“It may be a high price, but you’re buying premium here.” she shrugged at the bodyguards’ mention of being overpaid, lying without even batting an eye. Yes, individually they were premium goods, but it remained to be seen whether they could work well as a unit or if they’d end up looking like someone put a new GPU, old CPU and an odd number of RAM sticks into the same rig. Bethan’s plan was a solid outline, the specifics would need to be adjusted on-site depending on what they would be dealing with, but so far so good.

“Oh, we know you’re armed alright.” She took a friendly jab at Hayden as the initiator of the earlier standoff, “Two times eighteen plus one. We’re all using 9x19, yes?” Her suspicion of why she was given what she was given instead of the expected PM or APS now confirmed, unless Sean was packing something in .45 ACP. “Let’s go find the car. That’s a 1200 kilo guided missile, if we get really desperate. We can ride home in the truck.” Yekaterina stood up, eyes wandering back to her freshly poured glass, “I know hindsight is always 20/20, but that might not have been the brightest idea.” She added, pointing at the whisky before setting out to find someone who could point them to the North-West gate.

“If we find the truck on the move, it might be best to follow it and make our move once it parks or gets stuck in traffic. If he wants to run away, make him work for it. You’ve said it, they’ll be prepared for car jackers. I’m guessing he’ll be running with the cab door locked, maybe even armed, definitely a tire iron on hand. And if we want the thing mobile, then taking out the tires is out of the question. And even if we don’t care, if it’s got a central inflation system, it’d keep it going long enough to give us the slip anyway unless we put a hole the size of a tennis ball in it. With all of that, the peaceful approach does sound like the best way to go about things.” She returned to bethan’s plan along the way to the gate, “Would’ve been nice to know the make, model and color of the damn thing. How do you want to approach him? If he’s on the clock, something tells me he’s not going to be picking up hitchhikers.”

Finally reaching the gate revealed a slightly battered Cadillac Cimarron. Paintjob and body panels have seen better days, but the south African climate at least kept it rust-free at first glance. Unlocked and with keys in the driver side visor. No way it would’ve been there longer than a few hours if Victor left it like that in Samara. Rummaging through the glovebox revealed the promised phones, a quartet of veteran Nokia 5110s. Tossing her bag into the trunk, Belyayeva settled into the driver’s seat to adjust the seat and mirrors, happy to find a 5-speed manual transmission. “Right, whoever sits in the back, check your seat pockets and please tell me one of you has a road map in there. I came into town from the South, but I have no idea how to get to Bo’lobo.”

Bethan nodded to the two amazons, chuckling to the reply. Something gave her a feeling she might be seeing them again sometime. They seemed to be disaproving of their boss, like they knew the reality even more than even the merc did round here of how it worked and why, but charmed enough to stay by his side, loyal as ever. With a polite nod, she acknowledged them, a silent communication, beyond language just saying that the respect was there, and after the merc had left with his two bodyguards, the Welsh woman knew the plan she'd come out with may have sunk a little in. It was passable, but then again, nothing ever worked to plan here, as she stood up, following along with the team, listening and absorbing what they both had to said. When it came to ammo count, she gave the reply for him and Sean:

"Oddly enough, yeah. Both of us are using nine mil, Parabellum. I've got a Glock and Sean a Sig, eighteen in each mag, one mag spare each." Bethan replied, following along, taking in what both the two of them had to say about the plan. To say the least, as per her prior thoughts- yeah, more could be done, and it would have to be the flow of it. In her head, if they could at least get the truck to slow, hitting it from another angle was a possibility, a half-chance, but one they could exploit. Shooting the driver with pistols would be risky as hell, but...well, it left some creativity to mind. Some she could already start clocking on her head, replying to Yekatarina first.

"Hmm...well, I do have another idea. Stopping that truck will be tough, likely they won't have any reason to...slums are busy but that screws our escape too. If we can slow this truck down in the open, one of us gals driving the Caddy can slow down the truck, Yekatarina probably, then one of these two lads can clamber onto the passenger side of the truck from another angle. Smash, or shoot out the passenger window somehow. They never said it had to be intact. They'll be a release to open it, and maybe, maybe, a 20 second window we can put a gun to his head and the rest of us can leap aboard, the Caddy can follow. Floor it and if anyone follows, we can put foot to floor. Driver might not cooperate, so one of us is likely on hostage duty, the other is flooring it." Pointing to Sean and Hayden, Bethan knew the reply she'd immediately get.

"Really, you suppose I'll fucking grab the mirror, hang on for dear life and just point a gun at a guy who's driving a truck with valuable cargo?" Sean angrily replied, Bethan shrugging in reply.

"Fifth time today, I'm telling ya Sean...got any better ideas?"

"I was literally thinking you two got your tits out and the guy might stop. There, missy fuckin' smart. Don't fucking say I don't think for myself. Way I see it, we're gonna get into a feckin' shootout no matter what and if there's a truck and a driver left alive, we're gonna be fucking grand." Sean couldn't help himself, knowing that while she might want to pop him right here nad now, he felt it was worth just throwing it back now.

"Jesus, Sean. You really are a cunt. That's why you're nominated. The rest of us can buy us time before you get capped." Bethan wryly chuckled, annoyed yet somehow, a little amused at this, as she looked over to Yekatarina and Hayden, adjusting the boonie cap she was wearing, aware when they got out she'd have to take it off to fit her part.

"Shit, I don't know what else then. Let's see what we can do. And let's find this car. Though...wait, Katarina, you've got a fire axe, right? That uhh....might be another idea." And on that note, they rounded the corner, walking towards the outer edge of the compound, looking for the ancient Cadillac that was promised. A luxury vehicle by the standard of this place, it felt like, the atmosphere felt like poverty and the air thicker than blood that would fill the streets when, not if, the war went really hot.

So far Bethan and Sean could just feel it was tentative, the comings of a fight that was going to blow open the moment someone got a feeling they could do some real damage. No news would want to report on this mess...a lot of people could die and people who had nothing were going to have everything that they had left taken from them. Bethan felt sorry for them. Sean didn't. He couldn't help but feel that while they were sorry bastards, so were they in this point in time, and they'd be joining in. He couldn't say he had the same empathy, because it beat prison right now, and he had very little to lose. His partner didn't particularly care, and to be honest, he knew the anarchy that was coming might be something he might be a bit more accustomed to than a normal fight.

--

The Caddy wasn't the prettiest, but it would do, Bethan whistling as she saw it, opening the passenger door and leaping in. Bethan had the chance to check under her seat, finding a small dossier folder, showing it across to the others.
"Hmm. Interesting. It's an orange MAN. Looks like it's from 20 years ago, looks...well, like an utter piece of shit. Has Dry Trail markings all over it. Recon photo looks like it isn't too older either. Canvas-topped, so has some room to squeeze in the back." She commented, Sean pulling a map from a book holder in the back, dusting it off and bringing it to bear.

"Got a map here, Yekatarina. Alright...where are we...right, got us. So head out of here, I think we're close to the center, main highway down towards Balilon, take it for three miles then take a right and it should put us straight into the middle of what looks like the slum, and the main road out to the south-west. Slums change a lot, so we'll look like we stick out like a sore thumb when we arrive. Faster we find this thing the better." Sean added, flicking through, pointing out the highway, and a rough route into the slum- the map not showing the horrid mess that was the shanty town, but the rough tracks and trails that would likely cut through. Adjusting his baseball cap, he folded the map over a few times, sliding it through and over towards the Russian, knowing it was probably better for her to have it to hand now than him, then looking to the Canuck with a resolved glance, thinking about what this would turn into if it all went pete tong.

"Yeah, but remember we're all poorer than them right now given our current predicament, so let's not fuck this up. What we thinking, Sean and Hayden bail, then us two keep going when we're in position?" Bethan retorted, checking her Glock and rechambering the mag, giving a subtle cock, tsking audibly.

@FourtyTwo@Starlance

As the meeting broke up the four made their way out and finding the Caddilac. Hayden standing there for a moment to look at it, "I just wanna go on record I have never seen a Cimarron in my life and I'm not sure how to feel that this is the first one I've ever seen." He hopped into the back seat and winced, "Fuck...something's sticky..." He sighs and starts to check the back of the seat in front of him and the door pockets, coming up with some old gum, and a pamphlet. He doesn't quite look at it immediately, as his attention is taken up front as maps and dossiers and phones are found. He reaches up to grab one of the burners. Looking at the venerable thing, "Huh, haven't seen once of these since high school." He pops his open, powering it on and checking the setting, noting down that all the phones have only their contact numbers on it. He nods, "Alright kids then this is what we can do with it. We can find ourselves something better later." He looks out the window as they go.

After abit he nods, "Okay, yeah I like this idea. Once we get to the slums dump Sean and I off somewhere, we'll tail the car. We sketch the truck first, and any security it has. If we can, we want to take out outliers first, maybe jack their weapons too, just to have something that we can use in the long run." He hums as they come around a slight bend in the road to see a fire fight on the side of the highway, between what looks like some SAMC mercs and COGS mercs. It's nothing big maybe five people a piece hiding behind their vehicles. And looks more like a gang situation then two potential army units. He shakes his head, "Course. Not an actual conflict. More like two fucking gangs picking at each other." They drive on and he shakes his head, "Fucking hell reminds me of insurgencies." He sniffs and looks ahead road signs alerting them to coming turn off. He nods, "The way I understand it, these slums out here are almost like the drug favelas of South America, or places like Jaurez in the states. High crime rates, run maybe by gang lords, or community militas. No real police presense unless it's something like a triple murder. So all we're going to have to worry about are the Dry Trail Mercs, the driver himself and maybe some nosy community reps with a pistol or shot gun, maybe a surplus WW2 rifle even. So unless we stay too long and make alot of noise, maybe, maybe," He emphazies the second maybe, "We'll come out of it without too much trouble. And our first payday."

After some driving and some planning the turn off for the slum appears. Hayden finally reaches into the inside of his coat and brings out his Hi Power going through a check on it carefully, popping the mag, checking the chamber, ejecting the round in the chamber, and adding it back to the magazine. He then slots everything back into place with a practiced click pop. and out of his duffel that be brought with him, an evil looking tomahawk axe with a spear point head, that he hides inside his right sleeve. He grins at Sean as he catches the other man looking, "Just in case." He winks.

And then it's like they just entered the wild west. The slum is super different from the well to do area they came from earlier. But it's still got it's flavor. Hayden nods, "Alright pull over. Sean, let's go. Beth, Yek, roll forward, we'll do this grid like until we find the truck. Don't get more then a block away from us. We'll scout on foot, and once we find the truck we wait until everyone is one is in sight before we move." He waited until the car stopped them popped the door, getting out and looking up and down the street, waiting for Sean to get out. He then reached for the phone, trying one number getting Sean's to ring, he then tried again getting Yekaterina's. He nods and motions, "Let's get moving folks. Let's get a pay day." He chuckles and playfully flicks the car's occupants off as he started up the street motioning for Sean to follow him. "Fuck is it ever easy to just fall into old habits..." He's already got a hand around the grip of the pistol inside his jacket, and he's scanning about already. Giving the car another bird as they roll by.

