FourtyTwo

The Conflict

@Starlance

All yours if you want to go first!

The Conflict

Happy to provide!

It's been an awesome post flow so far- I've been pretty shocked how symbiotic we've been. Threw a bit of an idea for a split within the slum to see how they can steal this truck- though of course, nothing's that easy...

Always looking forward to seeing what comes next.

The Conflict

Sean nodded, pouring another glass himself, the whiskey's golden brown filling the hazy glass as he took a wick himself, nodding to both Hayden's and Yekatarina's backgrounds.
"Yeah, same- it helps when she ain't pulling rounds out of us. And they told me all Ruskies were scary. Then again, GRU...you guys weren't fucking around, weren't ya now? Door kicking in Chechnya, must have seen some shit. And anyway, I've done the same in fighting with Londoners. Trick is, they're worse in a bar fight. They can't stand a chance against the Irish." Sean added, glass raised to her as he sipped, a wry smirk on his face, knowing there was no bad blood from his end to Yekatarina in this setting. It was a mutual respect for the fact that before now himself, Bethan and Hayden had half a mind to the fact that the Ruskies were going to be the next enemy they faced in a potential world war. Not that it was gonna happen, but it was always that classic paranoia, wondering if it might happen and they'd be back into the 80s all over again.

"Same for you, Hayden. You're not fucking around. Special friggin' Forces. And able to pick good whiskey. Can't go wrong a man like that, d'yknow?" Sean simply remarked, knowing those CSOR lads weren't half bad themselves in Afghanistan. Less smug than the Rangers and other US Marines, in that they would probably apologise if they could to the Taliban's families. So the joke went back in Bastion.

Bethan sighed, nodding to the other woman at the table, and other at Hayden.
"Sounds like you've got your uses, Yekatarina. You keep trucks moving, I keep you moving. I've pulled enough shrapnel from people to know that bit can be worse." Even Bethan seemed loosened up, her own remark coming right as Hayden took his own drink, and the group only then realised who was coming behind. Bethan had spied it in the corner of her eye, the man with a wry smirk on his face and the two girls that seemed to even make her athletic physique look relatively tame. And any girl willing to tattoo most of the side of her head, or wear a necklace like that wasn't doing it for fashion purposes, they did it to prove a point- the sorts of girls that looked more Wonder Woman than soldier. A point Bethan knew this man, who introduced himself as Victor, was very much making- with the wrong attire but a diamond-sharp mindset. Herself and Sean stayed quiet, listening to him introduce himself, and the opportunity that was presented.

Stealing a truck, and the driver inside would be an interesting ask- not the hardest job in the world, but then again, so had the idea of killing this Hyena been when they were sold on it back in the UK. If it had soldiers inside, or was escorted, it made it a tricky job. But then again, she knew how quickly they could make something happen, as a team, if they got clever about it. It was better than being in a meatgrinder, running logistics, or guarding a post. There was no doubt it was doable, but Bethan had a feeling the law of the jungle meant you had to be fast, both mentally and physically, to get away with a truckjacking in an African slum. As Victor finished, the guards gave an apologetic look, the look of a set of guards who felt embaressed to have their employer go off the rails a little with excitement.

Looking at Yekatarina first, Sean piped up, hearing her comment and feeling like he had some input, silly as it was.
"Look around you. I don't see anyone setting prices for anything....dollars are worthless, diamonds could be too, and I know too easy you don't ask, you don't get. I'm sure we can always work something out- they're worth something disproportionate here. Nothing to lose apart from getting clapped, right?" Sean sounded like he knew what he was doing- though unlike Yekatarina, he was talking out of his ass, and more likely than not, it showed. It was an educated guess that diamonds probably had some worth, enough to get them tooled, but 20 wasn't going to be a lot in the scheme of things. Perhaps it was more the drug deals or illicit work he had done that taught him that, but still, it was probably bullshit.

Bethan couldn't help but know it was, but held back on calling him on it, looking to Hayden. Deep inside, she knew this could all go haywire, but then again, they had nothing to lose. If they did this clean, it wasn't so much the money, it was more the trust they could gain, Bethan looking to Hayden first, then to Victor.

