[IC] ~ Squad 914: Beyond ~

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A wintery chill diffused between the buildings of the streets, where the only sound were the footsteps of heavy duty boots made an appearance in the night. Slow and monotonous, it continued throughout the alleyways that shrouded the man in darkened shadows. From here, it made its way closer and closer towards a side-entrance of a great hall, built up of a thick concrete made to withstand even the heaviest of bombardments. On the inside, only a glimmer of light remained in sight, surrounding the doors the man went towards. A moonlight glisten broke through tiny windows.

Taking what he had, the man lit a few matches as he trekked around the circumference of the room. He lit the room on, bit by bit, candle by candle. Around the outskirts, the light began to fill the room slowly. It was a slow and patient process, but it had to be done at the given time. The man had pledged to take on such a duty in the respect of such a memorial. The years had passed since the events had unfolded, and whether or not the world was ridden of evil or not was uncertain. With hours like these and only a minute addition of pay, the task and duty seemed all but useless. But this man was old, withered and clocking up the end of his days. He had to give up his time to return the favour of those he sent forward into the fray of globalised conflict. These individuals were to be treated as heroes for not only the duty they had, but how they did it. It was a shame that he knew if any of them were still around to witness the statue granted in their own honour and achievement.

The candles eventually lit up the statue. It didn't show any figures, faces or bodies at all. Only an insignia was all that was needed to represent the story of these people. A project built off of hope, and only hope. They were the ones that tried the impossible. He just wanted to remember their faces once more, as if they were still under his command and able to reflect the impact they had...

<------>

The trucks all arrived at their destination, ending the convoy's formation as they spread out into the clearing of the vehicle depot. The rear-doors were opened by whichever assistant posted in the depot during the early hours. From the back, a selection of men and women were unloaded out, brought forwards towards the centre of the depot. Directly in the middle, in front of where they were guided, a small podium was placed down in preparation for the welcoming speeches and what not.

A selection of individuals stood in the centre. Some of different nationalities, many of different backgrounds. Those with clothing similar to their military background, others with attire worn down by the years of conflict they'd been fighting. Some had attire of their own, loosely constructed from resistance cells or militia fighting grounds. Around the depot stood formally dressed officers and high-ranking soldiers, all here to witness the formation speech that would inform and release all the information about the project at hand. Many had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Some had a brief idea, but what their prize for turning up was could not have been anywhere near their knowledge.

Men and women, both from the frontlines and the reserve armies, all stood amongst one another. Some conversed between each other about why they were here, or introducing themselves to the likes of the others brought to this camp. In the centre of the USSR, this was the furthest some of them had been away from conflict, and others found it the closest they had been to it if they were in the Eastern Reserve divisions. Either way, some could guess the crucial importance of the project just by the location of the camp. Most Soviet soldiers were trained far closer to the frontlines. Stalin and his officers believed that they could prepare the waves of fresh faces by allowing them to hear the gunfire in the distance, the artillery bombarding either side out beyond the hills. In some ways, it was a successful method, but in preparing them for the sights, instead of the sounds, of war, it was sometimes seen as ineffective.

Suddenly, the officers surrounding the group stood to a sharp attention, as the crowd began to die down in their conversations. A man, tall in his stance, took up towards the podium laid out earlier. It was a short wait for him to arrive since the group's arrival. Eventually, he cleared his throat, beginning his speech. His voice was raspy, rough and toughened by the experience behind the uniform. His eyes glared down as if they'd seen enough friends, families and legacies destroyed by shrapnel bombardments. A dark beard sat around the dry mouth of his, like the symbolic fur of the bear; the nation's reputation itself.

"Before I make any formal introductions, all I can say is that I am glad to be finally meeting all of you." A deep echo rebounded off of the depot's walls, back down the throat it came out of. The voice rang out to the ears of his 'guests'. "My name, if you have not guessed, is Yuri Vychenko. I am your new Commanding Officer. I am your new superior. I am the reason you are all gathered here...all of these faces. Before me, I see those whose appearances speak to me and tell me who you are. I see, to name a few, a German defect, a seasoned fighter of the Vietnamese detachments, a veteran and Survivor of Leningrad...And many who are yet to face the Third Reich in person. You are all here to see yourselves as the future hope for the Soviet Union, for our regime and nation as we know it. And because of that, I cannot express the gladness it is to see you all together for once."

The Officer led his hand to the left of him, where numerous uniformed personnel lined up, documents all within their hands. None of them held welcoming smiles, but their posture and dress-code showed that they were proud to be seeing what might be the future of Russia, and the world, as they knew it.

"To your right, you will see an alignment of Officers, all of which you will encounter during your stay here for further training. Whilst I would love to introduce you more to the programme now, I'll have to save that to a more personal level later, as I have meetings to attend to. Get your documents off of these officers, my comrades, as they will direct you all to your own personal quarters, your selected designation as chosen by our processing and something a little more...special. Talk amongst yourselves after you've done so, head over to your barracks...Then all of you will report to me at 0900...Oh, and...Welcome to Squad 914."

[Dolerman]

Helga's chest was tight, as it always was when she was in a new place. Her instincts constantly reminded her to be wary of new locations, something she had picked up since her abduction to Berlin, and it had saved her well in her life up until now. Her Russian wasn't perfect so she missed some of the words in the speech, but got the overall jist pretty easily. The tall commander had a clear voice and commanding presence, which helped make the whole situation feel more official and less alien, apart from the spies who trained her, she has had very little contact with russian people let alone soliders, she had no real loyalty to the soviet union, she was probably an anarchist at heart, she just wanted to punish and slaughter the Nazis.