“You had a phone in high school? Damn, we got people from money.” Yekaterina joked as she skimmed the dossier Bethan found, “Heard drivers back home calling MANs ‘Dead dogs’ because of the logo. Their engine lineup apparently leaves a lot to be desired in the power and torque department.” She snickered, handing the dossier back and the map to Bethan riding shotgun, her latest input making Yekaterina pause. “Not an axe, better. For this situation at least. Good thing you mentioned it. I don’t know how that slipped my mind, let’s blame imperialism like we usually do.” The engine started easy enough, though her enthusiasm for the car was tempered by the realization that the air conditioning wasn’t working. And after a few minutes, she didn’t have much good to say about the seats either.

Yekaterina was mostly silent during the drive save for the occasional cursing directed at the locals and their liberal interpretation of traffic laws, Hayden explaining the slum’s inner workings as they went. “So on top of the driver, his buddies and locals sticking their noses where they don’t belong, we might also need to worry about the drug gang this guy might currently be delivering for. Great. And old guns are still guns, doesn’t really matter if it’s from yesterday, the Great Patriotic War, or the Swedish siege of Prague, a hole in your chest is still a hole in your chest,” The Russian added, wondering whether she should keep the car door unlocked in case she needed to get out quickly or locked if someone else wanted to get her out against her will. The fact that cars and corrugated metal shacks were more concealment than cover didn’t help. The shootout between SAMC and COGS drew her attention, and while she made sure to get them far away before some stray rounds found their way to them, a part of her wanted to stop and take notes on what they’d be dealing with in the next few months. Weeks? Years? Who knew? Compared to Chechnya, the fighters here seemed to be on about the same level, though she expected some to be of a higher caliber, and less concerned about staying under the radar. Less work for them. And they wouldn’t have to deal with suicide attacks here. Then she thought about it for a second and decided no to discount that possibility yet.

By the time they’d reached the Bo’lobo slum, she’d deteriorated to wishing unspeakable things upon the people either jaywalking, straight up ignoring road signs, right of way and common sense and driving into intersections without any thought or doubt, recklessly passing or having firefights in the streets and all of their families in her native Russian. Parking the sedan in the first shaded spot she found, she got out to put her bag into the passenger compartment, untangled the halligan from the bag’s other contents and passed the 75 cm, 5 kg hunk of forged steel to Sean, “I hope you went to drama club if you want to be inconspicuous hauling this around. use the pick for breaking windows. A sharp point will work a lot better than a blunt impact. Watch your pockets in the crowds, and don’t lose the hallie when things start moving.” Yekaterina walked around the passenger side as the lads disembarked to talk to Bethan. “I think you and I should swap. I don’t want to bet on the driver’s cooperation, and if we need to scram before an angry mob uses us for floor mats, that’s not a good time for the boys to learn that size does matter. I’d hate to see them smeared over a wall like marmalade because they didn’t realize you have to brake early and use the engine brake before I’ve known them long enough to decide whether that’s a good or bad thing.” Returning Hayden’s parting gesture with a grin, she drew her Gesha for a press check before returning it to its holster, leaving her jacket open for ease of access.

The drive was eventful to say the least, the sight of the dirty mess reminding everyone just how unforgiving this place could be.

Sean looked at the scene before him, the gunfight on the side of the road a stark reminder. These lower level mercs were like gang fighters, just picking away at each other. It was only a matter of time before they went from the sticks and stones their AKs were to something far, far more serious- and The Hyena had the power to make that happen. The couple remaimed quiet in the car, only inputting when it came to sharing phone numbers, and getting a feel for it. Hayden and Yekatarina said it all really- the slum was rough, vicious and like something they had seen on TV back at home. Unlike Juarez, it felt like it was even poorer, even more desperate, not fuelled by drugs but instead by desperation. Humanity scratching anything it could to survive another day in squalor.

Sean had something to add to Hayden and Yekatarina's debate, leaning forwards between then.
"Chances are we'll steal this thing and there won't just be a drug gang coming after us, any local who wants to scavenge might try and vulture us. Driver sounds valuable too...I'm guessing what we're stealing isn't just guns lads...speaking of, yeah, stealing those will help. Anything with range will beat these shooters for distance." Sean noted, as he saw Hayden's tomahawk in his jacket side.
"Fucking hell, Hayden. You gonna go Last of the Mohicans on these poor bastards?" The Irishman commented with a hint of ignorance, whistling at the sight of it. He checked his own tool, kept on his belt and by his side, the machete still a little wet from clearing the jungle branches and leaves, holding it up.

"Cos I'm saying to you now, we might be able to shit them up." Sean gave that same crazy grin back, seeing Yekatarina's tool as well, a car-breaking axe no less. Pulling in the slum, they had the chance to take stock, and Sean had the chance to cock his P226 as they came to a halt, chuckling as he put the P226 back into his holster, ready to go. Yekatarina's offer was much appreciated, as he took the halligan over from her when offered, smiling at the sight of it.

"Not a bad tool. I'll trade yas too." Sean replied to her, fliping the machete back around its blade and offering it to her, the last parting gift he had before he left. After all, he had her axe, a tool to smash the window in so it made sense. Bethan sighed, looking back to the team in the car, nodding before they got moving.
"Alright everyone. No time to fuck this up. Like Hayden says. Find the truck, let's get in contact with each other and then, we get on with it." She added, nodding to Bethan, agreeing with her partner's thoughts, not a grin so much as a wry confirmation, sliding across the seat.

----------

With the team now split, the Ulsterman got out of the car and followed after the Canadian, trying to act as incognito as he could. This section wasn't busy, but soon enough, there were bustling crowds of people up ahead, and they were white men sticking out in a fucking slum, a bird given to the car as they went another direction from it.
"Jesus. This is rough." He simply commented, moving through the slum, making sure to not make too much effort pushing through the crowd in the busy street, the bustle of kids, mothers carrying dirty water on their heads, and mopeds like something out of a documentary. He'd seen poverty in Iraq and Afghanistan, but these people had literally nothing, they looked feeble and like they had barely skin on bone, malnourished and broken. It was easy to be sympathetic, and no doubt, they had nothing to lose if they wanted to tear apart the two whites in their hood. But so far, they were moving too fast to be of any notice, and realistically, given how many mercs were in country, were not going to be messed with. Incognito it wasn't, but they could at least move through the tracks, making their way down the blocks. Kids bumped off of them, running around excited, as Sean kept an eye to Hayden.
"Let's keep it going. Once this goes off, be ready to run like hell."

--------

Meanwhile in the Caddy, Bethan had shifted over as Yekatarina had gotten out, sliding into the driver's seat and getting a feeling for the pedals, putting it into gear and sighing.
"Fuck, no kidding, this is crap." Bethan added, taking her phone and punching Sean's number, getting it onto speaker, quietly so as to at least hear if he was gonna get shot and it wouldn't alert anyone outside.
"Yello?"
"Right, don't put the phone to your ear, keep it in your pocket kept quiet and keep moving. We're rolling around behind you, can't get visual on you." She replied, looking to Yekatarina, sighing as they moved along.
"Nothing yet." Bethan added, Sean replying on his head.
"Yeah us neither." The Ulsterman replied, as Bethan looked to Yekatarina, putting the phone's mic on mute as she crawled the car along, knowing the Russian was keeping a 360 on their surroundings too, barely multi-tasking in her spare hand, looking across to the brown-haired Russian. She was of a similar age, a woman of a similar type to Bethan and someone she could definitely have a lot in common with. Apart from her shitty man, that was.

"Just so you know...me and Sean, we're in the middle of some complex shit at the moment, if you can't tell. He is a fucking arsehole...dragged me into this because of some stupid shit back home he did. He sold drugs, mostly coke and heroin...by choice too as far as I can tell. Bullshit me it was needed to pay for where we were living at the time when I found out....and when he got caught, turns out the people that sent us here thought they could get me for it too. Total fabrication, but hey, you make of that what you will. Can't tell if it was him or someone else...though to be honest, maybe he thought he could get off easy if I was helping him." Bethan simply said, the moment while they were moving forwards a chance to tell Yekatarina in private, away from her partner what the reality beneath was, even if brief, sighing as she looked over to the Russian.
"Not that it makes him any less capable. Guy has done his fair share of violent shit. He isn't gonna let you down in a firefight, I know what he did in the Marines. But in every other way, be fucking careful. Don't fall for any of his shit." She said, interrupted suddenly as the phone went live, Bethan unmuting it.

"Guys, eyes on. Truck at a stop, half a block ahead. Driver looks like he's getting fuelled. It's definitely it, definitely it." Sean replied, Bethan sitting up in almost a bit of shock horror.
"Fuck, already?"
"Yeah, but he looks well supported. Guy's got a lot of armed guards at his truck stop, they look like they're protecting the tanker they're at. No way we are taking that on, there's at least six. Recomend we wait till they move and hit them after. Gets us time." Sean replied, as Bethan put her foot down, accelerating a bit harder but not going flat out, wanting to get to their block. And lo and behold, around the bend was the truck, Bethan slowing down, eyeing it up from the side, aware that two girls in a Caddy might get away, not in that they would look armed, but they would be of note.

Checking her Glock by her side, she wound down the window, not wanting to make a mess of the Caddy, even if it was a horrible hunk of shit to drive. The guards did see the Caddy, but given the distances, couldn't tell the green shirt that Bethan had on, nor the pistols and tools they had their disposal as they went onto the small clear road ahead, able to go 100m down the road and out of sight, in position ahead.
"I'm gonna keep us here, in front. Yek, think you can get out and be a charmer once I'm past? Go help Sean when he makes that move. I'll stall that thing. Make sure he don't fucking write off that load."

-------

In the meantime, Sean had the chance to turn to Hayden, nodding to the sight of that truck.
"Thoughts on how we do this? I'll smash that window I guess, I got the tool. You want to run security- just in case those boys come after us?"

Hayden turns from looking down a side street and...no fucking way. Hayden hums and motions to Sean, "Let's get closer."

The pair moved a little closer, and Hayden stopped them at the line of a small community cafe, they looked like they just lined up for service so it's not too conspicious. Hayden sniffs the pair about 300 to 350 yards away now. Hayden hums, "Well it looks like the one we're looking for." He hums looking at the guards. Run of the mill Matanbain militia. AKs, SKS rifles, one of them sporting a bolt action Nagant style rifle there's even a KAR style rifle in there. Hell as they watch one man steps out and he's got a WW2 German MP40 SMG in hand, "That is quite a spread of weapons they got there." He sniffs, "Okay...this is going to be an interesting lay then. We're going to have to be very careful. Girls, park up ahead of the truck, say in that spot about fifty of so feet ahead of them, get out, make your way to the fuel station they are at. Get the guards attention, get the drivers attention. Sean and I will start moving when they are distracted, try and make our way to the truck."

