The Way of the Mercenary

Velocity · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Velocity** on Mon Nov 02, 2009 5:06 am

Remus sat in his dark green Jeep, cruising at about 60kms an hour. The desert flashed past, a multitude of colours ranging from white to a muddy dark brown. He drove past an oasis, a patch of green in a vast sea of browns. Villagers had camped there the previous night, and were now packing up and moving on. Looking to his side he made sure that his FAMAS was still safely nestled on the passenger seat. And, sure enough it was there, his right of passage across this war torn land. Up ahead he spotted an old run down looking shack, the only sign of civilisation was another Jeep of the same make and colour. It stood patiently underneath a makeshift carport, which at the moment was one piece of fabric stretched across to from the wall to a solitary, sad looking pole. The shack was, in actual fact, Remus's hideaways, one of several dotted throughout the country. It contained supplies such as food, sleeping quarters, water, ammunition and most importantly... the bomb. He was still quite a distance from the shack when Remus pulled off the road onto a well sheltered hill. This dune should hide my Jeep, Remus thought to himself as he clambered wearily out of the four wheel drive.

Reaching into the back of the Jeep, Remus extracted his Dragunov, a clip already loaded and the safety catch off. He was a suspicious man; the government had tried to set him up on numerous occasions but hadn't succeeded in capturing him yet. For all he knew, federal agents in disguise could show up at any moment, hoping to get him unawares. Not likely... Remus smirked. Once he reached the top of the sand dune, Remus lay down, shuffling forward into a comfortable position with his Dragunov at the ready. The shack was in full view; anyone arriving would be seen by him... anyone suspicious would be shot. And now, Remus thought to himself, we play the waiting game.

danqaz · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **danqaz** on Mon Nov 02, 2009 5:44 am

Tyler loved to show up early, it made him feel slightly more, professional. He had arrived at the shack almost an hour ago, walking from a hotel from a nearby town. He knew from experience that he should be hiding right now, but he had been walking through sand for about 10 miles, he felt he could cut himself some slack just this once.

Tyler took in a deep breath and decided to check that if his guns were in working order, without testing them of course. After a couple more minutes of looking at his weapons, he decided the only way to be surer they were working would be to test them. Tyler then slid his weapons under the ruined couch he was sitting on, although keeping his desert eagle in hand.

Queeg500 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Queeg500** on Mon Nov 02, 2009 10:45 am

Lance's dune buggy GK-1000 ripped up the sands like a herd of buffalos running full speed; his approach could be seen from miles away. He was heading towards an important destination, a meeting place for a mercenary contract in the middle of a desolated, barren location devoid of life. Though the details were a little sketchy he was willing to be summoned as an audience, but he did not want to waste too much time if there was nothing of interest to be found.

He skimmed past an oasis, leaving the villagers present there a cloud of dust in his wake. Again his vision returned to the sea of the desert. The engine of his buggy and the winds on the sands the only noise he could hear. Shortly afterwards he could sight a run-down shack in the distance, upon arriving Lance drifted to a halt, quickly ejecting himself from the vehicle, leaving his AR-15 in the back, but his Five-SeveN conveniently holstered on his hip.

Glancing around he surveyed the scene briefly before taking a few steps away from the buggy and undoing his pants to relieve himself.

"Ohhh yes... that hit the spot." he staggered in joy.

Lance took a few seconds and then jumped up and down to stabilize his bodily fluids and then took another look around. The run-down shack had not improved with a closer up view, though he did catch a glimpse of a Jeep and another man sitting down on a couch, feeling somewhat bewildered he did not notice him earlier.

Finishing up he walked over to the man, is this Remus he thought.

"G'day there mate, how are we?" he yelled forth in his thick Australian accent.

Moose · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Moose** on Mon Nov 02, 2009 12:02 pm

"What was I thinking?" Vlad muttered to himself. He had been riding this stinking camel for 4 hours and was sure that he had no tailbone left. Not the grand entrance one would expect from a Merc but he didn't want to advertise what he was here for either. To come in a helicopter or hovercraft or anything the likes would be no different than walking around downtown Alexandria holding a sign over his head written in Arabic saying 'Mercenary for hire. Will blow shit up for food.' So after a few Euros and some gibberish from a translator, Vlad had procured a camel and a wrap, not that it would really disguise his Asianness or gear up close, but from afar he maybe could keep his identity somewhat shrouded; at least until he got out into the desolate sands. He shifted uneasily and the camel reached his head back, biting him on the thigh. The bite didn’t penetrate the skin but it was enough to let Vlad know the camel was not happy. He pushed the head of the beast away from his leg as they strolled along.