After the orders were given, Helga winced slightly as the man clearly identified her as a german defect to the rest of the Squad, she wasn't sure how she felt about that but she went about her orders all the same, she picked up her documents from an emotionless looking soldier and began to read, before turning and looking at her new squad.

They definitely were a ragtag bunch, multi-national, multi-racial and even multi-uniformed. This is the kind of mixed impurity that would make the SS furious, so Helga couldn't help but fell an odd sense of pride in the bunch. She noticed two women who stood out to her the most, a very official looking lady in what looked to be an expensive soviet longcoat. @DracoLunaris And a very innocent young girl with a face of deep pain and past sorrow,@Xandrya Helga felt like she could identify with some of those emotions.

Greetings squadmates, I'm Helga Branwulf, it appears I've been assigned as a Marksman of this outfit. I look forward to joining you in wiping out the enemy.

[Conscripts]

“Whew, my leg is stoned.”

Said the young Vietnamese as he struggled to stand after hours of being stuck in one spot inside a truck. He could not move nor stand, due to the cramped space that he was given. But thankfully, all of that was over now, as he had arrived at his destination. It was a small depot, nothing more, nothing less, but it was packed with faces. Most of them were Russians, while some bore different nationalities, many from different walks of life. But there was one thing, one small thing that all brought them together, which was known to Thanh under the name ‘Squad 914’

They all gathered in a straight, orderly line, around 30 in total, in front of a small podium, as a tall commander soon took it. His voice was clear and loud, yet less grand and more simple, which pretty much suited his taste. Not that he hates nobles but they usually talk in a manner that he found it difficult to understand. Just blame the poor fate that was bestowed upon him for being born in a poor rural family.

After the briefing, the Asian man left to receive the order from the officers. He had noticed that Thanh was wearing one of the gilet that was granted to him as a gift from the Vietnamese soldiers that he once worked with, along with some other folks, who were looking at him. Thanh was in no position to be surprised, as a sight of a small Asian among an army of Europeans would be strange. But no bad intentions were in those gazes, as they knew that the Vietnamese were one of their allies, tied together by an invisible but strong bond for the last two decades. So the young Thanh couldn’t help but take a little pride in serving here.

After receiving the order, Thanh looked at his wrist watch. It was only 0800, so he had plenty of time. He looked around, to see if there is any other fellow Vietnamese who was in the squad with him. But unfortunately, he found none. He couldn’t even found an Asian not to mention an individuals from a small country like him. But as he looked around a bit more, he had noticed a rather familiar sight. A blonde man with a hollow beard, whom he had seen a couple of times at the defense of Kursk. He hadn’t gotten many chances to know him, due to their circumstances being a little tight around the time. Now that they had met, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to initiate in a friendly chat with him.

“Good morning. I am Thanh, a former member of the Vietnamese detachment. I believe that we have seen each other at some times during Kursk. I wonder if you know.”

@LetMeDoStuff

[ReusableSword]

The long drive was cramped in the covered truck, 10 soldiers crammed into a truck fully loaded with personal effects and gear. The tall blonde sat at the very back occasionally stretching one leg at a time out over the back gate of the truck, the joints in the mans knees made a pop as the tension in the joints were released. Victor did not recognize the other soldiers, some remained quite like him through the entire trip others talked amongst themselves, mostly about home or where they came from. Victor was able to occupy himself with staring out the back of the truck and at the rural gravel and concrete road that they were driving on, trying to make out what detail he could in the early morning darkness.

Somehow he seemed to have dozed off towards the end of the trip only to be nudged by another soldier who gestured outside the truck. The truck seemed to have just stopped in an open depot of some sort. A few officers opened the back gate from outside and ordered everyone out, it was at this time he realized that his leg was asleep and was only able to partly catch himself as he jumped out of the truck and landing with a slight roll onto his back. The other soldiers in the truck laughed and helped him up before they formed up in line with the others. The officer giving the speech seemed stoic in a 'I've seen some shit' kind of way, the speech was also blunt and to the point not very fancy or anything of the sort, again another quality Victor enjoyed.

"Squad 914 eh?” he muttered to himself, “so much for going to Moscow” he sighed and looked around, out of the 30 or so soldiers in the room they all seemed... mismatched. He noticed right away that he was one of the biggest there as he approached the officers for his file. The first thing he saw in it made him curious, Designation: Support. “But I was training as a rifleman.” he thought aloud, but here he was at an unknown base surrounded by other soldiers and unfamiliar faces. Most of the soldiers seemed to be chatting with each other with a mostly relaxed feel, yet he still felt awkward among his brothers and sisters the people he would be fighting alongside and protecting. So he did what he normally did found a spot in the back of the crowd where he could just stand there and watch the interactions of the others.

[Xandrya]

Milena always admired a strong leader, and that's exactly who stood in front of her and the rest of her squad mates. Or at least, he gave off such impression. As she slowly eyed her surroundings, Milena felt a small sense of pride. She was happy to be one of the chosen few selected for this team, and if one were to pay close attention, they would notice the left corner of her lips slightly angled upwards in a smirk. Even though she was really looking forward to their missions, Milena maintained a flawless poker face.

Once their CO was finished with his speech, the team scattered to gather their documents. Milena did the same, the reality of this new adventure slowly setting in. But by no means was she nervous, just a tad anxious if that. She put away the documents after glancing over them when the woman who'd been referred to as the "German defect" walked up to her and another teammate and introduced herself as Helga Branwulf.

"Good morning. I'm Milena Kuznetsov, one of the medics for the squad. I hope I'm not needed too much on the battlefield," she joked with a slight smile to lighten the mood.