There is a affirmative response from the car as it rolls by and Hayden loosens the tomahawk up his sleeve, "Best to do this quiet like."

As the car parks up and the girls begin to get out Hayden gasps, "Fuck me..." As a second truck with Dry Trail markings rumbles by and past the first truck and right past the girls and the car. Hayden watches it make towards the intersection at the far end of the block. And as they are watching a third truck rolls north on that intersection. Hayden's eyes widen, "No...that's three." And as if to cock up the situation further Hayden turns to look over his shoulder to see two more trucks driving away from them from the intersection behind them, one of those trucks driving south deeper into the slum, "Five." Said just loud enough for Sean's phone to pick up, "Are we looking at bait? Or am I right in thinking that the Dry Trail has way more business here then we may have been lead to believe? The suit said one truck and it's driver. but are sure this is the truck. Someone still has that dossier right? Look in it. Look for a target type. Weapons, supplies, armor or ammo. We may need to search, and if there is no specification we take any of these trucks and it's driver and ditch."

He looks at Sean, "Remember shit creek? I think we just hit the rapids. And all we have right now are our hands." He looks back at the truck in front of them, "Maybe one of the others isn't as heavily guarded as this one. Maybe we can find a steal over a fight."

As Bethan implied, their ‘complex shit’ wasn’t hard to spot, but what was mere curiosity minutes ago now grew into concern if these two could work together and a desire to pull Sean aside for a quick chat. She was used to privately doubting things even her own superiors told her, she’d reserve judgement until after she’d heard both sides of the story. She had some experience as an interconnect between at times incompatible people in the form of enlisted and officers, sadly her tenure as platoon sergeant reached an unexpected explosive finale earlier than she would’ve liked. And at least enlisted and officers had some common wiring. These two, if even half of what Bethan just said was true… Fuck.

Having gotten out of the car, Yekaterina stood at the street corner and watched in surprise as several more Dry Trail trucks passed by, unfortunately unable to see under their tarps. Ah, well, not their problem, their target was still there. Yekaterina leaned into the driver side window so the lads on the other side of Bethan’s phone could hear her. “The way I see it, it doesn’t really bother us. Manar wanted a driver, whatever good he’s gonna be for. Car he provided had a dossier with this truck in it. Make, model, color and license plate are a match, so we grab that. Nowhere was anything mentioned about cargo. Only problem is the added heat.” ‘And if he bitches about it, then next time we ask for orders in writing.’ she thought, but didn’t say out loud, “I’m on my way back to the truck stop. Unless anyone has a better idea, let’s give the rest of the trucks a minute to get some distance from here in case they feel like going back to help their friend out. If we’re lucky, our driver will get out of our truck in the meantime. On your mark, I’ll get them to look my way so the two of you can get a jump on them and when the guards turn their backs to me and start paying attention to you two, I’ll help mop up. Surprise is on our side, even if numbers aren’t. Watch for crossfire, if I get shot by either of you, I’m haunting you. If the driver keeps his head on his shoulders and tries to make a run for it, Beth can keep track of him while we improvise. Call me if he gets underway or you want to call it off. Otherwise I’ll see you there.”

Unsure of how to conceal the mother of all knives Sean left her, the Russian left it in the car and broke into a jog, only slowing down just before the truck stop came into view, some 30 meters away, the crowd around providing good concealment. The guards had an interesting collection of weapons, and she couldn’t help but think ‘That belongs in a museum.’ She recalled joking with her friends at school that they would kill to get their hands on some of these weapons for their historical value. Oh, the irony. Their only shot at this was cleaning house and making a break for it before any reinforcements showed up. The truck was hardly bulletproof, much less capable of a swift getaway. She would’ve questioned why the Dry Trail would work with someone who kidnapped their driver and stole their truck in the first place, but who was she to question Manar’s plan? And if what he told them was just a line of bullshit to keep his cards close to his chest, it was a moot point anyway. After a few seconds, she spotted the second pair standing at a cafe. Not acknowledging them in any way, she waited for either a go or no from the boys.

If the order was given, she would approach smiling and empty-handed from the front of the truck, that way she could dive behind the engine block that actually stood a decent chance of stopping a bullet or two when the shooting started, mimicking Gunther’s Anglo-German mishmash and asking about directions to the city center. She figured that way of speech would allow her to play ignorant enough to draw the attention of more than one guard, yet not ignorant enough to be ignored and told to piss off right away.

"Agreed, Katarina. Though on this one, I'll join you. If there's more of them let's not waste our time- and if that driver runs, trust me, they won't last long if I'm chasing them. You go forward, I'll stay in cover when we get close. Guess we're adapting and improvising now.." Bethan followed, the Welsh woman following behind the Russian, opting to follow given what was going on. The change of circumstances had fucked things, but then again, their truck was sitting and waiting for them, right where they wanted it to be, albeit guarded and now, with other lorries trying to dazzle them. She'd taken Sean's knife for the moment if she wasn't taking it, now unsure if they would even come back to the car if things went really, really south.

If they didn't have that plate of that truck, they would have been shit out of luck- and even if it was the wrong truck, Bethan agreed with the Russian's logic, it was hardly like they'd had it written in blood what they were hunting. She kept her distance behind Yekatarina as they got closer, letting her do the distraction, aware one girl looking for directions at a tanker station in a slum would be a better option than two- it looked sketchier. Yekatarina more than likely knew she had little cover, so Bethan kept her distance, making sure not to affiliate too closely as she raised the phone, catching glimpses of those guards.

"Damn, that's some vintages. They might be crap but rule of the jungle I guess, scavenge, steal, get what you need once you drop them." Bethan added, nodding to Yekatarina as she went her own way, using the crowd at the side of the road to go between a few shacks and pacing herself there, get into position, finding a thin metal shack to conceal herself behind, right on the far side of the forcourt, aware that given the hubub and everything else going on, it was unlikely she would have been seen.
"In position. Five tangoes visible from here."

----

In the meantime, Sean turned to Hayden and nodded.
"Sounds like the Russian has us set up...copy that, you two. Get to work and give us a distraction, we need a few seconds to clear the road. Hayden, if we're in shit creek, let's go whitewater rafting.....let's do this." Sean nodded to him for the latter bit of the sentence, knowing that once Yekatarina would make her way across, it was gonna be all guns blazing, literally, and a run to clear the road. They needed to get across and get behind the truck, and drop the two guards going for Yekatarina. Shooting after a hard sprint was never a fun option, especially when it meant trying not to clap someone friendly, but then again, Sean had no intention of being haunted by Russian for the rest of his days for a stupid mistake.

Make this count, he thought to himself, as he moved up, taking the lead after patting Hayden and giving the nod, moving across the road as he could catch her moving out. With a hard run, Sean used the distraction afforded by the Russian to get across the road, sliding awkwardly behind a batch of tyres on the far side of the forecourt, popping from cover and with one hard exhale, picking up one of the targets. He hoped Hayden would be on this, because right now, this was about to open up.

With two clean shots, Sean managed to get one of the men in the abdomen and one in the upper chest, throwing him onto the floor and at the very least incapacitating him for this fight, picking up another target in the cafe. With a three more rounds down range, the running militant didn't have the chance to stop, as he keeled over, Sean looking to Hayden.
"Cover me, moving!" Sean called out, running from his position and sliding into cover by the rear of the truck, a few rounds pinging off the side as he peeked under the tyres, a round flying perilously close as he pulled back, knowing he might have given a bit of a distraction at least for Hayden to spot them.
"Two more, slot them Hayden!" Sean added, peeking as he fired five rounds in that direction, a little less accurate now but able to suppress them so Hayden could get more accurate fire down on them at least. In the meantime, he knew Yekatarina had the chance at least to now get her own heater out and start shooting, and at this point, they had a better control of the area. All that was left to get the keys or hotwire the thing, and get the hell out. Oh, and find out where that driver had gone...

In the meantime, Bethan had herself moved in closer, and saw one person that wasn't armed, and looked if anything more petrified about the situation. No doubt he knew how to defend himself, but being shot at wasn't part of his equation, and so he was heading to the back of the shitshack, and towards the back. Bethan wasn't gonna let that happen, as she broke into a run, knowing that if she could get a lead on him, that would at the least take one job out of the rest of the team.
"Driver's a runner! Guys, just get the truck running, leave him to me!" Bethan put her phone back in her pocket and ran hard, taking the flank and barging through whatever crowd were running away from the gunfire, knowing she looked completely out of place yet in the panicking mentality, could make advantage of that.

The guy was just wearing a vest and shorts and she was wearing a full on DPM jacket, but even then, Bethan made it look easy, spotting him and quickly picking him up. Clearly he realised that this fight was about to go awry, and at the least if he got back out of there, the others might struggle to get the truck moving before he got back to it. An almighty bollocking from the Dry Trail, but then again, better to live than give away information if captured, perhaps that was why, Bethan wondered, as she turned the tight corners of the slum alleys, keeping him constantly in her sights. Like a leopard going after a gazelle, the explosive power Bethan had through the corners was unrelenting, unlike Sean's aggression it was more flowing, crisp even. And it was enough to close the distance, as she found a cut-through he didn't, using half a shack structure to get ahead, cutting him off at his next turn. Even upon pulling a knife, Bethan quickly jabbed him in his ribs and drew Sean's machete straight against his neck, gently pressing the flat against his throat and making it very clear a slight bit more pressure was gonna open him up.
"You even move, you die. We are going back to the truck, and you are coming with us." She spat, exhaling hard, the man beneath him even more so, as she yanked him by the scruff of his vest, switching to her Glock as she pulled him back up, aware he was larger than him yet in no position to parry a tool like what she had at this range. She drew the Glock as she did so, the opportunity sufficient to make sure he knew full well she had a piece at his back.
"You might run fast you little bastard, but I've got friends that run even fucking quicker, so don't try anything. Let's go back, shall we?" She added, the Welsh woman's words as cutting as that machete could be, her sing-song demeanour dropped completely as she pushed him to move, knowing that the team would need the driver alive, or at the least, not in the shit. The route back through the slums was quieter given that everyone was hiding out of out of view, which helped with the fact she was openly carrying now. She just needed to get to the truck and if it was secure, throw him into the back of it with the rest of the team.

Hayden took a deep breath and nods, "You all got a point." He grumbled. And he drew that mean looking tomahawk first. Screw trying to be too covert about it. He made purposeful strides forward, splitting from Sean's side as they went, his eyes on a pair of the mercs. One of them with a dirty looking AKM and the other with the lone KAR rifle.

