[color=lightgreen][center][h3][i][b]Day 1: 17:35:01 The World's End Pub Village of Pristupin, Libor Province Republic of Polavia [/b][/i][/h3][/center][/color] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Getting Wrecked[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] Enough shit was flying around, that at this point, if the team were trying to forget the events of the last few months, they were receiving an indirect catchup. Between Borys taking the breacher as a human shield, taking a piece off the board pretty fast, Keodis followed up rather nicely with a hurl of a beanbag at the witch holding up Rowan. Who herself was nifty enough to throw acid at her M4-come-staff wielding witch (inevitably making her scream as it burned the side of her face and arm) the follow up of weakened lightening catching fire on Harry's combat shirt. That said, it went out quick enough when it mostly landed and was spreading to another drunk, setting a Polavian farmer who was so shitfaced that he was basically a walking fire hazard, alight. And still fighting. A man was on fire punching someone in the face, and if you didn't find that funny, there was no hope really, was there? It was a fistfight. Hands thrown, blunt objects and glass lobbed, and the entire team were getting battered. Not irreversibly so, some due to booze having more "health" than usual, others just having craft that solidified that. They were all trying not to die, trying not to get pinned, and it looked like something more from Kingsman than it did a thriller. Messy, unorganised, hellish. But no less funny to see a dude spread fire to his other pissed up friends, truly revealing that drunk Polavians were so much more of a threat than any special forces team could expect. Resisting the urge to double tap Harry, Felix instead tried to make a way for the exit. The Holding Witch had other ideas, though, now caught up in the fight and holding back from opening fire on civilians. If she could at least land something on him, that would be best- and what luck would have it....he appeared to be moving right towards her! The Holding Witch tried to swing for Felix given she could make a reverse tackle, but he went through her, ghosting past, as the witch was then set upon by another two [s]alcoholics[/s] esteemed members of Polavian rural society, and getting a solid right hook. Felix on the other hand was throwing himself out of the window that Borys had made a hole in, his Copy Cat doing a perfect job of throwing the last operative off the scent. Pistol raised, Felix kept pistol pointed back towards the window, knowing with distance, there was now an ability to make sure anyone following would at least get .45 ACP over their head, before it entered skull. "Get back, you fucking morons! Davai, davai!" Felix yelled, backing away, looking around, keeping cover and letting Keodis get set up, checking his vodka bottle first, then the M249 to cover Felix's move. More fighting could be inside, the voice of English cutting through. Harry yelled out, realising the situation was fubar, as they got cornered in a bit of the bar, holding comms on his rig, aware that they'd beyond fucked this raid up, knocking down another drunkard, firing rounds into air, creating breathing room as a few of the drunks backed off on gunfire. "Team, extract hot via glyphs, we'll regroup at OP Violet!" It was retreat. And like that, extraction glyphs hot, no Felix in tow because well, between him, the team and getting Felix, were now a plethora of drunk villagers. Half his team being disarmed, and very little hope they'd be able to win a fistfight without causing an international incident, they were leaving. Killing everyone in the bar was not on their order list, Harry was at least professional enough to say that. So, Extraction Glyph time it was. The glyphs were ideally their way get the hell out once they had Felix in hand, out of the bar, but it would dump them back at their observation post a few miles away, where a helicopter would have to be told to cancel their pickup. They weren't far from the fight, but back to square one. Teleportation was only so good in range with a glyph like that, especially with an anticipated "passenger". It wasn't worth even asking how it worked, once again, being another mystery left to another day. Felix could see the smoke from it pop, and realised that it was a sign the team of special forces wizards that had descended upon them- had decided they'd missed their mark. Getting killed was stupid over this, versus coming back to fight. They could have kept chasing relentlessly, but the mission was compromised. Sensible really. He looked to Keodis and Borys, the two having taken the window route. Voluntarily, and involuntarily, inversely. "Holy