@Dynamo Frokane
@DracoLunaris

[Skyrte]

It was far too early in the morning when she had to depart to the station, where a truck would pick her up. The night before the local supply officer gave her some trouble. Apparently her casual, non-regulation uniform was a problem. While she could bring it to the base where she would be inducted into Squad 914, she needed a dress uniform, and she needed to be in it when she arrived. According to the supply officer. Vera didn't see the importance in any of it, she hardly even felt like part of the military. Just three nights ago an intimidating Commissar showed up at her doorstep, told her raise her right hand, swear her loyalty to the Soviet Union and viola she was now part of the armed forces. She didn't even know her own rank! When she went to the supply depot the officer there gave her the standard issue dress for women, a very tan, unflattering coat and skirt. She asked for pants instead of the skirt.

So there she was, sitting in a truck with about five or so others. Her uniform was brand new, stiff and difficult to move in. While the others chatted about what they did, who they were, Vera closed her eyes and sank as deep as she could into the uncomfortable wooden seat. Doing her best to become one with the seat, though she felt like the only reason why the others weren't talking to her was because it seemed like she was sleeping, not because she was hidden from them. Much later she felt herself slipping into sleep when she noticed the truck halt. Not long after someone tapped her on the shoulder, "Seems like we're here, tovarisch." Vera nodded, slowly got up and followed the others out. She found herself in a mostly empty vehicle depot. Officers and other military personnel directed them towards the center near a small podium. Vera looked back at the trucks that brought them here, if she recalled correctly... ZiS-150 trucks? A newer model of truck, the supposed successor to the ZiS-5, a much older, but very sturdy and reliable model. They only started production of these trucks just last year, she thought to herself. She looked back forward, where roughly 30 or so people, mostly russian, were standing. She quickened her pace to keep up, leaving the trucks and her thought about them behind, standing behind one of the people near the rear.

A large, older officer went up to the podium, flanked by a number of military personnel to his left. He cleared his throat, which made Vera look up at him. He began a fairly informal greeting, introducing himself as their commanding officer, pointing out a few people as veterans and such. Vera perked up when she heard that there were veteran troops in this unit, making a mental note that she should stick close to them when the shooting started. The CO then gave them instructions that the personnel to his left carried documents for them. What sort of documents? Vera thought to herself, and as quick as he arrived, the CO left after telling them to meet him at 9:00AM, an hour from now. Though she didn't catch where. She went up to one of the men carrying the documents and picked out hers.

She looked around and saw that most people had already begun to form into small groups, chatting amongst themselves or flipping through the pages of their personal documents. She even heard someone mutter that he had been trained as a rifleman, not as whatever they had assigned him to be. The small Russian girl noticed that most people had uniforms broken in, with rank insignia, some medals or badges, patches which displayed their former units. Her own uniform had no such things. She felt vulnerable in this crowd of strangers, clothes too stiff, without her armor. So she walked towards those trucks to get a better look at them while she opened her document. She only took a few steps before tripping on herself and dropping her documents. She stopped mid recovery and saw the papers splayed out on the floor. She blinked before quickly gathering her papers, adjusting her coat, and continuing her path towards the trucks. She was glad that she was walking away from the group after that incident.

[Jeep Wrangler]

@Conscripts

<-------------------->

Aleyev had already been given the details about the Squad itself, and most of the instructions were expected to take place. The young, tall man himself was the second very soul to be selected, or conscripted depending on what view you had, into the programme. A lot of the information had been given to him prior to the project's official launch, though the main details were kept short and many of them were told to him in strict confidentiality. He was not allowed to utter a single word of the Squad until its initial deployment into combat, at least to no one but other Russian comrades. He knew of the 'experimental gear' that was hinted, but not of them specifically. Aleyev also knew of the mission...

As he, like the others, was dismissed from their standing posts, they began to make their way over to the officers holding documents. He waited in a small line before hearing his name called, approaching the formally dressed man with a folder in his hands. When handed to it, Aleyev would look down upon it, staring at it briefly before tucking it underneath his arms. His uniform currently looked scruffy, but in a respectable way in saying he was a war veteran. At least a veteran for combat, not time. It was the very same uniform he wore to escape the city of the damned. But before his mind could dwell upon the being of his attire, a man approached him.

This new face was not much of a new face, if you account into the previous years. Well, new face for today, at least. He was quite well dressed, obviously showing signs of some experience to the very least. He spoke in a friendly manner, introducing himself and giving his own identity away. As soon as he finished, a smile crept up Aleyev's face. He chuckled aloud, patting him on the back as he gave a heavy welcome-hug.

"Aha! I thought I recognised you in the trucks!" He let him go, chuckling to himself as he held out a fingerless-gloved hand out. "Good to know your name finally. Aleyev Yanovich. It's good to see you too strode on through Kursk and still are coming back for more! You Vietnamese folk sure know how to put up a fight."

He patted his back, pointing towards some of the other soldiers talking amongst themselves. Aleyev guided the man's vision towards where his finger was pointing as it gracefully fell on each individual one by one, pointing out the differences in their appearances, but not through his words.

"All these people are here, they'll witness us and learn from us, am I right? So, what happened to you after Kursk? I was transferred in late 1946 to the 2nd Shock Army. I'm sure you are aware of the...events that happened in Leningrad." His voice drifted off slowly, as the thoughts and visions of Leningrad seemingly returned upon the mentioning of its name, like a deathly plague waiting to pounce upon everyone. But soon enough, his face seemed to regain consciousness as he smiled back at the friendly Vietnamese friend he had just made.