"Well then...I'm in. I agree with Yekatarina, it'd be nice to know what we're risking our lives for, and who it might be. Though I mean far as I can tell, you probably get we're not packing a lot of heat and you expect us to come back. Fuck it. I say let's go get ourselves a truck. Get us a lift and we'll go from there." Bethan said plainly, the ex-Sergeant collected in her mannermism as she nodded to Yekatarina on the first part of her comment, then looking over to the Canadian, the more qualified operative more likely than not aware of what could be involved in this.

"Hayden, how do you want to do this? We'll need to hunt it down in the slums, but keep in mind we're all pasty as fuck and armed with nines. They'll know how to stop carjackings. So....my thoughts are we split up when we arrive, me and Yektarina try and aim to stop it when we find the truck and you and Sean support us from another angle. Try to uhh...not gain too much attention. Clap anyone else watching while we....convince this driver to take us here." Bethan suggested, a brief but short plan for now, Sean looking across with a bit of disbelief.

"Sure staying seperate is a good idea?" Sean seemed a little puzzled, wondering if already, this was some passive aggressive move on his part.

"Yeah, because you two meatheads might look intimidating to a supply truck and two women don't. And jesus, Sean, we have gone through this before. We're in a third world shithole, don't act silly with me what they think here. Unless you're those two girls there. Holy shit. I need whatever diet you two are on, you certainly look the part." Bethan replied, nodding across to the two women next to Victor and raising her voice on the last bit, hoping the compliment came through honest.

The Conflict

@Starlance

All yours buddy if you want to post- sorry I've wrecked the order a bit! Feel free to post and I'll follow you and then go back to the usual.

The Conflict

@Starlance

Bethan nodded, agreeing with Yekatarina on that, they were certainly a grade above and not just some dumb mercs, they seemed to have something about them. Not just idiots with FALs marched in from South Africa or militants from Somalia running through with AKs, but Westerners who were here with purpose.
"Well, you might be right on that one, we are a grade above. We're not gonna sit guarding posts, I feel like. And I guess 'round here, gems are king, people get greedy easy...let's just keep our heads on and find what we need. We'll find opportunities, out here, it feels more like being fast on your feet than a slave if you want to go places." Bethan remarked, hearing her next comment on skills, responding in turn as she put her hands on the table, looking across. It felt odd to go from pointing guns to this, but then again, that was Africa. It was wild, it was uncontrolled, and you had to just be fast on your feet. Bethan had to admit, she was more paranoid than she would have liked, but now she was beginning to get the lay of it, she was getting back what she knew.

"Well, I'm a trained Paramedic both from mountain and military experience, and I worked as a nurse for a bit. Did most of the SFSG training course too before breaking my leg in two places, so I know my way a little around marksman work too, and done Ironman for a bit so take what you want from why I don't fuck around. Thought I gave up killing people a while ago, but here we are." Bethan added confidently, Sean looking acros, chuckling when he gave another wick of the remaining whiskey in his glass that hadn't gone down with the shot.
"Well, throw me a light machine gun and I'm happy as larry, carried my section's FN MAG, resident heavy weapon specialist. Happy shooting the shit out of anything that looks like it moves. I did an introductory course to setting explosives and using anti-tank weaponry too, not that I actually got to do much of it in Afghan...beyond that, me and Bethan are Marines. Happy in any dinghy, and..." Sean added, cut off by Bethan before he could carry on, her annoyance getting clear.

"Yeah, well, right now we're in a boat without a fucking paddle. Pretty much, our Marines spend 10 weeks longer training than the Americans do at being soldiers on boats, and we've done it 100 years longer than them. So you can imagine we don't piss around at any aspect of it." Bethan interrupted, before looking across to Sean, who was also interested to hear their stories, sitting up and full well knowing their nationalities.

