Natalie chuckled, in a very Russian way. If Putin were to laugh in front of you, that was what it would sound like, a small but token gesture, a respecting one yet menacing at the same time. This was not a woman to be crossed, not her or her partner. After all, while she was inside, she wasn't alone in this training work here. Hearing Victor drill the living shit out of the men outside was just so....Victor. Running in his armour, an M2 in hand and firing it into the sky like he gave no fucks. It was glorious to see it, and he was relishing it, ever since he got back. A chance to scare the living fuck out of anyone. Well, her training was a little more psychological, after all, she would take those that were up to scratch and thought they were unbreakable, and turn them inside out. Natalie was an Officer after all, she knew strategy and gameplay, not just an onslaught.

And that worked just as well on figuring out just where an operator breaks. If the heaviest load, the farthest run, the desert heat and the toughest challenge didn't do, she turned the tables. Made things always unpredictable, to really put them off, brought in the unthinkable. It was a Russian strategy, the same one that came up with the Little Green Men in the Crimea, the concept of an invisible foe that was seemingly populist, seemingly high tech Russian army. It was throwing up the smoke and seeing everything scared inside it. And it was these unpredicable sets of training, the rumours of which were always different from one man to the next. Just to see how they react. And see if any are leadership material, or capable of holding their minds together under every pressure imaginable to both body and mind, to lead under fire and in Blue Sword, that meant far more than just a firefight. There was also paratroop and seaborne training, which in her process, often led to the same thing, gruelling and forcing a very radical form of training development among the company that would generate rapidly deployable assault forces, that could fight faster and arrive quicker than some conventional forces.

Back to the matter at hand, she took a sip of her jug of water, funnily somewhat suited to someone of her disposition, as she sighed, nodding.

"Very well. I can still see you're not going to do that course, not today. But you'll do it this week. You'll get it alongside a lot of rehabilitation. In most normal cases, operators who have vision problems, or any limb loss are considered deadweight and are a tactical nightmare. The good news is, the rest of you will pick up where that eye left, I expect. You're not a superhuman, but train like one and you will get the rest of your overall tactical sense about you to your new normal, using your new situation not as a handicap, but as your normal. Frontline work is going to be different. I know you already know this, but it's worth repeating." She had to state the obvious, as she drank a bit more of the jug, looking out at the baking desert, before back at Eric.

"You won't need a lot of PT work, not apart from your physiotherapy and general training. We have a lot of VR modules running so you have that as an option. I know the virtual thing isn't the same, so Blue Sword has a tactical mockup, a pit and I imagine you're going to be running it more than most in the coming weeks. The reason I'm telling you this, is that you won't be in a strike team and assigned elsewhere." Natalie said to him, sitting up, looking across, her big paw-like and yet distinctly lady-like arms on the desk.

"You're rolling with us, motherfucker. You are going to be first witness to us. We need a support operative. We clean the way and we prove that there's no alternative to someone who can dish out fire and take it in equal measure. But we need someone to clean behind. Mop up the things that might not work. And that takes something that few Blue Sword operators could do."

"I noticed that while me and Victor have an incredibly high workrate, and very little stops us, sometimes we need a third man, in the shadows. We can't afford to lose momentum, not against an enemy that seems to keep shifting it's form. Your armour will be uprated but will be as light as that of what you wore before. Sometimes we'll need a urban marksman, or more anti-vehicle firepower, or both. Or neither. Whatever goes, whatever is needed. Your training was high end, but you'll go further, you will learn how to be unorthodox, because to keep up with our partnership, you need to understand that the rules do not apply. There are no operating procedures you may find sensible, and while you may have had some interesting missions, I can promise you, you'll see madness and the odds that no person would ever consider winnable. Where those odds and us are now the only option. Because sometimes we need to raise hell. And a certain someone, like you, to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, to see what we may have missed. There may be holdouts that we can't hit, either because they're vertical, or because they're entrenched somewhere we can't actually go. That's where you step in. You clean out whatever is behind us in intel, HVTs, in whatever shape you find them, and most of all, reconnaissance. We need to know what we're hitting, and what we've hit. Sometimes that might be unorthodox. You may be undercover, or you may be loud and pulling every string, using mortars, drones and anything at your disposal to augment our firepower, or hit secondary stations. Osprey excelled at finding mission critical evidence, and we've seen what The Network's got up it's sleeves. When you're wearing several hundred kilos of titanium, carbon and dragonskin, it's not that easy to find some things. But I think you might." Natalie added, as she loaded up the laptop, looking through, her Russian accent still piercing, like a dagger in the night.

"That is your chance at serving Blue Sword. I know sending you out with the grunts won't work. Seeing what I saw in your case file, that seems...unfair. Not worthy, and you'd find it out of tempo to your previous work. Too slow and methodical. So this is what you'll do, then. And...one last thing, Eric. Do not see this offer as plain sympathy. Do not let me down. Don't slack, or fall behind. You may think that special forces training was harsh. Or work in Osprey, too. You have seen what we can do, and if you want to run with wolves, you'll need to make sure you don't get left to the dark, deepest night to be eaten by shadows. There is no opportunity for failure, when the stakes are high and the operations that myself and Victor may be deployed upon are some of the most sensitive and risky that any operator would consider. The odds are barely in our favour, so any edge works to put your chances back. Don't perform to standard, don't get through the tests to prove that you're back at level, and we will see you out. There are no procedures for this situation, but shall I say...I expect you to follow the standard and adapt. Prove me right, and you will prove yourself able to stand tall with giants, and rain hell where they cannot." Natalie stood tall all seven foot and two inches of her, as she leaned in the table, looking dead in his eyes. If he wasn't a little bit scared, or at least, aroused, given how close now in view her watermelons in her tight BDU were, then not much would do it.

"Specialist Whitford...are we understood?" Natalie's voice cut like a knife, aware that this was as clear as could be.

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

Twelve Days Later
2200 Hours

Natalie stood on the overlook, the compact but tight combat course only audible by crickets, and gunshots. It was a final run of the day, and she stood with Victor, kinda wanting to take one last look before bed. Of course,

She wore a little bit of a different attire, given this wasn't as formal, a grey sleevless vest revealing her bare arms, musuclar in a way that didn't look jarring but elegant, a tattoo of her Spetsnaz days, the insignia of her old VDV unit on her shoulder and almost entirely covering it, clearly a work of art given this wasn't just a standard piece of ink. Her golden blonde hair still waved past her shoulders, in a blur rather than a neater form that sat past her neck and on her back and her fair face. Despite the cuts and war-weary look, she was still beautiful, a diamond in the rough- she clearly looked after herself, and even if it was a fairly aethetic touch, sometimes she could be feminine too, of course. If she wasn't large proportioned, you'd actually take her for a model, she had that look in her blue eyes, like endless lust and endorphins. And with the....features, that Victor adored, well, she was perhaps to him. Russian indeed. A pair of combat trousers, and again, her trusty MP412 at her hip.

Watching Eric breach through the final obstacle again, she pulled out the REX, looking to Victor.
"Hmm." She was a long way away from the target, at least 30m, with a revolver like this, you'd need a hell of an aim to hit the tiny metal plate. Natalie was not complacent with a shot, however. And as she watched Eric sweep the last set, she giggled, her large hand around the trigger, aiming one handed, pistol high, for accuracy.
"Time." She fired the .357 into the metal plate, the round flying through the length of the range and into the metal.

PING!

The last one fell, as the now iconic klaxon yelled off, Natalie looking on, audibly giggling into her intercom.
"I counted 62 seconds. Two seconds. You're close, but I got the last target before you had a chance, and you aren't getting that record. Again. I'm not telling you what I've thrown up on the range."

Letting him get back, Natalie gently pulled the breach open, sliding another bullet inside from a pouch on her combat trousers, rather than scooping the entire quickloader out, before clicking it back in, safety on.
"I'm so horrible." Natalie giggled, gently wrapping Victor, close against her form, kissing him on the forehead, looking as Eric headed back to the beginning of the range.
"It's been good back here. I like this a lot. But I can tell, we are gonna get bored. I need a little fun. You know....I'm beginning to think maybe I enjoy this carnage too much. I need to nearly die to be alive." Natalie said with a gentile and caressing tone, leaning against Victor, a giant to her giant, a warm tanned shoulder to lean on, as she gently put her hand along his back, up to his mohawk, gently running her fingers through, a giggle still running through her. This wasn't Natalie killing people. This was Natalie laughing, and it was infectious, her cheeks red.

"That is either a problem, or.....well....I don't think it is when I'm with you. We've got plenty more ahead of us to do. More ass to kick." Natalie grinned, as she reached up, kissing Victor once again, before stepping up to the fore of the structure, resetting the course.
"Once again! Go!" And with it, with Eric ready, she let him go and charge the course once again.

Eric sat and fished out his own water bottle. Uncapping it and taking a drink, as he did he watched the big jug that Natalie lifts and drinks from. He chuckles a little. he nods. And takes a moment to collect his mind and thoughts, looking out the window as Victor came back around, driving the soldiers ahead of him. He hummed, watching them he could see Victor shouting, his armor, not fully on as he was missing the outer layer of armoring, as it was being retooled and updated. But he still looked like a walking tank in it. and he remembered seeing picture of Natalie in her armor. He hummed softly and nodded slowly. He steepled his fingers. And listened as he heard Victor shout, "I'm just pushing you physically! You need to move past everything you think is your limit. We're going to ask you to do shit you wouldn't believe! Popping Osama was easy, gunning down an ISIS insurgent is simple. We're going to be asking you to go places that will make you tired. But I'm just doing physical! You wait until the Major gets her hands on you!" He laughs, and suddenly hollers, "RUN!" He then lowers the M2 to and starts to unload, scattering the soldiers to the winds.

Eric smiles, and nods, as if this galvanizes his nerve, "Physio, upgrading my skills, whatever it takes madam. You need a third set of hands, then I will do it. Absolutely. You need a long rifle. Or a close range clean up. Then I will do it. I've got the training madam. And will go to the next level to keep up with you and the Master Sarge." The resolve is clear. He's hurt, but the man isn't going to give up that's for damn sure.

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

The next several days were a riot. With the help of the base medics he worked at getting back to 100%. they squashed several months of physiotherapy work into a 2 and a half day hell course. Helping him to be able to get back to fit and full mobility. It also set him on the course to learning how to use just one eye and the rest of his senses to regain some semblance of depth perception. It starts awkwardly and was him groping at items, until he found them. But by the time he was ready to begin upgrading he was able to move nearly like he could before. He no longer guessed at distance and got a hold of his target everytime, if not completely the place he wanted to grab. By the time the VR training began he was at the point he was back in JTF2, steady and able. But not at the point he was when he worked beside Markus and his with Bluesword. The nearly solid 2 days of VR training had him almost to where he was before the operations.

It only got better and better after that. He began to run sims and kill houses. Starting small, interspersed with VR sessions to update his skill set. He used to be a front line medium infantry rifleman. Accurate, durable and deadly with a rifle in his hands. But with each run of the kill houses and the VR sessions he developed a new skill set. He learned how to be faster, quieter, not exactly a shadow. But he could sneak with the best of them now. His rifle skills expanded. From battle rifles and assault rifles to big bore, and carbines. He learned how to be alot more lethal in close range or at mid-range. Alot of his VR became operating in mis matched crews, training him how to move and support a heavy operator, or a team of heavy operators. In between VR training he retaught himself how to use weapons. It’s true what Natalie had said, usually someone like him who loses an eye, becomes dead weight. He is bound and determined not to let that happen. He trained his hands, arms, his whole body to make up for a missing eye. High reflex times got better. His speed, he bulked up abit in the process too. He still wore that patch over the stitched close and sealed eye socket. The tech boys were saying they were trying to put together a monocle system that would give him a sense of two eyes. But it wouldn’t be perfect.

It was learning how to shoot with one eye that was the hard part. His body he could prepare and retool all he liked, but it was retraining his eye to do it all again that created a problem. He worked hard to make it so he could do everything he could before. Standing with his back to a firing cubicle with rifles, or pistols or shotguns and go through a firing drill returned to being second nature.

And then there is the fire course was added into his daily routine. Usually in the evening or late afternoon. He’d make as many runs of it as he could. The kit would change day to day as well. Sometimes a rifle and pistol, or a SMG and a Shotgun, or a carbine and a marksman rifle. Or any combination there of. He ran it with a pair of pistols once, and another time with a pair of SMGs, he felt very Call of Duty that time and told the course master that which got a chuckle out of a people.

His times started long. five minutes, maybe a little longer, he quickly started to speed up, four minutes, three minutes forty, three minutes ten seconds, two minutes fifty seconds, on and on. He broke the regular soldiers record of one minute and fifty seconds only two days before the present day. And had been working to break the record sixty seconds flat. He had seen who had set the first one minute five seconds as Victor, then saw who took it away. And worked hard to try and get up there.