As the girls started their interactions things started to kick off. None of the Dry Trail folks had noticed that the women had come together in the same car. So the one Yekaterina approached turned and he took a second or two to try and figure out what she meant or was asking about. He had to call over another Dry Trail merc to even attempt to understand her. Seems that rough anglo-german dialect that Gunther spoke is some back woods red-neck bumpkin dialect that very few people spoke. And it took a german speaking person to try and get some idea of it. As they babbled, more men started to inch closer. Guard duty can be boring and witnessing this interchange relieved some of the boredom. And kept about four of them busy.

Hayden signaled, not overtly but to those who could see him he made his targets clear. It was swift, he took the two out quick, crack crack crack, three hits, the first punching a hole in the AKM fellows temple. The guy with the KAR turning slowly the pair of strikes to his jaw then to the side of his throat laying him out. Oh it wasn't pretty, but they were kills. His Hi-Power then snaked out of his other sleeve. And then shit hit the fan. He popped one man, bang bang a double tap. His special forces training clear as day with a bright sun. One to the chest, then another to the head. Perfect, quick shots. Laying the man out. He docked behind some half cover, as the guards started to yell and bark. And it started.

Hayden leaned out and rattled off a few rounds covering Sean's run across the ground. Hayden saw movement out of the corner of his eyes, he growled, "Fuck the driver...what...right Bethan, make sure he's in one piece. Sean one's coming around the other side of the truck. He's yours. Kat, find your gun and get some rounds out." He stopped to grab up the AKM from the guy he hacked down. Oh this thing has seen better days. He checks the mag, then the chamber, full loads the damn thing in a few short professional movements. And suddenly the roar of the gun joins the pops of the pistols. He slots another Dry Trail guard quickly. He looks over covering Sean, but knows full well these people he's managed to team up with are very good at what they do.

The shock and surprise and quick lethality of the attack has already driven several of the Dry Trail troupe to throw their weapons and run. They may look tough but they aren't actual fighters by the look of it. Just a seven more die hard guards left over. Hayden levering up and leveling the stolen AKM on the seven standing in the open. He barks in English, "Drop the guns or join your friends here in the afterlife. I don't care either way. Do it now!" Hoping Katrina or Sean join him in yelling them down. He flicks the barrel of the AKM from body to body, "Do it! Drop'em now! Drop'em!"

Somewhere in Hayden's mind he's quietly thinking, "Just end them...just like those wet jobs. It's so easy...so easy...Just do it..." And it's like a cloud passes over Hayden's face and eyes. And before god and all, He seems to forget that he was going to give them an easy out. He empties the AKM's remaining rounds into the seven. Mowing them down. This could almost constitute a war-crime, but Hayden does it with the look of someone who isn't quite all there. When the click of an empty magazine fills the air once...twice...thrice...then a fourth and fifth time it seems he's still not quite there.

As Bethan returns to the gas station he's only then coming back to himself, "The fuck..." He looks around in a little bit of disconnected confusion. Just the shaking guards near Katrina and two bleeding but still barely clinging to life in that group of seven remaining. Hayden blinks, "Fuck...Sean...when you're good...see if you can get the truck started." With a shakey movement he tosses the AKM aside.

The poor bastards talking to her hadn’t even made it halfway through explaining the route, coincidentally almost the same one they’d taken to get to the slum, when two figures ran across the road and shots rang out, all of the guards she could see turning their heads toward the source of the gunfire as the two helpful ones dropped like ripe apples, their two buddies standing around uselessly turning to fire back, not even bothering with cover. So far everything went exactly as she hoped. The Russian started backing up toward the MAN, drawing her weapon as she went and sent two rounds into the upper back of the closest gunman, the man dropping his Simonov as he did his best impression of a falling jenga tower. Two shots behind them let the tanker guards know just how bad they’ve been had, and the survivors wisely chose to make for the nearest vehicles, garbage bins or whatever would at least hide them from this unprovoked attack, not all of them making it on account of Sean, Hayden and the general confusion.

Yekaterina did the same and retreated fully behind the right side of the truck, sparing a round for each of the men Sean shot at the start of the firefight to make sure their ticket to the afterlife’s been punched as she rounded the cab. Taking care to stand beside the front wheel so nobody could get smart and shoot her in the legs, she allowed herself a second to take stock of the situation. Four rounds expended, and the fighting was contained to the left side of the truck, at least for now. She tried the passenger door with her left hand - locked. Naturally, why wouldn’t it be? She heard a call from the other side. “Wait, I’m on the other side of the truck!” She quickly yelled in response to Hayden’s warning to Sean. With the gunmen now definitely aware she was there, Yekaterina didn’t want to chance leaning out of her cover, but the gunfire had stopped for a moment. She took advantage of the brief pause in shooting to reach up and tilt one of the truck’s mirrors, allowing her to see what was on the truck’s 10 and 11 o’clock without leaving cover. What she saw was several men not resisting, one even raising his hands. She leaned out from around the truck and took aim at the nearest guard, Hayden’s challenges in English echoed by her now clean, if accented German just in case some would find it easier to understand.

And then all Hell broke loose, stuck on full auto. The stereotypical discipline and humanity of the west gone out the window. At that moment, Hayden looked more like what the average Russian thought an average American thought an average Russian was like. But for the time being at least, they were in the clear. “Everyone else alright?” She called out to the lads, turning to Hayden and speaking in Russian in a curious tone. “Are you sure you’re not from Moscow?” before switching back to English, “Try being a bit more economical with ammo though, we’re still on a tight budget.” She removed the refueling hose from their truck and screwed the filler cap back on, noting the tank was mostly full, then grabbed an SKS from one of the dead men and put a round through each of the accompanying tanker’s front tires. More good news came when she spotted Bethan, who managed to catch the fleeing driver. “Great. Let’s get him to cough up the keys and then shove him in the cab, I’ll slow down by the Caddy so one of you sitting in the bed can get off and grab it.” she called over as she finished rummaging through the dead, looking for 9 mil and 7,62x39 for the SKS before jogging over. She quickly went through the driver’s pockets, eventually finding a set of keys. “If someone follows, do what Hayden just did, seems to work.” She quipped as she went to try to get the truck up and running, ”And grab that samovar Hayden just emptied, too, no point leaving it behind. Could someone find out what’s in the back so weI know how careful we have to be with this thing?”

Sean saw the man pop around, barely even making it to Yekatarina as he fell down with a bullet through the head, cleanly pulled from Sean's position, the fire from the AK Hayden had picked up now staccato'ing everything else and making the pistols feel like pea shooters almost in comparison. He'd done his job well to get the heat off of Hayden, letting their CSOR merc do his job. Exhaling, he joined, moving forwards, pistol raised as he walked over a body, yelling the same as the Canuck did. He looked in his direction, and could see it. The look on his face. It was one that looked cracked, broken. Sean had done some evil shit in his time. But when he looked at Hayden's cheek with his left eye in that very split second, he saw exactly the fire of a thousand suns that was going to just engulf whatever it now touched.

The scene felt like it disintergrated the moment Hayden opened fire, the clatter of the AK within a close range splattering the poor militants that the Canadian had killed, in completely cold blood. Sean could have been somewhere else in that moment, but he was right by the Canuck's side.

He was there, right there, and for that moment, knew what Hayden had brewing.

And he understood exactly how he felt. There were no laws of engagement. No rules of war here. They would have been surely tortured and murdered in cold blood in that jungle if they had been caught. Sean made his decision. As if almost Hayden's fire had caught light on a cloth, Sean's switch simply flicked.

Click.

In the moment Bethan was moving in with the driver, Sean walked forwards as one of the men on the ground screamed out, bleeding heavily from his abdomen as Sean rolled his chest over with his foot and without so much a wait, put a round through his head, and clean into the other man next to him who was crawling from a round in his shoulder. He wasn't going to have any chance of living to tell the tale. The militant who looked older, perhaps more of a leader among this little social gang, his face paling as the life simply fell out of him. The last of the gang to die here. And Bethan felt every shot like an exclaimation mark.

"What the fuck are you doing! You fucking animals!" Bethan yelled, the man she was holding hostage wanting to yell as she put her gun tight against his neck, holding him back as she would have let him go and put a gun to Sean and Hayden's head if she could. Every part of her was in shock, because the only part she saw was him summarily executing the guy.

Sean didn't react the way he had before. Almost as if something had been unlocked, he raised the gun from the man's temple and looked dead, square at Hayden, then Yekatarina, then Bethan, a dead, hardened stare.

"Right now, it is us or them. Shut your fucking mouth and start acting like you don't want to die. These pricks tried to kill us." Sean was vicious as he pointed, almost to the point where if anyone ever thought the burly Northern Irishman was acting weak to his partner, the truth was, he was merely holding back. Like there was something deeper inside that he had chosen deliberately not to show, not out of cold blooded professionalism, but out of warm-blooded retribution.

"They were surrendering, you fucking morons...." Bethan exclaimed, waved off completely by Sean, as he shrugged, looking around at the scene around him, the Ulsterman picking up an old and dusty looking Mosin-Nagant, the Three-Line Rifle as Yekatarina would more likely know it, with a 7.62mm rimless cartridge that was like shooting someone with a train. Russians knew their guns, Sean thought to himself, as he pulled the bolt back, walking around the scene, then back to Bethan, walking up to her, the snarling, enraged look in his eyes.

"There are no fucking places to go. Look around you. You live by the sword or die by it. No fucking laws of war here. People talk in these gangs, and if they do, we are dead, Bethan. You forget they'd do it to us if they could?" Sean's menacing tell was dominating, the Welshwoman for the first time actually taken aback her usual demeanour of strength suddenly melted by a response like that, a potent, almost unseen response in Sean. Bethan had felt barely a trace of it in their personal lives, and realised who had emerged. Not just the banter-having Marine, no, this was the guy that sold drugs and was happy to bend every rule he could. Do evil shit to other people. The scumbag who lived rather than the guy trying to get by and not die.

"Well....I didn't sign up to killing people in cold blood. We're soldiers, not parasites. Remember that." Bethan was quiet in her reply, Sean still on the offensive as he walked past her, looking at the guy she had a gun pointed to, seeing Yekatarina come over to search him for his keys, as Sean covered something else.

"Well, this guy might live. See." Sean took the stock of the Nagant and slammed him in the stomach, looking up.
"No bonuses for him being in good nick though. He won't fucking remember our faces. Will he now?" Sean looked directly at him, and though he could barely understand, he could just about form a nod, in agony with how much it hurt as Sean took him away. He kept the rifle in one hand as he kept the pistol against his neck, and with a subtle movement, put him into the passenger's seat of the truck.

"Yekatarina, you may as well drive this heap of crap. Let's salvage what we can and go before we make any more mess." He said, his anger beginning to boil back, but still there, underlying in every tone and thought.

Bethan in the meanwhile, complied with Yekatarina, completely silent and grabbing Hayden's AK, barely making eye contact for half as second as she moved quietly, away from the shitshow that had happened and getting whatever was left. She gathered as much as the weaponry and ammo as she could, snatching a spare mag for the AK and keeping one ready in case, while Sean took the Mosin with a spare stripper clip to his name., guarding the man who was winded, and in pain, unable to react as he knew it would mean near enough certain death.