"And how about you both? Fought any bears? Fuckin' one of yas has, I bet." Sean asked, a wry smirk on his face, that classic Ulster charm coming through. They may not have been from the southern end of the island, but Irish people alike were always craic, and always up for taking the piss when the opportunity presented itself. He seemed more gregarious than blunt, but it definitely showed a more raw, disobedient streak compared to Bethan's professionalism and work-rate.

The Conflict

Bethan chuckled, looking at Hayden, then back at the other two, hearing Yektarina's comment on their official covers.
"Agreed. Killing each other definitely will screw our covers." She shrugged, listening out to what Yektarina had to say, and now much happier that she didn't have a pistol aimed at her in a mexican standoff. She seemed charming, calm under pressure and able to act diplomatically- and thought logically. Bethan's sort of person. And Russian Army weren't a fuck around, that much Bethan knew partaking in war games in Germany, the forces they were up against were no less vicious than the Marines she'd been in. She'd seen them in Kosovo, they weren't playing around, probably a bit better with the poorer quality of weapons here too no doubt. On the plus side, everyone was aware of this "Hyena" - that much was in the open.

The situation was helped by the fact that Hayden had calmed down, so much so that he was getting them a drink- Sean very appreciative given he definitely could use one right now. With the the Canadian, the Russian and her former partner now at their table, Bethan had the chance to eye them up all closer, getting a better feel for them, the two sitting quietly as the waiter came over and at last, asked them if they needed a stiff drink.

The waiter's statement was as blunt as any, as Sean shrugged, almost a wry chuckle. Not like they had anything else, they had no money and no dollars at all, American or otherwise. Gems it was, as he nodded in agreement with Hayden, as the Canadian gave his order.
"Fuck it, whiskey might actually do my Irish blood some good. Thanks for the free one." Sean cackled, the Ulster accent crackling through, as Bethan sighed, shrugging.
"Is whiskey this early a good idea? Actually, scratch that. I can fill my flask with some I guess....and I guess we have no dollars to spend anyway. No issue there. We'll go get some gems." Bethan's more screwed on head came through, not wanting to be left behind, but certainly not wanting to go all in. In the meantime as the waiter grabbed the bottle, Hayden explained his idea, the same trace of thought coming through as Yekatarina, and Bethan had mentioned- the feeling felt fairly mutual at this point in time in working as a team. It seemed like they all had their own demons and reasons to be here- Yektarina didn't know much clearly, and it felt like to Bethan at least, the more they learned the less they did either.

"Agreed, Hayden. Not like we have a choice for us, we're here to get rich or die trying. And I guess going back to what Yekatarina said earlier...I imagine it's worth trying to tell them we're a package deal, and besides, it comes only when we know where to go. If we split, I guess we can find cheap SIMs and burner phones if we're totally screwed. People are still using phones...just about. Sat Phones are a safer option, but again, try finding one of those." Bethan commented, shrugging as she saw the waiter bring over glasses, as well as a mean looking bottle of whsikey.

Taking the molten-brown looking whiskey glass, Sean clinked his with Hayden's, giving a moderately toned "Cheers" before scoffing the entire thing, all in one, clean shot. Bethan didn't do the same, mind- taking a sip- while Sean barely looked fazed, like he'd done this too many times before, the spice on the Canadian whsikey not like the kind at home, but close enough.

"That's some good shit....man, Canadians doing good whiskey? Not bad, Hayden. Anyway, long story short, you're probably wondering why we're here looking like this. We're gonna have to be very careful wtih 'dis Hyena fella. We had a lead, and dropped into Nambo Province. He was supposed to be holed up in an encampment, small detail of guards, the sort we'd just pick off easy. Put it like this, it weren't easy. Nearly got killed the two of us, by some COGS wankers that were in the camp, knew where we were coming from and all. Point is, bastard managed to throw off our intelligence people. If he can do that and completely go invisible, this Hyena fella does not want to be found." Sean commented, the Ulster tone almost stronger with alcohol, knowing he had to build some trust- and while he felt it was a risk, it was worth probably coming out with it now. They weren't gonna exactly change their view, and he knew that his other half wouldn't agree.

