was the last to get off the bus. Almost everything was a daze he couldn't believe it his dad died and after swimming to shore these mercs put him on the bus from hell.He half listened to the drill sergeant catching most of the rules and important details.Having nothing except the clothes on his back Alec walked over to check what tent he was in.Tent C he checked the map to see how to get there and decided to get to the tent and get his choice of a bunk before anyone else. Walking to the tent was a surreal experience the jungle thrived everywhere he looked and it seemed like he was in a different world. Arriving at the tent he noticed 2 bunk beds he walked over to the top bunk on the left side. Having nothing really to put on he decided to take it his windbreaker and lay it on the bed hoping his tent mates would realize that it was taken.

Walking back to where the bus was and looked at Joe and walked over to ask him a question. "Exuse me sir but when you mentioned camp activities you failed to explain what they would be." as he realized Joe had already walked away. nevermind he muttered to himself.

The ride on the bus had been bumpy, and the temperature didn't do any better for the man seated next to him who seemed in a foul mood. But Garrett didn't let that bother him. He had talked the man's ear off the entire trip. About South Africa, and how the weather wasn't any different here, than there which Garrett apparently found kinda ironic, from the multiple times he brought it up. His exictement palpable in his voice, and giving him a bit of a scatter brain. He was finally out in the wide world, he had flown to another Continent, he got to see things some people never in their life had done, some never left the city they were born in, and even fewer left the country. At least that's what he had heard from some journalistic articles, which he mentioned to his seating partner much to their annoyance. The man next to him must of thought this was some sort of psy-op, or test because he never once challenged Garrett, or fought with him. Only gave him the occasional "Mhm" When the bus finally came to a stop he ran to the front, to be one of the first to jump off sending up a little plume of dirt as his boots hit the ground. "We made it!" He shouted, excitement tinged his voice. But if it was a jab at the bus not exploding on the bumps, or just general excitement about being at Camp Sunshine only he knew.

As he gathered his bags from the bus compartments, he strode over to, the gathering of the others who were forming up in front of Joe. The man was very brusque, and reminded him of some of his old superiors in the SADF, which he was fine with. He snapped to attention as he spoke, resisted the urge to shout hello back, and listened intently. Very much changing his demeanor in a heartbeat from happy go-lucky to serious all in the span of a few seconds. His shrink had said that mood swings were consistent with PTSD, but Garret just said it was instinct trained in him to switch into what he called. "Warrior Mode." But he quickly got out of his head so he could listen to the instructions. Trying to avoid getting tossed around like a salad when everyone moved to check tent assignments.

When he finally got his assignment, and a good lay of the land from inspecting the map. The man happily gathered his things, and went to his tent. Where he picked a cot closest to the exit, so he could be the first to leave in the morning, as well as if anything were to happen he'd be the first to get hit, and not his comrades. He secured his things away, and waited for his other tent mates to show up. So he could give them a proper greeting from South Africa. Which was usually a hug, and some kind words.

In hindsight, he should have seen this coming.

As a young man, Isam had thrown himself into his work. When he joined the Afghan Armed Forces, he was nothing but a farm boy, stricken with poverty and misfortune. Some things didn't change. He was a hard worker, and that's what gained him attention from his officers. He didn't have a social life to distract him: no family, no lady at home, no kids. When the other men went into town to drink and screw around with escorts, Isam was busy at work. It was a coping mechanism.

He never really noticed his lack of desire towards the women that often threw themselves at his unit, knowing that they would have money to pay for their services. Others did, but they probably figured it went along with his reclusive personality. A few years in, Isam sported the title Second Lieutenant. Shortly after his promotion, he met Amid.

Amid was a Captain, and possibly just as broken as him. They bonded over their shared past: a home town that was destroyed by evil, greedy men; a childhood stolen. If Isam was smart, he would have ignored the feeling of hope Amid instilled in him. But each time they spoke, the man tugged at his heart more and more. At least the feeling was mutual.

They kept their growing relationship under wraps for three years. They were both well liked, valued members of the unit. Their men didn't want to believe the rumors. However, that ended when Amid punished one particularly disruptive private. The new recruit was defiant, and sought to discredit the Captain. He was looking for dirt on Amid when he stumbled upon them, and quickly went to report their crime.

