Jane Iceni slowly stirred and woke. A train. Several sleeping people, almost certainly other mercenaries working for RED. She stood up and quietly waited for the others to wake.
Abhay Fletcher woke up somewhat abruptly. Had he been dozing off in the sun? He couldn't remember falling asleep...
He looked around, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The doctor frowned slightly; he had to have been sleeping quite deep indeed, to not have noticed the others joining him. The others were also asleep, something he made a mental note of.
Someone else had also just woken up. The British Soldier was a sight for sore eyes in what Abhay had suspected would be a male-dominated environment, that was for sure. The Indian Medic smiled at her.
"Good morning, miss. You here for the job?"
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"Yes. I presume the same goes for the others. Mercenaries by trade or circumstance. Too many negative connotations on that word, but that would be us."
"In that case, allow me to introduce myself. I am to be the team doctor, so do not hesitate in coming to me if you get hurt."
Abhay extended his arm for a handshake.
"In the old world, I was Dr. Fletcher. But you can call me Medic, if you'd like. Most people do, in the end."
He smiled.
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THE SLORG!
Varlam had been sleeping while sitting, his head leaning against one of the supports. He awoke slowly, letting out a big yawn, then stretching out his back and arms. He then looked around, squinting at the other passengers and the train car. "We not there yet?" Varlam asked nobody in particular, trying to squint out one of the windows. It looked like one massive blur of orange under a giant blur of blue.
He looked away since his eyes were still adjusting to all the light, and started searching the seat around him. "Glasses, glasses..." Varlam muttered, not yet finding the glasses that had been set on another seat near where he had been sleeping.
edited 3rd Jun '12 3:08:16 PM by FirockFinion
You are reading this.
Jane shook his hand with great force and strength before returning his greeting.
"Pleasure to meet you Medic. My name is Jane Iceni but here, I am the Soldier."
The Grand Re-Vizier
Domingo Krieger woke up slowly, his head throbbing and spinning and his mouth as dry as a desert. He rolled over and promptly fell from the baggage compartment onto the floor with a painful, audible thump.
"Ow..."
A train? How did I get here? Obviously I was drugged My mask is still so there's that...but why aren't I dead?
He had the wind knocked out of him, so for a while he just lay on the floor, trying to catch his breath and sort out his situation.
THE SLORG!
Varlam nearly jumped out of his seat when the unfortunate spy fell on the floor just a couple feet away from him. The Russian engineer looked over in surprise, then squinted as he leaned over, trying to get a better look. "Is he dead?" Varlam asked out loud, reaching out one hand to try poking the masked Argentinian in the shoulder.
You are reading this.
Lord of the Avians
Sven awoke, grumbling, and reached for his hat, forcing it down on his knotted, green hair. Yawning, he stretched, one hand in the air, the other feeling the bed for his handgun.
Finding it there, he happi- no, gloomily armed himself.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Darryl Grosch stared at the flame as it flickered on and off in the dim light of the train car. Alert eyes looked from one person to the next, but as soon as anyone suspected that they were being watched and turned to see who it was, he was back to staring at the lighter. It wasn't anything particuarly special- a vintage 1942 Mann Co. that you could probably find at any self-respecting pawn shop- but Darryl liked it. Or, at least, he liked the flame, the acrid little puffs of oily smoke that flickered up from it.
Click.
How long had he been awake? He had opened his eyes only a few minutes before the other members of the train car had begun to stir. He wasn't quite sure how exactly he had gotten aboard the train either; his brain certainly didn't remember it. His brain consulted his stomach, who responded that it hadn't had breakfast or, by the sound of it, any meal in quite a while.
One of the passengers muttered something about glasses, another one fell out of the baggage compartment. Darryl looked at them and smiled thinly, before turning his attention back to the lighter in his pocket.
Maybe today could be an interesting day.
I have a plan.
Sleeping on the floor was a man of southern origins, whose had no discernible facial features since his tall red hat was lying on his face. He was using a pile of crushed beer cans as a pillow, and was awkwardly clutching a sniper rifle as he slept. The man slept like a rock, and wasn't disturbed by any of the others on the train.