Bethan stared a disaproving look, sighing. Giving the game away a bit early, but then again, that was always Sean. She had nothing to say- this would be discussed later, as she couldn't be fucked making a scene, even with the whiskey making it a little easier.

"Well...Sean's got a point. The Hyena threw us off easy back then, and if we hadn't have run, we have been killed. My working theory, well, my guess really, is he has to be dealing only in a very small circle of people. Constantly moving, constantly going from point to point. That might explain why we got caught by a COGS encampment, if he was there before. If he's selling guns to both sides, he's smart enough to know that if he fucks up, justice around here comes at the hand of a machete...so he knows how to cover his own tracks at the least."

"Nobody's asking questions either, so he's cornered anyone else who wants to come play gun dealer and that's why nobody's squeezed him...well, unless the people he's talking to are a weak point. What that means we need to be higher up the food chain. Either faction, or any other way, we need to find out who's who, and what we're gonna need to do to find, and go kill him." Bethan said, sipping a bit more whiskey.

"Only question is now, what are mercs gonna send us into? Because I know this drink ain't free. No such thing as free lunches in this game. Shit...I'm gonna save this for later, the bit before we call end up on LiveLeak." Bethan added coldly, giving a wry laugh at the end, almost as if she was now buying into a bit of the collective misery of just how up against it they were, four mercs against what seemed like an invisible, untouchable spectre of a guy selling guns in the heart of darkness. If you weren't laughing, you were crying. On that note, Bethan poured the remaining brown whiskey into a small flask that she kept on her jacket pocket, and sealed it tight, musing over the task at hand and the two new unlikely allies they would be working with.

The Conflict

After abit he nods, then brings out a piece of paper. On it stamped is the symbol of the Canadian Armed Forces and the Prime Ministers of Canada. And in curt words on it is all the information he was given. Meet in the capitol, the team would meet up and go about the mission. Any surviving member would get one hundred and fifty million of their home countries dollars. Lots of money for almost anywhere. More then enough to live comfortably for anyone for any amount of time.

He looked up at the pair, "So the question is, have any of you, seen something like this?" He quirked an eyebrow, looking to Yekaterina then Bethan and Sean. "Because if the answer is yes, then great, the job is slightly less complicated, if no, then I'm sorry." His hand beginning to move to the duffle bag on the top of his table, "I got too much riding on this. And I'm not going down so early in the mission." The Hi Power snakes out of the bag, and into his palm.

"I'm going to need an answer. No one will notice right away if this comes to blood." As if to affirm that there's a blurt of rifle fire to their rear as some merc shows off his accuracy.

Hayden looks at them through slightly narrowed eyes. His hand fisted around the grip of the Hi Power, "Are you the other operatives?"

@BigPapaBelial

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

Bethan had watched the Canadian, watching as his tone got more and more serious, more and more driven, more to the point . The yank of the Hi-Power got a response in turn from her, more on her toes than Sean was, far more pissed off, annoyed and frustrated with this situation herself. She wasn't showing restraint, maybe that she should of used, but right now, she was losing her patience, P226 tight in her hand, sighing.

"Jesus, Mexican fucking Standoff it is. I'm not up for dying either, I'm just the same...so even if I was another operative, why the fuck would I trust you now? Funny that, eh?" Bethan said, pistol raised, staring straight at him, her sing-songy Welsh accent hardened into that of a rough, gritstone like demeanour. It was remarkable that for all his misgivings and the way Sean acted, he was able to keep a calmer head than her right now, able to not do something ridiculously stupid and actually keep his cool. For a guy that had no interest in command and blowing shit up, this situation seemed to flow better for him. It was more like a bar fight, not a military engagement. He moved back, clear of the table, in clear, pointed view, aware that he was likely to be drawn on.

"Fuck me, calm down, both of you. I'm not reaching for anything, my sidearm's on my right. That paperwork seems similar to what we got. It's in my left pocket. Calm now, easy." Sean added, his cloudy Ulster accent remaining as much as he could, reaching into the left pocket of his DPM jacket, and drawing a similar letter, opening it up and throwing it onto the table. It was from SIS, the UK's intelligence agency- a similar text with a similar reward, and a similar statement- direct to him. Not that Sean knew Bethan's, and perhaps the reason she was hesitant was that she wanted even to show anything of that kind. She hadn't drawn hers, after all.