Now he made his way through the course. Alternating running, sliding, jumping and shouldering his way. He’d learned that anything goes in this situation. The bottom line is that you kill all the targets, in the time. His last run was sixty-four seconds. He knew he could do better. He powered through, the carbine he’d been given finally clicking empty. He ditched it, letting it swing on his shoulder, cinching the strap tight to his shoulder with one hand, while speed drawing, hitting the safety and wracking the bolt on the Browning Hi Power with his other hand. If this had been a video game or a movie, the lead stunt coordinator would be getting mad at him for pulling that stunt. But he just could not care at the moment. He put rounds into the next two targets quickly, head chest, tap tap, again and again. He leapt over a table, decking another target with a boot to the skull. His pace slowed only briefly, but he was keeping a a running count in his head, he still had time. The next section is the harder part. He had only a few moments to reload both his weapons and land single rounds on the plates. He had to do this clean.
As he came around the corner out of the course he dropped the mag of the Hi Power, flicking it aside, and slotting a new mag into place. Then quickly doing the same for the Colt style carbine. Shaking the magazine loose, and slotting another one in. He stepped up to the line, and began to take his shots, switching targets clean and true. The last carbine plate pinged and he put it on safe and let it hang as he drew the pistol again stepping up to the line. He was close he could taste it. So close. Pak pak pak, the targets rang as rounds bit into them. And then the klaxon. And the final plate heaved as the .357 round hit it just before he could draw a bead on it. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. The course lit up as the course master and his team quickly came out to reset the course. Eric popped a round free of the chamber, and put the Browning on safe. He looked up at Natalie and Victor on the rise above him, and grinned, “You did that one on purpose madam! I would have had that record if not for that slowing of my pace! I could have had you!” He shook his fist dramatically then made his way back to the start.

Victor hummed from where he stands beside Natalie. He’d been keeping his eyes on Eric, the man showed a great deal of skill and determination, despite the set back of his eye. He smiles, “He’s good. And if he’s running with us, he’s got the ability and the skills to do so.” He leaned back as Natalie pulled him close, and grinned, “oh that’s mean!” He chuckled out, “Oh so close.” He laughed, a booming laugh. Getting a searing look from Eric below. He canted his head and kisses Natalie’s neck, “You’re evil my dear. A Focused and pinpoint evil, but evil, and I love that about you.” He chuckled. And looked down as the starting alarm went off.

Eric bounced in place, jumping from foot to foot, he’d been handed a Deagle and the Hi Power. The Deagle tucked up to his chest. The alarm went off and he charged onto the course. Running for the kill house first as usual to clear out that section. He’d get it this time. The last run of the day. He’d do it he swears he would! The Deagle rose up in his hands as the first shot of this run sounded.

Victor nodded, “I think he’ll do. He needs a little polishing. But I think he’ll do.” Victor nodded then turned to grab a palmful of Natalie’s rear, squeezing firmly as he kissed her powerfully, “I need to go check on my newbies, they’re out on a night march. I’ll be back.” He peeled away from Natalie, giving her a wink, then disappeared into the night. Whistling a tune as he goes.

Natalie nodded, chuckling as she smirked to him, brushing some of her golden blonde hair aside, relishing him in moments like this. God, it was like there was nobody else quite like Victor, and Natalie had to adore him for that.
"Me too. I'll debrief him, then go do some weights. Figure like mine doesn't preserve itself. Oh, and you better be back for...you know..." Natalie chuckled, as she nodded to him, letting him go as he was going to surely raise hell for the recruits on their march.

Looking on, she watched him take the course, watching the stopwatch. She didn't commentate. She just let him tackle the course, and get on with it the best that he could. And he was doing better. Moving faster and faster. Using his body and thinking it through, he wasn't going to roll with the strike teams, but the way he approached it was methodical, thoughtful, not brash and physical. It was as if it was the world seen in one eye, and yet it was far more than enough to visualise, understand and develop a knowledge of a killhouse environment, that would no doubt be reflected in other ops. He was seeing how it would pan out, and no doubt, growing his sense of pushing on. Natalie made sure of that. He was going to succeed, and Natalie had pushed him that far now.

Watching as he slotted the final target, she whistled, nodding almost to her own self. 59.8 seconds. That...was good enough.
"Good! You're within the time.....that's enough for now, Specialist. Head to barracks, and get some rest. You'll be required at 0990 hours, tomorrow morning for further training. Looks like we can make an operator of you yet!" She yelled, smirking from the top of the metal platform, letting him leave. Herself, she headed down, and was aware that she had nothing else on.

-----------

Well, that was apart from pumping a pretty ridiculously sized kettlebell over her head, her new favourite little tool. Something to help her arms get used to the forces of the armour and grapple hook, this was something that she enjoyed, Natalie hurling it upward again, holding it like Athena would the weight of a shield, only as if it was about 100kg and made of solid fucking lead. She threw it down, making sure not to hit the floor directly, a crack in the ground making it clear what had happened last time. She sweated buckets, continuing on with the kettlebells, alternating arms, holding her arm high and for as long as she could, almost 30 seconds at time, just to make sure her arm didn't seize. It was a hardcore gym in here, and upping it to the barrels was often a fun pastime, something that she was never going to be as good as Victor at, but she had a go anyway, and sometimes threw him off his game. She was tough as hell, make no mistake, and knew that it was very, very difficult to stop someone like her. Many thoughts sat in her mind, the Russian mulling over the last few months. She'd nearly died, in fact, she had been very dead, sitting in a weird place, it didn't make sense at all but she had been there, and that was all that was certain in fact. But with a piece of metal sticking out of her chest, the scar still visible, it felt weird to know that she was still fighting, still able to recover.

The doctors had told her she made a remarkable recovery, like it was something in her blood to recover from. She recalled when Victor had been shot in Brussels, he had healed rather fast. They weren't supersoldiers, but dammit, knowing they could take a beating felt strange, it felt like her body was a weapon and in combat, it often was. Maybe it was proportion, maybe it was luck, maybe it was just being conditioned to be a fucking badass. The Franco-Russian did not know. Natalie was fully aware that it was what they had become to Blue Sword, physical manifestations, more expensive than a minigun or armour, because they were the people that destroyed things with very little, an enormous force multiplier to open up combat. And whatever was gonna try and hit them next, Natalie was certain, were not going to get an inch of her sympathy. Natalie moaned, in pain, finishing the routine, releasing a very Slavic roar, that was going to beat the soundproofing in here, letting out a blast from her rear to complement.

---------

The evening had settled at last, and it was late now, as Natalie headed into the barracks, namely, their own suite. Natalie had gone to a lot of effort to make this place cosy, and whilst small, it was was soundproofed, and difficult to intrude into. Because well, sometimes, they had some fun times in here, she giggled to herself, as she sat on the bed. Dropping the rest of her uniform, she slid her MP412 under a panel of wood in the bedside drawer, going down to nothing but her undergarnments from her PT kit, a tasteful black sports bra tightly containing her impressively sized breasts, and a simple pair of underwear to complement. The Russian tattoo could be seen better across her shoulder, and her muscle was impressive, you couldn't deny, this was a woman who looked like she could very much punch through a wall. She had to be probably one of the toughest in the world, no doubt with shoulders like treetrunks, and legs the same, albeit with a feminine charm, curvaceous and proportional, like being a peak athlete, albeit far larger and more...chiseled. She wondered if Victor would potentially be fine with her having something of a small tattoo to cover the scar, albeit the fact that it was right above her giant's puppies, as Victor would affectionately know them, would probably have to make it low key. It had been a long day, like many other, but she had a fiancee to impress, and sometimes, she liked to be a little more flirty, a little silly and a rare chance to just enjoy it all.

Hearing the door turn, she sat up, letting her hair go long, spreading her enormous legs across the emperor-sized bed, made to accommodate two giants no less, seeing Victor enter.
"Hello, gorgeous. It looks like it's been a long day for both of us. Well....let me start." With a flick of her finger, and whatever it had been she had set up, her bra dropped away from her breasts, as she stretched her body forward on her hind, waggling her finger at Victor.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbsBEb1ZxWA A little OST....)

Eric sat on a large box, at the end of the couse, looking at his watch with triumph. He'd done it. He'd broken that one minute mark. Beat Victor, the infamous Mohican-Norwegian giant, and Natalie, the French-Russian leviathan. He'd finally done it. But barely, by the skin of his teeth. He had to really work to get past his eye, and his few injuries still healing. But he'd done it. He'd beat the time. He looked up as he heard Natalie's voice. Just Natalie though he didn't see Victor. Not that it mattered. He nodded, "Made it..." he nods, "Yes Madam. Thank you Madam." He takes a deep breath then kicks off the box, going back to the course master to turn in the weapons.

It's praise, and it's what he'll take. Victor and Natalie seem to think they can make use of him by the sound of it. And that's fantastic. He'll take it. He makes for the barracks. Unzipping the suit he's wearing as he goes, airing out his sweaty flesh. It felt good, it felt like he was finally alive again.

------

The australian outback is something else entirely when you're out there during the night. During the day it's a hot hell. All the snakes, and spiders are out in force too. Australia has some of the most deadly, poisonous and venonmous creatures in the world. Snakes spiders, and a variety of other deadly things beyond that. so as these soldiers, new recuirts to Blue Sword PMC are out there, they are watching their feet as much as they are watching the area around them. But when you're under the tutelage of a man who's 7 feet and more, but can move like he's a 5 foot tall ninja well it pays to try and be extra vigilant. But these guys are fresh out of the army, where they didn't have to be smart and were just to do what they were told. And that's all the lot of them were doing. Watching and marching but not actually watching. So it started quietly. A dawdler at the back who thought this was just another night watch let out a grunt as he was pulled off the path. No one heard him. And Victor left him with two Blue Sword mercs. Two of several mercs he had brought along. Two for nearly every member of the 30 man squad. Victor had pressed his big heavy titanium gun stock club to the recruits chin and shook his head. The big man dressed in swatched black, grey, dark blue and brown. The stealth armor was something he had made back in Tier 1 Black. all the differant color broke up your form in the dark. Making it way harder to see you, it was old school stealth and field craft.

He grinned brightly then took off again. He'd take one of two of the mercs at a time. Catching one with the club, and dragging another off with a big hand over their mouth. He did this again and again until the remainder wised up. And they began to pay more attention. But they still fell. Though now the recruits knew something was happening. Some big preadtor maybe was picking them off.

It was down to the last 9, when they could see the lights of the PMC base in the distance. That's when they finally saw it. They saw a huge figure rise what it seemed like right out of the middle of the path. The leader called for guns up. Just nine recruits left really. Victor looked at them, then tapping the ground with his gun club. And a mass of light blazed on behind him, and around the recruits. The leader of the recruits sighed and tossed his gun to the ground. Victor nodded, "Nine of you left." He paced forward and stopped in front of them. The mercs he brought with him carting the ones he had taken in the field, out to show them to the reaminder, "Now tell me how you failed." He pulled the mesh mask off his face to lean down and look at the nine in the team, "Tell me, what you could have done to have stopped this." He grinned, "And make it good, because technically, what just happened here was that almost 90% of your squad was wiped out, by one lone assailant. With no shots fired and major casualties. So tell me how you failed, and then we can go home for the night." He let the head of his metal gun club hit the ground, pulverizing a rock the size of his head, and listened as the recruits, the ones alive and the ones "dead" all began to tell him what they had observed in this, and what they thought they could do better. Victor could see it now, they were beginning to understand, they had been pushed hard physically, too and past their limits. They had felt what it feels like to truly lose.

When they are done. Victor nods, "Get on the trucks. They'll take you back to barracks. You all might actually be ready for the Major. Might." He motioned, "Up you get! Let's go home!" He jumped into the back of a SUV, which took him back to base.

---------

He arrived back at base a short while later. He had went to the adjoining showers to their suite,private showers of course no one else had access, to get the dust and sweat of his own exertions off. So when he walks into the bedroom, a towel on...around his neck...he spots Natalie and hums, "Well, what's this then. A boxum, beautiful, powerhouse goddess in my rooms. What ever will I tell my fiancee." He grins as that bra fell he grinned, and did as Natalie beckoned. He was on her in a momnt, one big paw grabbing one of those bountiful breasts, his lips mashing into hers, "By the creator and all his blessing...I'm going to have you tonight woman." He chuckled as the two titans clashed. A clash in all the best ways.

The room was dark and empty, with few lighting elements, the four men hung up by ropes and their hands suspended in a stress position, as the other training soldiers occasionally gave a sharp kick to the stomach, and general torture. Stress positions, slow torture, fast, it had been all varied.

Natalie walked in, her boots making noise against concrete, as she slammed the steel door shut.
"Welcome to hell." She announced, each man wearing a balaclava, as she chuckled, shaking her head.

The men had been here long enough to deprive their sense of time, place, space. They had been hung upside down to disorientate and make them feel sick, and it smelt of it, they had been waterboarded and then fed and given drink, where appopriate. Even SF didn't do this sort of RTT training, this was pure masochism. But torture for information was often that way. The operators had been told to keep a secret, one that they could not spill under any circumstances. All they were to give, was name, number, and PMC. Any other details, were not allowed.

"You still do not tell us what we want to know. This is not a game. We are going to carry on till two of you go. You know what to say if you want to leave."

