FourtyTwo

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

It is fine. I'm in fucking agony- four days of walking in the Brecon Beacons, Wales, is horrifying. I'll post up in all that is needed- I think Spartan needs to put one up, then I'll post in.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Aaand I'm back. Accepted- since he's a JTAC/CCT, he'll be on the front with Jan dictating where the Russian Fast Air puts it lead. Makes sense really- you are free to post, in the RP.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Jesus, sucks man. I think the RP is open, but since we're in the middle of a mission, it may take a while. I mean, actually, wait- I could spin you in as aboard the helicopter, but it'd be hard to explain. I'd want Skyth, Queen and Silverwind to really say if that'd be okay- I mean, I want to put it down to that, if the RP could work. I reckon you could, and you may need to briefly remind us of your character, but do it quick, and we'll have you basically on the Little Bird too. As I said, it depends on everyone else- I mean I don't want to speak for everyone else, so it's their call really.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

(Sorry if I God-Modded Medved- I did want to get something communicated, though their command is still firmly in your hands Skythion.)

Neil looked through the spotting device, adjusting it minutely as he tried to focus it a little.
"Maybe...but those IFVs are a problem. They could cause anarchy, and remember, .50 goes through that shit. Just, but it will be needed. So jets first, but even then, likelyhood of them taking off is close to nil." Neil added, adjusting it's point, as he watched the sunrise continue, the sunlight illuminating the area fairly well, with a dawn that seemed to drag for a little while.
"Lima Actual receiving?" Neil said through the mic, looking over at the airfield with his sniping partner.
"I copy you, Neil. Situation?" Jan replied, looking over to the other two members aboard the Little Bird, as they eased in, flying straight halfway through a valley before coming down in a small set of trees, in a gap that would probably just about accomodate a helicopter like this. The pilot was talented as hell- but even Jan knew he couldn't perform miracles. He replied first, as he kept his weapon raised, covering any angle, the helicopter slowly and surely slipping in.
"Several aircraft, likely immobile, a BTR-60 and a pair of BMP-1 IFVs are potentially active in our AO. We pinged about 30 to 40 soldiers on the airfield right now, it's a hive and a half. Not many TIAF scouting parties, but we've heard a fair share of shit within 300m of us. They haven't hit a single perimeter mine, thank fuck. Just pinged two ZSU-23 guns, and a Igla installation, on the roof of the decayed ATC tower. Probably effective to about 5,000m. Well within what the Ruskie transport craft will be flying at."
"Understood. We're at LZ Echo, we're going to move 600m west to OP Nevada and set up a position to do some Forward Observer work- set up a shot on the Igla first, then eliminate the ZSU platforms. Only on my mark, Sniper Team. Lima Actual out." Jan said, as the helicopter came in lower, the pilot simply speaking through the radio to communicate his point across.

"We're on a slant, gents- you'll need to drop the last few meters. The Russians are to sort out your exfil, Captain- I'm back over to the FOS in Turkey." He simply said, as Jan uncliped his seatbelt, looking over at Scott to his right, nodding.
"You heard the man!" Jan said, as he practically nudged himself forward and fell the last two meters, into the thick snow, landing as gracefully as a soldier fully kitted out could. Scanning his area, he looked around, searching for hostiles, as he then realized what Zhenya had said, it beginning to hit home.
"Zhenya, these friends of yours? Where..." Jan said, scanning around, as he realized in his quadrant, there they were. The Little Bird was flying through the valleys, low as it was but safer than clearing it and possibly risking fire from AA sites, which would be a nightmare. The TIAF weren't well armed in regards to AA, but whatever they did have, it was going to be concentrated,