[AlShayatin]

The Nazi Scum

For the duration of Yuri Vychenko´s speech Gerhard stood at attention, like every good soldier would, though after that he casually lit a papirosa made out of news paper with his barely dry matches. Unlike the others, who were also gathered here, Gerhard did not wear a uniform, he wasn´t even wearing real clothes, the only three things on his body were a cotton padded jacket with his name on it written with white chalk, cotton padded pants and a pair of soaked through walenki. In summary, he looked miserable, yet he was the reflection of his previous unit. A old man who was bitterly chilled to the bones, tired and yet with the eyes of a killer, always lurking, always concentrated. The not so glorious part of the mighty red army.Before this day, which was a miracle to him because he could not think of any reason why he would be needed or wanted here, Gerhard was part of the notorious Shtrafbat. A penal battalion, filled with thief´s, felons, alleged deserters and others that simply had been in the wrong place,wrong time type of situation.
On the way he learned that he´d most likely be assigned as a combat engineer, at least that was what the man with the blue ribboned peaked cap said. So there he was, taking his sweet time to smoke, enjoying the freedom of not being under constant surveillance.

'Was haben wir denn hier? Ein paar Russen, ein Schlitzauge und eine Vaterlands Verräterin. Könnte spaßig werden, so spaßig dass ich mich fast nach meiner nassen Höhle in den Schützengräben sehne..' he thought while spitting out some tobacco that got sucked into his mouth, unpleasant and hot but better than not having anything to smoke at all.

translation

'What have we here? A few russians, a rice-eye and a traitor of the fatherland. Could get funny, so funny that I am missing my wet hole in the trenches'

Gerhard von zur Burg lingered around a little longer, even after his papirosa long burned out, before approaching one of the commanding officers which were supposed to hand him his papers, he wanted to take his time and see who he´d deal with.The men all looked well indoctrinated, motionless faces and stern eyes. What he received paper-wise was not much, a small identification pass with his picture in it and a few formrs, but the glances he earned were plenty. The German stayed calm, lighting another papirosa which was his last, a sad fact he had to face after checking his few pockets. He thought about all the missed 'Idi nahuj´s or the 'Shto pjaljeshsa, pidaras?' he could´ve thrown back at them,just like he did at the MKVD soldiers in his old unit, yet the old German knew that this was another league. Not the penal battalion. Perhaps this also was his chance to win back his freedom, after defecting he had told the MVKD everything he knew and yet they refused to let him go, instead throwing him into a Shtrafbat to die. It was only a small hope, but maybe he could get back to his family.
Since Gerhard did not own a watch he had to ask somebody for the time, out of common sense he wouldn´t bother the Russian soldiers, so there was only one option left.

"Helga, richtig?"@Dynamo Frokane he asked after stepping behind her while she was talking to a few other people," could you tell me the time? I don´t own a watch and being late to formation is something I want to avoid, I am pretty sure our new commanding officer would take this to heart.
Unlike for Helga, being identified as a German was nothing bothering to Gerhard. As a former SS-officer he learned to wear a thick skin, addressing her in German would also give him an idea of how she swung.

[Conscripts]

THANH PHAM

---

"Hehe. Glad to see you still kicking Nazis like usual." Thanh returned the man's hug with one of equal force. And he couldn't help but feel a little bit proud at how the guy actually addressed the Vietnamese soldiers with high regards. They did not make up a great force to make significance on the battlefield, but individually, some were very courageous indeed. And it surely is interesting to be a foreigner inspiring aboriginal men to fight for their own country, fighting to free the Russian, and the world from the Nazi's grasp.

Speaking of that...

Thanh could feel his chest hanging heavy as Aleyev mentioned the events of Leningrad.

"Yeah, I do know of that...Even more clearly than anyone, despite not being there myself."

He did not know whether he was lucky or unlucky about it. Because of his leg wounds, Thanh had avoided being transferred to that disastrous city. But in exchange, hundreds of thousands, including some of his best comrades from Vietnam, perished in his place. If he had been transferred there, how many would he have saved.

The Asian man bit his lower lip in order to ease the pain welling up in his heart, as he returned him a friendly smile.

"I left Kursk in June, due to injuries." He patted his own right thigh. "It was pretty damn horrible, I was away from the battlefield for a whole year, until Stalingrad. But I'm now all kicking and ready for more!"

Thanh then looked at his own documents.

"Is your gear assigned in advance, or it's just me. I was given this thing." He showed Aleyev the picture of his explosive mine.

---

@LetMeDoStuff

[Carlyle]

Naomi Robinson
^{Current Location: Squad 914 Camp}

Standing with straightened posture and arms placed behind herself, Naomi listened in silence to the commander's speech. It had been clear that Vychenko attempted to sweeten up the conversation to instill patriotism within those that stood in front of him, yet Naomi--despite her distaste for such words--refused to budge or divert her glance lest she compromise herself or whatever orders her superiors in the United Kingdom and now the Soviet Union had given Naomi. Regardless, it hadn't stopped Naomi from wrinkling her nose in disgust upon hearing that there were to be Germans--Krauts as she called them--within their ranks. Nothing more than liars, rapists, thieves, and above all, coldblooded murderers, Naomi thought, clenching her hands behind her back into fists as past memories resurfaced, reminding the agent of the terrible events she and the people of the British Empire were forced to experience at the hands of the Germans.

As he finished his speech, their commanding officer diverted their gaze to the right with a movement of his arm. A row of uniformed officers stood in order, each one holding what was to be their assignments. None of the officers were welcoming, yet the unsettling gaze that had met Naomi as she approached to receive her documents had shown that they had also survived trial by fire, but also that a glimmer of hope existed for those who were selected to be apart of the newly formed squad. Their rough and unkempt appearance reminded Naomi of her father, and she began to wonder if--by chance--he was still out there, alive and kicking. The Third Reich had quickly overwhelmed what forces that had against their soldiers in France, and her father had been missing since the disastrous expedition. Sadly, it was a possibility with little chance to exist, and all that was left for Naomi was to hope that her father was alive to see what a proud soldier his daughter had become.