Taking one of the men down, she ripped his balaclava off, as he saw her large form towering above, her breasts clearly out, her hair back, this was Natalie alright. They hadn't met her yet, or known her at all. But now, she was playing a game with them. And they would not know what to do.
"Name, and number. And what are you."
"Mike, Dunn. 05241, Blue Sword."
"What group."
"I can't tell you that."
"What is your mission. You are special forces"
"I can't...I can't...tell you that. I'm not special forces." He stuttered, as Natalie shrugged, sitting down.
"You are strong, aren't you. You've seen all the games before, like you're a tough cookie. Can't even tell me a little? Let me tell you something. You're not special. Well, I am not playing a game you know. You realise, none of you are leaving until one of you cracks. And I see you as potential meat." Natalie chuckled, coldly, and very Russian-ly.

"So, let me try something else. Let me make this decision clearer for you. What you are going to do, is simple. We are going to see if you want this to end easier for you. And then, you get to leave. All you have to do, is take this, and kill that person there." Natalie offered the REX out as she pointed, looking across at the three balaclava wearing men, all the same as one another, all taken in the same state and of same height, feel, texture. It was a choice that would kill his best mate, or some other random.

Passing the REX to him, she broke it open, revealing a single round, clicking it back shut.
"You are going to shoot them in the head. Or, we are going to hang you back up until one of you breaks. You understand, you are going to spend eternity in this hell, and I will personally see to it that your worst fears are but mere dreams. If you do it, and you, and your friends, get to live. But that man must die." Natalie added, patting him on the back. The others quivered, shaking, gagged now so they couldn't even talk, and so, Mike had no idea who was who, or even if they were his friends....although Natalie knew that neither of the four had seen each other since they had been captured on their training.
"What's the problem?"

"I...I can't."
"Why can't you? You want your friends to suffer? I am offering you the chance, walk away, all but one of you will live. This is no joke. We are operating on our own jurisdiction here, and if you kill him....it will be a training accident. You'll get to end this. Believe me, we have months of this we could do and we could pick a new implement each day. I haven't even touched the ones that really hurt and leave an...irreversible mark." Natalie brooded, as the man took it tight, Natalie's presence enough to make him shit himself, and he had to do something. All of his SF training had not prepared him for her, and in that moment, he had to go with that. But it was a mistake, after all.

The man trembled, screaming out as he shot the round, yelling in horror at what he had done, as he looked straight at the other man's body, lifeful in presence, whoever it was he had to just do it.

The glass cracked, as Natalie shook her head. Putting the three just apart had worked as it always did.

"You are strong. But I knew we broke you already. A torturer would have gotten the same result far quicker. It just took you to betray your own. Guards." The other men ran up, and kicked him, dragging him away, as she tsk'd.

"Fucking useless. You don't remember the rules, do you. You are not a lone wolf. You are a pack. And you betrayed your group for your own perceived immediate safety and the implied safety of those you haven't even seen. You have no idea what I could have done. I ensured of that." Natalie added, as the other three shook in fear, Natalie looking on. The rules were simple. While the weakest in the pack would have to accept that they would drop away, this was a decision making process that had been made by someone. The man he could have shot could have been the one carrying mission critical intel, a civilian hostage, or even a head of state. Under a balaclava, and the circumstances, Natalie had briefed them about all of it, and he had given up to that.

"One more of you will go. You know the safe word if you want this to end. Only two move on, no exceptions. We will turn you to ash if that is what is required."

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

Natalie giggled,
"I only expect the best." She purred, letting him onto her.

After the steamy clash, Natalie lay in the sweat and juices, only close by his side, only looking on as she held him and he held her tight, up against each other's enormity, as she looked on.
"This never gets old....you really had something special tonight." Natalie giggled, as she rolled about with him on the enormous bed, looking into his charming Nordic eyes, breathing gently as her chest pushed against his.
"Hmm....I needed this."

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

The three were there, as Natalie walked in, the men interrogated, and their stories were sticking together still, just about. They were bullshitting their way through and slipping intel slowly, exactly as trained. And none of them knew who either was, strangely enough, given they were isolated on their own on different exercises. They were sleep deprived, and tortured as legally as they could be, but of course, within an inch of that rule. This was soft for the real world, but it had done the trick, and it had weathered them down mentally.

This was getting further into the tests, it was one that isolated the men from the boys. In a real situation, nothing like this would occur, but this was a psychological test, and one to simply weed out a team's potential capability to survive. Right about now, they had gone through the absolute worst. Including one tool called "The Elephant", a gas mask hooked up to a safe-ish CS gas supply, that would make them cough and nearly lose any breath they had, it was far worse than Tear Gas and it was meant to drive them mad and cough up their lungs. That and the loud Elvis Presley music on repeat, sure you may have thought it was good once, but imagine playing that to someone, about 500 times and more, over and over again, same song, same fucking time, and literal torture begins. But they had survived that. This was a good bunch indeed.

Each balaclava was off the men for the last two days and they were together, as they were given water, and food to eat, respite. And they all sat on the floor, Natalie towering above.
"You haven't been compliant. You still won't tell us what you were doing. And your stories are bullshit. You aren't telling us enough, and you are holding back on us what you do tell us. You clearly think you're strong to not be gassed. I have better things to do with my time than waste it on you inhuman sacks of shit. So, I think it is time we changed this little show a little."

The two other men looked on in shock, as Natalie sat down, her huge body still putting her at standing height almost above the three on the floor, as she pointed at the middle one.
"You. Tell me. What were you doing on exercise."
"We're contractors defending a convoy, we got lost. That's all." The man mimicked her slow talk to keep her on his side, as Natalie nodded, chuckling.

"Really."
The woman next to him on the right looked on, listening to the story, as Natalie turned her gaze to her.
"You. Sugartits. Tell me, is that what you did?" The girl looked on, as bloodied and bruised as the other male operators left.
"Yes."
"And you, dipshit?" She pointed to the man on the left, as he nodded.
"Yes, that is what we did." He replied, as Natalie shrugged, sighing.
"Really? You're not special forces?"
"No, we're just contractors." The girl replied, as Natalie tutted.

"Despite all the evidence, you tell me that. Every weapon or tool we showed you that we found on your person. That's Special Forces. And you're bullshitting when you tell me that they give it to you. That is you all over. I can't gas you any further, and waterboarding just won't be very fun. That is next on our list. But I have something better. So, what if I told you I had your fourth man, outside. The one that betrayed you." Natalie added, as they all wanted to raise eyebrows, looking on. It dawned on them what happened. It was him, and they had heard it, the man that nearly had them all. He would have killed one of them. And Andrew had no idea who was left, after all. This was the worst of torture, and normally, was toned back a little. Natalie enjoyed it because this was a little more...extreme as a version went.

"You think we dragged poor old Mike out off the course? No, we left him on the rack because he's a sack of shit, right? I'll let you do anything you like to him. But first, you need to tell me what you did."

None talked, as Natalie shrugged, looking on.
"Do any of you, know, Mike? Mike Dunn?" Natalie asked, as they looked as blank as they could.

"See, I think you all do. And if you do, you'll want to hurt Mike. Bring him in." She notioned to one of the guards, as the door opened again, the man dragged in, without a balaclava on. He was clean, wearing a shirt, trousers, he looked well for someone who had been tortured to beyond belief. The three kept blank, but beneath, they wanted to murder him, they fucking hated him, and no doubt, while Mike wasn't around, his role in this programme was not yet complete.

"This is him. See, I don't like him either. He fucked you over. Once he was willing to kill one of you, now here he is. He fully co-operated with us and ratted you out. He may have failed, but he is going to survive. I suppose it's lucky he missed." Natalie lied, but knew they were so insomniac to hear the glass break, they wouldn't understand.

"And what's worse, I think it would be fun to let him have some food. Mike, you like caviar, don't you?" She asked, as he quietly nodded, out of submission still.
"Good boy. Take a seat." Dragging the table effortlessly, Natalie put the table by Mike, noting to him to sit. The guard came in, with a plate of food, bringing it to him.

"Mike co-operated. He betrayed you, but look at him. He is cleaner and fitter. Maybe he won't have a chance in life, but he doesn't have to worry, because he's finished and has nothing to lose. Unlike you three, dirty, fuckheads. Who we will carry on with because you have everything and are willing to let each other suffer, rather than give up. You are putting more pain onto one another and it will not stop till one of you snaps As for our guest.......Mike, let me ask you. What is that like?" Mike was speechless, as Natalie leaned on the table, looking at him.
"Is it good?" Natalie asked with a burning and psychotic grin, as the man remained silent, Natalie brushing the plate off the table with an astonishing amount of force, the place smashing as the caviar went onto the three men.

"He doesn't fucking like it!" Natalie roared, flipping the table over Mike's head, as the man sat there, utterly terrified, his ordeal not yet over.
"You know what.....I think I want some entertainment. Tell me now, you don't know him. So it's okay if I walk away, leave you three uncuffed, and him here." Natalie grinned, as she walked up to him, Mike standing up and yelling, as the guards kept a hold of him again, Natalie walking over to the three, and looking back, quietly whispering.
"If you want to have your revenge, I am letting you. He betrayed you. And you told me you don't know him. What do I believe?" Natalie asked, as the three looked on.
"You know, we've hurt you enough. All this torture. All this pain, to see who breaks. But Mike, Mike, he broke the easiest. We think he deserves justice. And we won't give it to him, if you tell us that he has nothing to do with you. He will walk a free man into the world and they won't know an inch of what he did in this room. I mean, then he's innocent, according to all of you. We'll let him out and he'll carry on living. Knowing he could have killed a man, or Sugartits legally." Natalie whispered quietly into each of them, giggling as she did.

"Maybe I'll let him fuck me afterwards too. I bet he would like that. I mean, he has a mighty big cock for such a pussy." Natalie stood again, looking at him, chuckling madly, as she stood, walking to the back of the room, all three without cuffs now.
"What a reward for such a coward that would be."

Out of the three on the floor, there was one that looked into Mike's eyes the most, as he stood, screaming and throwing a punch, seriously hurting Mike and breaking his nose, seriously done with this shit, and broken entirely, as Natalie yanked him back like a ragdoll.

"Well. Seems like someone broke cover. Let your rage take hold. And because of it, you broke your story, because you know someone who already lost, you admitted to knowing them for your own personal bidding. You shouldn't know this man. And yet you do, even after he tried to kill you, because you like revenge. Sugartits, Dipshit, you seem to be the only two left. You, get the fuck out of my face. Guards." Natalie prompted another pair to take the man that was dragged by her, and the two, including Mike, left the room. Shutting the steel door, there were no guards left, only Natalie, Sugartits and Dipshit, as she had affectionately named them.

"So, you were strong. You knew that no matter what, you couldn't betray the mission for your own feelings. You held it together for the greater good, knowing one of you would give in eventually, rather than betray one another for pure survival, or seek revenge. You weathered some of the most horrible gas techniques, we have left you in the sun with balaclavas on, starved you, hung you, we have done the worst we can legally do to you. I bet you're both milimeters away from cracking. The good news is, in the real world, sick women like me don't often torture people this way. The bad news is, they'll waterboard you, and torture you far, far worse. Then, you really will need to spin some bullshit a little faster. Are we clear?" The two remaining contestants of this group, the two operators, one male and one female nodded. They had passed the last test, and were cleared for Blue Sword's Recon training, the last step up on a ladder for them that had been a long, long time coming, and the scariest RTT course in the world. Beyond Victor's training already, this was the last part, the last component that slid in, for the moment at least.

"Well done. The course is complete. You have been physically broken, mentally pushed, and psychologically conflicted. And in spite of all these knives, you have made it count when you have to. You kept to your story and whilst everything you just saw was fake, I understand there is a shock to the system. You won't be working together on the same team, for starters, so do not worry about what ifs. You'll receive psychological recovery to help you piece the events together, and everything we did and saw in you was monitored on cameras, by a team of doctors and psychologists who understand torture and power dynamics. Everything we did to you, we did to break you down and we would have pulled you out immediately if we saw an extended risk to any of you. But we saw the reality with two of our candidates. And the four that initially gave in, well, they got what they had coming to them. You are here now, the only two who could hold your minds together, hold your emotions back, and make the right decisions under pressure." Natalie added, as she finished, offering both a hand, the guards walking in, and helping out, to treat them and look over them after that ordeal. They were weak, broken, finished, but they were through the line.

"Welcome to Recon."

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

Two Days Later

Somewhere near Thule, Greenland

The sled was pulled along as the Huskies yapped, the older man behind on skis, a rifle over his shoulder, and a warm, traditional Inuit garb on him, sealskin and some modern warm clothing on, the skies completely sky blue and the horizon filled with nothing but white.

The man stopped, as the Huskies fell silent for just one second, the man chambering the Lee-Enfield on a stop here. The distant figure of a stray polar bear in the distance that he had scouted long ago wasn't going to survive. Not with this shot.