shit, that was intense. Harry was always an asshole at the bar on shore leave. And it's five o'clock somewhere Keodis....they're off in a hurry. I think I'll lay off the sauce for now. Suit yourselves if it helps you make sense of this insanity." Felix commented, laughing, looking to Oksana, Keodis and Borys, glad they'd survived this. Oksana had followed him out, keeping herself out of trouble, not seeing any situation she was going to be able to help out in this close. Apart from rip shit into Felix. "It's not five o'clock, it's 5:38, actually!" Oksana dryly remarked, getting no laughs from that one as she kicked the man who tried to go for Keodis in the side, knocking the wind out of him before he could get up. "Okay, my babushka, she can keep us out of the way. Felix, we'll talk later about why a DSR team is after you. But they'll be back, and alone, we're at risk. We need to go there, and lay low for now. If we get seperated....it's two kilometre west, follow the dirt road, a tiny little hut with a yellow tile roof." She added, as Felix nodded, just in case the team were split up. With the DSR team seemingly giving up, Felix knew their window was short as hell given the threat had now shifted. The barfight was significant enough to no doubt raise suspicions and police would be here sooner rather than later. Even if the Polavian Police were not as terrifying as their former Security Apparatus predecessors, it was time to make a swift exit. "We need to get armed if they do come back. And get moving. Wait, where's Rowan gone?" Felix asked, as they realised the two groups had split up. Rowan had made a move for her car, and Felix realised the two groups had split. Divided by drunkards now as the bar fight spilled out. "I'll find out!" ---- Running out, Oksana ran after Rowan, seeing the raiding team poof in clouds of burst smoke, exhaling hard, brushing off the debris and dirt from her ink-covered arms. She looked to Rowan in the distance, who was running for a Mercedes-Benz E-Class, an estate car that by this point had gotten a slight smattering of mud and dirt. Oksana bolted, closing the distance, the rest of the team making tracks away, down the road, the other way. Oksana ran up, tapping the bonnet, sliding across it from where it was parked in the street. "My babushka....my grandmother, she can hide us, we're going to be hunted if we don't leave now! Let's grab the rest!" The sound of police sirens could already be heard, the pub calling it in as the brawl continued inside like something from an old cartoon. More swearing, as another drunk got thrown outside. Had they not realised that the raid was done? "Shotgun!" She yelled, opening the passenger door, conveniently, where there was also, the Mossberg just sitting there hidden between the seat and the door. With it, Rowan had the chance to floor it, but they were getting split by a crowd of drunk pub goers....unless they were chased back. --- Felix and the crew ran through the muddy street, the sound of the fight continuing behind them. But a handful had followed them through. And weren't stopping. More sirens could be heard. They had to get these idiots away. They couldn't keep running, the enemy was powered with potatoes and vodka, and pure anger. All of which meant they weren't escaping. Drunk energy was making them run as fast as the team were, and right now, much as Felix wanted to shoot, turning around, he realised they had probably cleared enough ground, and could hear the engine of Rowan's car incoming, to make it count when it mattered. "Hang on. I have this lot." It was crowd control time. And with it, the man put pistol down, the ginger-haired soldier suddenly shifting, turning, and what seemed like a blur, the ginger-haired, olive-hoodie wearing operator suddenly manifesting out of reality. And back into something else. A party trick. From two feet, to four, the plate-carrier wearing lion trotted along, eyeing up immediately the man who was still bleeding from the head now, who was now holding a machete of some kind and running after the team in a jog. Where on earth did he get that? And the machete-holding, pisshead, may have realised that even if him and his friends were angry enough, he had brought a knife to a lion fight. The others were likely thinking of shooting, fighting, or something else altogether. Felix stood his ground and made a decision there. In front of the team, pointed at others, he roared. A guttural, frothy sound. Even when drunk, even as rural as some of these idiots were, likely thinking they could take on a bear, a lion? Well, it was out of place. Out of area. And one that with the weight behind it, of pure, hellbent frustration, made it clear that this was a man who wanted to eat. A thump of