"And you're going to play the part, just like that? Shit, you seriously haven't even learned, have you?" Bethan was nearly screaming, holding back the volume as they didn't want to make a scene, Sean looking at the two of them, eyeing up the text on the letter the Canuck had produced. She kept the Sig raised, pointed very decidedly at the Canuck, but almost had half a mind to just whack Sean if he was going to carry on. While Sean was no diplomat, he'd done enough deals to know how to keep calm when a gun was pointed- the name on the sheet giving away who he thought the Canadian merc was and enough to now address him, given he hadn't even made an introduction. He sighed, and ignored the comment, looking straight to Hayden.

"Now...Hayden, I think you are? I don't know if we are in the same group. But your paperwork matches ours. Look at it. Now...if that's right, we're here to waste some cunt," Sean began, the swear harder than any dialect of English could deliver, as he took a look at everyone, before elaborating.

"That is supplying guns to everyone, literally anyone who has dollars, diamonds or gems to hand. Wants to make this third world shithole even worse. We kill him, we all get paid. We all go our seperate ways. Sounds about right from whaat yours says." He looked around, giving a stern look to his partner, knowing that while he had no time for her either and wanted her gone, right now, it was worth being careful with mercs who actually might not hesitate to aim properly.

The Welshwoman obliged, sighing, nodding to Hayden, as she drew the pistol down, standing up out of her seat, looking across to the Russian girl, the other female friendly enough, able to break the ice and keeping her cool. She didn't need to be threatened, she had seen this all play, and Bethan was now calmer now she wasn't being aimed and they three in their corner had broken the deadlock.

"Fine. Now, that leaves Yekatarina. Now, it's three versus one, missy. You might kill this deadbeat fuck, bundle of fucking joy as he is," She started, waving the pistol at Sean, who at this point, was honestly just done, fucking through with arguing, just wanting to let her carry on.

"But it'll just be a really messy cleanup for someone else to mop up two bodies. So, I'll take a guess you're in, because you do not look like the other mercs tooled and kitted. The question is, now what? Are our hosts going to come in here and tell us they'll help with what what's on our paper? COGS weren't friendly to us when we came in here. It's a long story that one, but....chances are SAMC, COGS, local militias, they all likely buy from whoever is fuelling this. So chances are, best we keep our traps shut, and figure this one out. Work for them till we have more idea who's important, who buys, who sells, where it's stored. We do that togther, we might live." She added, Sean nodding.

"For once, you've actually come up with a competent plan. Missy fuckin', let's go with Mexican standoffs at twenty to fucking twelve in the fuckin' mornin." Sean retorted as he cracked a smirk, giving a light chuckle as he knew sarcasm, as fucked up as it was, just felt right to him in that very moment. The scowl on his partner's face said it all, quite a lot of the logical part of Bethan wanting to hold back from shooting him in the head, and Sean just wondering how he could keep going.

The Conflict

Random question- did we get a rough apperance of the characters for you two? I've done it in my first IC post, I'm just trying to visualise/see the characters in my head.

The Conflict

It's Hayden that finally gets bored and mutters, "This fucking job is getting more and more complicated. Why the hell does the guy take me here and leave me? Am I meeting someone? And where the hell are the other operatives!?"

@BigPapaBelial

Bethan looked across, seeing the Canadian mutter out loud, the accent clear from the sound of him that he wasn't an American, at least, the thick accent she recognised from her time in Afghanistan something that had a different inflection. She learned the difference quickly between a Canuck and an American, you did naturally becuase you didn't want to start shit. The other woman appeared Slavic, definitely a Russian, almost without hesitation she could make that out, as Bethan turned and broke the ice back.