Stepping into the back of the truck, Bethan looked around, whistling as she turned around, looking at Hayden, the thought of even helping him a fleeting thought but something she did almost as if by automatic. It was that motherly feeling, yet she wanted nothing more than to fucking hit him, just for enabling Sean and doing what he fucking did. She knew he had his reasons, he had a lot going on, but she didn't care. What they did was wrong. And no part of her wanted anything to do with any of this fucking psychotic mess. Strong as she was, she had her rules, and while killing a bunch of militants was one thing, killing a bunch of what looked like adolecent kids in cold blood felt brooding and wrong. Pulling him up if he took it, she looked in the back, seeing a whole set of crates and containers.
"Looks like a hell of a setup. Can't tell what's inside. All of it's locked up fairly tight. Yekatarina, hit it." She added, butting the AK into the cab of the tarped-up MAN, leaning against a container as she looked out the back, then back at Hayden.

"I don't know the sort of shit you got yourself into. But that wasn't needed." Bethan said it to Hayden as if it was a statement of fact, which in her mind, it was a confrontation, but one she felt like she had to let go. A judgemental look, to be sure. Like a catharsis even, the blonde-haired boonie hat wearing Welsh girl all of a sudden wanting even Hayen to show a shred of remorse, or understanding of why what he did was fucking bad.

It took abit, it's like some clouds parted for Hayden and he came back to himself.

He stood there then tossed the AKM aside, looking confused. He looked at Katerina and swallowed thickly, "What...what was that?" he looked back at the bodies, and he knew the wounds from a AK, and he had been the only one holding one. He swallows again, his eyes finally unclouding, "Crap...crap..." He turns and grabs up the KAR98 that the other fellow he had axed earlier had dropped, it's not a modern weapon true, doesn't have the modern bells and whistles, but until he can get his hands on something heavier, say a LMG of some kind he wants something that's pin point accurate. He loots the stripper clips of rounds off the dead man. And makes for the truck. As he goes he looks back again.

Blurry images run through his head. The fight starting, popping one fellow, a dead double tap. Popping off some cover rounds to help Sean. And him yelling? What was he yelling...and was is his memory foggy after that up until him chucking the AK? He sighs and makes for the truck again, getting to the back and looking up at Bethan.

his eyes go wide at her words. He stops himself from fully climbing up. His eyes narrowing, "I wanna say something about battle and alls fair and shit like that..." He looks at the truck and the dozen or so long crates in the back, "But I don't think that would make much sense after that." He hops into the back of the truck sitting on the edge, "Get me to the Caddy Kat! I'll drive it back."

He takes a moment or two checking one of the crates and then bashing the lock off with the butt of his scavenged rifle. Looking inside to find smaller containers of grenades. The paperwork on the top containers reading something like six M67 fragmentation grenades in each small container. He sniffs, "Explosives." He looks over at another, finding signaling for mortar rounds on another one, looking to be 30mm mortar rounds. He sniffs as they roll a little forward, "Some one is getting serious...and preparing for a fight." As they pull up to the Caddy he looks at Bethan.

He hops down, "I can't explain what happened...atleast not in a way you'd like. Just take at value I have demons. Left over from stuff that I don't like remembering. I'll try and contain it. Do I feel bad? Fuck yes I do...do I think I'll do it again...again fuck yes I probably will...I doesn't get any easier. Oi! Toss me the keys to the Caddy...I'll follow you guys out." He brought out his phone and placed it in the front pocket of his jacket, "Call me in abit..."

When Bethan was unable to tell the cargo, Yekaterina turned to the driver sitting between her and Sean, looking like he was about to piss himself. “Hey, Kaffer boy, what’s in the back? And better cooperate, else I’ll pull over and let my mate here sort you out.” she threatened, Hayden beating the driver to the answer. “Nevermind. Does explain the guard detail though, even if it was at a discount given half of them up and vanished. Get your money back.”

The Russian was silent for most of the drive, preoccupied with navigating a truck laden with explosives through the unpredictable local traffic, all the while watching the driver out of the corner of her eye should he try to do something stupid. She only spoke up as they approached the SAMC compound, not taking her eyes off the road as she addressed the Irishman riding shotgun. “Now that you’ve had a few to cool down, I’ve been told a bit about how you two lovebirds landed in this crap. I wanted to hear both sides of the story before making my mind up about it. And on that note, can you two work together, or would it be better if you and the other guy formed a more permanent team? Though on the back of what the fuck just happened, there’s no winning in this situation, is it? Unless you can keep him in check. It worked out this time, but I can think of a hundred and one situations where such an outburst could be the end of us.” She didn’t sound accusatory, or too bothered by what Hayden did, more worried about the way it could’ve impacted them rather than the wanton slaughter.

She pulled up to the same gate where the Cadillac had been waiting for them, reasoning they hadn’t been gone long enough to change shifts and thus the guard ought to recognize them and not give them too much trouble. After announcing they had a delivery for Mr. Manar as if they were bringing pizza, they were directed to a paved rectangle just beyond the wall. She rushed to park the truck before Hayden pulled in with the caddy, hoping to avoid having to stick the truck into a confined space. As soon as they were out, a couple SMAC mercs came by and covered the truck with a tarp before leaving them alone again.

“Yeah, sorry about just going for it like this, but from the moment we found the truck there were five plans of action put forward by four people and at some point shit just stopped making any sense to me. Take it on the move, take it at the stop, check the dossier to confirm the target, try to find one that’s less defended, fucking madness. I think we need to figure out some hierarchy here, a team needs a chief, because this attempt at democracy ended up looking more like fucking anarchy.” Katya spoke up as soon as the four had left, sounding apologetic before turning to Hayden and continuing in a diplomatic tone absent of any blame or anger. “I don’t know where you’ve been and what you’ve done. But are these episodes going to be a regular occurrence, or is it out of your system now? How worried should the rest of us be about such sudden departures from coherent thought?”

Bethan lobbed Hayden the keys, quite astonished with the haul that was in the truck. High explosives no less, a shitload of mortar rounds, mortars and then some. The sort of firepower that was more than just a gang war, it was conflict-brewing and no doubt going to set the seeds of war up in this crumbling state. As Hayden got the keys, she looked at him with a grimace, sensing more was going on. But for a moment, Bethan had a calm about her, almost a mum-like reassurance, like she was looking directly into that damaged soul that she had seen reflected back at her.

"Don't lose yourself, Hayden. We've all got demons, all we can do is go on better. We're here to kill one man and anyone that stands in our way to him. The others are distractions. The Caddy's yours." Bethan said, sighing as she walked to the front and knocked on the cab, AK in one hand as she sighed and then went back to take a seat, on top of one of the crates.

The dusty kickup from the truck blew into the road, and into her blonde hair, as she sighed once more, head resting against the canvas, for a brief moment, alone. Bethan's character despite being strong, internally felt conflicted with all she was seeing now. She had fixed people, put people back together and saved lives in Afghan. Bethan had done that without question, and doubled down on her talent. She had been highlighted as being up to SFSG operator standard, and no doubt, she would have made it. Bethan always held that bitterness, that bullshit stopped her going forwards and it just had to be something she swallowed. So it meant her then settling for a mellow life. Nursing, putting old people back together in a hospital in a remote bit of Wales. Running up and down mountains like there was no tomorrow. Some part of her knew what it was to be here, yet she felt like an alien to be back to this, away from the routine job. Like it wasn't her world at all. Bethan with that C8 in her hands in the early morning felt like she knew exactly what she was doing, back at just being an operator again. But here in the bustle of the city and working with other mercs she felt detatched, like the rules were twisted and there was no good to be found in this place. Only the people next to you mattered, and right now, she was even wondering about that. Perhaps it was why SIS had sent her too, a shakedown to see if she had the fortitude to cut it mentally working for them if this panned out. The most fucked up job interview there was perhaps. In her mind she wondered if they wanted to see if Bethan wasn't just a good soldier, but someone willing to do what nobody else did. The more she thought about it, the more the distant Caddy behind the truck came back to mind, as she gulped, realising that Hayden was corresponding more to the outcome that reality more than Bethan wanted to admit. He didn't talk a lot about his past. And Bethan now understood more why, her smarts coming to that conclusion as it began to turn in her head.

But there was no other choice, Bethan reasoned. She had to adapt to this, bite down, and be a good girl about this. It'd work out in the end, it had to. So long as it got her home and out of this mess.

--------

Letting Yekatarina drive, Sean had time to at least think through the mess that had just happened. He kept his pistol at close reach, aware that he would react faster if the man in the middle tried anything, no doubt because he had just winded him and realistically, the guy wasn't gonna get more than one of them. Sean reminded him of that, as Yekatarina seemed quiet, at least for the first bit, winding through traffic. The Russian was quiet, Sean reasoned, well, focussed at the least on the job at hand. Well, until she broke that ice again, asking about what happened. Sean didn't know how to react. He felt like he'd changed, rolled along with what had happened, followed Hayden's lead and well, followed up. He couldn't help but be more rational though, and as fucked up as it was, what she was asking was certainly touching on somehting that he could tell she had gotten direct from Bethan.

"Hah, she told you about what happened? Well...she probably left out the bit where she never asked where the money came from while she worked a job for fuck all money. I never said I was a good guy....but then again, you find a Marine who is. Most of my friends are fucking addicts, homeless, dead or working some mundane 9-5 where they're trying not to let their PTSD kill them, Katarina. Bethan pretends that's not real. So I decided to put my skills to use and be better than that for the sake of us. And it wasn't enough, Katarina. She got tired." Sean asserted, sighing, knowing it was bullshit, but it was half-true. And that was enough for him at least, to keep him going. The other half of it felt like it would come through better to Yekatarina though, easier than it did Bethan. Perhaps the Russian would make her own take of this.

"You know what though, selling drugs....I was good at it. Most dealers are fucking terrible, using their own product, never actually knowing how to think shit through. At the end of the day, it's a product that will never stop being bought, don't matter who supplies it. Anyway, I never wanted to stay in the county lines game for long, I wanted to move onto security for the cartels, had some fellas that were asking about me. They pay a lot for Westerners, a fucking whole lof of money and it's a good life. Coke is very, very lucrative...Bethan and I were already arguing over me looking at contracting work, and we split long before she even knew about what I really did. I got caught because I made the wrong call. And fuck, I wish she wasn't here now because of it." Sean didn't hide any detail now, sighing as he looked to Yekatarina, knowing she would roll her eyes, or perhaps tune into why he had his reasons, poor as they were, moving to the other part of her concern over Hayden.