Jan guessed to himself that it wasn't going to be easy, not through these forests or when they got to OP Nevada- and this was why Medved was right here, on the floor. Medved One had his AN-94 raised high, the team scattered behind as they edged forward.
"Guns down! We're Lima." Jan barked in his Russian, as Medved-1 chuckled, looking over at his men, as he walked forward in the snow, his AN-94 partly lowered.
"And we're working with you, Captain. And you have no choice about it. You happen to have a reason to be here. As do we. So let's get this done, yes? The ridgeline is 200m up there, then it goes downhill, until a plateau where the airfield is located for another 800m or so. TIAF AA is all over the place, but they concentrated in the lower areas rather than these mounts- the bastards, for the better shots- and while we won't be able to destroy them in full, we can deal something with this airstrip."
"And what of the path ahead? We have a sniper team in the area, they're prepared to take that balance away on the airfield itself, of the Igla and ZSU threat." Jan added, aware that the two of them, himself and Medved-1, were both lowering their weapons.
"A few QRF and patrols. Nothing you cannot handle. And I felt there was something about this place, they did well for an observation point. It's your call when you want that balance taken- but after that, we must move fast." He replied, as Jan nodded.
"Yes. Let's move then. No time to waste." Jan simply said in Russian, moving forward through the snow as they went up an incline, to the top of the mount, before as Medved-1 said well, they'd head down and move through the intermittent forests and clearances that had been made by a combination of human activity and landslides, the slush of the snow and rock sometimes subsidizing on the more barren areas and leaving a set of fallen trees and random lumps of earth in the process. Raising his HK416, Jan kept his eyes open, as they moved up, slowly and surely going at a combat pace as they looked out for contacts.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Characters, that is. I'm going to leave Antoine/Howard to it if you want to develop them out, you know what you're doing there.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

(BTW, if this is a bit too deep, my apologies. I did keep it within limits, but be warned, boobs ahead.)
(Long, long post.)

Svetlana's eyebrows raised, as she walked back, shutting the door locked with a key card, then walking around.
"How long have you wanted to ask that? Hmm? At least a year, Bjorn. And I thought you were courageous." She said, turning around, as she then undid the clip around her hair, her blonde locks coming down to roughly her neck. She moved her arms around her back, and undid her bra and her underwear, the sports bra revealing two orbs that couldn't have been more undeniably irresistible, and her big rear end.
"But....yes, I think we should." She said, a dirty smirk on her face, as she almost fell atop him, already coming down hard onto him, as she let him get to work. It went on for minutes, the scene mostly faded to black, as she looked down at him, a look on his face. It had been a long time, since she had sex with a man, but he had been honest. He hadn't been himself, and Svetlana already knew that it was like something had come out of him that he wanted to say for a very, very long time, but it had died.
"You want these where I think you want them?" She said, her boobs hanging a inch above his face, the two melons looming and a sight to see.
"Yes. Please, make it go on forever." He said, calmly and quietly, as she simply came down, moving herself down, and her two boobs right into where Bjorn wanted it most. She stayed down, already letting him carry on, for minutes, and minutes. She felt the passion rise up and down her body, but then suddenly, she realized what she had done. He stopped moving. She moved out, and rolled off, quickly realizing his eyes were wide open, and she couldn't hear a breath on him. Sitting up, still completely naked, she pumped his chest, performing CPR, trying to get a beat. Exhaling into his mouth, she pumped more, swearing loudly, as she felt a tear run down her cheek. She did it for almost five minutes straight, the Viking just not waking up.

---

(Also, remember the future upgrades system? They're coming into play for Antoine/Howard- I think I remember something such as a optical/thermoptic cloaking for Antoine, and a prosthetic-jump system of some sort for Howard, though you're able to choose your character's upgrades, so long as they're not OP.)