“Do that again and I will shoot you dead, right where we stand” he said to the camel. He chuckled at the mental picture of someone observing he and the camel standing in the middle of the isolated desert and seeing Vlad pull the P222 from his holster and executing the beast. He checked his hand held GPS, sent to him in the mail, marking the location of the rendezvous point. Just a few clicks to the southwest and he would be there. He spurred the camel on.

As he topped the last dune he could see the outline of a small shed, well hidden and in the middle of nowhere. Glancing around in a 360 degree panoramic he could see no signs of life for as far as the eye could reach. The sand was kicked up from a westerly wind, hazing the details from view. He didn’t know if he was alone but even if more were here then they were certainly as alone as he felt in this vast nothingness of a desert.

“I don’t think I kill you yet” he said to the camel, dismounting. “You may have to take me out of this place.” His boots sank a few inches into the sand as he unloaded his things from the camels back.

“What the hell, I’ll go on in” he said and he led the camel to the side of the shack, tying it to a piece of wood protruding from the side. “You stay” he said very slowly as if the camel could understand him; and even at that , that it understood broken English delivered by a Soviet East German. Satisfied of his attempts to ensure dominion over the beast, Vlad walked around the side of the shack where two men sat.

Velocity · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Velocity** on Mon Nov 02, 2009 4:15 pm

OOC: Moose, the door is locked and Tyler and Lance are on a ruined couch outside. sorry I should have specified earlier.

IC: Remus watched as the men he had invited to join the operation gradually began to show up. Didn't seem like the police were involved, but you never know. They would do nicely, Remus thought to himself. None of them, it seemed fully trusted each other or new what was going on.. which was just Remus's intention. When he had sent the letters out he had been careful not to say to much. The introduction simply read:

You have been chosen because you are known across the nation as one of the best. One of the god like mercenaries risking their life for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
My name is Remus... and I have a proposition for you.

Remus scanned the area for anymore arrivals and as he did noticed a young man seemingly appearing out of the desert. He appeared to not be sweating at all but seemed reluctant to go near the shack. as he came closer, Remus increased the zoom on his sniper rifle and noticed a cord hanging from his ear, and a badge half concealed by his shirt. CIA scum, Remus thought to himself, time to make an impression.

The man walked up to the group of gathered mercenaries quickly, glancing around for any unseen danger. He appeared to be nervous and simply wore a kevlar vest and long black pants. A 9mm pistol hung at his hip and his fingers twitched to draw it.
"Uh hello, fellow mercs... nice day for killing stuff am I right?" He looked around uneasily, obviously trying to be accepted. He had no idea Remus was staring down the barrel of his Dragunov, the scope aimed right at his head.

Derek Smith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Derek Smith** on Mon Nov 02, 2009 5:21 pm

Mahihkan didn't know what to think as he flew across the sand dunes known as the Ocean of Sand, the props of his Mil Mi-28 chopper nearly drowning out his own thoughts. Though he had bought the chopper as Military Surplus it still made it an efficient transport, though he did plan on rearming the attack chopper but the black markets he visited only had armaments for the older Hind D the Mil Mi-28 was based off.

A few weeks ago after finishing a job for some Drug Cartel that involved him as a one man wrecking crew going up against a small rival outpost. It had seemed too easy at first, the guards shot like the farmers they where and they offered little challenge to the veteran solider turned merc. But as he moved in to mop up a militia appeared from the opposite side of the outpost. These soldiers had it seemed only gotten the warning they where under attack. Needless to say they where of a higher quality then the previous farmers and it was perhaps only through sheer luck combined with a life time spent in War that the man who bore the wolf's name emerged bloody but victorious.

Hijacking a Jeep he drove first to a doctor he knew and had his wounds tended to then went to collect his sizable pay. Which the Cartel paid in a combination of Blood Diamonds and Gold with a bonus paid in cash. After dropping his pay at his safehouse, a former WW2 bunker he had retrofitted to modern standards. Carved into the solid rock of North Africa's mountains it was perhaps as in impregnable hiding place as any. And with that done he had found a letter taped to the concealed blast doors. And that was the reason he was flying across what seemed the endless sea of sand, the temperature driving more sane beings into the shade.