Walking away from the officers, Naomi quickly glanced over the documents she was handed in a secluded area of the room. By no means was Naomi a lone wolf, but she had wished to gather intelligence (as was one of her duties) about her comrades without someone to distract her from the rest. Two Krauts, a number of Soviets, and one Vietnamese... Naomi pondered as she gazed over those that were now conversing with one another inside the meeting area. As her glance met the two Germans conversing, Naomi felt a smirk rouse on her face as she noticed the burly man's attire. Worn and caked with dirt, his penal uniform left a belief inside Naomi that the Soviets were doing something right. The German war machine had inflicted so much pain and suffering as well bloodshed and death onto innocent families, and Naomi stood steadfast with her resolve that the Germans should be forced to pay for their sins and crimes.

[ReusableSword]

Victor Continued to do what he normally did in a crowded place stay away from the crowd and watch, he was never the best when it came to holding a decent conversation with others. Yet even in this room full of strangers he does feel relaxed, as if being in good company. The others in the room seemed to mingle well enough, by what he could see there were mostly Russians in this group. Something to be expected, what was not expected was the foreigners.

He could only make out one dark haired Vietnamese man among them, as well as a blonde lady who looked like she could be British, and a few Germans. Surprisingly one younger girl in military clothes and the other older man looked like he was wearing a prisoner’s uniform. Victor had no real qualms about working with the people they had been at war with for some time, just being glad that they were here to help. He knew that they wouldn’t be allowed here anyway if this were not true. Odd? Sure, but this group was definitely one thing and that was ragtag. It wasn’t just mixed nationality’s it was also mixed levels of experience and specialties. Perhaps that is exactly what this country needs right now, to show we can stand united against our foes. Even if to some, it would show desperation.

Yet for him it said something else, something he has kept to himself ever since he heard it from his father. While his father does hold a rather high position within the government, he sometimes hears things even he is not supposed to know. Why his father tells him these things is beyond him, perhaps as a way to empower the boy to do well or defeat him and keep him away from the fight. Before he turned 17 and was already filling out the paperwork to join up with the army, his father told him something he insisted must remain secret between them. That secret was simple, we are losing the war. A simple statement that could explain the need for desperate tactics, a statement that no one is talking about. Either they know and don’t care or want to admit it, or like him have a rather naive outlook on the world around him and simply give in to the propaganda.

Still, he figured that standing here alone wasn’t going to accomplish anything so against his quiet nature he decided to glance around at who to talk too. He didn’t feel to up to interrupting some small groups that had formed together. The Germans seemed to be conversing with each other and a small group, the Vietnamese man was chatting with another veteran looking fellow, a few others seemed to be far to interested in the new transport trucks, and the blonde lady seemed to be doing the same thing he was doing watching everyone from a secluded area. The girl was small, short, with blue eyes that showed strength and cunning. A feeling maybe, but she seems dangerous in her own right, he could feel it as he began to walk toward her.

Keeping his file tucked under his right arm, he found himself growing anxious. It’s not that he was unable or afraid to talk to people, he was just kind of weird and awkward about it. He kept his pace slow and steady looking around now and then until he stopped a few feet from her. He kept his file closed and resting at his side and spoke with an awkward smile, “a rather strange bunch we got here don’t you think?” he paused for a moment as he looked towards the others. “Mostly Russian like myself, a couple Germans catching glares and a few suspicious looks, a Vietnamese soldier chatting it up with some veterans as if they are old friends.” He paused for a moment before looking back to the blonde haired girl, “and then there’s you, a British or American soldier” he paused for a moment as if realizing he skipped something, “oh and My name is victor Asimov… I think I should have started with that” he seemed to suddenly lose confidence in himself, even for a simple mistake.

@Poi

[Jeep Wrangler]

@Conscripts@Dynamo Frokane@Skyrte@DracoLunaris@Xandrya@ReusableSword@Poi@AlShayatin

<-------------------->

He was glad that at least he had the decency to not ask straight away how Leningrad was. Thanh was a great guy, from the little talking they had it was a clear understanding of one another. There'd be no doubt that someone else would ask him or Thanh about their experiences in the different cities and their sieges. It was nice to have someone he could relate towards in this new Squad. Aleyev never would pinpoint himself as a veteran of war, just someone with enough experience to help him through it. But then again, no matter how much experience you have, one wrong move could lead to a bullet in the head. Those were the words of Yuri himself, their commanding officer for the time of their activation.

When the Vietnamese man showed him the pictures of his own experimental gear given to him. Obviously Thanh and Aleyev were both already informed of the gear each and every soldier was going to get, but the others might as well have been blind as bats at this point. He took the picture from his dusted fingers off of him, analysing it close. It was a pyramid, almost, with a long pole beside it. Most likely being an attachment or additional mechanism. On the words were simple key words, but the one which caught his eye the most was 'Mine'. The idea of it seemed radical in his mind, but Aleyev had a good idea of how it would be used, especially by someone like Thanh. He smiled, chuckled and patted the back of his new Vietnamese friend.

"You sir...You have one hell of a job to do, with this equipment." He chuckled once more, pulling a photo of his own out. "This, however, is mine. Russian genius called Atyre invented it. They are calling it the Support Handgun, 48th Edition. Not really sure on what it does, but, well, that's what this short training induction is for, am I right?"