"I should mention, Spectre, this isn't a test you do with your armor on. If it was, then the likes of me and you would walk it. It isn't ready yet you two- trust me, you'll be there before you even know it. Just sort your shit, and you'll know when." Imran said, walking away, as he headed back into the lift, going back up to the common room/armory level, where he quickly walked through the room, looking around, already spying the wookie and the femme fatale. This was Scimitar, he reminded himself- and whilst they were very different garments that the the two lights wore, they both knew how to become almost invisible in the right circumstance with them, and that it was something different.
"Ah, Howard, Antoine- seen the recruits? They look like grinder meat, Scimitar test for them in ten, and you both remember exactly how that was. Haha, it will be good to watch. Shit, I need Svetlana actually- give me a second, I'll be back. Radio through to me if you need anything- the armory's open and I think the technicians were talking about some stuff for you both, some upgrades that you were on about to me. Bunch of other stuff- I'll deal with them, then in a couple hours, I'll bring us all up to speed on what we're dealing with." Imran added, quickly realizing where he had to be, looking into the room, as he let them reply, before he had to quickly run back to the lift, already going back down to the quarters, as he wanted to be quick.

Running to Svetlana's billet, he knocked on the door, hearing nothing as he cursed to himself in Punjab. Moving along, he looked in the gym, but found nothing, trying something else. Maybe Bjorn would do for this, perhaps, he asked himself mentally. Yeah, he would. Running to his billet, he knocked on the door, just not bothering this time with waiting for a response as he pulled out his keycard, a universal one, and opened the door up, walking in to see what he wished he could unsee.

---

Svetlana didn't want to call it crying, but it was a set of tears, as she sat by his side, still looking, as she turned her head to Imran.
"It's not what it looks like.." She said, as he walked in, shutting the door locked. Imran couldn't help himself, but he knew that above the boobs and her body, there was her face. But she looked different, just a little torn apart somehow.
"The fuck is this? How?" He asked, as she stood up tall, looking.
"We were having sex....and I went too far. Take a guess." She said, moving her arms to her breasts, indicating in some way.
"I don't even know, Svetlana. He'd dead, you tried to.."
"Of course I did, Imran. There's nothing I can do. He asked for it, you must understand...why'd you think he wasn't so on form over the last six months?" She said, looking over, as she took a seat on the end of the bed. He walked over, looking to the bedside, for any papers, or anything.
"Damn...look, I don't want you gone. That would be a lot of paperwork, and I have enough University shit to deal with. You don't lie Svetlana, I know you well enough. But listen to me. We must sort this out."
"Of course. Asphyxiation of course, so we need to make it look like he hung himself perhaps to make it look like he died from oxygen deprivation- but allow no autopsies or observation. His body must be burned. It would be what he wanted." She said, looking over, as she looked over, wiping her tears, her voice coming back to normal.
"A Viking Funeral. It can be done, but not now. I'll find some rope. Look Svetlana, this isn't what I wanted, but there is nothing we, or you can do. Nobody, NO-ONE can know that you did this to him. I mean, even if they knew that he wanted this...you know."
"Of course." She said, as she dragged him over, into a certain position, already looking over as Imran walked over to a cabinet by the side of the bed, looking for a lace or something that he may have used.