the mud, and he stood regal, poised, growling. About to charge, eyes locked. "Blyat! Run!" Another roar, and Felix watched as they turned and ran, before looking back at Keodis and Borys. He had an underlying hum to him, a gutteral, almost bloody sound in his throat. A fully grown armoured African Lion was quite the sight, and now, perhaps the two understood the reputation if they hadn't seen it in person. He was sizable enough to brush his mane past both, before shifting back, the operative glancing down the street as Oksana and Rowan arrived as the others ran away, deciding their decisions were better to go back inside and continue boozing. "I think we're done. I'm starved. Or I'm going to start finding out what Polavian tastes like if this fucking country throws more drunk people at us. That was the worst bar fight I think I've ever been in. You both holding up?" Felix casually added, boots squelching into mud, and putting out a hand to the Mercedes that skidded to a halt, the team making tracks to get in, and get the hell out. [hr] [color=lightgreen][center][h3][i][b]Day 1: 18:01:42... Oksana's Babuskha's House (Oksana's Grandmother) Somewhere outside the village of Pristupin, Libor Province Republic of Polavia Blood Alcohol Levels: Questionable [/b][/i][/h3][/center][/color] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Get Breaded[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] The music on the radio was of course, Polavian in quality. [b]Soundtrack: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtxjm7ciwmc]Kino - Gruppa Krovi[/url] [/b] Felix had diverted halfway en-route, the team just exhaling for now- getting dropped off halfway and heading into the woods, heading to a dead-drop he'd left, recovering a weapons crate buried in the forest. The rest of the team had been driven through the muddy tracks by Rowan, guided by Oksana, who tried to keep her feet on the mats of the Mercedes, which may have once upon a time been a posh car, but was now the chosen car of any two-bit gangster in Polavian countryside. So it fit the bill, because it was generic enough to blend in, while giving some performance at least. [b]Keodis also had a chance to stop by his range- which was en route- and grab his supplies. It looked like he couldn't get his armour, not yet at least, so he had the rest of his tools, whatever he could muster. Borys had much of his scavenged gear too, however he could get them, for the time being. The final stop, with sirens in the village visible, was the Polavian's grandmother's little hut in the woods.[/b] The team all clambered out, the small hut quaint little farmhouse exactly as Oksana described, like something almost a little too stereotypical. A rural Polavian farm, with less in the way of fields, more in the way of pine forests that were now growing out over fallow strips between them. So, when the team faced it down, the lion emerging from the bushes might have thrown some of them. He'd run a bit faster here that way, than, in his human form, but it wasn't any less intimidating. Carrying all he could on that form was also quite efficient too. A lion covered with his rifle, ammo, and all the other supplies that came with a modern mercenary's setup. The cabin had been useful. But this? This was his backup. The lion groaned, the sound being that of hunger. "Ah, crap. Not now." Oksana noted, looking to the rest, as Oksana's grandmother opened the door, the 80-something year old woman waving. "Sanka, you were out so late! And who are your new friends?" Oksana looked up, the outside light illuminating all four of them....including a lion. For her, she'd lived such a life under the regime, at this point, she had given up even questioning why in the actual shit there was a lion. She'd seen enough repression that if she was going to be eaten by the lion, she'd probably just die of laughter there and then. It was like Oksana's grandmother didn't even question it, as the lion slobbered like some dog, looking up, Oksana groaning. "Fucking hell. Can you be normal and not starve? There is food in it if you do." Oksana whispered to him, as the lion half grunted, the blur almost like a piece of reality stopped existing for half a second and then it did where the lion was, a person seemed to appear. "Dammit, that hurts. You have no idea how much it's shitty when I'm starved in that form. And this one." Felix replied quiet, as if his other form had kicked him out, and back to normality he was, as Oksana stepped forwards, dusting her feet off in the mud-trap brush at the base of the steps. "Some other mercenaries. They're all friendly. Borys is Polavian, so you can..." [i]"Ah, he is so hungry that he is becoming a lion, he needs more food! And the short one too! All of you do!"