As he finished his sentence, Aleyev walked over to the designated officer holding his papers, he looked towards it, holding the file and folder until he could make out the paragraphing going on about the dormitory accommodation. Before he had the time to scan it, another voice raised itself over from his shoulder. This time, it was a uniformed Russian, like his own, with a face as a solid brick. As Aleyev turned his body to face him, he was handed a small letter.

"Yanovich...Announce these for me, then proceed to go to your designated sleeping quarters. Make sure everyone else goes to theirs, this letter states who is in what room with one another." The Sergeant telling him to do so nodded, before turning and walking off, not giving Aleyev the time needed to respond or make sense of what his orders were. He looked down at the nearly handed letter, opening it from its concealment. What he saw was simple. A list of people, all assigned to what rooms with who. At first, it seemed odd, you had the genders amongst one another, but also nationalities split and merged into one another's rooms. Some people had three in a room, others were only pairs. The layout was weird, but it did seem to show some signs of diversity, maybe getting the soldiers out of their comfort zone.

Eventually, Aleyev raised his voice, waving the letter in the air. He waited for the room to go silent as he prepared his improvised speech. It wasn't going to be anything major, just the simple task of assigning rooms without the officers having to waste their own voices on such a mere task.

"Excuse me, can I have your attention shortly?" The room eventually died down drastically in the noise it bared. "Here, I have a letter which'll assign you to your rooms. Please...uhh...try not to complain, I'm not the one making these decisions. Oh and also, I apologise if I pronounce your name incorrectly."

When he made sure everyone was listening, he huffed to himself. He adjusted the scarf he had picked up off of a German corpse back in Leningrad, one that he took with him ever since as a charm of luck during the winter. He looked back out at the soldiers and reservists chosen for their ultimate task for the Soviet Union, and possibly the world too.

"These names are to be assigned to accommodation Block C. Inside, there are different rooms, some for two or three people...or something like that. Anyway. For Room 2, we have...Thanh Pham and Zoyka Stepanovna. In Room 3, there is Helga Branwulf and Milena Kuznetsov. Room 4 holds Victor Asimnov and Gerhard von zur Burg. And finally, in Room 5...Aleyev Yanovich, Vera Volkov and Naomi Robinson...I think I pronounced those right. Start heading to your dormitories. Lights out in 2 hours. Food is waiting in your rooms. Uhh...That is all?"

Aleyev folded the note and placed it into his pocket, grabbing his bergen and getting an early start towards reaching his room. The dormitories themselves weren't a far walk, and those whose names weren't called out were likely going to be left to someone else to call out. On his travel, he saw many officers and staff walking around, yet very little of them were soldiers like those in the vehicle depot. Some wore white trench coats and long-jackets, as if they were some of the men and women too smart to fight the war...

Eventually, he reached the location he desired, walking into the room. The sight of the room surprised him, quite so, instantly. It was large, larger than the not-so-wide corridor that connected the rooms together. There was plenty of room, a separate bathroom and three separate beds for the three residents of the rooms. There were several storage containers and areas to hang up uniform. It was almost a luxury in comparison to what he'd been living in back in Kursk and Leningrad. Especially Leningrad. On his bed laid a wooden tray, with a bowl of what looked like a type of soup. Whilst it ruined the luxury, it was understandable with the difficulties of rations and food being handed around the colossal behemoth that was Russia. Ahead of the others, he sat onto his bed, removing both of his boots and lounging across the somewhat comfortable bedding, tray on lap. Aleyev tucked in, before the others had arrived, and awaited their arrival.

[Carlyle]

Naomi Robinson
^{Current Location: Squad 914 Camp}

Soon, a man had approached Naomi out of his own will, stopping just a few feet from the agent. It wasn't hard to miss Victor as he was a giant of man, but the anxiety and awkwardness that he was producing only served to make him stick even more so outside the crowd. The nervousness had made Naomi curious in what he had to fear, but the Brit kept silent to hear what Victor had wished to say. "Robinson--Naomi Robinson. I'm not an American; I'm a York lady. A tried and true Brit." Naomi explained, her calming British accent perhaps giving some peace to Victor's worries.

By then, Yanovich--their advisor, it seemed--had called out for their attention to announce their lodging arrangements. Naomi had been paired with two Russians, but Victor was paired with a German for his arrangement. The agent was glad that she wasn't forced to spend her days in the same cabin as a Kraut, but Naomi couldn't help to feel a moment of sorrow for Victor. "Seems we'll be parting ways for now, Victor. If the Kraut starts giving you trouble--as they always do--, look for me. I'll roughen the lad up." Naomi explained, showing signs of her already volatile relationship towards Germans. However, before she had left, Naomi extended a hand to Victor as part of her farewell, although it was clear that there had been a moment of hesitance before the attempted handshake.

Following the directions they were given to their barracks, Naomi soon found the room that they were to stay in. Spacious, with beds for each of three that were sleeping in their quarters, along with a separate bathroom. Looking around the quarters, Naomi soon found a hook to hang up her uniform, where she carefully hung up the khaki jacket and the red beret that she was wearing. Taking a second to brush off the beret, Naomi then pushed aside the tray with soup to a corner of the bed to sit down on her, facing the man that had called their names before as he lounged on the bed he was given. Aleyev had seemed to be comfortable in the position he was in, and instead of bothering him, Naomi decided to to eat the soup that was provided. It may be their last hot meal in awhile, and a part of Naomi didn't wish to see it grow cold.