"Sounds like you're in the same boat as all of us. Perhaps that's why we're here. Maybe we're those operatives." She said bluntly, looking to Sean, and then across to the Russian woman, eyeing her up as well. The Canuck looked experienced, like he'd seem some shit, and the Hi-Power and the look of him said Special Forces. The Russian, she seemd like a more unknown quantity - but someone who'd also seen her fair share, an equal perhaps to Bethan's own gaze.

It was clear to tell that while Sean was the burly one of the two, Bethan had a different fire, almost the kind that said "don't fuck with me" written across her, born of frustration and sheer animosity to the situation she found herself in with someone she really wanted nothing to do with. It had clicked though, "this fucking job" was clearly, blatantly what herself and Sean had walked into, as had the Canuck. Same shit, different people. No need to reveal anything they'd gone through or been told. That would come later. Or never. It depended on how this went- you didn't play all your cards. Not all of them.

"Fine then, I won't be so cryptic. Seems like they put us here with good reason, so we may as well be pally. I'm Bethan, this is Sean. Found out this shithole spits people out quick if you don't go with one of the factions, it seems like. And it sounds like you both got contracted for a job too, and we're all sitting here wondering what the fuck is going on." She started, pausing to take a cup of water from the table that they'd grabbed on their way in. Beth and Sean had managed to scrape some scratchings together, a shitty lunch but it would do to keep energy levels up and they'd certainly need it.

"Funny feeling I get is you got sold the same shit we did, and here we are, trying to figure this out not because you want to work for these pricks, but because you actually have something else going on. Neither of you two look like you're here to sell your souls to the devil, let's put it that way. But it seems like we might have that in common." Bethan said, looking in particular to the Canuck, in response to his thoughts on looking for "other operatives".

"Fucking hell, relax, Beth. We're not gonna have a Mexican standoff here. Who knows what the plan is, chances are, we're gonna get told where we're going, what's going on. Get us some dollars and get us righted." Sean iterated, Bethan looking across to him with the same daggers in her eyes.

"Ah shut up, Sean. I'm not in the mood." Beth uttered, Sean just sick and tired, to the point he just held back, not even wanting to press her anymore, because he was mentally done, and she was just looking for any tether to take on him.

"Jesus, fine."

The Conflict

Leaping into the cab, Bethan and Sean took a seat on the dirty and old looking Kamaz's passenger bench, the passable French that Bethan had getting them out of the situation. It was pretty poor, but it would do, just about, to get them through. She'd lied that they were COGS, and while the gambit hadn't worked, the guy seemed friendly enough. He wanted them to stay out of trouble, and very firmly asked them to reconsider. Given the state they were in, and the fact they'd been shot at by a lot of COGS troops, it was probably for the best. The two looked silently at each other, exhausted and only taking in the atmospherics here. Even the Francophone speaking gent felt it too, they were not here because they were willing. It was obvious to see. And Sean felt it too. The rainforest had swallowed them and spat them out, just about whole. They'd gone into a territory they had no right to be in, a place that was dark, humid and full of people who knew it inside out. They were tourists in the tiger's den, trying to do what any stupid westerner does, that of pretending they could end this with a nice easy resolution. It was not ideal. They were being taken back to a local SAMC camp, and from there, more likely than not, they were being funnelled down into the capital. Whatever had to happen was going to, Sean reasoned- and he only had one last play to get them there. From there on out, they had to find any other mean to get by, and that was likely working for the SAMC.

----

Two hours later and journey had taken them through the dusty foothills and out of the rainforest, the tense heat growing and growing, humid and sticking to every pore. The roads threw them all up and down, and sitting in the back of another Kamaz, this one filled with rice, they had to admit it wasn't great. They had no money, well, nothing aside from two 50 dollar notes stashed in Sean's boot, the only bit of cash he had as an insurance policy. They took it at the camp and laughed at the two, and told them to get on a local's truck into the capital- these weren't the typical SAMC mercs but more a local militia that clearly had no care for the wellbeing of the mercs, just the dollars they had and a ticket out of their way to stop being such a nuisance. A kind of "welcome to Africa" sort of welcome, but better than being shot.

