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[color=Silver]	Days began to pass. The mirage that was [i]Matupi Headquarters[/i] was rather quiet, despite the constant bustle of troops coming in and out of the base. It was a strange sight to behold. No gunshots could be heard, ever, and the tranquillity was peacefully settling itself amongst Aleyev's mind. It was a nice change considering the sounds of cackled gunfire was now a distant fear from back in Leningrad. But to remind everyone that they were in fact at war and not on some shoddy holiday more than a hundred bodies were being wheeled in by strange mechanical beasts. Trucks, walking mechanised civilian transports and man-made stretchers were carrying the masses inside, mixing the dead and the severely injured together. This was the result of the outer-fighting in Burma, the place where this Indochinese conflict was building up. Most of those brought inside were Indian, of course, still fighting under the banner of the Allied Nations.

	Aleyev would look outside his room's windows to see the groups be brought in almost every day. It was quite saddening to know that this much life could be expended, and from a Russian's point of view this was an unpopular opinion. Out of all the few years he spent in combat he had seen a large waste of life day in and day out. On the European frontline, there had been a vast selection of charges that even Aleyev had to take part in, ones that showed just how powerful one another's defences were. The Wermacht had to do the same, pushing harshly onwards until the very last man was knocked down. Back then, it was no more than an after-thought, but the siege at Leningrad showed him the true meaning behind preserving manpower and life. Every officer or soldier taking command were assigned to protecting their men, minimising casualties and taking the safest option. Leningrad was the deepest turning point for not just the Russian frontline but it also played a critical part of Aleyev's evolving mind. He learnt to trust those around him and to cherish the skills others had. It made him dangerously vulnerable to suffering after losing close ones but it was crucial to make such allies. But when the troops here, in India, were being brought back, it took him by surprise to see that the loss of life from neighbouring allies was still occurring.

	Most of them were Indian troops still loyal to the British movement, of course. Many Punjab Regiments from the west mixed with the whitened faces of a few British stragglers were being brought in on different truckloads. Some had burst chests whilst others were littered with shrapnel, not a glisten of life present in their fragile eyes. But what surprised Aleyev more was the diversity in nationalities present. The French were still very active here in the British Raj, more than capable of delivering some good help after the retreats of Vietnam and Siam. On top of that, there were Australian and New Zealanders all dotted around, though many were unapproachable as they were kept relatively hidden from the naked eye. Something about their secrecy made for some dashing curiosity.

	Aleyev stood up and wandered around his room, dressing himself once more into the more suitable combat attire that Indochina required. Today was going to be the day that they were going out on their first [i]mission[/i]. Ivan Stepraskovic, a Soviet officer that Aleyev himself was assigned to, had been bringing it up for the past few days. After countless briefs and training to familiarise himself with the equipment that Atyre had given him, they would be required to go on a simple scouting mission. By his side, he held a sheet of documentation that clearly stated what their mission was to go as. It was a very tame mission and felt more like something the special forces in the VDV would be handed prior to Squad 914's deployment. Little did he know that their commanding officers were very much prepared to send them out into the field to not return, finding a bigger message and picture ahead. No one could predict what they were going to find or do, but Aleyev did not find comfort in their upbringing.

	A knock came on his door, to which he answered for them to enter. As instructed, a smartly uniformed man, unlike any Russian uniforms, entered with a similar weapon to another one of Aleyev's comrades. The man would proudly wear a strangely altered version of the Union Jack, a flag that had been tainted years ago by the Fascist regime. Similarly on his other arm, the letters [i][b]S.O.E[/b][/i] shone in bold thread.[/color]

[color=00aeef][b]"Corporal Yanovich, correct?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]His accent held a strange manner of politeness and fomrality yet still retained the brutish tone of experience from his time in the war. Upon the bridge of his nose sat a dirty pair of glasses that seemed rather uncomfortable, judging the blisters upon where it sat.[/color] [color=00aeef][b]"I mean, of course you are. I do have your photograph here, after all."[/b][/color]

[color=Red][b]"We do not go by ranks here, anymore. I only go by my role and name."[/b][/color]

[color=00aeef][b]"So I have to call you Specialist Yanovich then? Seems a bit peculiar, this whole Russian business, but who am I to judge. Anyway, I wanted to collect you for further testing for your experimental gear. You are due to head out on your mission in, like, two hours so we need to go through some last minute checks. Oh, and can you also direct me to a woman named...Naomi Robinson. An old comrade of mine, worked for me back in Britain in the first years. I just wanted to pop in and see her."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Aleyev silently pointed towards her door before leaving. Today was going to be a tough day, now that he had to find his place within Squad 914, make odds with the comrades he was due to work with and ultimately become the very best he could. Hopefully the scoundrels beyond the fort's walls were not expecting them as much as he hoped they weren't.[/color]