---

@ReusableSword@LetMeDoStuff

[Skyrte]

Vera walked around the new truck, examining it from top to bottom. It seemed like the new ZiS-150's, but the driver had already gone, and with nobody to sate her curiosity her guess would have to do for now. She took a quick look at the other trucks then made her way back to the group, rather aimlessly. She didn't particularly want to talk to anyone there, and nobody seemed to want to talk to her, which was fine with her. Soon after a man rose his voice and gathered the attention of the group, he announced that they would be assigned rooms, which made Vera raise an eyebrow. She expected a barracks, not rooms. Didn't soldiers usually get a barracks? She kept listening. Vera ended up being in the last room, room 5, with two others. Aleyev Yanovich, a Russian judging by the name, and Naomi Robinson, not a Russian. She didn't know where the name was from, just knew that it was further west. An American? English? Both nations had their hands full right now, and Vera was curious as to how they arrived here in the east.

She looked around, noticing that people had already started to move towards the barracks, and others were still waiting for room assignments. Vera decided to walk to her room, following a few people out. The base didn't seem to be populated by soldiers, instead, there were white coats and crisp uniformed officers. A stark contrast to some of the people she had just seen in the vehicle depot, with uniforms worn in and well used. She soon entered Block C, going down the hall to Room 5. She slowly opened the door and poked her head in, seeing two others already in. She glanced around, raising her eyebrows in mild surprise. She stepped in and closed the door behind her, walking around the room and examining the place. Vera looked into the bathroom and then back at the others. "Not quite what I imagined when they told me I had to join the military."
She walked over to the last empty bed and sat on it, touching the bowl of the soup before taking a sip of it.

[Xandrya]

"Well, what are the odds?" Milena smiled, turning to Helga as she adjusted her bag on her right shoulder, which was understandably growing heavier by the minute. It had been a rather long day, and Milena was ready for a nice, warm supper. "I'll see you in the room."

With a quick wave, Milena made her way towards the dormitories. She passed a few soldiers, some who like her were simply trying to get some rest. She was the first to reach their room, and she picked the bed opposite the door against the wall. Milena sat down on the bed while she dropped her gear on the floor, leaning it against the frame as she looked around for a moment to get used to her new living quarters. With each new post she was assigned, she grew a bit more saddened by the fact that she didn't have a home with a family to return to. She missed her dad, terribly, but unfortunately, he had been living in her memories for some time now, and the disheartening thought that she'd never see him again wasn't getting easier over time. "I can fight for you, father," Milena whispered to herself, hoping to find some small comfort derived from her own simple words. "I can fight for you, and mother..." She smiled as a single tear fell across her cheek. "That's what I can do for you both."

Before she ran the chance of being viewed as the weak one, Milena wiped her face dry as she took off her boots. The bed wasn't as uncomfortable as one would image, and she pushed herself against the wall, crossing her legs in front of her to make herself comfortable. Looking down at the bowl of soup, Milena hoped that it would be reminiscent of the home-cooked meals she used to enjoy just not too long ago. Much to her surprise, when she took the first spoonful, she found the taste to be quiet pleasant. Milena picked at one of the vegetables to get something solid in her stomach beside the broth. She ate the remainder of her food in silence, the shuffling feet outside an indicator that the others were slowly making their way to their rooms as well, a small reminder that she was not alone. And by that, she didn't mean alone in a conventional sense, but rather, each one of those soldiers out there had their own personal struggles too. Each one of them had their own demons to battle and accepting that was one way to get through what lay ahead of them...or so that's what she thought.

[Conscripts]

THANH PHAM

---

It was pretty natural for Thanh. Talking to Aleyev was indeed very relaxing and entertaining. He was probably the only fellow he could talk to so naturally. Possibly because how both of us had seen what we all desired not to see, but had to see. Of course, Thanh was no veteran, being only twenty years of age, but at least he had seen combat, he had experienced losses, blood and horrors. He didn't want to go out and berate other people, especially arrogant youngsters who were so full of themselves, but he could not speak so well with them than with someone who understands him.

After the experimental gear review, the room was then assigned. For the first time Thanh had heard the details of the entire Squad's name. Russians were the majority, followed by Germans, who were no doubts defectors. Other interesting nationalities he could register were Norways, French,...Snd as he had expected, no Asian, it appeared. If there were, it might be that Naomi something. She, maybe she, was certainly not Russian, might be Japanese, but the surname might have been American or British. Hopefully it's the latter, because although the Vietnamese had no problems being friends with Japanese, the fact that they killed his mother left him cautious when approaching these traditional people.

Another name caught his attention: his roommate. The name screamed that she was female, and was a Russian. Thanh was a little bit reluctant to share a room with a woman, but in war, convenience would surely be tossed into the trash bin, and the young Asian did not really have the drive for romance. He was too busy fighting for it.

Everybody was then busy settling in their respective room. The same could be said for Thanh, as he made a beeline towards his quarter. His pace quickened, his posture straight. Opening his room's door, he had noticed that his roommate was not here yet. That meant that he had all the honors to choose his own bed. Well, that was if he had any distinguisable choices anyway. The two beds were the same, blessed with an old, almost rotten mattress, and there was a single bedside table, shared between them. On it, two bowls of cold soup were placed.

"It is heaven..."

Certainly not for some nobles who knew nothing but luxuries, but for this young fellow who was born a lowly commoner in Hanoi, it was something unimaginable. Thanh lied down relaxingly, the softness of the bed eased all the pain produced from all his scars and injuries. He could feel the ground flee before me, as if he was carried into the sky. Oh dear God, life was so good...

[ReusableSword]

The blonde didn’t seem to put off about him being awkward and at the very least he got her name. With a firm but quick hand shake she moved off with the rest of the crowd moving toward the barracks. That women will surely be something, he thought to himself and shrugged off the part about the German. Victor knew that it would be awkward as it is with all things, tolerating the German would be one thing but making friends with one he could already see that it would be an unpopular decision with the others. From what she said and her body language regarding that fact he could already tell that most of the others felt the same way as she did.