"Anyway, we did what we needed to do. Not ideal but he did it without saying it, taking prisoners would have been difficult. I reckon we can all work together, keep each other on a lead when we get further into this. We still got a lot more to fucking do, after all. Besides, I can see the fire in your eyes y'know. You seem to get why, like this seems more normal to you than it does her back there. It's a funny world, but a fucked up one we seem to be in." Sean retorted back, watching as Yekatarina took them back towards the compound, back on the smoother roads and back into the confined parking lot.

Stepping out, Sean pointed his P226 at the former driver's head, motioning him to get out, and the man did as he was shown, quiet but now compliant realising that him and the crew hadn't fucked around. The SAMC mercs that were tarping the truck came over and cuffed him up, applying a zip tie behind his hands and with that, he was gone. The prisoner now gone, Sean had the opportunity to walk back over to Yekatarina, hearing her ask about hierarchy and staying quiet, as Bethan hopped out of the back, following suit to meet the group. While it seemed like Yekatarina was fairly calm in her approach to Hayden, Bethan knew under the surface she had a point- a lot of different plans.
"It seems like the situation evolves here fast. Kinda like the contents of what the gun trucks are bringing. I say we get paid before those munitions start getting used, then get to those discussions eh?" Sean asked, a wry chuckle as he knew that as novel as this Mosin was, he wasn't sure if he'd keep it or get some resale from this rusty piece of crap.

Hayden walked up to the Caddy and getting in waved to the truck that he'd follow. As it pulled ahead he started the car and pulled along. His head running through the events that happened during the fire fight. And taking in the words and actions of what happened. Sean so easily joined in on the blood bath. IT's almost like it was a tailor made moment for him. He just fit in so easily to the puzzle in his head. And Yekatrina he's really not sure at all what to make of that. But all he can really say is that was just like the last time on mission. He shook his head and tried to forget the voice that was in it. He takes a deep breath then drives.

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

Sometime later after the drive on the highway they return to the SAMC compound. The party still going pretty strong. SAMC mercs and militia jogging over first to make sure they weren't being raided, but when one of the pair of Amazons who had accompanied Victor comes out and starts to shout orders. The mercs quickly detaining the driver and taking the truck and the driver to safety. The Amazonian African woman going with them. Leaving the four standing there more or less with their dicks or tits in their hands. Hayden blinking, surprised really that they are suddenly left there. Hayden looks about then at the other three in the group, "Now what..." He turns to look around, that rifle slung over his shoulder. The thing is ancient by modern technology but it's still useful. Might be able to hawk it actually. Who knows.

As they stand there though finally there is a roar of an engine.

Turning as a group they are met by a uparmored limo, pulling up off the street and stopping in front of them. After a moment the other Amazonian African woman steps out of the diver seat and motions. Babbling in that tonal lyrical language of hers and gesturing at the limo. After abit the first Amazonian African woman returns, "She says to get in. And we will take you to Victor. He waits for you to give you all your payment. Don't worry we wouldn't be using a Limo if we intended to off you." She grins and gets into the front passenger side seat. The speaker woman opening the door for them.

Hayden hums, 'Well don't got alot to lose. Come on." He then slips into the back.

And good gods that back area. It's like a rolling night club. The sides are revealed to actually be cleverly disguised armor plates with video screens to show the outsides, wine, champagne and a few other alcoholic treats. A few options for food and refreshsment indeed. Once everyone is inside, the limo begins to roll. The Amazon with the face chain speaks through the intercom, "Eat, and drink if you like. It'll be abit of a ride."

Hayden hums, "Never had champagne so what the hell." As he's pouring himself something to drink with one hand, he's digging for one of several very fancy looking sandwiches out of a cooler at the same time. He nods to the others, "Why the hell not right?" He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

And as he's saying that. The limo begins to roll.



The limo pulled out of the SAMC compound and soon out onto another highway, heading away from Bo'lobo atleast. They weren't on it long as they rolled into a residential district tall red brick and sand brick buildings. People bustling along. Talking and fighting. Trading and being. It's a glimpse of what Matanbai is. Even as they are riding in a SAMC super car, it\s a glimpse at a country that's on the brink. Because it's clear, the poverty and the danger and the pain.

Hayden for seeing all this looks a little unmoved, outwardly at any rate. As he devours that sandwich and sips at a flute of champagne he's looking out and staring at the underlying problem.

And that problem. Well it's not easy to put into words.

Hayden is about to say something, when the Limo turns into a side street, the housing blocks and low tenement buildings. And what opens up in front of them is a sprawling street market. Where they stop on the edge it appears to be food, though a laye rin looks like clothing. Down a ways is a mass of furniture stalls.

The limo's doors pop open and the Amazonians guide them out and deeper into the market.

Soon things begin to look darker. Clothing becomes plate carriers, and weapons harnesses, furniture becomes guns, and food, food becomes bullets and grenades. And walking out of this central section of the market, is Victor complete with his white suit and a new golden chain around his neck. He walks towards them arms held to his sides, "Well hello my little darlings. Welcome to the Central Gun Market." He boots a suit case over to them, "Your payment. You can divide it up yourselves if you like. And then, you had better find yourself some gear. I have another job for you." He grins as his two bodyguard hotties join him.

Hayden stops the case as it slides towards them, then hums and kicks the lock on it. And with a click the case opens to reveal the agreed upon amount of diamonds. Eighty conflict Diamonds. Sitting pretty in the case. Hayden looks down at them with a look of shock, "That's...pretty incredible."

The surreal feeling of the limo was a shock to both of them, as they stepped inside. It was fucking surreal, and made zero sense at all. This was too nice, too good. As if they stepped out of the poverty out there and back into the west. It was a culture shock, and a total confusion at first, well, until they found the champagne and mini bar.

Taking the bubbly, Sean could only chuckle, looking across toe the group.
"Fuckinn get in, lads!" Sean added, pouring a glass of it as Bethan grabbed a few sandwiches, some for now and some for the long run into her pockets, starving and completely in need.
"Yeah, why not...this is mad..." Bethan simply commented, sighing as she leaned back in the seat, looking across to the team as they drove across the capital's rugged and rough streets, heading away from the compound and to the market. And that market was a deep jungle of itself, and going through it after leaving the limo left nothing to the imagination. The limo dropping them off and the introductions made to the market felt even more surreal, Bethan and Sean following the team through and over to Victor. Even in a world gone to shit, free market capitalism still reigned true. After all that had happened, Bethan had pushed down that part of her that felt what she did about what had happened merely 20 minutes ago, understanding now it was follow or die with this madness.

Standing by Bethan's side, Sean saw the case get opened as Victor slid the case over to Hayden, walking over to him and looking him up. With barely a flinch, he took his machete and seperates 20, 20, 20, and another 20, looking to the three others as he flicked a few aside going through them. It showed that he knew product, and while he might have been a thick, sometimes plain Marine, he knew how to make these things work.
"As per earlier. It's safer and fairer, if anyone decides to go and get greedy, they won't have any ideas either. Keep a few in change, food, water, accomodation and all that." Sean simply stated, letting the others take their share as he took his, the best part of 20 stones each and enough to go do some light shopping with. Looking up to the two Amazonians and Victor, Sean nodded, diamonds in hand, as he eyed one of them up to take a look at it's glimmering sheen.
"Not a bad shout, Victor. They could fit an engagement ring pretty well. We'll go and get tooled and regroup."

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

Sean went his own way at first, finding a trader towards the end of the market, after walking through and getting a general gist of what was going on here. With the Mosin Nagant in hand, he approached the last trader of the road, knowing it was quieter here, and a little less filled with hustle and bustle.

"Hey, big man, you got any FALs in stock, any R1s? Got this thing to offer you up in exchange, and I'm paying in stones." Sean asked with the confident swagger of someone who normally sold cocaine to rich people, the Irishman half clued up on what was the local variant of the right hand of the free world, made into the third world's favourite people thinning device that wasn't an AKM.

And with the trader coming back in, Sean chuckled, as the trader pulled out a relatively decent looking version, from where he did not know but that backroom seemed almost infinitely filled when he had peeked through the mesh door. It had Rhodesian markings on it no less...and a fucking weird looking flash suppressor. But then again, the Mosin Nagant he put on the table was fair barter, worth something.

"Rhodesian FN FAL rifle, Halbeck flash on the end, selector switch. Taken from their reserve storage, it is as if brand new, sir. 12 diamonds. Your rifle and ammo is worth two to me." The trader said, selling it up beyond what Sean could very much see. The rifle's flash suppressor was odd, but the solid stock and the dusted paint on it said it wasn't brand, brand new.

"7 diamonds for the FAL. That thing is at least 40 years old. And the markings show it's been used, but maintained. Not in storage. I want a good tool. So seven." Sean replied, the man angered but aware that Sean was not a regular tourist given he looked very shifty and willing to walk away as he trued the rifle in his arm, no mag inside, checking it over. It was definitely well looked after, this thing not looking like it would explode, but then again, it was old- and it needed to be cleaned and checked over in the mud and dirt of this place more than a rifle usually would.

"9. No funny business, mister. I promise, it's good." The trader's reply got a wry smirk out of Sean, as he nodded.
"Deal." Sean added, as he chuckled, looking at mags. 7 spent total, trade in completed.

"Gimmie six magazines, and 120 rounds, standard NATO 7.62, all FNJ. No Chinese crap."
"That's another eight diamonds, sir. I've got South African, that good?"
"Nope, five. Whatever it is, it better shoot straight."
"Seven."
"Six. Last one." Sean's last offer was right there, on the money.
"Fine." The trader replied, as last but not least, taking a look at his other selection. 13 spent.

"Need 30 more rounds of 9x19 too."
"That's two."
"One."
"Just for you, one. You drive a hard bargain, mister. I have a family to feed." The trader jested, knowing he could at least guilt him on the next purchase. 14 spent.

"I feel like you're going to get a lot more business from stupid westerners soon. I know how it feels to have a family to feed too. It's the market rate, I've already checked." Sean chuckled, as Sean took the two boxes of rounds, and the FN FAL, eyeing up the iron sight, and smirking. There was a reason he went for this. It was a classic British service weapon, the L1A1 had been much loved before the SA-80's jamming and shit operation had replaced it. In the old days back in Bosnia, Sean would take it any day over the L85A1 if he wasn't lugging around an FN MAG as a tool for use. While old and dated, it did the trick and felt tried and tested, even for the third world.

"One more then...have you got a tactical pack lying around? That and light webbing. Got anything?" The trader took a moment to think, and after going to the back, brought something out, noting the DPM that Sean was wearing. A 28L assault pack, MOLLE-set with zips and straps on the back, similar to the kind he dropped in with, in fact. The webbing was similar, a tactical vest that would be a better replacement for the coat he was using, lighter and able to carry mags. The coat would be handy in a pinch, put inside the bag, but he'd been boiling in the heat. The trader eyed up Sean, knowing customers weren't often as specific as he was.