[/i] She replied in perfect Polavian, as Oksana groaned, Felix chuckling (without realising Borys would have understood that joke), not even understanding any of it, but knowing they were absolutely, definitely being looked after here. "Come on in! I have food already, it's been there for ages! You need to tell me when you bring friends, I would have prepared even more!" Oksana's grandmother replied, the elderly lady tiny, with glasses that looked like headlight bulbs, a wooden cane, and hair that had been grey since her 40s. Her grand-daughter coming home to spend time with her was of course, adorable, and well, not quite what the team would expect in "shit hit the fan, find a place to lay low". She wasn't exactly taking no for an answer, and her poor English was no barrier to the team getting food, despite the fact they'd just been hunted by drunk locals and special forces wizards. So, they all headed in, cleaning their shoes before they went in, and the scene cut wide to the house, the hours ticking forwards. For a team being hunted, this was a strange stop to make. Not one they could easily just walk out of either now they were being fed whether they liked it or not. [hr] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Later....[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] [color=lightgreen][center][h3][i][b]Day 1: 21:21:42 Babuskha's House (Oksana's Grandmother) Somewhere outside the village of Pristupin, Libor Province Republic of Polavia Bellies: Full [/b][/i][/h3][/center][/color] Walking back out, the entire team groaned, even Felix, walking into the rainy dusk, the sun clear of the horizon and trees in the distance. "How the hell did she make that much food? There's like, not enough pantry?" The Libolian asked, as if her getting his wish from earlier. He left a ton of it in a foil-wrapped parcel, for.....later. Most cultures understood the common joke of going to grandparents and getting a full feed. But in Polavia, like a certain kind of culture it felt brought in by, that meant being fed kilo after kilo by grandparents. They wouldn't care how tall or short you were, how fat or thin you were, they would say you needed more food and they would for some reason, have it already on a stove so you couldn't just turn it down. And no, you couldn't just say it was enough. That wasn't a craft, that was just how it went. The team could barely move, and if Felix even wanted to sort his other half's problem out, current him was five kilos heavier to care. "Ey! I told you we would get a feed." Roxie replied, herself, feeling like nothing beat her food. Especially after a few shots of vodka, a proper feed was like methadone to a heroin addict. They all walked outside, the chat at dinner about how things were going, how they'd met, but more than anything, a bit of silence. They were sobering up far too early, and the team were together now, at least, outside of the chaotic start they'd gotten in the rural setting. Flicking the halogen light on, the old aluminium-roofed barn had been an old, small cowshed, hay scattered where the old dairy cows had once sat, and a couple of tables for gunsmithing and iterating on their gear dragged all over the place. A place for the team to set up shop, with whatever they'd been carrying, whatever they'd scavenged, gotten from nearby. Space was limited inside the farmhouse, so Oksana and her grandmother had pulled out whatever quilts, hay, and gas heating that they could to keep them warm inside this makeshift FOB. She was currently carrying a massive stainless steel looking tank, with a tap at the bottom of it, and a pile of ceramic mugs. "So, as I translated, our antics made it on local news. Fifteen injured, and rumours that at the centre of it, they're hunting not just one, but four foreign crafters. Police are already closing the gap. We can't go back in that way. And every road out is blocked with checkpoints, looking for foreigners now. So it's not great. And before anyone even asks, I do not trust the police. I have my reasons." Oksana translated what they'd watched earlier, but thought to repeat it, as she honed in on Big Cat Actual. "Why are they are they after you, Felix? I can't read your mind. But I will tell whichever version of you decides to lie." The Polavian asked, as she slid into an overshirt given it was getting colder, picking up her PP-19, slapping a magazine inside, silencer attached, as she adjusted her setup. Better to have a gun now. She didn't want to sit here waiting, not with everything else going on. "Of course I don't have any chance of telling fibs. They want me because I'm an officer, and they want higher ups in the company arrested. And, you'll never believe this, they never took me to account on what I did to