"Fuck...what's that?" Imran said, picking up a tiny film-reel sized canister out of a cooled box, almost not wanting to say it.
"You must understand, Imran. Giants such as me and him....we're a rare breed, when I was young, a doctor in St Petersburg told me best. It's an extra chromosome, but unlike the effects of some, such as Autism or other genetic diseases...it causes this. Gigantism, but without the disadvantages. It scales the human body, explains my...features and my height and my size...and it has no side effects, apart from perhaps the fact that you're socially an outcast for your size, and ones that we haven't really chartered. Early death, organ failures..I will likely not live to see my 60th Birthday, Imran. So this is all that is left of him that will ever last, and giants tend to keep a store, as a just in case. I mean, there are giants out there that haven't got it from that, but they're either shorter, or have Pituitary problems."
"Bloody hell...are you suggesting? You saying your...boobs are from that?" Imran asked, looking over, as Svetlana looked over, both of them aware that Svetlana still didn't have her bra, or her underwear on for now. And it made this entire situation a little bit strange, as she chuckled a little, trying to relieve herself of what happened.
"Ah, Imran....you do know that for just telling you, you'd be in between my cleavage too. But you're a good man, you're clever to know the science, and you have your end of the deal....and besides, if I did, I think I wouldn't want to murder the rest too, it's too early in the morning. One day I'll deal with that canister, da. But that isn't today, to deal with that in relation to me. Ever hear about the Viking at the Battle of Stamford Bridge? The one that killed hundreds of Anglo-Saxons, with his axe before being felled? Probably the same blood. All the stories in Ancient Greece, about Gods? Giants, or at least I think. There's even a Russian Tsar, Alexander III, who had some aspects of it, but don't ask me how it works exactly- but when you hear the stories of him bending coins, and keeping the roof of a railway carriage lifted up, you understand it is something we tend to overlook in the past. We are myths, and history tends to think of us as that, for the good."
"And Bjorn then? He had it?"
"Yes. Same as I do. It's either genetic, or a mutation...but you know, it depends from case to case. Like I said, there's differing kinds. I guess he wanted to just get something out of his system, before he felt he'd die. Bu he chose to die, Bjorn asked me to come down, and while I got carried away, you tell me a giant like that wouldn't fight if he had something better to live for. So keeping some of the genes in the system means at least we'll be around. Perhaps it's that group conscious, I don't care."
"I understand. We can deal with this. But this is between me and you. He died happy at least, remember that Svetlana. Any man would want to die between your breasts, and he was one cross away from going back home and undergoing the rehabilitation process. It isn't healthy, Svets- I developed it with what Chemistry I know alongside the stuff they've developed before from the CIA, and it's horrifying what it does to the mind. But it's repression and a forgetting of details here. A need, and there isn't one case of...well, things coming back to us. Perhaps it was for the best."
"Yeah..."
"Look, you know what to do with this. But right now, we need to do this, or we're screwed. Just tell me this." Imran said, looking over, straight into her eyes.
"What?"
"Just promise you'll leave it at this. Don't feel responsible, or else things get complicated. Please, Svetlana." He said, as she looked over.
"And you're not going to start studies on this and become some sort of fucking lecturer on this, or else.."
"I know. Something for something, Svets. We have training to do- we'll deal with this quickly, then we'll be able to properly make something out of this situation." He replied, as he looked over at Bjorn, Svetlana walking back with some rope. It was a misery buisness, but he had died happily, and somehow, both of them knew that he had the best death he could get in this business. And he was going to have a proper funeral, and somehow, deep down, they both knew that if he believed in his Valhalla so much, he'd probably get there.

---

Twenty minutes later, and Svetlana and Imran had left it at that, to some degree. Bjorn hung in his room from the lampshade, a harrowing thought, and his will by his feet, Svetlana at least putting his underwear on to give him some dignity. Svetlana had gone to suit up, and the rooms that Spectre and Iceman were in, Imran had already gone to deal with. The Scimitar Test was a horrifying experience, and it did what many military tests simply didn't do. It threatened their lives, and Imran had recalled times when they had to recover bodies. It wasn't pleasant.

The knockout gas had been pumped into the two quarters from the canisters mounted within the radiator, taking less than 30 seconds to come in. The rooms had been locked, and they were fairly sealed, doing what they had to. It was a nasty method, but these raring recruits, Imran reminded himself, perhaps found at the moment that their lungs filled quick with the gas was that this was serious. And it meant two bodies to drag. Svetlana had gone to suit up, but hadn't taken her GMG, and the test was already set, if Imran remembered correctly how this would look. With a bit of help from her, getting it set was fairly quick, which was always a relief.

