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PMC: Leftovers

Modern / Slight Future

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a part of PMC: Leftovers, by 0123456789876543210.

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Modern / Slight Future is a part of PMC: Leftovers.

20 Characters Here

Mackenzie "Mack" Sinclair [11] A Scotsman with a proficiency in Close Quarters Combat
Jens Torgny [9] A Swedish man once involved in gang violence in Stockholm. Moved to Zambia to stay with his father, where he learned that his Father worked as a Private Military Contractor.
Farin [7]
Garret "Juice" Hiyak [4] "War is my shepherd."
James Foy [3] A forced retired soldier
Illyasviel "Illya" Vukova [3] Squad leader, former marine gunnery sergeant and part time historian

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For Saladin, the workday didn't end when they got back to base after the mission he had just volunteered for. Instead of joining everyone else for drinks, he had gone straight to the armory and donned his leather apron as he began checking the pile of weapons that were turned in for more than their usual cleanings.

An hour later, having inspected the firearms that had been turned into the armory (including one pistol that one of the mercs noted that the slide wasn't as smooth he would have like), he set about on his own weaponry, in particular the Mosin-Nagant he primarily used.

When the BMP fired at his position, the resulting jolt threw his sights out of alignment, but he was almost sure that there certainly would be more damage or malfunctions that he was not able to detect in the heat of battle. Sure enough, there was a bit more damage-- The front sight assembly was slightly crooked. Aside from that and the off-zero scope, however, that was all that was wrong with the weapon. Saladin was understandably impressed-- either this rifle was a lucky charm, or it really was always this robust.

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Character Portrait: Victor Linden Character Portrait: Farin Character Portrait: Lucinda Izumi
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"Stressed out?" Victor asked as he entered the tent. The sole occupant was Farin, who was busy running patches through the bore of her dissembled rifle.

After finding the cotton patches came out clean, the merc finally set down her weapon to reply. "No. Just thinking about the new blood." She dipped a toothbrush in solvent and started to clean the gas tube and bolt of the rifle, wiping most of the carbon fouling from it. "The big thing is if that little slaughter was really a test. When that armor attacked most of us froze up like bugs. Those grenades were useless."

Victor winched. "Ja. I know. I think I have a stopgap solution though."

"We should have RPGs Vic," Farin sighed. "Or are we really operating without a budget?" The man's silence confirmed her question. "I guess we've been through worse shit before." Farin examined her AK as she spoke.

"Still keeping that old rifle, eh?"

"Ja. Better rifle than most of those AKMs, and I have a history with it. You know that." The furniture on the AK had been refinished several times, and there were gouges visible in the light despite restaining and repair. The recent mission had marred the flat black finish it had - it would need some more paint later. It was a big, heavy rifle that only barely fit Farin. It had been through several hands and killed a lot of people. In a sense, the weapon had gone through as much abuse and hardship as the girl who carried it. "Wouldn't mind some real antitank stuff, that said."

"I understand," Victor said distantly. If Farin was annoyed there was generally a damned good reason. "You know, one of my buddies brought up the idea of making our own antitank. We could make some Panzerfausts in house for one. Another idea is to cut down those Russkie recoiless rifles we find so often. Or make our own by converting mortar shells."

Farin stared at Victor. "Ideas won't do us much good if we don't put them to use." She replaced the gas tube and bolt into the AK, then hooked the spring guide in behind it. After slapping the bolt cover into place, she racked the rifle sharply. "I know this gun works right now, and that's what matters, mate."

"Was trying to tell you Farin - we have a few prototypes I'd like you to test out, if you have a sec."

"Hm." Farin set down her rifle and stood up. "Worth trying once."

Victor sighed in relief. "Thanks."

~~~~~~

Luce wiped the sweat from her face as she dropped the wrecked piece of armor onto the floor. Ever since they had brought back the BMP, it had been her job to get it into some working order, lest someone else take over the job and give it to another platoon. She didn't mind working on it, as she had little else to do. But it was still pretty weird compared to any car she had ever worked on. Everything was packed into it with little space for anything, like the engine bay of a German sports car, but with more grease and cheaper parts.

The shaped charge they had used to blow it open had wrecked most of the turret assembly and the feed system - Farin had said they were lucky the thing didn't just explode entirely. They would need a new turret, a new roof and definitely some interior work. Though while they were at it, Luce thought working on the engine might be a learning experience...

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Character Portrait: Illyasviel "Illya" Vukova
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Illyasviel "Illya" Vukova bit back a curse as she squinted through the dust storm the Huey that had just dropped her off was kicking up as it departed the base. God damn doctors. Couldn’t ask for follow up on her eyes before she deployed? Nope now I missed the first god damn mission

As Illya headed to her quarters to drop off what gear she had taken and to check on what she had left she mulled over the next possible mission. Probably protection detail or raids given the location Illya thought as she walked out of the portable shelter, satisfied that all was in order.

The canteen should be open-maybe I can hear what happened on the last mission she continued to think until an unusual sight caught her eye- a ruined BMP-3. By ruined she meant most of the turret had been blown away. Given how Russian armor reacted to be being breached Illya was surprised the entire thing hadn’t blow itself to Timbuktu. As she approached the ruined wreck of an IFV she saw the young lady that she vaguely remembered was the platoon’s mechanic. That thing still works?!

Deciding to announce her presence then just stare at the machine she spoke. “So what idiot fool died managing that?” She motioned to the ruined turret of the armored vehicle.