It was clean to the head, and whilst a bear was normally an incredible creature, the hunter had slain it in one shot. He wouldn't tell what his secret was, but it was really hollow point-style .303 ammunition, rather than his aiming skills, which were still rather excellent, from about 200m out. Stepping away from the sled, the whole thing tied down to the ice, he walked over, quiet and breathing white steam from his mouth, knife all ready, and his tools on his back from the sled. A Polar Bear could yield a lot of meat, and it was meat that could feed his entire family, friends and neighbors. The scene was one of hunting this thing for days and days, and it came down to barely two minutes of focus and stalked concentration.

But as he walked, a greater leviathan was around.

The sight of an enormous AN-234 flew low over the ice, as the Inuit man looked on, the sight of the jet kicking up ice, even though it was at about 500ft, as he covered his face from the residue and debris. He swore, as best as you can in his dialect Greenlandic Inuit, and watched as it was suddenly followed by six SU-34 Flanker aircraft, braking from high speed as they flew on break around it, into the distance. The man knew his bearings well, and knew the only thing west of him, from this point on the ice, was Thule Air Station. The American airbase in Greenland. A nuclear warning site.

Victor hummed sitting just outside the Giant's Arsenal. He had a disassembled Denel Y3 AGL in front of him as he's trying to tool it down the already stubby AGL so he can use it in confined spaces. using short distance fragmentation shells he could turn it into something of a massive shotgun. He looked through the barrel, and saw a bunch of the most recent grads of the initiation program headed this way. Some of them sported bruises on their faces, others were bundled up with bandages. They looked like they had been through hell. He started to put the Denel together carefully as the very trimmed down class approached. He slotted the barrel back into place, and began to rebuild the Denel. He watched as the class stopped. There were 50 of them when he got them. When he ran them through their paces. Pushed them to their limit then forced them to go further. As the 8 new recruits, broken, beaten, then rebuilt and recovered line up he sets the half built AGL across his lap. Finally one of them speaks, if she wasn't covered in bruises she might actually be pretty. In that fine boned, muscled way military women are. He's sliding the gas system back inside wen she speaks, "Sir...we..." He cuts her off, "Hang on there. What does three up, three down mean to you?" They stopped and realized that all this time they had been dealing with a NCO. Victor groans, "I never accepted a commission kids. Never wanted it, not that it wasn't ever in the cards. just never took it." He sets the Denel aside and stands, towering over the small group of newly accepted Blue Sword Recon operatives, "You all made it in, that's good, that's good." The small group nods and salutes him, "You may not be an Commissioned officer, Sergeant Major, but it's thanks to you we passed. Without your lessons some of us wouldn't have pulled through."

Victor looked at them all then started to laugh. A big booming laugh, "I didn't do shit. I took you through the PT of your life that's all. Everything you needed you already had." He grins and snaps a salute off, "Most of you outrank me officially. But in the pecking order of this outfit I'm still top kick. Now get your asses out of here. I got work to do and by the looks of you, you guys all need some time to recover." When they try to salute again he waves them off, "Get the hell out of here." As they turn he calls to them, "Good job...all of you."

He went back to working on his Denel, popping a piece of rat root into his mouth to chew on while the work continued. The new operatives thumping off to get some rest. As they went off, a runner came from command. Victor looked up then got back up, setting the Denel down. grabbing the ipad he looked at the order on it, "Well...looks like we're getting the band back together." He nods, and hands the ipad back, "Report to command that Operative Brute will be prepared for jump off." He grabbed the last bits of the Denel and headed inside. looking over to his suit, "Ohhhhh boi! This ought to be a good way to catch the bugs."

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

Elsewhere on base Eric is receiving help in pulling on the new sleek, armored and grey black operations suit. This had been created especially for him with the idea that it's armored enough that he can stand a straight up fight for a short time, but not a bulky thing so he can go stealth if he has too. And move far quicker then the two behemoths he's likely to operate beside. It's a latex and leather derivative cloth, making it form fitting and with a liner that will wick away sweat so it won't end up uncomfortable.

With a grunt he gets into the suit and starts to clasp and zip it up. As he's doing that half naked for the most part a private comes in looking around in confusion. So far only Victor, Natalie and the commanders have been into Eric's arsenal and armory. He looks up and over at the young woman with a surprised look on his face. Walking over he pulls the young man in, "Alright lass, I suppose you're here for me, what's the situation then?" The young private, likely almost as new as the recon group that just went through training with Victor and Natalie salutes. And well let's face it the young woman can't help but get an eyeful of Eric's bare chest. She gulps, "Uh sir..." He shakes his head, "Eric will do, out with it." The young woman nodded, "Sorry sir...orders...from top brass." She held out an IPad to Eric.

Eric took it and nodded, reading the message, "Hmmm I see. I'll be ready. When Natalie and Victor are ready to ship so will I. Notify the administration that I stand ready. Now my eyes are up here girl. Look up here..." The woman erps and snaps her eyes up and away from the scarred chest of the older operator, "Sorry sir..."

Eric gave a snort, "Meet me in the mess later. You look like you need someone to talk to. Now get. I have to finish up here." As she's walking away, and Eric is pulling the top of the outfit on he can swear he hears, "No abs...don't go away..." But before he can turn to ask what that was all about he can hear her running like the wind.

He can only shake his head, and gets back to his outfitting.

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

The view through the scope is myopic. slightly fish-eyed as well at this distance. Nolan lay behind the Tac-50 rifle, his eye pressed lightly to the scope. The target, a steel and paper target about a foot and a half wide by a foot and a half tall is set out there at about 950 meters. He's shot further, and hit, but this is still something in the windy conditions on this Middle Eastern firing range. He gave a growl as he heard the words of, "There's no way in hell..." Carl Cardinal is right behind Nolan looking through a spotters scope. Nolan hummed clicking the ranging dial on his scope a few more times, "You might...think that, but then...you're infantry...and I'm a recon sniper."

Carl chuckled, "Case of Bud says you're going to miss low and to the right." Nolan grinned and licked his lower lip, "You're on Canuck." He steadied his rifle, the bipod rest set level. He looked through the scope sight, waiting, observing the play of wind and sand. From where he's laying he can tell there is atleast 2 wind changes on the way to the target. So he had to aim this show in a special way for it to catch one wind, then the other in another way to push the shot off course then back on course. It's just a matter of getting the right hold. Carl pulled back and away to look over at Andrew and Ross behind the firing line, "There's a case up for grabs here boys. Want in on this? Two cases? One case each per teammate? What's it sound like to you..."

Nolan chuckled, "Gonna let me take the shot anytime soon?" He felt he had the hold now, and just waiting until everyone shut up. He chuckled ever so softly.

Thule, Greenland
0600 Hours

The defensive garrison was overcome quickly, and whilst the alarm sounded across the airfield, the SU-34s had suppressed any radar-guided installations, and ground forces had seemingly come out nowhere, overwhelming the minimal base defense. Any ground aircraft were destroyed quickly, as the AN-224 was barely able to land, sliding it's fat hulking metal ass across the long tarmac runway, designed as an emergency stop if a Space Shuttle had to land here. The snow blew off, the runway barely clear, the Su-34s remaining in flight, to defend and protect the area from any radar threats. The Network had taken the airfield, and now, had to enact it's own plans. Any remaining Americans were taken hostage and the weather was closing in, with a snowstorm on the way. The local village had been cleared out, and further hostages taken, keeping them indoors. They would be useful, at the least, as the sun barely poked above the ocean, the middle of the season showing signs that there would be at least a 12-hour cycle, rather than perpetual night or day.

Why take Thule? That was simple. The militants there did not question, but were acutely aware of the inteligence potential, and the radar capability of the station. It was a nuclear warning station, but more than that, a radar sensing station, and unbeknown to many, had far more to do. After all, getting to Thule was nigh on impossible for any paramilitary group, and defence had been seen as impossible. But this one was better equipped, better armed, and more prepared than any to make its incursion. It was going to mine the data, and kill the hostages when it was done. The Arctic was a big place, and while every nation would hate them, including even the Russians, they had their places to hide. They had their strategy for the endgame.

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

Natalie headed into their armoury, a flat grey vest on and a pair of jeans, which were a little more casual than her officer's garb. Her hair was a little more arranged, with an undercut being something she requested for herself, her hair a little more arranged at the back, shortened up a little. It was there for one reason. Operation time, as she saw Victor come in.

Her carbon-black suit sat there, attached by the set of connectors that held it to the roof, looking like it would almost pull in the ceiling, from the weight that it had. Of course, advanced composites and titanium helped, but the sheer size and armour was never something Natalie got over, the same as it was on Victor's, of course. The suit had been repaired and reengineered once more, to her standards, and it was ready to go again. A .50 cal, low-RPM and lightened GAU-19 sat in the suit's hand, as it always did, with an ammunition backpack a standard, but the harpoon in the left was a little more...well, retooled. While Victor had expanded his close quarters arsenal, she had changed hers up too, with something a little more interesting.

The harpoon was now a lot more powerful, with a tank of compressed air wedged inside the suit's innards, and could be charged throughout time passively, regenerating it. The tungsten-titanium cable was retractable with a motor, and what was more, was that motor was now actively powered as a two-way, meaning she could literally now pull people off their feet, rather than just use it as a giant skewer to go through multiple people at once, such was it's power. But she could also use it to pull the weight of the suit, and interestingly, it could pull her upward, by about a couple storeys, albeit on a strong surface in order to do so. It was ridiculous, but it could do it, and with a stronger motor, could be even better.

Of course, she had her classic blade, Athena's Wrath, at the suit's hilt. Shit like that made her chuckle. Here she was, charging in with a fucking stupidly oversized minigun, a harpoon, and a sword. There was little room for any other weaponry, but her twin .50 Deagles sat on the suit's chest, alongside a number of grenades, cluster grenades, smokes and other bits and pieces. It was an elegant suit of armour after all, the carbon-black and honeycomb-black making it look like something futuristic indeed, with the blue visor lighting up as she checked the helmet over.
"Ah, Victor. There you are." She said, looking across, standing by it's side.

"Deployment starts in one hour. Suits on, kit ready. We're headed to Iqualit, Nunavut, and we should recieve word on our further transportation from there to a situation at Thule AFB, Greenland." She said, looking at her suit's internals, before back at Victor.
"I just installed a heating system inside. I hope yours has one. Or is the big Bear gonna have to cuddle the Brute all the way there?" She asked, chuckling as she pieced it apart, grabbing the rest of her kit, packed in a ready-to-go bag for long travel and deployments, looking at the suit once more as she looked to Victor.

"Forces are expected to be advanced, Russian-styled, unknown numbers but ranges from 100 to 500. My people say it isn't them, and the last trace is an AN-224 flying from Murmansk Airport in Karelia on a standard commercial job. And they pulled a fast manuever on us, not even the Russian Air Forces found out about it, so we couldn't stop them before they left our airspace." She said, refering to her own contacts in the Spetsnaz, and what she knew. While it would seem like a feint attack from the Russians, it wasn't them, and she knew full well that with the co-operation and shared concern of the Russians against the militant threat, it had to be real, not some green men.

"Turns out, they were carrying two SU-34 aircraft inside, and two more joined from an unknown source. They went in totally undetected, and a chartered and unauthorised airliner took the rest of the men there. It's a hostage situation, we've got only rare reports that they've taken hostages, but have issued no demands. Weather conditions prevent us from knowing anything beyond an infrared satellite scan, and due to those, we can't deploy a significant number of soldiers, and the terrain is near-inhospitable, with a large urbanised component in the base itself. So the faster we are there to break open the party, the better. We're going to have our friends join us, which may help." She added, moving around swiftly, gearing certain stuff up, before ditching her vest, revealing her bra-containing chest. She quickly found her thermals, not letting Victor gaze too long, pulling them tight over her immense body and legs, her muscular frame clear through their soft touch, as she began opening her suit up.

"The rest we'll be briefed en route. But I would expect anything. Anti-air, anti-ground, anti-infantry, they could throw literally anything at us. We've got specific weapons packages available on the C17 out to Iqualit if we want to choose, so we can keep our options open till then." She added, knowing she was being busy, and that Victor hopefully could soak it up, although she knew chances were, he was probably still envisioning her boobs once more.

"You could say....we're going to have to stay frosty, right, Victor?" She said, giggling as Russianly as possible, as she began the process of sliding into the armour, the blue padded suede visible as she slowly slipped inside, sliding herself into the garb of an armoured titaness, feeling the exoskeleton in the legs kick and whirr up, the visor fire into life, the holographic blink and voice-based display picking up the user inside, and everything with it, Sliding her hands in, she clenched the suit's fists, and put her hands back, sliding her helmet off, brushing her blonde hair open, as the helmet pushed onto the back of her neckbrace, as she breathed out, moving slow, the armour in her hands feeling ready, and waiting for action.
"Fuck....I have missed this thing."

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

Somewhere at FOB Grimsby, Afghanistan

Andrew watched on, spotting device in hand, as he looked to the sniper, and back at Carl.
"You bet your ass he can. I'm not getting involved. You're gonna owe beer when he's done." He said, looking back down the range, then back at Carl, shaking his head, letting Nolan get on with the task at hand. Ross peered on, looking to Carl, as he watched quietly on at the snipers setting up shop in the FOB's long-range firing position.