The chamber was two floors down, the lowest down of the subterranean facility on Bouvet, and was a strange and ethereal place. There was quite a large room, about the capacity of two shipping containers, and another one sat in the room ahead, sealed by a large naval metal door. The two wingsuits that Iceman and Spectre now wore were red, both still completely out for the count, wearing a specialized pair of goggles and haptic equipment integrated into the wingsuits that put them into a completely different world- one that wasn't a metal container, but a pitch-black mountainside that felt frozen. It meant that it felt real, almost unquestionably so, the wind from a fan on the far wall and the motion sickening and horrifying. But it wasn't that that did the job. It was just a simulation for a good reason, because the two nozzles on the side of the tank, had already started pouring salt water in from the South Atlantic, coming up to Imran's soles, himself now wearing his proper digital uniform, a mixture of UCP and a hexagonal silver. A tiny metal prong sat on the floor, that sent a current through that was able to deliver a shock roughly weaker than a Stun Gun, and it was consistent through the water. Perhaps when they woke up, they'd be feeling like they're be awakening to falling towards a cliff, but when they realized that when they tried to pull their chutes, Imran knew they'd only do one thing- and it was that which sucked them straight from their simulation into a reality, of a flooding room with freezing salt water that had current running through it. It fucked up the muscles, with twitches and shocks that could easily destabilize the body's own nervous system, nothing permenent but enough to really fuck someone up. Iceman and Spectre were about at the roof of the room with adequate room to at least react to the simulation via the haptic system, attached by a tether that in reality, was impossible to feel, but visible. A crash would send them to the floor, the tether would break and they'd fall almost three floors- enough to break a few bones, to say the least.The two would be tested simultaneously, but that was fine in itself. Walking out, he sealed the first training room, the invisible door on it's side leading to a instructor's viewing point, where he took a seat, able to look into the training area, from the start to finish. Many died here, from the current, drowning in this part, as well as occasionally taking a 9mm that was ultimately fatal because they ran around a corner like a lunatic. But if they held their nerve and kept the air in their lungs, they'd be able to figure out reality from virtual, and make it through. And if that didn't kill them, the assault course and the close quarters section could easily.

Beyond the first room through the reinforced naval door that lay at the far end, already deeply submerged, lay a water drain that preluded a daunting assault course in the second room, followed immediately by the close quarters combat course. An intensive scheme indeed, but it was required. It had a pair of G36A2 Assault Rifles at it's start, and many surprises along it's path. Ones that weren't just artificial. The shock test broke people- it was whether they could operate at maximum capacity after that that Imran cared about. And Svetlana sat at the end of the close quarters course, as one last surprise, aware that she wasn't a target to be beaten. But to be attempted. And she had no qualms about breaking people in half until Imran said stop. Targets could fire back, targets could easily do a multitude of things, move around, or even completely teleport. It was a mindfuck, in any aspect. A horrifying one. But it separated the wheat from the chaff. And whilst Special Forces training could train a man to be unbreakable, and competent at doing the impossible, this was different. It was a shock to every sense, and would require an operator to go beyond a normal means of what they already knew, to succeed.

From the control room, he looked over, as the system, fully activated, recognized that they were both awakening. They were being flung into the fray, as Imran spoke into their earpieces. The room was halfway filled with water, still filling as the pumps quietly worked, the saline sea water something they'd literally drop into, as soon as they themselves hit it in the simulation. Perhaps only after realizing their chutes weren't going to work.
"Welcome to the Test. LZ is on your HUD- Good Luck out there." Imran simply said, aware that they were going, and the wind turbine in the roof was billowing cold air, already adding an simulation to what they felt through the haptics, the false senses that they were feeling pressure from the wingsuit, and the VR working full pelt to put across the idea that they were in almost a pitch-black environment, by a mountainside, hurling at almost 200mph to the sea for an insertion. But Imran knew that they'd have worse, far, far worse, and they wouldn't even know right now what was real and what wasn't.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Bjorn's about to leave the RP in a Viking way- and it does break the Love Triangle, l think that BigPapa and Spartan, you've got something good. It's all good.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Reasons for lack of post on my end? I'm tired as fuck lately, and my creative juices feel like they've been blown out the back of my skull. I will post in this shortly, and get us moving again.

