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[color=steelblue][b]"Seventeen what?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The sudden interception of his silent thought came from another voice, a low and sombre one. It was a change from the irritant familiarity that came from [i]Mucker's[/i] personal conversations. Changes were sometimes welcomed by Lucas...sometimes. He lifted his head from his dazed cognition. As if the heavens had dumped the polar opposite figure from the pale-faced, tight-necked Corporal that had been following him around. She, on the other hand, was definitely something else. Greased with the dirt and grime plucked straight from engines she'd familiarised herself with. Mechanics weren't too common around the Firebase, but indeed they were a crucial asset to maintain operational support from walkers, tanks and vehicles alike. She'd seemed to have caught onto his private ramblings, quizzing his counting at least. He spent so much time wandering around in his thoughts that he eventually heard a second intercepting voice split through the two of them. Another woman, this time.

	He didn't know the second any more than the first, but she was again far more different than the previous accomplice he'd been tortured through conversation. In turn, they spoke to the mechanic with a short but almost intrusive ponder. Bingo. She'd guessed it. Artillery counting: the soldier's alternative to counting sheep. Those European cattle-like animals weren't exactly something Vietnam could hold dearly. Too dangerous, Lucas thought to himself, and far to wild. The actual wildlife of Vietnam was still mostly a mystery. Reptiles and birds, equally outnumbered by the countless seas and mounds of insects, roamed free in the depths of the jungles and mountains alike. The woman had almost stalked into the scene without Lucas properly realising it. They conversed very lightly, more so on a one-sided note, whilst Lucas simply rubbed his eyes to alleviate the stress of waiting. Always, the waiting was the worst part.[/color]

[color=07D389][b]"Huh? Oh, yeah. Counting artillery."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]His unenthusiastic voice dribbled into the conversation lightly, beginning with a seedy implant of short responses. Knowing full well it wasn't satisfactory to the conversation, and considering he'd been almost wishing for a new talking partner, he continued to respond to her original question beforehand.[/color] [color=07D389][b]"How am I? Fuck if I know. My hand hurts a little bit from earlier, caught it on the hammer of my 1911 during that morning raid. Ain't exactly bad, but every little thing adds up, I guess. What about you Private-"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	He tried to search for some sort of collar or name-tag written upon her, but with his blurred vision he couldn't exactly focus on any sort of dog tag. Instead, he left the question there, rubbing his eyes once more to wake him up a little more. Turning back to the mechanic, he simply nodded, pointing at the second infiltrator's position as if to say she already answered her question. Counting was something simple, something almost sane in the dire depths of Vietnam. They weren't too far from Saigon, maybe fifty minutes or so by car if the roads weren't bogged down. To call Embers the depths was almost a lie, no matter how far into the hellish landscape it was. Nothing ever really felt distant from the war itself. Old wars had frontlines, ones that established truly where the fighting would happen. In Vietnam, it was anywhere at anytime. In cities, any wandering citizen could be just another Charlie waiting to gut them. Chances were sometimes too painful to take. It wasn't uncommon for a cautious soldier to intercept the nearest stalking Vietnamese cityfolk with a bullet.

	Clearing his mind from its tangent yet again, he returned to the world of the present. Momentary bliss flickered his mind as he felt the sudden urge to talk more, but his mouth simply remained shut, unable to really add anything of value. He was a Sergeant, not a conversationalist. Eventually, the tank-top woman spoke up a second time, asking him a more direct question he could properly answer.[/color]

[color=07D389][b]"Out? Oh well, I mean me and my group aren't heading out until tomorrow. Day's off today. Pulled those strings to grant us that extra time. They'll prolly send someone from Charlie Company instead. You're coming with us, I guess?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He unscrewed the slippery lid to his flask and swung another swig down his coarse throat. The bitterness of its tasteless punch really hit the target, scratching the same itch he'd felt earlier that morning. It was a nice way to properly relax, especially considering the Australian group previously stationed there had taken all of their marijuana back with them. Outsourcing was going to be a requirement for that full stress-relief urge many of the Firebase's staff yearned for.[/color] [color=07D389][b]"I mean if you're with us for a bit I gotta warn you for a bit. You'll be stepping into some shoes a few of my squadmates would rather not be filled. Standard stuff, you know. Guess they're still new to the fact people drop like flies if they aren't careful."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Left rambling, he only then realised the presence of two greenhorns entering the scene. Unlike the other two, this seemingly comedic couple ran through a formal, yet disjointed, procedure of introductions. Linde and Therese, coming in straight away with an embarrassing set of innocence dragged into his presence. Innocence. He'd forgotten what it was like for someone to simply be that naive. The situation was going to get worse for them, so he simply built himself up on the inside, planning what to say with a short pause after they'd finished. By all means, Lucas wasn't trying to deter them from being around him, only reminding them of their place here in Vietnam.[/color]

[color=07D389][b]"Oh geez, here we go..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Lucas sighed, standing up and holding his helmet beneath his arms again. He tucked his flask deep into his pockets and stretched his back, arms and legs for a second.[/color] [color=07D389][b]"First things first, stop calling me [i]Sir[/i], I'm no officer. It's either Sergeant, Sarge or whatever substitute that works, just not [i]Sir[/i], please."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Going back to their introductions, he listened to their names in his head quietly. Specifically, the latter caught him off guard, realising they shared the same surname. At first he passed it off as siblinghood, but when the thought crossed his mind yet again he realised that the differentiation was just...well it wasn't as clear as he imagined. He pondered the alternatives before quietly muttering beneath his breath.[/color] [color=07D389][b]"Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put a couple on their first assignment?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Having cleared his rant in solitude, he looked back up to the pair and sighed, nodding in uncertainty. He didn't really know how to react to the two that had approached him.[/color] [color=07D389][b]"You two are serious wet wipes, no offence. Either way, I guess this is your [i]welcome[/i] party then. Don't really know what you want."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	For reasons he wasn't sure of, he felt particularly spiteful in his delivery, sharpening his words and instilling a piercing energy to his words. Perhaps it was the death of Weber that was still aching his very cold and desolate heart. After all, friends were still friends, even if their deaths were to be expected coming towards the second year of his Vietnam service. He didn't want to go home to face the happy-go-lucky society that Therese and Linde presented, not after what he'd become accustomed to. Instead, he simply sat back and nodded back at the mechanic.[/color]

[color=07D389][b]"So who're you? Guess it's always nice to meet the behind-the-scene gals and guys every now and then."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Not too long after she started her response, a tap came on his shoulder. Behind him stood a weary private, nodding and mouthing silently that someone was here to see him, or vice versa. He couldn't tell. Lucas took a second to remind himself of the correspondent, the one who was going to be attached to his squad like a leech, photographing the [i]true[/i] nature of the war for whatever philanthropic reasoning she likely had. Deep down, he really hoped that she was able to pull a trigger when needed. He'd seen her work, at least the bare minimum required to understand her tale. He forgot her name in the heat of his tiredness, but did recognise her notoriety throughout her junior journalistic years. Now she was stepping into some bigger boots, getting her feet a little dirty. Maybe she expected a puddle of mud, unaware she was about to sink into ten feet of shit. Lucas excused himself from the group and went into an empty mess-tent, one where his normal patrol gear was waiting, rifle and webbing included. Perhaps she wanted some early shots, perhaps not. Either way, she'd meet him there, and it was only a matter of waiting. Besides his own equipment was a handout of defensive clothing for her to don, amusing but probably as worthless as the helmet upon his head.[/color]

[centre][sub][@Nyxira][@Smike][@Landaus Five-One][@Mk2][/sub][/centre]