Victor walked into the Armory, holding the rebuilt and lightened Denel with on single hand. Most people would have to carry the thing with a team of 2 maybe three, it's still a GMG after all, yet this is of course Victor Kanatario, touted to be the strongest man in the world presently. He hefts the thing up onto one of the long metal tables in the room, it comes crashing down with a crunch. He grins over at his finacee, "Well this ought to be interesting huh? Mission alert said Thule right." He starts to strip off his fatigues, not worried about who is in there with him. They've seen each other naked plenty of times. Soon he's slipping into a operations body glove. A tight fitting thing, that leaves nothing to the imagination really. It's tight and molds right to the Mohican's form. Forms a hell of a a pleasant bulge in front too.

He watched Natalie dressed as he prepped up as well. Over the body glove came thermal gear. He grinned, "I have a heating system good to go, though cuddling won't be complained about." He laughs softly giving Nat a wink. As she gave a run down of what they knew, he nods to it all. He slips on the gloves that help him move the gauntlets of his armor. he hums, "Thule...what the hell is at Thule though? I've been there, back in my Ops days. It's cold, icey and lonely. Temperture doesn't usually get above 10 degrees C, Barely 46 degress F. Nuclear and Radar systems aside, there's not alot up there. It's barely strategic in it's uses either."

Victor got to his feet after making sure his under layers are on. Then walks over, lifts himself up, and slides into the refitted and freshly tuned leg portion of his armor. As soon as his legs and pelvis are inside there's a hiss. And he lets out a little displeased grimace, as the systems within sync up to the underglove he's using then with a pop the bolts holding the leg portion snap clear, and with a crunch he hits the floor a foot below. He stands there for a time, humming softly then casually, takes a step forward, as easy as he was walking a moment before, "Ahhh good, mechanical muscular systems sync up near perfect. No noticable lag at all. The first step to full powered armor." He grins, then saunters, yes Saunters over to the upper body portion of the armor that's hanging on another set of hooks. He slips into those like he's slipping into a coat, the waist seals melding together, but he doesn't close it up quite yet. He instead turns as the hooks and bolts holding it up release. He was a seven foot tall god of a man a moment ago, rippling muscle under that body glove but now, nearly 8 and a half feet. He grins, "One small step towards a walking tank." He grins at his lover, "it has been far too long since we've taken a walk in these my love" He grins, almost maliciously.

he starts to seal up the front of his armor, "And people wonder why we're top kick here on base." All that remains is sealing up the sides and front of his helmet, he heads for his weapons first, looking at the choices, choosing his go too mini-rocket pods, axes, gun-stock club, shotguns and because he was just working on it, hauling the Denel up. He nods, "Shall we go and cleanse another part of the world?"

Grimsby Afghanistan

Nolan had eyes only for the target down range. And Carl who was sweating a little did too. Neithe rof them noticed the private running up to them from somewhere else on base with a sheaf of paper with information on it.

Nolan took a deep breath, several actually in....out....in........out...

Carl found himself mimicking the pattern. And then Nolan let out one last breath, sighted in, cracked his mouth open just a little then...

BOOM!

The Tac-50 roared. And the big bullet hissed off, Nolan remained where he lay, and only began to breathe again after the dust cleared from the shot but his eye remained on the scope. Carl watched through the spotting scope, "I lost it...I can't see the path." he whispered. And Nolan smiled, "Just watched the target." And as he says that, in the distance there's a nearly inaudible pop as the bullet connects. Center mass hold, heart shot in fact, would have been a kill no matter which way you showed it. The shot is perfectly on target. Carl's jaw drops, Nolan reaches up and works the bolt of his rifle, catching the spent brass as it slides free, and despositing amongst the other spent casing in a box beside him.

Carl grumbles and turns away throwing his hands in the air, "Mother f..." He walks off, grumbling to himself, raving about how he got played. Nolan rolling over and grinning, "You guys were right not to get in on this." He calls to Ross and Andrew, "He still owes me a case." he then spots the private, "Eh? Company, come on in Private." he rolls onto his back and grins, "music...sweet music." He grins as Carl still rants and raves about losing the bet.

Natalie was already smirking back, a shit-eating grin on the other titan's face, simply impressed. After all, her lover had a way of putting things and she couldn't help but agree, the weapon in her two hands heavy but worthwhile, a talent that she had for bearing the tools of her trade.
"Far, too, long. I agree. It is....something I miss too, no?" She said, her cutting Russian accent like fire burning on an ice lake, as she took the rest of her arnament, aware that if the situation changed, they might need to retool. The PMC's considerable arsenal, and no doubt their imminent forward operating base would at least help if that was the case.

Turning towards the exit, the noise of titanium and carbon-composite coupled with armour plating was echoing in the so-called bunker, Natalie's blonde hair tucked into the neckbrace a little more, her cold steely eyes already running the situation through her head. And she had much to think about, given the operation in place. He was right, Thule was mostly useless. The mostly part being important.

"You are right, it is mostly an signals intelligence, and nuclear detection site. It serves little purpose....or perhaps, it's the perfect location for a server farm you want out of any known view. After all, it's almost impossible to reach. Perhaps they are breaking the encryption as we speak, but to bring a force like that, must mean that there needs to be something greater at stake. Something so important they invaded a US Air Force Base and killed a lot of people, capturing the rest, and that worries me." She paused, turning the corner, the noise of the ammo belt clattering against her armour, as she looked back at him.

"I have a feeling we are specialist contractors going in for a reason, and that's because they don't even know themselves what the fuck we might be up against. They're too scared to send in their Marines or send more recon in of their own kind because they are shitting themselves it might go loud, or worse, to the public. As in, they lose a Battalion of hardened soldiers....they are going to lose whatever deniability they were working on up there. And they need it back, clearly. They aren't making a big...fuss about this, there's nothing on the news, nothing at all. It's dead quiet. Like we're going to go fight an invisible war. And for them, that's how they want this to be handled before it escalates." She said, her tone to the point, knowing what she had read in the file, the officer in her coming through strongly, stopping mid-way in the corridor, the two hulking titans occupying the tight space entirely, as she put her gloved hand on Victor's chest. The change from funny, half naked Russian giantess to hardened, Spetsnaz titan had been like a switch had flickered back to rest.

"Victor, I've never seen it go like this. Even sensitive operations for the Motherland are usually left to our own people. Whatever it is, I imagine we will be forced to not disclose what we see, or what we do, and that this ends quickly before they make their next move. The CIA and FSB will be watching and no doubt, will want whoever we blow into a billion bits identified and their networks exposed open. Perhaps they are playing all their cards at once, and we are about to go call their bluff. And that's on top of all of this shit we already do. We will have an enemy making their last stand, for whatever it is there, they might see worth in it to buy themselves time in whatever anarchy they plan. And that....cannot happen." She said, the last part of her phrasing harsh, almost to the point where even Victor's body must have had a little chill running along it, as she nodded, gauntleted hand still on his chest, before turning back, avoiding her ammunition pack swinging into him, leading the way out into the sun.

"I do not get uneasy so easily.....you know that. I imagine it may even give us answers on who these people are in this organisation, and end whatever they had. Clearly we stopped them, but we need more. And given what we saw these people can do, I am willing to tear them a new asshole." She said, her icy charm turning to a wry smirk, as she awkwardly took her gauntlet to chest, taking a pair of sunglasses. Whilst her hands were like claws in the suit, she managed to somewhat pull them loose from the armoured pocket and slide them onto her neckbrace's lip, where she opened it up with her mouth and pushed it gently onto her face. She had to say, for having several inches of armour along her arm and a couple at the hand, she was still impressed that she could find that dexetrity. There was even a pad in the fingers for using on her left arm's haptic pad, a smart move given it augmented her HUD too. Black wrapround sunglasses on, the Spetsnaz Major was ready, even knowing the fact that they were about to head to the antipode of the planet.

The sight of the runway was on the horizon, a number of Blue Sword operators stopping to see them both, as Natalie looked on to the two C17s parked up, ramps open, and Pandur II APCs loading inside.
"That's our ride. One on the left." She said to him, looking over, each step feeling like it was stamping a hole into the gravel, and Natalie had to admit, it had been far too long since she had been in this thing.
"We've got a long flight. Hey, we might still be able to cuddle, Brute. Even if it's more difficult." She giggled, sliding back her GAU to her side, walking onto the tarmac, and towards the aircraft, side by side with the only partner she'd ever choose to go into hell's kitchen with.

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

Andrew gave a soft clap, as Ross watched on, pretty amazed.
"Holy shit....." Ross commented, gently whistling at the sight of it, barely even able to see down the range that far.
"You are fucking bionic, or some shit." He added, Andrew chuckling, looking down at Nolan from his spotting perch on the sandbag.
"He is, no shooter I've worked with like him. Good stuff. Free beer works for me." Andrew chuckled, as he put his rangefinder back into it's case, looking at the Private that was running in, the sniper team and Ross still there.

"Captain, it's Merlin. He needs to talk, right now." He said, the Private a US Marine of sorts, maybe a runner, or one of the ones kept back in the reserve of the rotation. Either way, Ross didn't ask, as he took the paper the Private gave him, having a look. It was short and succinct.

"Fucking hell. Redeployment. Looks like our specialist skillset is going to the arse-end of fucking Greenland. Is this a fucking joke?" Ross asked, the Private looking on coldly, Ross being joined as Andrew peeked around the tall West Countryman's broad shoulder.
"It isn't.....damn. That isn't a designation me or Nolan have seen in years. Sensitive shit. Whatever it is, the spooks really did a number and they're calling 911." Andrew said, looking across to the other Canuck.
"We need to go talk to him. I'll get Carl. You guys go meet the boss and I'll meet you there." Ross said, Andrew nodding as the Captain headed over towards the Barracks, knowing he had to get Carl. There was little more beyond the fact that they were redeploying to Greenland, but the lingering thought of what Andrew had just said was in his mind. This was something peculiar, and whatever the fuck it was that was pulling them away from an active engagement site where they were as popular as kids selling lemonade on a hot day, was clearly something significant enough to cause him worry.

Victor made sure all the connections are in place one last time then shoulders the tooled down Denel, "So they are sending us in, to keep this hush hush, as major players in a side group, we and anyone else they choose to send in are going to be sworn to silence. So we need to be very very careful out there." He walked along with Natalie and with one big hand, closed the hanger door behind them. Just as the switch had been flipped with Natalie so is it also flipped with Victor. His normally passive but friendly face, has been switched out for a grim grimace across his face, eyes slightly squinted, darting everywhere to take in the details.

As the pair began to walk towards their ride, members of the PMC slowly stopped what they are doing. The new Recon recruits idling in front of their barracks are treated to what they hadn't quite seen of their trainers. Victor had pushed them physically past their limits and into new physical terrain. Natalie had pushed them mentally and morally into a new level. But they see now, the pair as they are when they are in that place that makes them the top kick of the Company. Armored out like tanks, armed heavily enough that either of them could take on an infantry battalion and come out on top, even a armored company would have a hard time against even one of them. And here the two of them are, walking across the tarmac like they owned the world. Victor spotted them and stopped only briefly to salute then then with a huge grin, flips them all off too. As they are boarding the pair can hear, "Top Ops! Good luck!" Victor hums and boards the plane, the ramp he steps on groaning under the five to six hundred pounds if not more of armor and weapons. He nods to Natalie, "Won't say no to cuddling, but in the end, we have a job to do. Let's go do it huh?"

----------

Nolan got to his feet, dusting some orange dirt off his arms and chest, the blast from the rifle had dusted him lightly. Making his way over he takes the PDA orders from Ross and looks them over, "Huh, this is extreme hush hush, who knows how long since something this black has been ordered. Look at this operation level Platinum. If I remember correctly ol' General Lawrence has a clearance level of Gold, so this is above even his paygrade." He hums. Goes over and grabs his rifle, packing it away, waving down a Corporal, "I know this isn't usually your thing son, but the team here is being called in for some sort of Heavy Op. Can you do us the favor of cleanign this up for us? Do this and I'll buy your whole company two rounds at the bar when we get back huh? I'm Sergeant Nolan, don't worry ask around and someone will point me out when we get back. Deal?" The corporal looked over at the only slightly mussed up shooting position then nodded, "Thanks son." He then ran off to catch up with Andrew to go see Merlin and get the skinny one what the heck is coming their way, "All the way to Greenland...didn't even know there was anything up there." He said as he pressed Andrew up into a jog to get there sooner.

Natalie giggled, chuckling as she took a heavy drop down into a seat next to Victor, sighing out heavily as she sat back in the heavy armour, clutching the GAU-19 onto the seat by her side.
"Oh yeah. I mean....this could be some world ending shit. But hey. We're the last emergency service. Someone else is gonna have to do this shit one day, I swear...otherwise we are never going to retirement. Hey, can't show fear when you're the Bear and the Brute, right?" Natalie chuckled, knowing the severity of how serious this was, and yet knowing deep down, showing fear was what was gonna undo them.