He waited for the bulk of the crowd to go before following, he never really knew why he didn’t like crowds he was sure it had something to do with being dangerous or something. Another strange thing he noticed was many of the officers and other staff wore lab coats and looked more like scholars than soldiers. One in particular called out to him as he was passing, “Private Victor Asimov” the officer spoke. Stopping mid step to snap to attention, the Officer didn’t even look just reading over some papers on a clipboard, “Follow me” Victor nodded, “yes sir.”

He followed the officer through halls, past bunks and offices till they reached a small examination room, “Have you looked through your Equipment yet?” the officer asked as he began looking through some cabinets, “No sir, I have not looked through my file yet” the officer turned his head to look at Asimov over his shoulder, “you should, while I look for your supplements.” Victor quickly opened the folder he had been holding onto and began to read through it.

Medical records, criminal history if any, family members and their backgrounds, education and skills. Then at the back was a tab for Experimental equipment, a very detailed and in-depth look into his life even stating some psychological issues and possible risks. The tab for his equipment however had a plain sheet on top stating that any misuse or loss of documents could result in prison time or death. As he flipped through the pages and diagrams of the Hydraulic Assisted Armored Platform he was to be using, he barely registered that the officer was talking to him, “Hey kid, come on, did you see what I mean?” all the officer got in reply was a nod.

“Good, I am Doctor Petkovic, I will be overseeing your medical progress through your muscle stimulants. The gear you have is heavy and at the current rate of things strength needs to be your priority followed closely by stamina.” The Doctor placed a syringe with a clear liquid on a sterile metal plate as well as a small glass bottle full of small white square pills, “the serum you are going to be given is… experimental and you will have side effects, we are still unsure of the long term effects. It is designed to tear down your muscles while simultaneously repairing them, thus making your muscles denser and you stronger, you were chosen for this because of your age mostly and your size.” Petkovic paused for a moment holding the syringe in hand, “For a few weeks you can expect to have your muscles be sore and feel like they are on fire, you should also expect your heart to feel funny at times but it should be alright, another thing to expect is well you will be hungry and even though I do believe you should be eating another meal, rations are still low.” he paused for another moment as he stepped up next to Victor, “Do you have any questions?” Victor was silent for a moment, he didn’t look at the doctor just at his hands, “can I operate the armor without it?” another pause as the doctor thought about it, “not very well” He sighed then looked up at the man, “Then do it.”

A sharp prick of the needle and a slight burning sensation that slowly made its way down his arm and around his body, and he was done. The doctor handed him the pills in the bottle, “I can’t give you pain killers or alcohol because of the injection but these pills will help with the muscle growth.” The doctor grabbed the bottle handing it to the boy and pausing, “Now don’t go getting to overzealous this stuff doesn’t make you super human or anything. All it really does is take more of the load off your back.
at best it will give you above average strength” he turned away from victor and retrieved the clipboard flipping through a few pages he finally spoke again. “Take one pill at night before you go to sleep and I will check up on you once a week from here on out, you are dismissed” again victor nodded and left heading back through the hall ways to his bunk.

He walked quickly down the halls moving to the side of other officers and soldiers as he looked for room 5. When he finally found it he noticed that neither of the beds had been used and both had portions of soup siting on wooden plates. He knew which one was his as whoever brought their personal effects in had left his sword leaning against the foot board. Placing the small bottle of pills on a nearby shelf he gripped the handle of his sword placing it on another shelf next to his bed. He stopped for a moment, all he could do or that one moment was look around the room. He sighed for a moment letting his anxiety pass before taking the bowl of soup and sitting down on the bed before he began to eat.

[Jeep Wrangler]

@Skyrte@Poi

<-------------------->

Aleyev Yanovich looked up as the door opened. Two females, presuming the ones on the list, turned up and entered the room,
overly seeming wowed by the room they were being given. He smirked to himself, placing his now empty tray down beside his own bed as he watched the two seemingly sit down in an awkward fashion and begin eating his food. Aleyev let out a low chuckle and sitting upwards on the edge of his own bed. He looked outwards towards the two and smiled at both of them, doing a satirical wave towards the two. After he caught there attention, he held out a hand, hoping to shake either of theirs.

"Robinson, Volkov. Pleasure to meet you both. Read some of your profiles beforehand, because for some reason I was allowed to via our CO Vychenko. I guess because he came to me first, I got a sneak peak...It's great to see you both however, a member of SOE from the great British Empire, and a fellow comrade preparing to throw down arms to punch the Fascists right in the chin...Now that is a good pair of soldiers, I'd say."

Aleyev leant over towards the bedside table, where he grabbed his flask of whatever liquid the Officers had given him and took a somewhat small gulp out of it. He wiped his mouth, staring at the flask as he tried to analyse what exactly he was drinking. Smacking his lips a few times, he grinned, placing it back down. A small chuckle seeped from his lips as he wiped his eyelids and nose with the tips of his fingers.

"You serve your country, for a couple of years in fact, and you only get cheap drinks with no excitement. Typical. Anyway,
speaking of serving...I heard that you, Ms. SOE, had served the Polish Resistance quite heavily, especially after giving us some vital information. Now that, that is some fucking ace work. If only we had men here as great as you. And you, recruit...I can only say you'll do more good here than anywhere else in the Red Army, even more than the VDV. We'll be reunited with the enemy, and can avenge the fall of nations who will rise again. I still can't believe France didn't make it, or Britain. Especially Britain...That promising attack on the Greek Nazi-occupied territory...Almost as bad as my time in Leningrad. Remind me to someday tell you about Leningrad, Ms Robinson and Ms Recruit. Remind me please. It isn't every day you get to hear the gritty details."