Somewhere off the coast of Corsica

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They called it La Source. Or in other words, the HQ for Raven Squad, the crystal-clear waters of the Med and the rocky granite-sandstone of the Corsican shore revealing a small island off the big island's mainland itself, like so many here, a beautiful little spot in the setting evening sun.

They called it home more than that, and it was a unique one at that. An old French naval facility built into the side of a cliffside, the base occupied the small island's perimeter but looked striking at that. It was built by the Nazis in the Second World War but found to be of no use for a local naval station after 30 years in service, so was quietly aquired by someone to be put to something else, Skye had to guess. Then most likely passed to Raven Squad as their little base of operations, home for them to use. Remodelled and remade into the home base for a team that might need to be anywhere at a given notice, and so they needed a place that they could call their own. The inner concrete walls were painted a striking white and grey, and looked modern, in spite of the old appearance of the facility.

The facility had five storeys to it, including the cave that the base was built on top of that had the calm water sitting inside it with various boats, and from there, the second storey being the largest with a deep cavern that multi-tasked as a multi-purpose training area, shooting range and armoury for the team. The team's gym was located there, with a cut-off area for the team's heavies, who altogether used equipment that was totally different- kettlebells and concrete blocks that looked more at home to be lifted by forklift rather than by people. The third storey had the team's accomodation, a series of indiviual quarters, the fourth a rec and lounge room with a panoramic view that incorperated a kitchen and bar, and the fifth, well, partly the property of Skye and partly the briefing rooms. The walls were a mix of chiselled stone with concrete built into them, with paint and LED lighting making it seem at least a little brighter.

A large helipad sat at the top of the cliffside, hidden from the sea by a rock formation and a stout lighthouse that lay barren inside, the helipad hosting their V22 Osprey as well as a small hangar-like building that contained a fairly exotic vehicle pool that could be loaded in or taken down onto a boat. The rest of the island wasn't large- it was more a lump of rock in the ocean, maybe a mile squared in size, but it was empty and mostly just rocks and hardy dunes. The small encampment for rotational support staff, ranging from techs for the vehicles and V22, logistics teams and various SIGINT postings finished up La Source as a location on the other side of the island, only on a need to know basis of what was going on.

It was everything an evil genius would love. Lucky the people who wanted to stop those sorts had it to themselves. Any locals or tourists must have thought it was some billionaire's little palace, because nobody would have assumed it made any sense beyond the cove at the bottom and the fancy looking one-way glass of the rec room and well, Raven Squad's team leader.

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1900 Hours

Skye loaded the SIG, the rifle tight in her hands she unloaded rounds down range, the sound of metal plinking from rounds drilling them echoing yet satisfying, the Scot switching from the canted sight to the main magnified optic itself, tailoring it in and letting the rounds fly down range. It was almost a catharsis, the use of her rifle something to take her mind off things, and nearly the end of her day's routine. Admin done, a new rotation of the team in after some previous wetwork, her usual daily run and swim and now something she wanted to catch up on- her rifle's new barrel and optics fitting, something she wanted to get right. And the way she had drilled the metal target, she was happy it was right. 

The large German behind her could spot that too.

"You clearly did not need my services today. That is a shame, Frau Lyons."

"Alright, Laura. You might be keen to keep busy. But I'm more than capable." Skye replied with a sultry undertone as she stared at the target, then clearing the chamber and taking the empty mag out, taking the rifle to hand as she turned to see her, barely phased by the large German giantess's prescence, chuckling as she stood right up to her, a thing nobody had the right to do.

"You know, most people need accuracy. But I understand, setting things on fire is just more fun for you, isn't it?" Skye couldn't help but giggle, Laura responding in turn, shrugging her shoulders as she walked over, herself checking the workbench she had, with a large Mk19 grenade launcher heaped atop it, her secondary toy for when she wasn't gonna set people on fire.

"Or just blowing them up. You know, I can shoot straight, just uhhh....well, it just seems like too much work to not cover the area in munitions. Quantity, not quality, ja!" Laura replied, Skye laughing and shaking her head, putting her SIG back into the armoury's lockup, back where her gear was, near her exo and the rest of her combat loadout, availible on short notice. Skye kept quiet for a moment, before turning to Laura again, the Scot wearing a typical navy-blue t-shirt and jeans, sans the ear defenders she'd needed for the range now. She picked up a case next to her weapon store, something else she wanted to take up with her.

"I'm headed to the rec room. You coming along?" Skye asked, the giant German shrugging, herself heading back to another workbench, hauling a large pair of MGs onto it, knowing she had her orders still to finish- as silly as she was, she wasn't gonna disobey Skye, at least, not after last time.