The men were outraged. How could they do this? How could they defy their beliefs? It was startling how quickly the unit turned on them. Amid tried to regain control, but he was no longer their Captain in their eyes. They were beaten on the spot, then bound, dragged out into the blazing desert, and beaten some more. Isam couldn't remember most of it. He remembered pain, the scorching dirt on his skin, and the pleas of Amid as the life was torn from him. If Isam hadn't have lost consciousness, they probably would have shot him too.

The next thing he knew, he awoke in a tent. A white man he didn't recognize stood over him, speaking to another. Isam spoke good English, as he had served as a translator for his unit. They were discussing what to do with him. Should they take him back to his own people? Should they take him to the nearest town? They assumed that he and his partner had been ambushed by insurgents. When Isam was able to speak, he protested being taken back, but refused to say why. He offered a deal: he would be their translator if they would let him live. His loyalty to his own people was broken when they killed the one person he loved.

The mercenaries had agreed to this deal, and over time, Isam proved his worth. They were amazed by his uncanny ability to pick up any weapon and use it like it was an extension of his own arm. After a few months, it was suggested that he go to Camp Sunshine to be properly initiated into the Sundown Company, whom they worked for. It didn't sound like a bad idea; maybe even a second chance.

That was how Isam found himself on a rusted out bus in the middle of the jungle. He remained silent throughout the trip, and when they unloaded, he quietly listened to the man named Joe speak. Once the crowd around the bulletin had dispersed, he approached, found his tent, and headed that way.

Isam didn't have much. His duffel bag contained a couple changes of clothes, a comb, toothbrush, and a few other essentials. All of his worldly belongings. He approached tent A and shoved the canvas flap aside to step in. There was another man there, whom he silently nodded to, and then tossed his bag down on the nearest cot.

---

---

The little space between bodies within the bus was occupied by the dense humidity, leaving little air for the lungs to steal for themselves. Rivulets of sweat went unmanaged and soaked through the occupants clothing, attaching the fabric to their frames. The undeniable scent of body odor had begun as a faint undertone, but was steadily growing to a more offensive level with each raise of an arm or shift in a seat. The seemingly permanent curl of Bonnie Carter’s upper lip was enough to show her strong discontent with the situation.

The heat and humidity? She could handle that without issue. Louisiana would laugh at this heat index and her hair was a mess with or without it. The cramped seats? She had lived in a van with her family that a sardine would feel cramped in. But this smell. Her eyes flickered occasionally to the men surrounding her, as if accusing them, before landing again on the rust spot near where her right shoulder was pressed against the wall. She had been picking meticulously at the area for a majority of the ride, her vividly red fingernail lifting the textured edges of the corrosion until it became flush with the unaffected metal. She had curled her legs beneath her small frame and had forced her small pack deep into the space below between the seats. The bag was light enough, as its contents were only those that had been deemed absolutely essential to a through-hiker, but even its minor presence on the young woman’s lap had grown to be a discomfort. She had attempted to position her head comfortably in every imaginable way, but the neverending jolting and jostling of the vehicle made rest impossible. Not to mention the guy two seats ahead that had made it his mission to share his life story with the entire lot of them.

Bonnie was one of the last to step down from the bus and therefore found herself lifting up onto the tips of her toes in an effort to peer above the mess of people that had already congregated in front of her. Clean shaven heads, trimmed edges, gelled side parts. She spotted them all, but no hair styles that were definitely or stereotypically feminine. It had been ingrained in since she was a child that should she be in need of help, she should find a woman. Should she be lost or uncomfortable, she should find a woman. A drunk night at a bar in San Marcos and a woman bought her a cab home. A woman paid for her groceries when that month’s paycheck fell short. Perhaps it was wrong, perhaps it was falling in line with a corrupt societal expectation, but still Bonnie searched for a ponytail or bun in that moment.

Joe’s voice was clear even from the back of the crowd and his direct instructions were appreciated. His subtle reassurance that he would offer a level of protection to the campers also provided Bonnie with something of a comfort. Bonnie filed slowly forward as others cleared, not understanding the rush that surged forward as the counselor stepped aside. She took that free moment of waiting to scan what she could see of the area, deciding quickly that the environment they were in was entirely foreign to her. The density of the surrounding forests left Washington state cowering.

Bonnie smacked at her neck and raked her nails across what she knew to be a new mosquito bite. “Do we get to leave if we contract Malaria?" She muttered just below her breath as she scanned the bulletin board for her tent assignment.