Besides, sleeping paranoid was never going to be good...until she let rip a sudden roar, chuckling as her blonde hair blew about for a second, the sudden updraft making her giggle further.
"If I keep this up, who needs a heating system..."

-----

Andrew nodded, shaking his head in confusion.
"Fuck knows, Nolan, fuck knows." The New Zealander responded in kind, knowing he couldn't give a great answer, not now he was running with the Canadian bionic man of a sniper. It seemed surreal, none of it really made sense to him. What the fuck was in Greenland? This couldn't be right, it had to be whoever the hell was in the group they were fighting these past few months, some serious, crazy black ops shit and even though Andrew wished he could say it wasn't for him, he didn't seem to really have a choice. Clearances like that meant you didn't dawdle asking questions, because whoever had issued it had already asked whatever was neccassary.

----

2100 Hours
Iqaluit Airport, Nunavut

The far-northern airport was usually emptied and devoid of people in the bitter cold of the winter night, yet it felt even more so, any trace of activity or hubub inside the airport emptied in place of a small, tight military presence. Even Natalie and Victor, who had flown all the way to Canada in the C17s had switched out to a V22 for this stint to Iqualit, as had the rest of the team that had switched over from Afghanistan. The snowy ground all around made for a winter wonderland, all apart from the thin strip of tarmac kept cleared for any CF-18s and F35s redeploying to here as backup aircraft.

The terminal had been emptied, and the public cordoned off, the inside of one of the gates turned into an impromptu briefing room, loaded upw with munitions, arms for the soldiers, equipment and briefing boards. This place wasn't going to get any airtraffic anytime soon, not until this shit was over. And while the locals would have been tempted to ask, the relative SIGINT control here over internet would stop anything too major leaking, anything that went beyond a Canadian military exercise. It looked like one, bar the F35s and the V22s- but beyond that, nothing seemed majorly out of the ordinary.

Apart from the CIA agent on site, and the four-star General with him to attend the briefing.

Looking across the small team before him, the agent had to admit- this was quite the sight to behold. A sight beyond. He had already briefed up Ross, Andrew, Nolan, Carl and Jenny, but the rest were hearing it for the first time. Blue Sword's Recon Team were here, a ten man team, and a 10 man Navy SEAL detatchment, with 10 more from Blue Sword in heavier combat gear, but other than that and our fearsome bunch, it was incredibly small for the operation that was to come. Merlin knew the reality of the odds- but sometimes, you couldn't take a hammer to a heart operation, you needed a scalpel and a surgeon with very, very steady hands.

"Gentlemen, ladies, you're wondering why you're here, and why you were selected. As you probably notice, there's not more than 40 of you here, excluding our aerial assets. I'll try and keep it brief. But you'll need to know what shadow you are facing first." He said, stating the obvious, but wanting that to be clear as the teams looked among each other, Eric here too with the two large brutes from Blue Sword, Natalie and Victor like monoliths among everyone else.

"This operation is minimal in information, need to know basis, and anyone outside this terminal will not hear what I'm about to tell you. 15 hours ago, a highly armed, well equipped unknown force took over Thule AFB and rounded up the local population in a local school. Their numbers are around 200, and they overran the base within minutes. Poor defense, yes, but satelite imagery shows total destruction of the site, and the parking of their jets on it like they own the place. Not just that. The site is home to a numbers station, and a long range nuclear defense network they're trying to hack. A move they'd make, maybe to extort the US.

"But more importantly, underneath the airbase itself, in the permafrost is a blacksite, home to a biological weapons station. The US Government for the last fifty years has locked up the worst shit we could find in there, and know that because of the relative cold and stability of the station, it wouldn't go touched. What they are hunting, if they realise it, is a DNA-based virus, one that can be tailored relatively easily by a good geneticist to target a specific individual, race or group. We're talking 95% fatality rates within 48 hours, and no amount of stopping borders will stop that virus when it hits, there is no cure, nor will there ever be because it's a weapon. It has one of the highest transmission rates of any virus known to mankind, and is more dangerous than we ever could allow to be left in the open. It's the Devil's Scythe itself. Now, the site has a 36 hour deadlock before anything can be retrieved and taken upon request- that is, if they haven't already figured out the exact location in the vault themselves. Can you see why we are worried?"

We believe this to be the last play of an as of yet unidentified terrorist organisation our forces engaged in the Wakhan Corridor over the last few weeks, known to us as "The Network". A trans-national criminal syndicate, with its hands in everything from drugs to guns, human trafficking to corruption. Using Islamic terrorist networks as a front, they have created disruption and instability anywhere they can get their mitts on. But the scale is so, so much more than that."

"Unlike a normal criminal gang, its leaders, who are unknown, appear to be politically linked to very high ranking figures in China, Russia, India, Indonesia and even EU nations. This is a shadow organisation that wants control and chaos for its own profits, and perhaps even something more...to see the demise of our freedom, values and culture and replace it with their own world order. While poltiicans may argue over power plays, what they want is a shadowy control over it all. What we don't know exactly how they look, but if it's anything to go by how the militants in Wakhan were treated, as if they want total control. They want to see us fail, and then fall under the weight of their efforts. And in Wakhan, they took heavy losses, both in their specialist teams and their equipment. This is their Broken Arrow. They do this, everything they lost will be nothing compared to us. For them, chaos is the last card they have last to play.

"So, if we send in a large military force, they'll flee faster than we can attack them, as they have heavy AA and AT defenses already posted up and can hold out to escape into the wilds. That's why we haven't carpet bombed the place, and besides, if there are any inside the underground bunker, they'll survive. Which is where Option C comes in. We perform a surgical, pinpoint strike that applies maximum pressure to the smallest point we go for. We're going to deploy you in a variety of stages, taking advantage of a snowstorm that is forecast to close into the base in two hours."

"Sniper Team Cordite, you'll be deployed via an SDV off the western coast, and set up in the mountains to the north when the snowstorm clears. You'll need to use thermal optics to silently remove the AA threat, alongside an infiltrator, callsign "Osprey" we already have making their way in via the east. Only then, once we know all their radar-guided elements are down, we'll deploy all other teams in the V-22s, going low-level along the fjords and dropping everyone straight into the main encampment itself. The SEAL team, callsign "Blackfish", will clear the school and local settlement of any hostiles, while both Blue Sword detatchments attack the airbase itself. Team Knight, as well as Bear and Brute here, will deal with the underground section of the base while the rest provide security. While that door is on a timer, it only takes enough munitions or C4 to blow the runway apart to get inside that concrete reinforced bunker, and for them to get out of there with it. That cannot happen. Whatever the cost, you do not let that happen. You get in, you destroy the whole sample lot and cave it in."

"Then, when that is done, we get the hell out. We do not know if they have reinforcements, and we will not provide more fight than what we are here to solve. We are not here to fight a war. We're here to stop the end of the world as we currently know it. Other forces can clean up and deal with the backblast after that, by which point, The Network's main leadership stem and forces will be eliminated. Deployment for the snipers is at 0300, rest of you, on dawn at 0600. All clear?"

Merlin looked to the group, Natalie shruggling her large shoulders as she stood up from the pathetically tiny terminal bench, the actual bench itself bent from where she had sat in her heavy, looking to Victor first before looking at Merlin.
"I'd ask why you didn't call Russia in. But then again, I know they flew out of Murmansk on a bad flight registration. The Russian Federation, if it did this would invoke WW3. Same too if ith elped. So I understand why you want no dramas. My friends do tell me though, that almost all of their HVTs are there. If you see them, try and keep one alive so we can hurt them a bit more. Remind them they cannot take away our world." Natalie said, looking with an icy stare at each squad leader.

"This will not be one to tell the grandchildren, yes? But hey...I suppose that just made everyone in this room a little more mysterious. Let's fucking end them."

Iqaluit Airport, Nunavut
Gate 27-A
Requisitioned Briefing Area

Eric sat with the Navy and Army Grunts. Those very same grunts still giving him looks. As alot of them couldn't believe that Team Osprey, slightly well known even with Vic and Nat around, had lost a good man, and the remaining member of the team had gone from Frontline Light Infantry, to this whip thin, grey in the hair before his time, grey, dark blue and black camo-armored up man with a novelty Canadian Toonie for an eyepatch over his missing eye. The novelty toonie had been dulled down of course, so as not to give him away. He's Vic and Nat's stealth, unofficial third man after all. That's why he sat with the grunts. Either way Eric sat, head cocked to the side as the first bit of information is shared, "The Numbers site and the Nuke Defense are almost common knowledge." He muttered this mostly, Thule is known to a few people in the gathering and this much is known. Victor hums and runs a gauntleted hand on his chin, his helmet set in his lap, damned small chairs barely able to fit him and Nat, he mutters side on to Eric, "Hacking that Nuke defense site could be a swell move. The States though have their ways."

Carl raises his hand to speak, getting a nod, "So you're telling us, there's a Black Bio-weapons site here? That's going to make things even worse Sir."

Nolan hummed rubbing his chin as the briefing continues. He shakes his head, "Feelers in all kinds of nations and places. Wouldn't surprise me if they have connections to AQ, even Hezbollah, I'd bet they've even funded them in the past for some things." He sniffs, "This is going to be a tough nut to crack." He leaned back abit to listen as more information is dealt out.

And now the nitty gritty of it. The plan.

Nolan leaned forward and nodded, "Inflitration, quiet, no witnesses." He hums, "We can do that." Eric in the meantime, single eye half lidded nods, "Coming in from the East. I can do that." He pats Brute on the shoulder, "I'll clear you and the Major there a path big guy." Victor grinning broadly, "Much thanks. When it's our time to go in we bulldoze into the underground section and deal unholy hell to the ones who remain."

Nolan looked to Eric and Andrew, "We dive our needle in first, and when the spear tip reaches us we watch the edges." Eric nods, "I'll ghost around the edges of the compound while the others are inside, make sure no one tries to sneak out behind the heavy team."

There are affirmations around the room at the plans. And people start to shift. Nolan looks to Andrew, "Let's get our kit squared away. That Snowstorm will make it harder for them to register the shots we're going to have to take. We better also bring Ruafoss and either Incendiary or Explosive rounds. Make short work of our targets." Eric gets to his feet and shifts to the side as Natalie and Victor also get to their feet. Causing their dinky little terminal benches to squeal lightly in protest. With all the weight on them the benches have been bent out of shape. He nods, "I've got to source some semtex, I'll get in and set some of the charges on emplacements our sniper friends can't reach. And provide a few packs for the exit cave in." He walks off, following the snipers.

Victor stretches, then looks at the rest left in the room, the Juggernauts near by. And the command elements. Carl looks back with narrowed eyes, "This isn't going to be a simple Smash and Out is it big guy?" Victor gestures at his fiancee, "Just like Nat said, this is going to be something we can't tell anyone about. This isn't going to be something simple. This is a save the fucking world and hope no one ever finds out about how close it came to human extinction deal." He groans and nods, "In the end, we'll be silent heroes. Of an operation everyone will be sworn to secrecy about. And no one will ever learn about, because if someone does. We failed." He looks around, letting that hang, "I don't intend to fail boys and girls." He sniffs and nods, "None of you better intend to fail either." He turned and made his way out, towards the hanger they had been lent to kit up.

Carl hums, "He's got a way with words huh?" He said to the remaining troops in the terminal.

Ross nodded, as did Natalie and Andrew. With that, they fell out and headed out to get loaded up, Ross nodding to Carl.
"He certainly did. Makes all this worthwhile, you know.."

Kitting up, the Juggernauts in their end of the hangar were imposing, Ross and Jenny getting balaclavas on, as well as their respective LMGs- Ross with a Mk48 Minimi and M32, as he usually took, and Jenny now using a MG3 and an AA-12, to improve her rapid fire and blam potential. Way they saw it, Ross was more about blowings shit up and more targeted fire, while Jenny had an LMG that sprayed fire like a fucking chainsaw. A fairly decent arnament, the two thought, armoured up once more and back into the fire.
"Carl, how you feeling?" Ross asked, Victor and Natalie coming over, grabbing the rest of their kit, the giants looking like fucking something out of a fantasy novel with how enormous their armour and weaponry was. Honestly, it felt terrifying to be in their presence, but then again, it was just how they rolled.
"Don't mind us. Good to be working with you again, Knight." Natalie said, Ross chuckling.
"You too, Bear."

Looking across, Nolan and Andrew whistled, taking it in. They had a bit of a different remit for this, as they saw the Juggs assemble.
"Those crazy motherfuckers have more firepower than a company's worth of men. No shit, it's like bringing a pike. Guess we're gonna do something pretty insane too." The New Zealander added, pulling out a DSR-50 from a reinforced weapons case, a German-made bullpup anti-materiel rifle. Silencing a .50 cal seemed almost stupid, but then again, it killed some of the worst of the noise and made it more difficult to differenciate in a snowy hellhole where the round had come from. He also took an MP5SD6 from the same case, the silenced sub-machine gun having a foldable metal stock rather than its usual. Unlikely he'd need it, but a tool nonetheless, alongside a USP.45 pistol as a sidearm. He equipped the rest of his bits, aware that their sniper op was a bit different.