"You are English, I think? That weird accent. Where are you from, sir?"
"Northern Ireland, pal. Place here looks like it's got more trouble than home. That I appreciate, good tools. Two." Sean ignored the fact he was just called English, that was a no-no, but then again, fuck it. Worth letting those things go when you were being a hard cunt.
"Three diamonds. Just for you, this is special."
"Two."
"Fine. You are a hard bastard, Irishman."
"They all tell me that. Pleasure doing business." 16 spent, it left enough to get food, drink and keep a couple of diamonds spare if shit hit the fan, Sean leaving the market on that note.

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

Meanwhile, Bethan had gone to another trader, and finding her AK worth a little bit more. She didn't like the platform - and while aware Yekatarina might have been more familiar, it looked like absolute shit, rust everywhere and like it would explode probably if cycled through two more mags. It felt very, very wonky- as if the weapon had been totally neglected and was more a mantlepiece item. The hustle and bustle made her feel exposed, like she wasn't belonging in this place, like a fucking white saviour with blonde hair here to shoot a charity ad rather than buy a gun.
"Afternoon, mate. I've got a list of stuff to look for. This AK, how much? Diamonds, yes?"
"Three diamonds for that, it looks like shit. Merde, I should give you two, but just for you being pretty three." The French-accented trader made Bethan chuckle, as she left the Kalash there, looking up her.

"Well, you'll make me blush now. Okay, so I need a few bits. What's the going rate on rifles at the moment?"
"Pfft, you ask, you get anything you want. A good AK, 10 diamonds. I even have M16s in there, twenty. Though just for you...I've got a special shipment of FNC rifles. Straight from in from the DRC."
"I mean, I don't believe that, but fuck it, whatever. How much for one of those?"
"13 diamonds. I promise, all good. Special price. Battle used, but still capable. Skeleton para stock, selector, standard length." The trader turned and took the FNC out from the storeroom behind, placing it on the table, Bethan truing it up. The rifle looked pretty much as good as it would be, and she'd known this rifle to be something decent- better than the equivalent in an AK or AR family. It beat the AKs that were out there- those would be near enough unusable in her western paws, while an FNC might stand a chance. More unreliable, but then again, more accurate, more modern, and more tactile to use when travelling. It still looked maintained, but even in spite of being newer than Sean's FAL, it looked like it'd gone through the same sort of life in that span of time. Full auto 5.56 always worked, and she knew her Swedish pals always raved about their AK5s. So it was 10 diamonds spent in total.

"Fine. I need five mags, 150 rounds of 5.56, 20 rounds of nine mil, a tactical pack and some pouches."
"That's another eight diamonds." With that, Bethan nodded, the trader bringing out the goods and Bethan simply paying out the 18 total that was spent in this little transaction. Wrapping it up, she handed the stones over, and after a brief inspection, was off on her way, carrying a slung tactical pack over her shoulder and a basic mag carrier vest, with enough room to fit the 5.56 mags she'd also gotten.

She'd gotten what she needed, and checking the black FN over, knew she had something a bit more proper to go to work with. Bethan, like the awkward tourist she was, didn't haggle. It felt more transactional, like she wanted her shit and wanted gone out of this place. Emerging out of the market, she found Sean at an old abandoned fountain, loading rounds into the mags, FAL between his legs, looking up to see Bethan turn up with her FNC.
"Not bad, not bad...can't go wrong with a trusty Fabrique Herstal tool, ain't that so?" Sean noted, nodding to the rifle in her hands, the black and tanned rifle a paratrooper's dream given it was a neat little carbine.
"Well, they work. Mine is definitely better than yours. 5.56 is lighter, nicer to handle too." She smirked with a reply, the seperation somewhat good to give them both distance from each others' malice.
"You definitely overpaid. Newer, but harder used. And you're forgetting that this thing in full auto with a compensator is a Rhodesian's wet dream. Fuck, my CO told me about these. Full auto 7.62, no problemo." Sean chuckled, Bethan disaproving but almost bantering along now.
"What, and you went from one genocide tool from that Mosin to a Rhodesian FAL? Fuck, you kill any more people today and we'll be off to the Hague next..." Bethan said, to almost a cathartic laugh from the two of them. They could be knocked back on their asses again. But this morning, they'd done something more important. Gotten tooled, and while they had gone to hell and back, wanted to shoot each other, and hijacked a truck in a slum and ended up in a dirt-poor market, at least they now had something to show for it. Sean realised that this world could take, but so could they. The laugh almost felt like a "fuck it" moment, the two of them so broken and worn through all that had happened, that they couldn't just remain constantly at each others throats right now.

"What next then? What do you think Victor has for us?" Bethan asked, Sean shrugging as he finished his second from last mag, and started feeding bullets from the last of the plastic bag into the last tan-looking 20-round NATO magazine.
"No idea. But I have a feeling the diamonds were an investment. Not payment, you know? And look at that gun market. Everyone's merchandise is top-notch, not just AKs, SKSs and Zastavas like I thought it would be. The Hyena has resourced every single one of them. I bet our C8s are back in for sale there. Makes you wonder, why aren't we asking them?" Sean asked, musing on the question for a moment.

"You think they know the network? Chances are, no way. The fish above them probably don't know. I've got to guess that they get their instructions and go point to point, drop to drop. The buyers are the people that matter- they're the people who likely interact with The Hyena directly. And those are Victor's bosses, or maybe, their bosses." Bethan replied, shrugging as she got to work with her mags, loading 5.56 rounds into the old, dusty looking STANAG spec steel mags.
"True that. Well, either way, we need to keep going. Whatever we're doing gets us respect from Victor. Gets us diamonds and we can buy what we need from that. Finding transport is gonna help us long run too." Sean sighed, finishing the mag, loading it up and cocking the rifle up, chuckling as he checked the bolt, and then the overall profile of the tool he'd spent his hard earned stones on.

Bethan- 2 diamonds
Sean- 4 diamonds

Victor’s limo was truly something out of this world, at least as far as the country was concerned. Blessed be the infinite patience of the poor bastard who had to park the thing. Or turn it around. She half expected a brick or two at any second, but the locals’ resentment of such a display of wealth, if there was one, seemed understandably tempered by their fear of retribution. Easily two tons of armor just on the sides, definitely a few more on the bottom, with no doubt corresponding aftermarket parts in suspension and drivetrain. The limo was easily worth over a year of her wages. Maybe their combined wages, before they ended up unemployed, in a drug trade or put on ice. Viktor was indeed paying for something special she thought, already halfway through a second sandwich.

Although the market smelled wonderful, she knew better. Such street food markets were often dodgy, even in first world countries. Then the market became dodgy for a very different reason. Not to the Russian, who looked around like a fat kid in a candy store. True, some of the items on display had seen better days, but true to life’s nature of a coin, with two opposite sides, some of the stuff there looked better than what she had in Chechnya just two years ago. Katya stared at the case of diamonds a little dumbfounded for a few seconds, her brain’s operating system taking time to process what she was looking at and that it was real. Probably. “I’m just going to check something.” She reached down to grab a diamond with her left hand, taking care to keep her hand far away from the SKS’s trigger and the weapon pointing down so the Amazons didn’t get the wrong idea. Then she scratched a steel part of the weapon. The rock left a visible mark on the bolt carrier and a smile on the Russian’s face. “What this briefcase alone could be worth in the civilized world.” she muttered as she returned the diamond into the briefcase.

Yekaterina took time to wander through the market, exchanging a few words with several merchants and checking out their wares. Finishing a circle around the market, she parked herself in front of one of the stalls, letting her Russian accent off the leash. “Privet. I’m in the market for a rifle and some equipment. You have something from home that doesn’t remember Korea?” She gestured to her captured SKS. Truth be told, she wasn’t too enthusiastic about Kalashnikov pattern rifles, but Beth would’ve been right: AKs had the advantage of familiarity.
“Naturally! A paratrooper 74, from Serbia if the supplier wasn’t lying. Yours for a mere 14 diamonds!” the merchant hollered enthusiastically in an accent she couldn’t place so quickly it rivalled the rate of fire of his goods as he handed her the AKS-74.
“Guy over there is selling a solid stock one for 12.” She lazily pointed over her shoulder to one of the stalls she’d visited earlier. The fire selector moved smoothly from the wear, and the stock rattled around when stowed, but a look under the top cover showed a decent, if used, firearm.
“Bah, Paulus. Dresses up his antiques to look nice, and then it falls apart on you! Stay away, I’m warning you for your good. 13 diamonds.”
“13 and I get a sling to go with it.”
“Deal. You’ll need bullets and magazines, of course.”
“Say, five magazines and 150 rounds of 5.45 and 10 9 mil.”
“Let me see, that would make seven diamonds for the magazines and rifle bullets and one for the pistol.”
“And if I give you this on top?” She placed the Simonov on the table.
He examined the weapon briefly. “Two diamonds.”
“And one more for the bullets and stripper clips.”
“Two for the whole deal. You’ve said yourself it’s old.”
“I may not be buying from Paulus, but selling’s another thing.”
The merchant though for a second. “Gah, fine.” he relented and yelled something in his native tongue into a hut behind him. A few seconds later, a boy no older than ten came out, carrying the agreed upon items. On the way to find the others, the Russian shelled out another diamond for a chest rig that looked like Afghanistan was just the start of its long journey. One diamond left.

“So much for a unified caliber.” She laughed when she found the others and saw what they picked, taking a seat on the fountain’s edge. “And I thought living with eleven people in a three bed apartment to make rent in Moscow was a budgeting nightmare. This place, though... Here’s hoping we can get Victor to set aside some corporate hidey hole for us as part of further employment. Would be better than paying for some seedy trucker den with piss-stained mattresses. Safer, too.” she lamented the economical situation. Taking advantage of a solid surface and some time on her hands, the Russian swapped the magazines in her Gesha and began the arduous process of reloading the old one. Since neither Mr. Gryazev, Mr. Shipunov or any of the other engineers thought to include a belt clip in the loader’s design, she had to make due trying to compress the uncooperatively stiff magazine spring with a suitably shaped pebble, giving up after a minute of wasted effort, wondering whether a more or less matching loader or even a piece of sheet metal bent into the right shape was a worthwhile investment or if she should abandon it entirely and get a different backup. Where did that loader end up, anyway? She had it in Samara, and then it disappeared into some pocket dimension to join all the odd socks consumed by the laundry basket and tupperware boxes she could only find the lids of. “We could’ve nicked the map from the Caddie. Getting lost and wandering to the bad- badder side of town here of all places could be bad.”

@Starlance@FourtyTwo

Hayden was just about to reach down into the case, but Sean beat him too it. And well what Sean does makes sense. Waiting his turn he's the last to kneel and scoop up his share of the diamonds. He pockets them carefully putting them inside his jacket though, close to skin. Easier to protect that way.

And the group splits up. Some to the edge of the Black marker gun shops. Some to the central area.

Hayden roams.