Dustin

As the packed bus made its rough journey to Camp Sunshine all Dustin could think about is his mother. Why did she agree to move to the city, but then take her own life on the moving day? He could have began a new life with her. He clenched his eyes shut trying not to cry in front of his comrades. It's only been a few days since the suicide. If he already began to cry before they even made it to camp he would be seen as weak. While his eyes were shut the moment replayed in his mind. He saw the sunshine illuminating the perished crops and gnats dancing around in the air. His heart began to ache when he remembered the warm breeze as a loud clap exploded through the sky. As he felt the tears coming up through his stomach a mans voice distracted his thoughts. Something about South Africa and the weather. Dustin quickly wiped the moisture away from his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that the men pressed up on both of his shoulders wouldn't notice. The smell of body odor didn't affect Dustin much due to his time on the farm dealing with fertilizers and animals.

When the bus rolled to a stop the man who talked about South Africa was the first to jump off. Dustin stood up and waited for most of the people to exit before grabbing his things and making his own exit. His legs still felt shaky from the rough bus ride in combination with his close break down. As Joe spoke Dustin slightly smiled. He saw Joe as the man who will allow him to begin a new life. With that, he felt excited for the camp activities to begin. Dustin analyzed the bulletin board for a little while longer than the other campers. He never got a good education with the death of his father and being the only farmer. When Dustin entered Tent C he noticed two bunk beds, one of which had a windbreaker on top. He walked to the unclaimed bunk and climbed on top, leaving his belongings under the bottom bunk. As Dustin laid on the very firm mattress his eyes began to water. He could finally let his mind wander and think about the tragedy, now that he was alone.

The young woman peered out the window. Nothing but thick jungle for the last few hours. And the humidity, she couldn't possibly forget about that. Liliana had been fortunate enough to snag a seat adjacent to the window, though she was sandwiched in from the other side by some muscled man. What little breeze managed to find its way inside did nothing to help, the suffocating feeling not leaving her. Sure, she was used to living in a tropical climate for all of her life, but even the weather in the island wasn't anywhere near as humid. It was hot, but not in a torturous sense.

What the hell have I gotten myself into... she thought to herself, wondering for a split second whether they were heading into something much more insidious than they were originally led to believe. Lili had brought the only picture she had of her parents on the trip, and it was safely tucked away in the bag sitting on her lap with what little belongings were in her possession. When they hit a bump, Lili instinctively tightened her grip. At the moment, that bag meant the world to her.

Some time later, she noticed they were arriving at the camp. Lili couldn't wait to get off the bus; her body ached from sitting in the same position for so long and the trip had made her restless. She was dying to stretch her limbs, regardless of her petite frame she required as much space as the next guy for ultimate comfort.

The bus eventually came to a halt, and Lili stood up and followed the others outside. She pushed some wisps of hair away from her eye, curiously looking around the camp before a man stood in front of the group and introduced himself as Joe. Lili couldn't help but smirk. Okay Joe Schmo, so this is your camp... Lili listened to the man's instructions, which were rather straightforward and to the point. Somehow she was expecting something a bit more intense.

When the group was dismissed, Lili waited her turn to approach the bulletin board. She noticed she had been housed in Tent D with three other people, and she didn't waste any time heading in the direction the map had guided her to go to. If anything, Lili hoped to get a bottom bunk. Given her lack of height, she didn't feel like exerting much effort whenever she wanted to jump into bed, or jump out of it all the same.

It is so damn hot. The heat, the stifling humidity... All of this just screamed at Ramses to run away...

To be fair, Ramses comes from a hot place as well. It is just that the heat he grew up with and trained in is of the dry variety. This wet jungle heat is not doing him any favors. Sitting in a packed bus overflowing with what is essentially testosterone didn't help either. From his own perspective, every single passenger in the bus is a trained killer. He was one, and to be recruited into going to this 'camp' most likely meant that they were at least as good as he was, if not better.

Tugging at the canvas sack he brought with him, he started wondering about what the camp would be like. Would the organizers of this place really put a bus full of elite military personnel through group bonding activities? Fuck that. There isn't need. Everyone is trained to follow directions, to work as a team, to complete the objective through whatever means necessary.

The rickety rumblings of the bus came to a halt. They had arrived at their destination. About time. Ramses waited for his turn to fall out. Once on the ground, Ramses instinctively stretched out and groaned. Shaking out whatever rust the bus just gave him, he fell in line with the rest of his camp mates when a man named Joe stepped up and addressed them.