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

The car juddered to a speeding pace, as the pit lane was in the rear mirrors, and the Audi picked up pace. Slow on this one, warm the tyres, get round, keep it clean. The sunset was a beautiful backdrop, as he took the car calmly around Turn 2, the sharp brake into Turn 3 followed by the chicane section with a relatively empty track, the next car a few seconds ahead and the same with the one behind- Regina, or perhaps someone else, though Ryan didn't care. A sharp left that was meant to be the back straight was cut up by the chicane straight out of the cut-off section of this variant of Yas Marina, with a sharp left-right barely slowing Ryan, as he barely clambered, and the V8 purred, the engine roaring as he shifted at the red line, already feeling quick.
"Okay, tyres are looking better. Nothing extreme." Ryan heard from Lucas, as the 200 marker came up, for Turn 8. The brakes were on within the next 40m, the slow braking thanks to the ABS at least not a deliberate skid, and a gentle brake, as Ryan turned hard, the car keeping neat as the newly-found heat in the tyres stuck, and the technical section flowed with ease, as Ryan took Turn 9 aggressively, already thundering back to speed under the Yas Marina Circuit sign, the iconic blue walkway visible in his rearview as he went through the gears, headed quicker and quicker. The car hit sixth gear, and going 170mph by the end of the straight, Ryan felt the sheer flow of the car move, the run an incredible surge. The next complex after Turn 11 was simple, taken neatly but not perfectly, a little slower, as was Turn 15, the wide right hander into the hairpin under the main Marina building, lighted up at this time of night to offer an additional attraction, sat away. The hard left turn under the tunnel of the Marina building, followed by another caught Ryan off a little, and it always did, as he got back up to pace, already storming through Turn 20 and braking early for Turn 21, to cut the apex a little narrow, though it was neatly ended, with a little kick of the rear end.
"Okay Ryan, hotlap- give it five then pull into the pit lane. Do what you do best- Regina's going to join you out there." He heard, as he nodded to himself, already in fifth as he crossed the 150m marker for Turn 1, braking sharp but neatly, as he took the hard left.