He makes his way from stall to stall. Passing Bethan as she deals, and seeing Sean at a short distance wheeling and dealing. As he makes a lap of one length of stalls he stops at one, looking over the wares. This one seeming to deal in battle rifle style weapons. He picks up a M14 looking it over, spinning it expertly. Down the sights, over, and checking the insides. rubbing at the release. Thumbing back the Iron site wheel. Setting it down and getting the stalls owners blood pumping a little as Hayden picks up a near vintage SVT-40 from the table top. Hayden smiles, "Wow...look at this...you hear stories of these things. The Garand, the SVT and the Gewehr 43. Some of the first honest to god battle rifles." He went through the same motions as he did the SVT. Smiling the whole time. But in the end he shakes his head, "Not what I'm looking for, and probably too rich for my blood." He bowed to the man, "But if I need a good rifle, I'll know where to come too." He smiles and headed off. Deeper into the market.

Hayden roamed.

He passed a table selling nothing but launchers by the look of it. Carl Gustaf Recoilless Rifles, and RPG-7s. A fair bit of firepower. Most of them look a little beat up, but that's the kind of force that comes in handy when in a big battle...so why are they here.

Hayden passes by and continues to roam. And as he can see the others gathering up he still hasn't bought anything yet, and it almost seems like he isn't going too. He stops at a kiosk selling stripper clips for older weapons like the KAR he's carrying. And looks to be about to buy a harness and a few 5 round stripper clips until he drops the items and rushes down the line.

It's hard to see as the kiosk is small, and overshadowed by three others surrounding it, in fact it'd be hard at first to even notice it unless they had something that sparked your interest. Which it did indeed for Hayden. The older woman who's manning the stall looks up from the well used magazine she's reading. She looks at him through a squinted eye, the other hidden under her long fringe. She gestures an in rough english growls, "Other stalls have better weapons. Better for fighting. Go there. No one wants Aunties' weapons." She sighs and looks down at the squat table top sadly. Hayden hums, "Well, we shall see about that won't we Auntie? I'm Hayden, and I'm very much interested in this." He reaches down and stops when Auntie lets out a gasp, he archs his eyebrows waiting then she nods. And Hayden lifts one of the guns. It's not a rifle, or a shotgun or even a long rifle. Something one would expect from the mercenary lot that come through here. No this gun is a different beast. Hayden smiles as he looks the lovely lines and robust shape of a Stoner LMG. He grins, "Look at that. Sad that not alot of the mercs about here want something as beautiful as this Auntie. I mean look at this, a little more pristine then like is for my blood." Auntie nods, "Sixteen diamonds that." Hayden nods, "Eh...wooo, tough sell there Auntie. Too rich for me. Let's see..."

He goes over somemore of the stock. Picking up an AUG H-Bar, "Look at this beast. I saw one of these in action once back in my Service days Auntie. Spits like mad, and with a 100 round box on this thing you can lay down some serious fire." He looks at her. And she nods, "Twelve gemstones my boy." Hayden winces, "Ooof still too rich." He hums then blinks, "Auntie, may I see that one?" He points behind the table at a weapon hidden amongst the cluster of other squad automatic weapons the older woman has. She blinks then reaches down lugging it up. He looks at the old woman. She smiles abit, and says, "Ten." Hayden fishes into his jacket and pulls out nine diamonds and places the KAR he had down, "Nine and this." She blinks at the rifle then reaches over and pulls out a thirty round mag, full of the .303 rounds and slides it too him, "What else?" He hums as he's attaching the 30 round magazine to the Bren gun, "One more thirty round and two 100 round pan?" She starts to look while muttering, "Four more Diamonds." He places the diamonds on the table, "A harness to carry it all?" She places the magazines full of rounds as well on the table top and a harness, "Harness for free...you give me business, first time in months." He smiles, "Here..." He shrugs out of his Red Cross jacket, "Sell that, it's real. Ought to net something." She gulps and pulls out a full case of 160 rounds of ammo, it's fairly large really, and also places a backpack on the table, "2 more diamonds...all this is yours..." She gulps.

Hayden stares at her for a moment then pulls out the request amount. Setting it on the table, "You sure about this auntie?" She nods, "Yes, you've given me the first business in months, and gifted me quite abit." hayden walks out into the path way, full loads the Bren and pumps a few rounds into the air, no one flinches, nearby as it seems to be a fairly common thing. He grins, "Fully working Auntie!" He chuckles walking in, setting his new gun ont he table top and shrugs into the harness that's resting over his inner hoodie, and starts to attach the two pan mags and extra two thirty round mags to it, and finally hefts the long box of ammo up and attaches it to one of the side hooks of the harness, backpack and all he's got quite the load out now, "Thank you Auntie." He hefts his weapon reaching over and grabbing one of her dark gnarled hands bringing it to his lips and kissing it, "You're a gem stone yourself Auntie. If I'm back this way and I have more money, I know where I'm coming." The old woman gasps and honestly giggles a little and nods as Hayden walks away, Bren tucked up over his shoulder.

Rejoining his teammates, "Lads and Ladies. Well look at this spread." He grins brightly, not quite showing off the squad weapon he's carrying.

As if on cue, Victor reappears with his two amazonian guards "All ironed up are we friends? Feel like coming with me? I want to ask a few questions, then maybe introduce you to someone. She has some work for you maybe." he grins and gestures over to the limo again.

(15 diamonds spent, 5 remain tucked in the harness pockets for now)

Bethan chuckled as Yekatarina came over, and then proceeded to load her GSH-18, the modern Russian pistol a tool even the Welsh girl was impressed by. Much nicer than a Makarov, far more functional somewhat. The dirt and dust had begun to make her lightly blonde hair look almost a darker tone altogether, perhaps a reflection of all the shit that they'd gone through with the truck and the running through the slum, Sean nodded as he dragged a cut-open oil barrel over to the fountain, to where the other two were sitting.
"That's true. But if we scavenge, I'm sure we'll find everything we need out there. Seems to be the way it works. Places to stay too, hopefully. I don't care what it is, so long as it has four walls and isn't going to be ringing with gunfire all night long. Not much takes this much out of me, but I'm feeling fucked. In between carjacking and killing people, you know?" Sean replied, sighing as Yekatarina asked about the map, a comment that the Irishman behind on the rolled over barrel could comment upon.

"You think I would have left it?" Sean drew it from his back pocket, throwing it Bethan's way.
"Not much, but I thought it was worth a steal." Bethan sighed to Sean's comment, but felt almost impressed by him in that moment, knowing while he was a cunt, he was a resourceful one at times. She reached over to take it, and flicking through, whistled, passing it to Yekatarina.

"Not bad. So that's most of the city. And the basics of the region, main roads, main towns. Looks like a holiday map mostly." Bethan mused, the look of it something a tourist would have, not a military unit. On that note, she got to work on loading her own Glock up with nine-mils, taking magazines she had kept and filling them in with a few more 9mm rounds, aware she hadn't actually expended much ammunition herself. A brief moment, but a chance to say the least. The few rounds into the mag were easy to place, with a slight push on the spring and they simply slid into place.

She slid her Glock out after holstering it and reholstering it again, and offering it to Yekatarina, reaching out after knowing the Russian would be nearly finished.
"Mind if I take a look at yours? That's an interesting looking piece." Bethan asked, the Welsh girl aware it was a little strange to ask, but it was a curiosity to her. Sean in the meantime finished up loading his FAL, a nice cock of the rifle and another check giving him a rare moment to appreciate that as little as this was, it was a proper bush-level FAL.

That brief exchange was followed by Hayden coming over, Sean looking at the thing and almost in a moment not even wanting to stay put with his FAL. Now that tool Hayden had, that was a thing of beauty. A relic. And only one part of his brain came on at that moment. A reference to be sure.

https://youtu.be/4yQeyi2Fc40?t=79

"Don't you think you could have brought something a bit more practical? Fucking hell, he's brought an anti-aircraft gun..." Sean remarked, a glowing smile from him as he stood and took a look at it, looking back at Bethan. She got it, but on a drunk film night in getting something from a movie delivery service, and sighed, as he looked back at Hayden.
"Ehh, you won't get it. Fuck, I used one of these a while back. That looks to me like a Bren Mk4,.303 cartridge, hits like a fucking fridge but handles like one. Jesus, that is a fucking tool. And you got the pan mags. Fucking hellfire...a man of fine taste." Sean seemed impressed, the automatic rifleman taking it in, nodding in approval to Hayden. That moment too was broken by Victor turning up, the two enormous guards flanking him, towering over even Sean. The comment about "asking a few questions" felt a little unnerving, but then again, they hadn't gotten tooled up with no good reason. There had to be something afoot here, and no doubt, they had to be on their shit.

On that note, Sean looked directly at Bethan and nodded, a pact almost without words, keep your trap shut about the objective and remain on cover. Of some vague kind, at least. Details might get a bullet in the back of their brains, the right ones to keep them alive, the wrong ones would be their end. Following the group over, Sean and Bethan got back into the limo, knowing that they had another contact in the chain to go meet.

“Molodets. Good one. Might be a scumbag, this guy, but a street smart one.” She added in Bethan’s direction, storing the map in her empty magazine pouch. “Upper left pouch in case you need it and I’m not around to tell you where it is.”

She removed the magazine and ejected the chambered round, catching it in mid air before handing the pistol to the other woman, accepting the Austrian weapon in exchange and unloading it in the same manner. “Sure, here you go. Made to run the 7N31 AP rounds without falling apart after a thousand or so. Striker fired like yours, borrows some other features from Austrian tupperware, too, like the trigger safety. Except despite being brand new, mother Russia only had to shell out a third of what importing Glock 17s would cost per unit. Something about a screwed up tender if I heard right. Trigger’s a stiff bitch, though that might get better as it gets broken in. A lot of people still prefer the PM or APS over this, though the APS is so big you have to carry it in a bag if you want to conceal it. And unlike the PM, you can’t open a beer bottle with this one, but that’s a matter of personal priorities I guess.”

Yekaterina took a moment to admire Hayden’s catch. “I had no idea they made disc mags for Brens. It looks like the DP’s uglier cousin. The things you learn every day. If you go off the rails now, there’ll be no stopping you. Wouldn’t want to be the poor bastard who stands on the other end of that.” Their new arsenal was more varied than she expected, but on second thought, it made sense. A FAL, an FNC, even the venerable Bren were all proven workhorses, all of them in African environments as well. With some care and a measure of luck, they might even last long enough for them to spend their next shopping spree on protection and utilities rather than replacing the weapons.

She reloaded Bethan’s Glock, returned it to its owner and made herself comfortable in the limo. Still a little surprised at getting another job this quickly, she turned to Victor. “You said you had questions? Ask away then.” Having strung together a few lines of bulshit in advance, expecting some poking and prodding into their backgrounds, she was more curious than nervous of what would be asked of them and what her compatriots would answer. Of course their answers were likely to be vague or false if the questions got too close to home, but even the way a person lies tells you something.