General military scare tactics. Don't die, don't run, my word is the only word. All that shit. Ramses had heard it a million times, well now a million and one. In any case, when the welcome speech ended, Ramses approached the bulletin board, and checked out his tent assignment. Tent D. Saving the best for last?

Heading over the his tent, he saw a short woman heading the same way. He approached, and spoke in a calm, but direct voice "Ms. Garcia I take it? I'm Ramses, it looks like we're sharing a tent?"
@Liv

When one of his bunk mates entered the tent Garrett stood up, but the man just nodded at him, clearly he didn't wish to be bothered. Poor guy must be car sick. Some people don't do good on bumpy vehicles rolling through dense jungle humidity. But he did say a. "Hello. I'm Garrett, heading to the range, have a good one." It was a quick barrage of words, and then a half wave thrown over his shoulder as he shoved open the tent flap, and went back out into the humidity.

In order to keep himself tip top, he did a quick jog to the firing range. Kicking up little puffs of dust as he went. Passing other campers, and giving them a half wave as he passed by. In a camp full of cutthroat killers, it does help to be the one who was polite to the others. As others were scattering to their tents he made sure to file down their faces for later. They'd either be potential allies, or bitter rivals as inevitably the camp instructors would pit them against each other. It was a common tactic of training schools to pit groups against one another. As he passed, he was trying to determine who was going to make the cut, and who would end up a wash out early. But they weren't his problem yet.

When he finally made it to the range, and inspected it. He couldn't help but chuckle, some things no matter where you went never changed. And firing ranges were one of those things. You could be in South Africa, The United States, or some jungle camp for hardened killers, to be turned into mercenaries. And it'd still be the same. He walked over to admire the wide selection of weaponry but he settled on just two. The M16A4, and the classic Kalashnikov. Most modern military's base their platforms on both weapons so practice with either could possibly be with either of these weapons. After getting a few extra mags of 5.56, and 7.62 respectively he hit the range, starting with the 25, to 50, to 100, then to 300 meter targets. Hitting his targets with accuracy with single fire, and burst fire. Both weapons were smooth, and he could see why they were used so often. But it didn't compare to his standard weapon of use back home. The camp was soon filled with the rapport of his gunfire, as he practiced his day away.

Sasha shoved the canvas tent flaps aside and stepped up onto the wooden platform the structure sat on. He noticed two people, a man and a woman, introducing themselves. His new tentmates, clearly. As the woman snagged one bottom bunk, Sasha tossed his bag on the other. There was no way he was climbing up and down that tiny ass ladder every day. He listened as the man announced his name, putting it away to hopefully not forget. Sasha opened his duffel bag and pulled out a clean tank top, and peeled the currently soaked one off of his skin. The fresh, dry cotton on his skin was a small and welcomed relief as he pulled the new one on, then slathered on some antiperspirant to try and keep it remotely dry and stink free.

He turned to the other two and stepped towards them to enter the conversation. "Sasha Belov," He said, his voice deep and his accent relativity thick. He held his left hand out to offer a shake, keeping his right arm to himself. The bionic limb wasn't always well received; some people were a bit skeptical of it.

"Ramses...pleasure meeting you. I'm Liliana."

She tossed her bag on one of the free beds and reached out a hand to introduce herself. "Looks like home for however long we'll be here." Lili then saw another one of their tentmates claiming his own spot before he started to change, a good move on his behalf given the densely muggy climate since she touched down in the early morning. "Liliana Martínez," she shook his hand as well, the accent alone giving away his nationality. She knew a few Russians when she was in school, learning a bit of the language from her dad but losing most of it without the practice.

Lili's gaze shifted when she noticed Sasha didn't have a right arm, an artificial limb taking its place instead, but she quickly looked away as to not be rude. "So we have a free day today, better take advantage of that," she addressed no one in particular, walking over to her bag to fetch her wetsuit. She figured she'd go for a swim and cool off as the temperature seemed to get hotter by the minute.

Alec walked down to the lake signing as he finally realized the predicament he was in. He either can stay here and becomes a dangerous mercenary or he can leave but most likely die. It was tough to choose but he decided to stay at the camp. He started to walk down the shoreline to pass the time and came across the dock. " maybe they have a boat? " he said to himself as he actually stepped on the dock. He was a little disappointed to see just canoes but was all together exited to see a water vessel.
He climbed into the canoe and grabbed the double sided paddle" may not be a sail boat but this will do. " he said and back treaded away from the dock. Finally getting a good ways away he started to canoe around the lake hoping it would clear his mind.