But when Domingo hit the floor, the sudden thud made a stray frying pan shake out of its position in the luggage compartment and drop towards the ground. The frying pan hit the sleeping man smack-dab in the face, which finally woke him up.
"Ouch! Aww crap, I think I lost my favorite tooth again!"
He put his hat on his head, and observed the people surrounding him.
"Damn it all, I think I boarded the wrong bus 'ere. Is this a school bus? I think I see some kids 'n here."
He looked around at the other mercenaries, and smiled. "Uhh, hi y'all. I'm, umm...Call me Sniper."
"@[=g3,8d]&fbb=-q]/hk%fg"
The Grand Re-Vizier
Domingo shot bolt upright and grabbed Varlam's hand, his other hand reaching for a knife and finding nothing there.
"Говорите ли вы по-английски?"*
He didn't think his (former) superiors would be cruel enough to ship him to the Soviets when they could've just killed him, but considering how disappointed they had seemed while applying the sedatives he wouldn't put it past them. It was also possible that this was just another test. A shame his Russian wasn't very good.
edited 4th Jun '12 8:34:48 AM by Dblade26
I have a plan.
The man who called himself The Sniper backed off. "Cripes, I think a demon's gotten inside of this young man!"
"@[=g3,8d]&fbb=-q]/hk%fg"
Sat beside Domingo, a tiny girl swayed to and fro, her eyelids drooping heavily as she...
...Wait, isn't she a bit young for this? The girl could be no older than ten, but here she was, in a train cabin reserved for new recruits of an elite mercenary force. Had RED finally stooped low enough to hire child soldiers, or did the girl possess some strange secret that made her hiring make more sense?
Such a question wouldn't be answered yet as, just as soon as she had woken up, Natascha Einzbern let out a loud yawn and slumped her head onto Domingo's lap. A few seconds later, she fell asleep again, murmuring to herself as she dreamed...
"...Mmmm, sandvich, my only friend..."
edited 4th Jun '12 7:11:22 PM by Moerin
THE SLORG!
Varlam was startled at how fast the masked figure shot out the hand to grab his own, then blinked a few times in confusion as he asked if Varlam speaked English, in Russian.
"Хм, да, но мой русский, тем лучше.translation You'd prefer I speak English? You part of team?" Varlam responded, some part of his brain just now processing another surprise; how young the individual sounded. He couldn't possibly be older than Varlam himself, which seemed odd considering the nature of the job they were getting into. At least, what Varlam thought they were getting into.
Then something slumped onto the masked boy's lap, and started murmuring about sandwiches. Varlam leaned forward and squinted at the figure, identifying it as a little girl. "Uh, she part of team too?" Varlam asked, thoroughly confused.
edited 4th Jun '12 8:16:35 PM by FirockFinion
You are reading this.
Lord of the Avians
"Russians..." Sven grumbled, "...This day just got even worse..."
The Grand Re-Vizier
Krieger adjusted his mask and tried to take stock of the situation.
Team? Well at least that rules out the possibility that I'm being executed. I'd better at least play along until I can find out more.
It was a confusing situation. This guy seemed to be Russian by the things he'd said and the way he'd reacted, but he seemed pretty young himself and at a casual glance this seemed like some sort of mixed operation.
"Yeah, I'm on the team. You can call me Spy-"
He stopped mid-sentence as what was apparently a little girl slumped over and started using his lap as a personal pillow then began mumbling about sandwiches. He blinked in shock as the formerly confusing and possibly dangerous situation suddenly became unexpectedly adorable. In fact, he even found that he was suddenly struggling not to laugh.
"I think we can assume that anyone on this train is also on the team unless they try to kill us. Anyone have water or something? My head feels like someone took a hammer and sickle to it."
He closed his eyes for a minute, still a little messed up from the sedatives.
edited 5th Jun '12 8:45:59 AM by Dblade26
THE SLORG!