But when did a wolf ever follow the mass and after a life time spent in the Deserts of War the heat was nothing to him. Mahihkan went over his equipment mentally, checking that he had gotten the weapons of choice. DSR-50 Sniper Rifle, M4 Carbine, Mk23 Mod 0, Frags, Flashbangs, Knife. Unlike most mercs he disdan Russian weaponry, knowing their outdated cold war production couldn't compete through a modern war. The Ak-47 couldn't shoot straight if your life depended on it, the Dragonov is so underpowered even basic amour can stop let alone the newest Dragon Skin amour, hell Kevlar has a 50/50 chance of stopping it. He laughed mentally as he caught sight of a shack ahead.[/i] That's the place alright.[/i] He confirmed after checking the GPS unit built into the dash.

Bringing the forward motion of the Mil Mi-28 to halt with a slight flick of the Joystick he hovered for a few minutes, checking the sand below for the best landing spot before a flash caught his eye. An idiot with an exposed scope, Rookie mistake, only take the lens cover off three seconds before you shoot. He snorted with contempt, the thought amusing him to no end.

Maraluna · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Maraluna** on Mon Nov 02, 2009 7:02 pm

Punctuality was never a major concern in Liv's eyes, and as such she never made a point to be on time. Pulling up in a fairly old, obviously hotwired car, taken from the village or town of sorts she had previously been a part of, she slowly got out of the car, noticing the 4 men standing around the shack. As she got out of the car, she stretched and looked around.
What a dump meeting place for such a high paying job... she thought.
She reached back into the car to grab her weapons, a Beretta ARX-160 and a MEU(SOC) handgun, seemingly unaware of the possibility that any of the 4 men could be some sort of agent.
Fitting her handgun in it's holster and the rifle on her back, she walked over to the group with an air of confidence.
What an unapealling group of mercenaries these are... she thought as her lips curled in disgust.
She stood with her left hand poised to draw the handgun, her right in her pocket, and said nothing to the others, waiting for this "Remus" to reveal himself.

Velocity · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Velocity** on Tue Nov 03, 2009 12:57 am

Three seconds later, a shot rang out across the open plains.

The agent had tried to bring down the others mercenaries defences through speech, "So uh, this is where we meet right? I mean for the job thing of blowing up th-" He never completed the sentence. With a loud twang, the bullet was released from Remus's Dragunov, his aim was true and the bullet slid easily into the agent's temple. Blood splattered up the wall of the shack behind him and his body crumpled to the ground like a wet piece of paper. The blood from the wall dribbled down into the sand, staining it a dark crimson. The agents eyes glazed over, and flies were on him within seconds.

Remus began to get up, but noticed a helicopter coming in and so immediately dropped to the ground. Shit, he thought to himself, reinforcements already? His Dragunov tracked the helicopter across the skies with the intention of shooting the pilot. What he saw through the scope though, was not a federal agent. It was one of the mercs he had hired. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Remus swore to himself. This could blow their cover, having the local police on their tail within minutes. Helicopters did not just randomly fly across the desert, it was obviously going to attract unwanted attention. So why come in it? Remus grinned in spite of his anger. To make a flashy entrance, just as he had done then. swinging his Dragunov over his back, Remus started down the other side of the sand dune, heading towards the shack. Someone was going to pay for this.

danqaz · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **danqaz** on Tue Nov 03, 2009 1:03 am

Tyler responded to the Australian man welcomingly, as he always did with people he had expected to work with "I am feeling great," he leaned a little back in the chair, "An excellent day to walk ten friggin miles out into the desert," he said jokingly, still with a large smile on his face." A German man then walked around the side of the shack, Tyler simply smiled and nodded at the man, he could tell more and more people were going to show up. And sure enough, another man approached, hurrah! he thought to himself sarcastically, but there was something about this one, he was nervous, probably his first job, "Hey man, Killing stuff? Ahh, nah, it's the sand and the blazing sun that this is a good day for."

As another person he was walking towards the shack, Tyler saw a helicopter approaching "SHIT!" Tyler yelled collecting his weapons, he was taking precaution, it was most likely the damned FBI, but if it wasn't, then Tyler thought he was bloody dumbass merc, Tyler had walked, 10 friggin miles through the blazing sun to get here, just for the sake of stealth, It couldn't have been Tyler's fault their cover was blown, and if it wasn't blown and it was a merc. Their cover would certainly be blown now; agents would be infested around this place looking for suspicious activity, surly one of the letters would have been intercepted so that the F.B.I would know something’s going on. Tyler almost didn't notice the nervous merc get shot.