"First time for everything, I suppose. Thermal drysuits and rebreathers, with ghillie suits in the packs. This is the weirdest fucking thing we've ever done, chief. I've driven one of those SDVs like, once. Then going up into the hills, sniping, covering an infiltrator and sniping off AA defences. We do seem to get ourselves into some fun, Nolan." Andrew said, chuckling as he 'HK slapped the MP5, the SMG only equipped with iron sights to improve lightness.

Carl walked in shoulder to shoulder with Ross and Jenny, he looked around to watch the Titans over on their side working to get their armoring and arms ready.

Carl stopped for a moment as he watched Victor step up and into the legs of his suit. With a few pops and hisses the seals were put into place. He then shrugged on the top of the armor, sealing it up like a jacket and a pair of snow pants. After that he moved of so easily in it. like there wasn't a few hundred pounds of steel, titanium and kevlar set around him.

Carl look over at his own suit, kevlar and aramid plates and fabric sewed together, but it did the job, the times he's counted the bullets he'd been hit with, and finding hundreds dug into the armoring well there were alot. Carl walks over to the side of the hanger assigned to the Juggernauts. He looks over at Ross and smiles, "I'm good Boss. A little hyped up...I know it's bad to say this, but being part of an operation like this. it's only once in a lifetime pretty much right?" He rubbed the back of his head knowing how that sounded. Until Victor pipes up, "You get used to them though..." Carl hums, "Oh that's right, you were doing some really redacted shit back in the Army and Marines right?" Victor nods, "Still hush hush to this day so let's not go too far."

Carl nods as he lifts his M249, popping open the loading breech and looking down into it, blowing out some dust, "I'm also a little nervous, this is...pretty intense. But I'm not going to back down."

There's a clack as Nolan had lifted his Tac-50, worked the bolt back and looked over the inside of his own weapon, "I think we're all a little nervous at this point. This isn't low-jack. It's not a bunch of jihadists in a pit in the desert. These guys took over a military installation." He works the bolt again and checks the suppressor on his own rifle, he's not too big on the idea, a rifle like this it's hard to silence in anyway. The sheer power of the weapon is likely to break a suppressor easily enough.

Victor walked over with a heavy thump thump of his armor and picked up the Denel off the table, no one man should be able to carry something that big that easy! Carl stops his prep to watch as Victor hefts the weapon up, opens the breech to stare down it's tube, then with a clack-crack lets the loading lever fall back into place. The backpack of ammo for the light GMG is thrown onto Victor's back like it weighs nothing.

Nolan meanwhile picks up his Hi-power and his Vector .45, holstering them into place on the webbing under the ghille he's also put on. Prepared for the cold and snow outside. He smiles, "We've got an interesting time for us out there my friend. I hope the inflitrator can pull his weight."

Nolan jumps a little when Eric grunts out, "Oh don't you worry I can pull my own weight. I may be half blind, but I can still fight." Nolan blinks as he hadn't seen Eric enter. Eric grins, and is slotting his own gear into place, his stealth suit already on, and his knife, pistol and a tooled down short barrelled HCAR that he's sliding a magazine into that has a little beaver stenciled onto the side, the beaver having two smaller arms raised and middle fingers raised. A Red dot and an amplifer flip sight added to the top too. With a suppressor tacked on just for luck. He nods, "I'll be ready." He salutes the two titans, "Boss, Madam, you call I'll be there." He grabs the last of his kit and heads out.

Nolan hums, "Let's go Andrew. We have a long way to go and much work to do." He slaps a magazine into his Tac 50, "Let's go and show these stains what real operators can do."

Natalie had raised her own GAU-19, the enormous fifty-caliber minigun like Victor's Denel, something nobody should have been able to carry with the ease she seemed to show, the belt slapped into the minigun's loading feed, a polymer chain following the reciever to her black rucksack, the Russian inspecting her twin Deagles, and well, the harpoon on her arm, the thing protruding enough out of the way of her forearm to not poke anything out in a painful way, nor impale her hand if she had to fire it out. A nice thing to have indeed she chuckled, as she brushed her hair aside, following behind Victor, seeing Eric again. She was glad she was ready to go- ready to set up their grand entrance, and support their mop-up.

"Glad to hear, Osprey. Prep that zone for us, and hopefully we can all reduce the amount of time we spend freezing our asses off." Natalie remarked, looking across her flank to Victor, her fiancee all suited and booted like she was.
"You know I get so exited when I see men in uniform, right? C'mon, handsome. Let's go save the world." Natalie giggled, knowing she was just out of earshot from the other team members, giving a little eyebrows to Victor, knowing full well just how much of a tease she had to be- even in circumstances like this.

Meanwhile across the room Ross had to agree with Carl, statying shtum until the two giants and the sniper team had gone, agreeing completely with the stakes. Even in the ops they had gone on, be they Pararescue, search and destroy or out and out assaults, nothing compared to this.
"Even with those two, you're right....the scale of this is pretty insane. But we're here because they think we can crack this nut. Normal infantry might not stand a chance against the odds we're going into. So I suppose there's a specialist reason we're there." Ross added, looking across to Eric, who was getting ready to head out, on his own, into the fray.
"Shit, good to see he's back in things. You heard what happened to him?" Ross commented, Jenny looking up.
"Yeah, got stabbed pretty badly right?" She said, Ross nodding, Jenny cursing.
"You could say that. Fuckin' crazy he's going still. Looks like Blue Sword have him on a special op...good to have him back."

-----------

Somewhere in Baffin Bay, Greenland
0249 Hours

The SDV slowly chugged through the ice-cold water, the tempurature barely above freezing and barely hospitable without a warm drysuit to keep the cold at bay. SCUBA training had been on the cards before for the Kiwi and Andrew assumed Nolan had something too, but this was a very different kettle of fish. The sea bit away even despite the layers, Andrew taking a firm breath in through his rebreather as he adjusted their course slightly, the enormous white and blue ending of the Greenland Ice Sheet and an offshoot glacier poking out into the bay that was north of Thule AFB, the ridge that was omminously over it clad with radar installations and detection equipment.

"Glacier's up ahead- satelite photos were right. We're gonna need to tail it onto there and make our way inland onto solid ground. We've got no resistance at all, bar a radar installation we're going to have to set some C4 on and I would guess, a squad full we need to cut out before we set up our post. The AAA and SAM sites are down in the valley, set up in a way that our guys won't cleanly be able to hit them with JDAMs or even hit with a proper naval bombardment. Osprey on the other hand...that Canuck is gonna raise all shit when he gets there." Andrew commented, chuckling as the SDV pulled up as the Kiwi pulled back on the controls, like an aircraft but flying through ice-cold ocean water rather than the blue skies.

Despite the darkness, the very early morning had one suprise for them still- the bright green and purple hazy lights of the Aurora Borealis lit up the sky like electricity sparking from a wire, a technicolour haze that the Kiwi couldn't help but only adore. It was a sight to behold, and while it took a fraction of their darkness away, it was rather a spectacular setting, owing to the fact it seemed particularly fitting for the operation they were on, this far north. Perhaps poetic in some sense, he chuckled to himself, the cauldron grey sea contrasting with it in a way. Mind on mission, Andrew reminded himself...

Gently raising the SDV up, they levelled out at 25m, the glacier now right in front of them as Andrew brought the craft to a halt.
"Okay, last stop, the middle of fucking nowhere. Let's go out for a swim, Nolan boy. Keep a cool head, would ya?" Andrew said, chuckling as he pulled the doors wider open, the engine now dead and the SDV now staying stationary beneath the waves. With a gentle turn, Andrew attached his flippers stashed on the side of the boat, pulling them taught around his feet on his drysuit. With a gentle push, Andrew pulled himself free from the craft, kicking upwards as he swam towards the glacier, flippers kicking hard against the water. It'd be a couple minutes swim, but they'd make it to the glacial shore in time.

Somewhere in Baffin Bay, Greenland
0249 Hours

Eric walked into the torpedo room of the sub. He grabbed a handhold as the sub rocked. And he heard tinly though the radio one of the submariners had turned up on his webbing, "The SDV team has been released. They're moving, closing outer doors and dumping water intake. Front team on your go." Eric nodded, "Help me with this." He called as he pushed his mission kit bag first into the modified insertion torpedo. They said this shit is movie grade, and no one had ever actually tried it. Well it was better then swimming all the way there.

The torpedo is just barely wider then he is. And he has to squirm and squish his way inside, he can feel his kit bag down between his legs. He nods, and gives a thumbs up as he lays back, "Seal me up and push me in boys." The men nod, heaving the plate up back into place. A hiss and pish of air as it's sealed and the 2 hour oxygen supply inside the torpedo begins to pump. He beeps his radio, "Osprey here. Sealing complete. Captain, ready when you are." The captain replies, "We got you Osprey, say Eric...about Markus..." Eric gulped, "I'll tell you what I remember later. Still raw for me too, just know your cousin...he died doing what he was meant to do. Cleaning up the filth of the world." He heaved a shaky breath and grabbed the bracing holds inside the torpedo, he didn't want to bash his head against the upper cone of this thing. The torpedo shifted and he heard the clang and crank of the breach door closing. The hiss as water filtered in.

And then for a moment or two all is chaos. The first woosh of the firing mechanism, the tumble as the torpedo's engine starts and leveling out as the fins catch. And he's off. The SDV left about 15 mnutes ahead of him, but in a short moment he's catching up, draws along side, and briefly Nolan watches as a dark grey tube with a trailing cavitation wave speeds by. He laughs, "Holy shit." He gestures ahead with his arm, "There goes Eric." He laughs his voice sounding tinny in his rebreather, "That boy has the biggest balls I've ever seen I'm surprised that Torpedo hasn't sunk yet." He pulled himself up out of the SDV, strapping his things on and started to kick, "He'll be there and moving long before we get there."

Elsewhere Carl finished the last bits of his kitting up. And followed his teammates outside. Victor already standing out in the cold grinning. And looking ready to bring hell. Carl nods, reaching over and slapping Jenny and Ross on the shoulders, "No hesitation, no troubles. We all got this. With the snipers, the inflitrator, and those two." He nodded to Natalie and Victor, "We can do anything. Taking back a freezing cold black on black base in the middle of the frozen north? This will be an operation we'll always remember." He nods and hopped up into their chopper. Victor roars out to the mercs, and army grunts, "Nolan, Andrew and Eric are the tip of the spear. We're the following edge the edge that kills. Leave no doubt. Leave nothing behind. Hoo-rah!"

Andrew chuckled, seeing the cavitating torpedo sear past, rushing through the sea as an undetectable, almost hypersonic to them appearing out of the blue and gone back into it again.
"Yeah, no shit....he's fucking Solid Snake in that thing. Will probably cause them as much issue as he did....come to think of it, this feels a lot like a Metal Gear Solid fucking rip-off. You know? High tech terrorists, a world-ending threat, in the Arctic....nah, I'll shut up. That's totally not this. Right?" He asked, chuckling away, knowing Nolan might not have known, but either way, the realisation was amusing to him. Turning his head back forwards, he continued to kick, seeing the glacier end up ahead. With a few more pushes, the Kiwi was at the surface, right by the edge of the ice.

Clambering up, he got himself up first, reaching a hand to pull up Nolan from behind.
"Come on then. He might have a head start, but we still got fuckers to frag, and a job to do. I'm with you, Nolan." Andrew added, pulling his balaclava back, and getting ready to move.

After getting righted, and ditching the rebreather tanks in favour of the ghillies they'd brought in their waterproof bags, Andrew felt a little more ready, the DSR.50 cocked and ready, with the MP5SD6 on his back and the USP by his side. The drysuit was still on, given just how cold it was, and it still provided good insulation above ground, keeping hypothermia and the extreme cold at bay. It must have been -40 with windchill, it was the sort of cold that almost sucked the cold out of the Kiwi's lungs, but he guessed the Metis' Canuck didn't give a shit, completely at home in this. Moving along the glacier was treacherous, but they had found a route through, mostly sticking onto the more solid arcs of compacted ice, avoiding the crevasses. It wasn't much ground they had to cover, but enough for them to reach their first observation point, an opportunity to take stock of the ridgeline they were going up and onto.

"Four guards up there, looks like a shitty OP at our next shooting position. They'll see us if they move up. Nolan, you want the two on the left, I'll clip the two on the right? Range is about 410, 420- comp will be hefty in the downdraft wind here but put it two clicks left on your optic, and it'll neatly line onto them." Andrew asked, aware that once they were on the ridge, they would have clear view of the upper radar spotting position and AA missiles, and then a clean run to do overwatch for Osprey.

---

"Hoo-rah!" The rest echoed, clambering into the V22, Natalie visibly grinning as she sat by her fiancee's side, the only place she wanted to be right now in the rear of the tilt-rotor. Taking his armoured hand in hers, she looked into his eyes, a look of fire right there.
"You look good, honey. Want me to adjust your war paint a little? I know how touchy you are about it....and how you like it." She said to him, smiling. They had formed a bond over it- she had once rocked a lightening bolt after all on her face, not in the same manner but in one that felt meaningful to her own self. A mark of confidence, albeit for today, she was clean faced. It seemed trivial, but they had a journey to go on, and well, themselves to make sure they were ready. They were the super-heavies after all. Where all the bullets were flying. It paid to be feeling good.