Now, they were very fucked. No money, nothing at all. It was bankrupt and scavenge for the two of them, in the poorest, glumest shithole in Sub-Saharan Africa. They had kept their soaked DPM jackets for now, knowing it probably beat the sporadic showers of rain when they were going down in the open-topped rear just about for now, but wouldn't later. And the sight of the haze and the hustle of the city was probably an area it would blend into. Firefights and skirmishes seemed sporadic, and there was this overall feeling that there was no direct control here. Individual companies had held it together, with no accountability. Dollar had become king, and any semblance that there was a government, or anyone in their way felt absent. It just felt like warlords, everyone for themselves, and people trying to survive in their villages and local areas. The King might have ruled these lands, but it felt like that soon was going to dissolve into no control at all.

Stepping out of the truck, they had nothing to thank the driver given the fact he'd given them warm food, drink and no shit for the last few minutes, keeping them alive beyond the money they'd just had to bribe the camp foreman with. On a dusty street corner a few blocks away from the SAMC HQ, they had a little less walking to do, but they were close.

Heading through the town, Bethan looked up to Sean, who seemed a bit bemused still about the situation.
"So, we're going to a barbecue, in the hope of working for some mercs? Again, honestly, this still makes no sense at all..." Sean asked, Bethan nodding.
"Yeah, that's the plan. We don't look the best, but fuck it, they might offer us work. And you still don't have any alternatives to my plan" Bethan replied, Sean shrugging as he kept an eye on the trucks going past, loaded up with crate after crate of what looked like ammunition, a worrying sign indeed for any capital city of the world.
"Well...you know the average wage around here on average is less than a dollar a day? Sorry if I seem stupid but that doesn't sound like a lot of money to live on, if that's what they offer, Beth. Sounds like a pretty crappy wage to nearly die on, and I thought the UK was bad..." Sean was straight, Bethan nodding in turn.

"Well, they pay foreigners more, because they're not expendable. We actually know how to shoot, kill, maintain guns, lead, etc, etc. It's not about the money. Think of the bigger picture, they give us bed and board, we might get a lead on how to get guns, local intel, and what needs to be done. Some allies to actually find out who the Hyena is, what he does, where he goes, and so on. White man's in a gully here if those SAMC militia seem to think we're worth keeping alive to go to the capital."
"Or easier to get ransom money for. We're gonna end up on fucking LiveLeak." Sean saracastically remarked, to a chuckle from Beth.
"Fair point. Well, this Hyena seems to be a fucking ghost. He threw our own intel off that badly, so that ain't good. Probably not a great idea to go around mentioning it too. Our intel might be poor, but the Hyena's the name they keep mentioning. Has to be something to it. Just have to find out how he's fuelling the fire, the amount of cheap ammo and guns here is ridiculous." She commented, to no reply from Sean, as they rounded the corner, the large concrete walls of the SAMC compound, and the imperious looking barbed wire on it making a clear point that they didn't want unintended visitors.

"Shit, here we are. Alright, act cool." Sean said, Beth blowing a rasperry as Sean stood in front, the imposing Ulsterman wiping his brow of sweat as he stood in front of the SAMC merc on the gate, the man even taller than Sean and armed with a PKM that he was comfortably holding on a sandbag.

"You here for the grillades, ami? Name?" He asked, his tone baritone, certainly with a French inflection, maybe Malian or Burkanbe.
"Sean Mason. And Bethan Mason." Sean replied, the guard chuckling.
"Frere et soeurs?" He asked, eyeing them up, turning his gaze to Sean again.
"Marri...seperated." Sean uttered, cutting himself halfway through.
"Very funny. You are here together in this mess, non? You are not seperated. That is fact. Go in, make your way to the garden." With that, he pulled the gate open, and Sean and Bethan made their way inside the compound, the smell of a barbecue and the hubub increasing as they walked past the main office and around the rear into a garden, the company offices here lavish and beautiful compared to the slums that surrounded it. It felt surreal, almost strange, other mercenaries gathered here and clearly sent to a place where they would be assembled into teams and put into work. For Sean and Bethan, they had some networking to do, as the two of them made their way towards the BBQ itself and mingled.