Queeg500 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Queeg500** on Tue Nov 03, 2009 1:40 am

"An excellent day to walk ten friggin' miles out into the desert."

"Oh fuck yeah man, always gotta bring out the exotic transport," Lance responded, pointing to his dune buggy.

He glanced towards another man that had arrived, and a women joining them as well, before turning back to Tyler, "Looks like this party is finally starting to lighten up eh?" Shortly afterwards another soul turned up, this time a somewhat nervous looking man. Lance stood and watched as him and Tyler conversed, finally interrupted by the sound of a helicopter, "Shit, who the fuck is this?"

As the chopper came in to view, Lance was finally able to recognize it, "Don't worry, it's a Soviet chopper, a Hind of some sort."
"No," he corrected himself, "Rather a Havoc or some kind, most likely another... party goer eh?" He laughed.

Distracted by recent events Lance ignored the sound of a shot in the distance, only taking note once one of the men had fallen to the ground, "Oh fuck!" he yelled, immediately whipping out and cocking his Five-SeveN. Quickly glancing the surrounding areas, "God damn snipers in these parts!" Lance exclaimed, running behind a large rock near the shack for cover.

Mr Ious · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mr Ious** on Tue Nov 03, 2009 6:11 am

Dimitri arrives late to the scene, riding a camel with a desert traveler disguise for the sake of stealth. Reaching the shack took much longer than what he planned. He made a mental note, never take a traditional form of travel next time. Jumping off his camel, he could see that everyone had already gathered.

"Hey guys!" he yelled, not really noticing the chopper that was coming nearby. "Am I late?"

He didn't even remember to take off his disguise yet, still looking like an awkward desert traveler. He then started to unload his bags of explosives from his tired camel and dragged them near the others before he noticed the sound of a shot in the distance. He quickly took cover behind a large rock near the shack, where he stumbled upon Lance. "Uh... hi?" was all he could say to Lance

Derek Smith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Derek Smith** on Tue Nov 03, 2009 3:53 pm

Through the shot was drowned out by the props of his chopper Mahihkan caught the muzzle flash as clear as day. Not that he was worried, the Mil Mi-28 known otherwise as a Havoc was heavily armoured and the bullet from a Dragnov couldn't even hope to scratch the glass or body of the Russian Made Chopper let alone even threaten Him.

Though he wasn't concerned with it at all, the angle of the muzzle flash told him it wasn't him that was the target, the sand the props where kicking up limiting his visibility of the ground, thus limiting his view of what was the target. Deciding he had hung around enough in the air he began landing, the landing props sinking slightly in the sand. But not much more for he had swapped the stock tires for wider tires allowing more surface area to spread out the attack chopper's weight. Popping the cockpit's hatch he grabbed the M4 laid beside the seat before unbuckling his harness and leaping out with a single motion that spoke of an ease born of countless times doing so.

Landing in a crouching position his M4 up at the ready he used the chopper as cover as he scanned the local area, taking in everyone here, their armaments and most telling a corpse sporting a fresh head wound. Calmly he did a rough calculation of the sniper's position based on the way the corpse lay and the location of the entrance wound. Coming to a sound guess he turned his eyes towards a rising sand dune that was short distance away from the ramshackle building. Walking down it was what appeared to be a man in his late twenties, a dragnov slung on his back. Our rookie sniper, though he does shoot well he could stand to learn a few more tricks of the trade. If I was the enemy and in armed attack chopper he would be nothing but meaty chunks by now. He thought with a slight contempt, for it was one thing the veteran solider hated worse then anything else. These Mercs know nothing of real warfare, and most people wonder why I prefer working alone.

He kept the M4 half raised but nothing more, His stance merely to show readiness but a willingness to communicate. But most telling was the broken safety and the finger laying mere millimeters from the trigger. For he believed in readiness at all times, a lesson taught to him by 32 years of War.

For now though he was merely interested in assessing the situation, finding out what was behind the letter and who had the audacity to tape a letter to his door. And what sort of mission would need so many Mercs. For he knew some here by reputation, others he had fought against, but some where complete mysteries to him. Which meant they where novice mercs, which he found odd with the legendary soldiers of Fortune gathered here as well.