Meanwhile, Ross sat by Jenny and Carl, the other mercs and soldiers stepping in.
"He certainly has a way with words. For what we're about to do...stay focussed, and stay sharp. Remember, principal is that target down there. They'll be well protected, maybe even have a lot more firepower. So just be ready for anything, you two. We really don't know what cards they hold." He added, the tiltrotor beginning to whir up, the flight about 30 minutes out to the AO. They'd have some time to prepare, and by that point, the snipers would have done their job, as Ross checked his Mm48 over, Jenny her MG3's magazine.

Eric held on for dear life. Gritting his teeth as the torpedo sped through the water. After a few minutes he felt the crunch and bang as the torpedo hit rocky sea shelf, angled up and a moment later felt the crunch as it punched through a ledge of ice, throwing itself up and out of the water onto the ice about 20 feet from shore. He waited abit then unsealed the torpedo from within. Looking out he took stock of where he is. Above him a cliff of snow ice and stone. He nodded, "About where I'm supposed to be..." He whispers this then adds, "Hey Markus...here we go again right?" The shrinks and the doctors know about this of course, his way with coping with his partner being gone. They're sure it'll pass but he still speaks to his missing partner as a way for him to gain the resolve he needs to do more. He gulps, "Just a short climb buddy." He grabbed his weapons and the bergen bag from within the torpedo. A pair of foot spikes, and climbing axes. And it's up the cliff he goes, "Just....another day...in saving the world brother."

Elsewhere Nolan breached the surface of the water, just his head, and shoulders and part of his back just enough so he can see up and around. He looked around and nodded to Andrew taking the hand up. He dumped the tanks at the edge of the water letting them lay there in the lee of a low dip in the ice, "Retrieval team will have a fun day with finding these..." He whispers. Out of his water proof bag comes the recustomized ghille, white and grey and ice blue strips of cloth and cords, blending in quite nicely. He grins and nods, "The cold can be good for you." He chuckles a little, "Like tromping through the Manitoba north in the middle of winter." He sniffs, "Even smells clear up here."

He set his weaponry appropriately then started moving at Andrews rear, covering their back angles as they go. Picking their way across the ice and snow.

He froze sensing it almost as soon Andrew called it out. Nolan slowly turned around and took stock, "Hmmm good call on the distances..." He took out his wind and range finder, setting it up on a rise of snow. He looked at it, "Call the wind at nine kilometers per hour, make that...yep two clicks left, damn Andrew good calls. Okay..." He shifted to his left abit, climbing over Andrew, "Okay...got a good hold on them...this will be a through and through I think." He nodded, made one last adjustment. "Count of three...and on shoot..."

Again Elsewhere Carl looked out the chopper as it rose from the ground, "Hold onto your shorts ladies and gentlemen, that wind looks like fun."

In the tilt rotor over Victor hums then unseals the front of his helmet, he squeezed Natalie's hand, "I did my best with what I had, but yes a little adjustment to it would be nice. Doesn't feel right on my cheeks." He lifted his head revealed a fair bit of skin that isn't hidden by the war paint. The Warrior's Print he wears today is fierce and intimidating but not quite finished as he missed bits here and there, "Got your paints or need mine?"

Carl checked his hi-power looking down the ejection port and blowing into it. He nodded, "Clean, almost as clean as a whistle." With a click it slid into the quick release holster at his hip. Then pulling clear his M249, opening the loading panel, checking to make sure nothing is in the way. He nodded to Ross' words, "Don't do anything alone, we don't know if they've boobytrapped anything. right gotcha. Keep an eye on everyone and keep your composure and focus. You bet."

On the ice shelf Eric suddenly threw himself to the snow.

Nolan whispered, "Three...Shoot..." It's a dual crack. And at the range they are at the base barely hears a thing. But the wind carries the report of two high calibre rifles down to Eric. The .50 rounds cross the 420 meters to the targets in short order, barely 3 maybe 4 seconds in the air. The four barely have time to register something happened before all four drop like dominos. Neat holes, kill shots all four. Nolan reached up and levered his breech handle, the click-clack of the handle dead silent compared to what just produced a foot deep depression in the snow just in front of him. He reaches up and places a hand on Andrew's shoulder, "Just wait...just to make sure...don't rush in...I want to make sure there isn't anyone else who might be nearby, keep a hold on the nest. If someone pops up that doesn't look like Eric you nail them." He pulls his eye off the scope and scans the ridge above them for movement.

Andrew pulled the trigger after picking his target through the FLIR optic, then refocussing to the next man and pulling again, the rounds flying across the 420m void and straight into both the tangoes, the first getting a shot through the head and the other to his core, breaching any kevlar vest he wore with relatively little stress. After all, a .50 BMG round didn't exactly piss around that either of the two had.
"Clean. Holding. Nice shots, Nolan." Andrew only replied, watching the ridgeline, giving it a moment. It was a sniper's job not to rush, but to get the job done. As Nolan rightly posted it, there could be more.

"Two more. Closing from 500, right hand side of our dead guys on the ridgeline. Part of the same patrol, looks like they staggered back. I have forefront, you have rear. Conditions same. Fire when ready." Andrew coldly commented, readying his shot. On that count, he pulled the trigger, again lacing the target accurately, in spite of his shivering hands and his freezing breath. The round cleanly pulled an arm off as it went through his side, splattering out the other end. The work was filthy with a round of this caliber, but it got you guaranteed results. With a few more minutes to pass, they could assess, watching and waiting.With those two dropped, Andrew got back to his feet from the knelt position, back into moving across the shelf.

"Think that's our lot. C'mon, Nolan. Let's git'er done." He remarked, taking the momentum to push forwards and up onto the snow, his boots depressing into the snow and crunching gently as he got back to a combat pace. They needed to hustle, and get their end of the gig sorted.

"Osprey, this is Cordite. We're moving up to our next OP point. We should be able to give you an overwatch once we're up into the hills above the base. There's the lone radar dome, and we'll put our charges there. I trust you're making your moves towards their AA sites in the valley, right? Should be a couple Tunguskas, a couple S-400s mounted on Ural trucks. Lay some bricks and get the fuck out of there. We'll snipe any fuckers that get in your way." The Kiwi called out, knowing that Eric was on a mission of his own, to raise a bit of chaos and be a lone dagger. With the New Zealander and the Canadian snipers moving up, they had the opportunity to get moving past the squad of dead soldiers they'd hit, and up into position. Their bodies would be covered in snowdrift soon enough, and even if there was an issue with radio callback, in 20 minutes, it wouldn't matter. They were going to be hit hard, and pummeled by the cavalry that was coming in. A symphony of their base going up in explosions would preclude that, like the lightening before the thunder hitting.

Perching himself down into an overlook spot, Andrew wiped his scope and weapon of snow, looking down into the valley.
"Holy fucking moly. They really have it secured." He commented, giving a quiet whistle, pointing it out.
"So, their AN-124 is sitting there, nice and comfy with the two SU-34s. AA, three BTR-90s, and damn, is that a barrack? Lot of troops milling there. Got a spot on where they're trying to attack the fortified bunker, right side of the ATC tower. Looks like they're trying to break in...much as it would be easy to shoot those fuckers first, that'd blow open our op. Alrighty. Nolan, we got the dome 100m down from us, majority of the targets in the valley are 600-800m. I can set the bricks on the dome and bound it back to here- want to keep a watch for our friend in the valley?"

---------

Natalie took a moment to look to him, her gaze looking towards the Mohican's, her reaction warm, beyond the severity of it all. They were together for a good reason not just as soldiers, but as a couple, and knew how to look after, treat each other, and support each other. The most kind of fucked up relationship that was enboldened by being giants, oh, and wielding weaponry most could barely carry in two man teams.
"One step ahead." With her own set pulled out of a pouch, it was almost as if the other half of the partnership knew exactly what Victor was like. Pulling the small pouch out from one of her secure MOLLE pouches on her front, she pulled the lid open, able to get a grip on it with her monkey-paw like gauntleted hands, able to be remarkably accurate in spite of that.
"I decided not to...well, I can't do it very well. Rare of me to admit a fault, hey?" The Russian commented, gently taking some of the red onto the metal and scraping it gently against Victor's cheek. She rembered the patterns now, the looks and the significance from what she had told him. She had listened, and knew how valuable, how important it was. A ritual that needed help, no matter what armour or weapon he wielded it- Victor had a strength in that. Finishing the pattern, she cleaned her gauntlet's tips with a lick of spit. After all, she hadn't the chance to get her hands out of this thing, not very easily at this point!
"Though I suppose...have you got anything in mind if you did want to do it for me?"

Nolan shifted abit then heard his partner's callout. He turned and spotted the pair as they thumped through the snow. He reached up to give his scope one more half click up just in case, "Conditions same..." He sniffed then counted, "Alright let's see here..."

About a mile to their west, up abit into the snow field Eric went to a knee as he heard another distant boom from what he could only imagine is his two snow wookie snipers further up. He could see the base ahead of him not too much further now. He'd be at the perimeter here very soon.

Back with the snipers Nolan squeezed, the shot whickering along, he watched the bullet displacement through his scope. And had front row seats as the bullet punched into, and then out and nearly split his target in two as he'd hit him just above the waist. A big hole from the .50 round turning soft flesh into a red misty pulp. The force of it knocked the man down and the instant shock killed him if the fact he lost almost all his entrails didn't do it moments later. He leaned back from the scope and spit off to the side to rid himself of the taste of disgust at that rough kill, "Well that's a way to do it. Messy but it's a way." He gets up as well, grabbing the kit bag with extra rounds and counter-measures from where it had fallen in the snow. He makes his way up the ridge and to their firing position. He gets into position and looks out, "Damn...look at all that. These folks really know their job."

As Andrew called it in, Nolan spots something and swings his rifle up. Just as Eric responds, "10-4 Cordite, unlike our neighbours I could hear you from a mile off." He's at a stretch of perimeter fence. Using a tube of acid to cut through the links. He turns slightly, "I can almost feel someone's scope on me, and I know our neighbours don't have an eye on me. Which one of you is that?" Nolan chuckles and patches into the line, "Sorry Osprey, force of habit saw your outline vaguely on the snow behind you, drew a line of sight just in case. Cordite Two here by the way." Eric nods as he knows Nolan can see him, "Well as long as it's you two." The section of fence he had cut with the acid pack falls free and he catches it shifting it aside, "Osprey has achieved an entrance. I'm going in." He hunched through the hole. And before Andrew and Nolan's eyes he roadie runs across the tarmac, like a shadow and soon he's at the edge of the C-Cans, boxes and pre-fab buildings that are on site.

Nolan nodded, "Already have you beat brother. Go, I'll give you both over watch." As he says that he's clicking his scope settings up and placed his little weather instrument aside, "Wind 4 klicks northwest to southeast...600 to 800...hmmm yeah that's good." He sniffs and motions to Andrew, "Go, I got you. Osprey Cordite One is going down into the base as well, gonna set some charges on another target."

Eric nods, "Osprey copies. I've got a line here on..." He cuts off briefly as the patrol he had seen and was waiting on steps out into the open. The three man patrol don't see it coming. And Eric had already noticed these three weren't wired up, so no one will expect a check in from them for sometime. His combat knives, a wickedly curved Karambit for both hands, hiss from their sheathes. The first man catches the blade to the side of the neck, a lever motion causes the blade to slide up and into the under side of his brain. The blade comes loose just as easily as it had slid in. The second man is only just registering that something is off, as his friend just stopped talking. He gets first one blade to the chest, the second one right across his scarf covered throat, he falls to his knees gagging. And the third man is just turning when Eric hooks him in the ribs with his right hand knife. Pulling him forward and the second left blade plunging into his stomach, and he levers his arm up, cutting the man open from stomach to the middle of his chest. "I got a line here on one of my targets. I can set charges on it and move to the other targets."

As this is happening Nolan whispers, "Good kills. Overwatch is showing no one else nearby. Both of you move."

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

Victor sat and let himself be worked at. He could feel the paint and spreading across the areas he had missed in his haste to get it done. But he can quickly feel it coming together. The significance of the Warrior's Print, showing that they are unafraid of their fate. And that the fate they offer those they face is woeful indeed. It's a power and a ritual in itself and of it self. He smiles as it finishes and he moves abit to get the paint molded right.

His eyebrows shoot up under his paint, "Asking me if I'd put paint to you? Hmmm if I could think of something. It'd be the Moon's Gaze. A white circle, over a blue back ground across the face. Signifies wisdom, knowledge and ancient power. I think it'd be perfect for you." He smiles, "If you like I think we have time now." He starts to dig for his own paint kit, "I can put it on you now. We could go into this painted up together yes?" His kit is held in one big paw of a hand shortly after and open, he smiles, "What do you say?"

Nearby Carl watches this, smiling, "Those two...if any of us are making it through this, it's them. Can't keep them down I think." He nods. "A good future I think for them."