that horse in the DSR. Why they went that full force, who knows. They seemed like they wanted something else too. Any of you lot up to no good?" Felix replied, setting down his equipment at a table, sighing. He knew the answer. It was yes, just in varying manners. He didn't, of course, know that Rowan had come close to toppling a terrifying nerve agent programme in Kalan, Keodis upsetting the applecart in Medil, and Borys? Throw a dart at any post-it with a sin on it, and he had done it. "And why the hell did you throw a bottle at a local as our best chance? See that one through, because now that went from a raid, to an entire village getting into a fistfight?" Felix barbed, Oksana now on the defensive, flabbergasted. "Oh, no worries Felix, thank me later for saving your ass. I did what was needed in that situation. So go fuck yourself after feeding you, getting you here, everything." She sighed, just exhausted to argue now. "There's nothing from me that a DSR team would want. Unless special forces want to revoke a visa with extreme prejudice." Oksana barbed back, Felix looking up as he threw down his plate carrier, sliding mags inside. "They would have picked you up as well in that raid. Realised we're all linked, like it or not. Come back for seconds given half of Reactor is on a Deck of 52.....and that's now added to their board. We fight together or we die alone now. We'll need that. Rowan had a point about us all being here in the same place. Shit as it is. It's what we have." The Libolian reminded Oksana as she turned, as Felix loaded a magazine into the 417, the shortened battle rifle set up the way he liked it, and set it on the bench with the rest of his kit. Full tacticool. A sigh from the Polavian. "Fine." Oksana didn't like the fact he was right. Nor the fact that it didn't change the facts of their situation. "I don't want us to stay here, hiding isn't going to help. But we can't take the roads. We need a plan." Oksana retorted. "Have you got a map?" Felix asked, as Oksana pointed to the tourist map in the corner on another bench. As if by demand, Felix was pacing over and peeling it out, pinning it onto the wall with a hammer and nail, unfurling it. "This'll do." He stepped back, a nearby marker pen making this all rather handy. He scrawled their location, triangulating it in. "I love a good map. Okay. I'll have a think. So far, Keodis lost his armour because he sold it, we're all wanted now, and the DSR somehow want something to do with me, and maybe, soon you lot too. We need new papers, definitely. And I have a feeling we need to make that choice, tonight." Felix replied, Oksana sliding in a mug beneath the big Samovar tank, pouring out mint-looking tea, and shoving a few cups onto the table. "Solid Friday. This shit's made out of nettles from the forest. Cure for insanity." Oksana quipped, sipping tea, the team getting a moment of reprieve, a moment to set themselves up, and get ready for what was to come. "I have a handful of ideas on how we come back here. We're gonna need a shitload of glyphs. But I think we need to get out. Get a train. And get ourselves some answers." Felix noted, scribbling in the team on some nearby markers. Time to run this like an op. "Rowan, think you might be able to batch up some glyph ink? We might need a fair chunk of it. I have something in mind. Your car and big cauldron might be stuck here, but....I think that DSR team reminded me, those extraction glyphs are some absolute bullshit that we need way, way more of. And some breaching ones to come with. Borys, think you can help her?" Felix asked, looking across, letting the chemical warfare witch get her setup. "Please. I know you're in no right to trust me after all that. But let's give ourselves a fighting chance, shall we?" Felix moved to the next, seeing the larger Medilan come through, no doubt feeling the hurt from the fight. "Keodis, grab yourself some grenades. My supply is yours. You'll make more work with them. The M249 might not last long, so we might need to work out alternatives. Can you lend Oksana a hand with loading up our ammo?" The female Polavian grimaced, looking at Keodis, sighing. "Fine. He can help." She replied, putting cup down, sliding one to him. "Sorry about the comment earlier. I am...blunt. Just, it's a pain in the ass. You moved, didn't die, so it's all good. And, I enjoyed your pranks because it pissed people like Felix off." Oksana giggled to Keodis, sliding across a mag of Borys's, with bullets in a box and magazine to follow, setting up her own little station too. The team were all together now, all gearing up, and it was an early morning rollout, so NVGs would be needed, as well as their limited array of kit as tactical wizards, witches and arcane specialists.