Varlam was too busy having noticed something else to process the team spy's request. Even if he had, Varlam had no idea where to get any water. Having lived the majority of his life almost blind, Varlam had pretty good hearing, and had just caught sound of something he didn't like.
"Russians, 'day just got worse'?! What do you mean by that!?" Varlam said, standing up and turning in the direction that the offending remark came from. "You got problem with me being Russian, huh?!" he continued, pointing a finger accusingly. Unfortunately, without his glasses Varlam's vision was still terrible, as was made more obvious by his accusing finger being pointed at the team's pyro rather than the scout.
edited 5th Jun '12 2:42:31 PM by FirockFinion
You are reading this.
Lord of the Avians
"I prefer swedish accents." Sven said, "Russian voices make me want to kill myself. With a bat."
"You're not going to help anyone doing that, except maybe the enemy. RED clearly wanted a team of mercenaries, so you'll have to put those matters aside and get along. Or at least until the job's done."
People were not wont to listen to her, but for their sake she hoped they did.
THE SLORG!
Varlam's face went red, half through embarrassment after realizing that he had picked the wrong human-shaped blur as the source of the voice, and half through anger at the further remark. Then someone else spoke up, a woman. She sounded nice.
"Uh, yeah. Not like I can help it any more than you anyway" Varlam said, crossing his arms and turning towards his seat. "Need my glasses" he muttered to himself, trying to squint and look for them again. There was what one might consider cruel humor in that, without glasses, Varlam was unable to see his own glasses just a few feet in front of him on the seat next to his.
You are reading this.
Jane Iceni made no further comment, but she at this point noticed that he appeared to need glasses, which were pretty much right next to him. She walked over to him and picked them up, then placed them in his hand.
THE SLORG!
Varlam became aware that someone had walked right up to him, and was a little confused about that until suddenly a familiar object was handed to him. He stared down at his hand for a moment, then grinned and put his glasses on. "Ah, much better, thanks!" Varlam said, taking a real look around at the train car and his new companions for the first time. He looked back at Jane, figuring she must've been the one who made the nicer comment since he didn't see any other women in the car. Well, not counting the young girl sleeping on the masked boy's lap.
"I'm Varlam Motya! They say something about me being engineer, but teach me to use guns and run obstacles. We're going somewhere dangerous?" Varlam asked, offering a handshake to Jane. He didn't seem worried; quite the opposite, he seemed a little excited.
edited 5th Jun '12 3:57:27 PM by FirockFinion
You are reading this.
Jane accepted the handshake, again with a great amount of force, and replied calmly to his comment.
"We are mercenaries, which equates to doing dangerous things that we are suited to doing."
June, 1968
The RED train continued to travel. This train... was a very special train. It had a red color pattern, and inside, there were several cars filled with seats and compartments for baggages. It was one of the most advanced trains in the country, moving quite fast through the desert-like countryside. As the train drove past the mountains, its passenger began to wake up, one by one. And they were the reason this train was a very special train.
You see, inside that train, there were exactly nine passengers. No more, no less. And they all had the same reason for being this very special train: an ad, a single ad on a newspaper, talking about how a company known as Reliable Excavation Demolition. For a normal person, the ad was talking about how they were looking for people to work with... demolition materials. However, for some weird reason, these nine people knew that the ad wasn't looking for demoltiion experts.
It was looking for mercenaries. Mercenaries like them.
And that's why they were on that train. And that's why that train was a very special train. But as the passengers awoke for the first meeting of their team members, little did they know they were just a small part of a much bigger war. A very special war. A very—
"Sometime today, Miss Pauling."
Miss Pauling stopped her dramatic reaction and fixed her glasses. The two were on a dark, shadowy room, and the Announcer was standing in front of multiple screens, all of them showing the future home of the new RED team:
"Well, the new RED team is on their way."
"Good, Miss Pauling. Get back to work."
As the small Miss Pauling left the room, the Announcer returned to her cigarette, overlooking the profiles of the new team members. With a grin, she said to herself, in an almost sadistical tone:
"Oh, this is going to be fun."