Cutting the far kerb, Ryan had kept the compsure, and it was good enough. Back on the gas, the lap through the first complex was quick- so quick in fact, it had set so far, the split record for the section up to the chicane, and it was almost 0.5 seconds ahead of Muller, Lucas watching the monitor in the board.
"Okay Ryan, maintain this momentum, beautiful sector. You're losing time through Sector Three and Four, so make them special." Lucas said, as he switched to Regina, Ryan acknowledging this, as he passed under the bright-blue walkway again, the time ticking. Turns 11-14 were fairly average, but Ryan pulled it back on Turn 15 and 16 with an audacious line, that force him hard on the brakes at Turn 17, on the outer kerb but carrying through a hell of a lot of speed, one that had got him through the sector as fastest. And pulling through to the end, back to the Start/Finish straight, he felt good, Lucas had to confirm it.
"Ryan, you're on Pole, nice work- 0.15 seconds ahead of Muller on that lap. He'll try and respond, so keep your game up." Ryan head, the Audi as a beast thrown on the apex on Turn 1, as it almost lost the rear, but Ryan did well to keep it, the vehicle despite Traction Control wanting to completely lose itself, and Ryan's steely nerve at least holding it, as the sweeping right of Turn 2 went into the hard left that moved onto the cut-across layout of the Championship Circuit, rather than towards a hairpin as seen in the GP layout.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Imran was watching them come down, already a smirk on his face, as he watched the Osprey touch down, rolling onto the taxiway.as he looked at the ramp at the back opening up.
"Good to see you, welcome to Bouvet Island. The most remote island on the planet." He simply said, watching the two men emerge, one wearing a fairly moderate set of medium armor, wheras other just wore a shirt and some trousers, and looked...different. He looked normal, but something to Imran suggested he had something within him, something Imran had a feel for. It wasn't normal.
"Anyway, I hear good things, especially of you, Spectre. We're going to have to settle you into the place, the team's all over the place. But there's quarters for you, and training begins in three hours. Name's Imran Malik, or Raven. Remember it." Imran said, as he looked over.
"We're nice people. But think this is a party palace, you decide to threaten one of my men, you won't have time to think of consequences. I keep a stern eye on new candidates. One that tends to pick the weakest quick. The hardest, toughest, and ultimate warriors survive here. And my job, is to make sure that you A), hit that category, and B), Maintain it. Don't meet either, you get flown out, and you go back to whatever you came from. But I keep some details close, ones you wouldn't like to know about that process." Imran said coldly in his harsh Anglo-Pakistani accent that sounded posher than any, as he looked over at the Osprey, hovering over to a different position, where it headed to fuel and get the crew onto the tarmac.
"Follow me, gentlemen. You will be sorted out in time. But you'll be forged in fire. We test people differently. Physically, mentally and psychologically, you pass, and you go through every requirement we ask of you. Except one. The Scimitar Test." Imran said, chuckling.
"The fucking, Scimitar Test. It has a 70 percent survival rate, and from that, only twenty percent go through. 20 percent. Know how much that is?" Imran added, looking over.
"We took 30 people last year. 30 percent are sadly dead of that bunch, so you know, nine people have had to be buried in the ice and remain MIA. Both giants, people this high, people like you. Then twenty percent, six- six fucking people, in one year, actually passed. From those, I'll pick who goes through, and who goes back based on any other judgement. Make no mistake- got a problem with the system, you can ask anyone in that bunker there...or anyone watching the pair of you from either close or afar, that it's a fairly good system to really weed people out. And no, don't think of anything conventional." He added, as they headed for the bunker, a lift available, as they headed for it. A set of stairs went down, but the lift would be more handy, for getting to the subterranean quarters.
"I like getting into the nitty gritty, to get you aware of what comes. But I won't give it all away, that's harsh. It will push you beyond physical and mental limits, and will break you into a million pieces, before asking what's left of you to sweep away the pieces." He added, as the lift took them down.
"The unexpected void, the total confusion and the lack of orientation is what kills people. I'll give you that advice. You won't be in a reality that perhaps you'd be operationally trained for. And just if you tell me you're the best awarded soldier out there, the ultimate. You may not pass. Those who do, have a very different way of thinking. A way of thinking that fits with Scimitar's." He added, as they came to the quarters level, as the cage opened up.
"Yours is at the end Spectre, and Iceman, yours is on his right. Numbers ten and eleven. They are barebones empty, but make yourself at home and add what you want. You'll be brought to the test in time. You seem nice, so try not to die. I can't spare the paperwork. Have fun." Imran said, walking back into the lift, as he looked back.
"One last thing. If you do decide this isn't for you, now is your chance. We'll put you back on the Osprey, fly you to Cape Town, and you'll be back in Afghanistan in no time. With some changes, of course, that come with the process of being here unauthorized and out of Scimitar. You understand?" He said, looking with a steely look, into both of their eyes.

Svetlana gave one last hard rep, dropping to the floor hard, as she stood tall. She wondered about Bjorn- since the op, he had been rather quiet, just wanting to go to his room to think. So even though Svetlana gave no real developed thought to men, at least talking as a friend would get it out of him. It wasn't right. Walking into his room, he saw him there, just leaning back on his bed, just a bit down. She shut the door, the light on inside, a window in the concrete actually displaying the snowy ice outside, though it was just a video feed, to simulate a glacier view. The sealed door was soundproof, to a relative extent, and could only be opened by Imran, or Bjorn. The fact he had left it open had let her walk in, however.
"Hey." She said, looking over, already leaning against the wall, looking inside, at his stuff in general, and the Swede on the bed.
"You look like shit, to be fair." Svetlana said, aware that Bjorn was heightened in her presence, but she just wanted to talk, for now at least.