"Nein, I've got some more work to do. Jamie's equipment still need work. I know he loves working on it, but I have a few things to run through. I am a professional, Skye, when you tell me to do something, I..." 

"When I last told you to do something, you got into a cardboard box and you nearly choked out Glitch with that hind of yours. And professional...jaysus, Laura, you're literally the opposite." Skye commented in return, chuckling, Laura knowing she had her own reply.

"Well, he must have enjoyed it." 

"I don't think he did? Later on." Skye felt more confident in her own reply, and with that, left Laura to her own devices, leaving behind the armoury and heading out, on her way towards the team's rec room.

Stepping into the lift, Skye had the chance to think about the team, and who they were a little. She had a few things to sort, and the rest of the team after their daily jobs would be in the rec room by now, Skye coming in a bit late.

There was Jaguar, or Mateo- a capable, adept infiltrator, the guy she could count on to sneak and wreck havok, with an ability to sabotage, hack and get behind lines like no other operator- yet wasn't a totally cold asswipe. 

There was Jamie, or Scion- the son of the legends, not many of whom had really heard the name, but was someone who Skye had no doubts about their ability regarding as a heavy operative, carrying the torch that his parents did. And no doubt no less savage. 

There was Xander, or Glitch, an unpredictable, capable hacker who seemed to be a specialist in this modern age of warfare, able to outdo the enemy's electronic warfare and maximise their own. A loose cannon, the sarky comedian of the group, but capable in what he did.

Oh, and Ghost, the....well, she couldn't tell. She was so quiet, so intensely machined she swore behind those eyes was a machine, but no, it was DNA and flesh and blood, the training results said so. An infiltrator with not much heart, but all brain. Perhaps it made her so good at what she did, and Skye didn't want to ask many questions, apart from the mostly redacted report she'd gotten from Oracle. 

Then Misa, or Bobi. The team's first mechanised heavy, an opposite world to that of Jamie's platform. A risk to be sure given the history, but someone who probably matched Mateo's will for revenge. Odd that, it almost fuelled people, blowing, blasting, turning shit inside out. Perhaps on their holidays they'd get what they wanted, here, it was business. Mostly. 

And last but not least...there was Grayson, or Brazen. A foil, an antithesis to Skye Rosalind Lyons, someone she'd heard about and yet wasn't sure if she'd ever see herself working with, but someone who was the mysterious other on her programme, someone who as much as she respected, was...bloody English as they came. 

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The lift doors opened, and Skye stepped out, the red-haired Scot having her locks tucked into a ponytail, her navy shirt a practical contrast to her blue-coloured jeans and brown trail shoes. She had a certain confidence in the way she walked, a certain aura, the kind of look that very much radiated an energy of casual, yet authority, brewing beneath the surface. Many had taken her short at first looks, many didn't make that mistake. But it came with proving people wrong, and never stopping. She never wished to, and never wanted to stop being involved. The smell of the kitchen was ever so satisfying, as she rounded the corner and came right through. 

The rec room was a a spatious, airy lounge with a bar and kitchen in one corner, beanbags, chairs and sofas scattered about and a feeling of generally being opened out. For a small squad that was Raven, it was luxury, and a calming presence as she headed over to the cooler, and finding a bottle, she found hers, in another case that she could draw. The evening sunset sat on the horizon, with Skye breaking the silence.

"So, yous thought I'd just leave you sitting here, wondering about what we'd do. Nae, I got yous something to get chatting. And whoever is making that food....that is simply magnificent." Skye's leadership seemed straight, direct, and yet like any good mum, never too condecending. Not when it didn't need to be, with six glasses on the table.

And the loosener? A '72 Single Malt, Tobermory, Isle of Mull Whisky. A glass of that on the table for her, a gentle wick to start her off, and she felt more in the mood. That and for the rest of the team to have that were coming through, because well, it was the start of the new batch. With that, she opened the other case she'd brought down and quietly got to work with it, which revealed a cherry oak fiddle, an instrument she treasured very much. The chatter was going on but she thought to fill in the blank, and leaning against the wall, she began to find her tune. A Scots instrument that scored home, literally every loch, mountain and valley felt like this had it playing when she was back in her head. A tune she knew might bring a few people in, given the door was open, and get them all together.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OD-RKGbF0pY&ab_channel=AlphaWmega]Fiddle[/url]

For a moment, she wasn't on a Corsican island. She was home, and it always felt like it took the edge off her mental state, a quiet solace that she could sooth into.