Maraluna · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Maraluna** on Tue Nov 03, 2009 7:12 pm

The loud bang of the rifle almost startled her. Almost. She half expected this "Remus" to be prepared, and she half expected someone here to be an agent.
She didnt know anyone here, nor did she care. She assumed that none,apart from "Remus" of course, had ever heard of her. That was a good thing. The less thats known about her the better. What she was concerned about was the number of of mercenaries here. Seven, counting herself and Remus, was a fairly large number, and definatly, she thought, overkill with her on board. She smirked a little as she thought this and looked at the mercenaries. An Australian man; a shorter man than her; another Russian; a German; and finally, a tall, scarred, man, who had arrived in a helicopter. The helicopter made a flashy entrance but that was all. It made him look overprepared, maybe even nervous. A 6th man, who had shot the agent, was almost to the group. She realized this must be Remus and shifted her attention to him. Politeness sometimes counted, and it was good to make a good impression on the one writing your paycheck, so she held out her right hand as he approached, her left still poised over the handgun. For a second she glanced back to her car.

"You must be Remus." She said as he got closer "Nice shot"

danqaz · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **danqaz** on Wed Nov 04, 2009 12:03 am

Tyler returned from the side of the shack and ran up to this new Russian guy who had just shown up in the chopper, picking up one of his desert eagles from under the couch on the way, and still ignoring the recently dead man. "YOU FUCKING DUMBASS! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU COME HERE IN A CHOPPER, WE WOULD HAVE ENOUGH TROUBLE GETTING AWAY FROM F.B.I AND SHIT, WITHOUT YOUR FUCKWIT BRAIN ATTRACTING MORE!" Tyler continued yelling at the Russian man, he wasn't usually the kind of person to get angry, but everyone else here had approached with stealth in mind, yet this man appeared to not even know the meaning of the word.

"You must be Remus, nice shot," Someone said, Remus? If this man is Remus, well. Tyler just rolled his eyes and walked backwards, still flailing insults at the man, but a not yelling them, he checked back at the dead man's body, searching him for weapons he might be able to use, "hmm? An F.B.I badge, huh, never would’ve expected."

Velocity · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Velocity** on Wed Nov 04, 2009 6:44 am

Remus merely nodded at Liv's outstretched hand and compliment, turning his attention to the helicopter driver (not even glancing at the CIA agent's dead body).He briefly raised his eyebrow at the yelling African.. bit of a temper on that one. Remus was annoyed, all their stealth and planning could have been for nothing because of this idiot. He wanted to yell at him and shoot him for his insolence.
Instead he simply said, "Nice ride, jackass." He himself had endangered the whole mission by shooting the CIA agent publicly, instead of just taking him some place quiet to finish the job. He surveyed the whole group, indeed, there was a lot of them. But half would not live through it so it would even things out. Men (and a woman) of all nationalities stared at him, some in cover and some, (overconfidently) were not.
Gazing around the sun scorched desert, he crossed his arms and turned to them. "Name's Remus... and I've got a proposition for you all."

Mr Ious · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mr Ious** on Wed Nov 04, 2009 7:44 am

Dimitri rises from his cover, still wearing his awkward desert traveler disguise. He looks at Remus, not really knowing about what he should say. He thinks for a while before responding to Remus' statement. He knows that a newbie merc like him shouldn't be the one to respond first, but meh...

"So... What is this 'proposition' you're talking about?" he said in a rather light voice for a man of his size. "And by the way... do you have a place where I can change my outfit?". Looks like he just remembered that he's still wearing his disguise...

Queeg500 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Queeg500** on Wed Nov 04, 2009 10:38 am

"Uh... hi?" A greeting spoken to him by a nervous Russian-sounding man, covered in sand-man clothes, but packing the same type of grenades he carried as well.

Lance remained behind the rock but turned to face the Russian. "Yeah g'day mate... this shit has really hit the fan eh?" he joked.

Leaning closer he pointed towards the African, "Look at that fuckin' moron, one of these blokes just got popped 'n' he’s just standin' out in the open. I hope that wanker gets shot in the arse."

The Soviet helicopter had landed, releasing the rage of the African upon him. Meanwhile a newcomer arrived, carrying a Soviet sniper rifle, "Jeez, Commie-day today." he quietly joked to himself.

The newcomer brought an aura of command with him, demanding attention of the others, surely this is the man known as Remus. Dimitri had left the rock-turned-bunker and walked over to the others, convinced it was now safe Lance followed him.

Moose · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Moose** on Wed Nov 04, 2009 11:04 am

Upon the first report he head from the rifle, Vlad had ducked to take cover behind the corner of the shack. Watching the man fall, half his head now neatly removed, he chuckled to himself as he watched the ignorance that ensued. A helicopter, gunshots, suv's, a lot of shouting, and half a dozen or more people armed to the teeth standing around a shack in the middle of nowhere didn't hardly give the impression to anyone who would happen by that they were here for a bake sale.

He marveled at the foolishness, his own included. There were several of the world elite Mercs standing in a small group perfectly exposed, that any 12 year old camel jockey with a not so well aimed rpg shot could have obliterated. Vlad kicked himself for even letting his own guard down "Wie dumm von mir" he muttered to himself. After seeing the chaos unfold and realising it seemed no one else would be executed just yet, he looked over his shoulder in time to see his camel loping through the desert. "Of course."

He walked around the shack for the second time to join the group, this time keeping several yards between himself and the body of the group, just incase. He leaned against the side of the shack and simply observed.

Derek Smith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Derek Smith** on Wed Nov 04, 2009 11:17 am

( OCC: danqaz my character Mahihkan isn't Russian, He's Canadian of the Cree First Nations Tribe, I suggest you look a profile sheet over before making such an assumption.)

Ignoring the over excited obviously newbie merc berating him for his arrival in a chopper he watched the man with the Dragnov near the shack, the sun shining down on them all. " Thanks, some people think it's a little much. I say better safe then sorry," He responded with a non-committal tone as he stayed standing next to his chopper looking every one over. Matching faces to the data he had on hand. After all it pays to have info on the competition.

Only a couple of people where truly unknown to the veteran soldier turned merc. The only thing that unsettled him cause variables had a tendency to pull out high powered rifles and try to make a messy situation even worse. And as the now revealed Remus spoke Mahihkan took him in. Though he carried himself like an officer this wasn't the army, the man had done nothing yet to earn his respect. But then again he hadn't done anything to disinterest him either.

"If you got a deal spit it, it ain't getting any cooler in this hell hole." The man who bore the wolf's name answered as the sun climbed even higher into the merciless sky, the flies buzzing even louder around the rapidly rotting corpse. Despite a lifetime of war it still surprised Mahihkan how fast a corpse rotted in the desert. Some say it was the heat, the more superstitious suggested it was a sign that the desert was sick of the wars fought in it. Either way made sense to the Cree a long way from his native forests of Northern Manitoba.

Maraluna · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Maraluna** on Wed Nov 04, 2009 7:06 pm

Liv retracted her hand.
She was surprised at first by his lack of interest in her introduction, then realized she wasnt at a school conference. Obviously this was strictly business.
She stood quietly as Remus swore at the pilot, then formally introduced himself to the group, thinking over the events that had transpired over the past few minutes.
"If you got a deal spit it" she heard the pilot say.
"Of course he has a fucking deal"she spoke half shouting,"Why else would he get us all out here? To show off his fucking shooting skills? I think not."
She paused for a moment then mumbled a conclusion in Russian:
"покажите некоторое уважение, тупоумную обезьяну."
During the brief monologue she had moved closer to the pilot, when she was done, she scowled and repositioned herself to her original spot.
She was shorter by a good half of a foot, and assumed he was a "professional" in the business of killing, but it didnt matter. She was reckless with her life and, to a certain extent, wanted to let the others no that she wasnt some little girl.
She looked again at the helicopter and noted the distance from it to her car. She frowned as if a joke could no longer be exercised.
Looking back she noticed the Dragunov strung across Remus' back. She knew the unreliability of Russian weaponry, and as such refrained from using it, but still found herself fond of the Dragunov because it was her first rifle, and had a feel to it she enjoyed. If Remus doesnt happen to return breathing, she might just get a little gift. Smirking as she thought this, she lowered her gaze to the corpse. A C.I.A. badge stuck to his belt and an earpiece hanging down confirmed his affiliation. She felt stupid. If she had seen this earlier, she would have shot the man, depriving Remus of a flashy entrance and effectivly showing her own capabilities. From the earlier rantings of the African, she realized the others were probably worried about C.I.A. interference, about getting arrested. She wasnt. She had worked for the C.I.A. before and knows that they happen to "overlook" her criminal record in return for quality service. In addition to that, assisting Russia wasnt on the very top of the C.I.A.'s to-do list, so she figured they werent working together.
She returned her gaze to Remus and said nothing.

The Way of the Mercenary

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