A light breeze sent a chill through the glade of evergreens that Jager's squad had entered in once the simulation began. A bleak, grey sky sat overhead as he looked up, obscured by the tops of the trees. He was confident and determined to show Jegora that he was, infact, the man for this job. A fact that, which once proved true, would be rubbed into the assistant squad leader's face every chance he got. Things however had already taken a turn for the worst. Their drop-in location was a small clearing in the woods that lay beyond the southern approach to the city. It meant that the squad would have good cover for the first portion of the mission. However either out of coincidence or deliberate actions of a certain unnamed assistant squad leader, a half dozen strong patrol just happened to be passing through the exact same spot.

If it weren't for Sergeant Bright's hasty, yet subtle, call for the others to take cover they would have surely been spotted.

The grass came up to Jager's shins, though it did little to hide them, which is where the shadow suits came into play.However the patrol had come prepared, ready to overcome their visual inadequacies with a pair of canines. He watched as they ran their noses along the ground in an attempt to pick up the squads scent while the six men stood in a ragged arrow head and scanned the horizon.

"Now?" a voice whispered over the Sergeants Comm.

"No... let them pass" he replied calmly. The risk was far to great. If they were to dispatch the six men and two dogs then they would most certainly be missed by someone. Whether that be in half an hour or a week, he wasn't about to take that chance.

The group continued searching the area for what seemed like close to an hour before a call over their radios had then casually make their way back. The squad waited until they could no longer hear their voices before they continued moving. First objective was to find somewhere out of the way so as Jager could pass out the objectives. The analog map he had been given was marked in points of interest in what seemed to be pencil.

"There's an abandon house a klick' east of here. That's were we are heading" he announced, "Ready?" The others gave quick nods of acknowledgment. Both Hond and Abalar were looking directly at him whilst Bright had her back turned as she watched the forest for signs of movement. It was important that he remembered that both Hond and Abalar were green, a greenness that would no doubt make things just that little more difficult. Again, whether this was done intentionally to handicap him was up for debate and would remain so until after the simulation.

The group of four moved swiftly amongst the evergreens en-route to the house, stopping occasionally to regain their bearings. Before long they caught a glimpse of the isolated house that sat in its own clearing, a dirt road that most likely led to a main road stretching off into a thicket ran from east to west across the southern side of the house. The squad waited back in the tree line and watched the house. There was no indication that this could have been a trap, but again Jager wasn't going to take any chances. If five minutes was the difference between successfully completing the simulation and failing horribly, then so be it.

"Bright, Hond. Approach the rear door. Abalar, hang back and watch the surrounding tree lines. I'll watch the road." he delegated over the channel. It felt strange giving order's to Bright. He had always viewed her as a superior, though he never really understood why. She was far more mature them him, she never arrived at the barracks drunk as he had done on so many occasions. She had never been arrested for indecent exposure... which he had. She was possibly the only normal person in a group populated by sadist's, psychopaths and self-loathing alcoholics.

"Moving now" She stated over the Comm's. Jager gaze shifted from the western to the eastern approach's of the road. It seemed to be swallowed up by the bleak, almost grey forest and its faded green leaves.

"First floor clear, clearing the second" Bright stated.

"Banshee, Move to the house" he ordered as he broke from his position adjacent to the road and moved to the porch. It was clear on entering that the house had been abandon long ago. The wallpaper was torn in some places, non-exsistant in others and faded in the rest. The floor boards had begun to rot, indicated by their creaking and groaning as Bright and Hond cleared the upstairs.

Jager wasted no time in moving to a rotting old table, emptying the contents of the satchel he had been carrying around before briefly sifting through them.

Passports, Road maps, Time-tables and a dossier lay in front of him. With a waning interest he picked up one of the passports. It bore a symbol he had never seen before, probably of the governing body that was in control of the area, though it was very similar to the standard Imperial symbol that was often used generously on anything and everything the empire had.

The dossier was next. It contained several pages of notes and outlines, each with barely legible footnotes scrawled on the borders, and a photo.

He was a human, shaved head, sunken eye's and sharp features. It appeared that he was posing for a mugshot, indicated mainly by the small black plate with general information on it.

'Nast Batti' he mumbled as he examined the outlines.

"Try saying that three times faster" Hond smirked as he appeared at the table, picking up one of the passports. "He you're simulated boyfriend or something?" the Chiss quiried as he flicked through the small, leather passport with disinterest.

"No. We've got to get him out of the city" Jager corrected, paying little attention to Honds comments.

After a moments silence Hond spoke up again "Why cant he just take the bus like a normal person"

"Jail" Jager stated bluntly. "This is gonna be a long assignment. I gotta get my head around this, take five and ready your gear." he finished, taking a seat at the table.

It appeared as though Nast Batti was doing some recon and intelligence gather for the Imperials when he was apprehended by the local security forces on the suspicion of an unrelated crime. The empire however doesn't want the local government to discover what this man was really up to. So, it was up to Jager's squad to free the man and move him to an extraction at an old rail station near the mountain ranges to the north of the city. Jager smirked confidently as he finished reading, this was going to be a cake walk,

"Jegora will probably be tasked with killing this man, don't forget that" Bright stated from over his shoulder, causing him to Jump slightly.

"Thank you, mother. I hadn't forgot that." he replied with a subtle hint of sarcasm.

"Well, I suppose you'll be taking this then?" she queried whilst reading on.

He trusted Bright, more so then the other Jesters, but there was no way he was going to leave such a mission critical objective in the hands of anyone but himself. That and there was a hope that he would have a chance to meet Jegora in combat, something he had been yearning for ever since he was first introduced to both the mans fists. "Yeah... I cant afford to have the main objective botched now, can I?" he stated with a tone of arrogance, "Guess that leaves you to clean out his apartment then, sure you are up to that?"

She nodded before grabbing an assortment of maps and identification papers from the small pile on the table.

"Abalar, lets go" She called over the Comms. The private had only just reached the door when Hond chimed in,

"No way, I'm not going with that asshole. I got a good look at Jori after that last mission..."

It was true. Jager did have a tendency to use others as bait in his elaborate and impulse driven plans, so Hond wasn't wrong when he opted out of a partnership. The Chiss collected his gear and met Bright at the door, allowing the Sergeant to lead the way. Leaving the two alone in the dilapidated pile of wood the map referred to as a house.

Abalar stood in the doorway to the kitchen staring at the Sergeant, it was clear that Hond's comment had made her uneasy. Though the two hadn't exactly meshed well back on the Astarte.

"What?" he asked, "If it was about that whole Hond comment. I promise I wont use you as a distraction." Causing her to give a brief, somewhat disappointing sigh before going back to readying her gear. Jager shrugged her reaction off and went back to skimming through the documents that lay in front of him. Something told him that this was going to be a long, painful and ultimately pointless simulation.

OOC:

I'm thinking two sets of checkpoints. One for the outskirts, one as you reach the city. Light traffic on the roads, etc etc etc

Simulators are ok, though I’d rather actually be in real action. At least this way, if I make a mistake I won’t die for real.

Jori was crouched down behind Mai, taking up the rear while Jeg took point. Taking another look behind him, he scouted the landscape slightly, looking for anywhere that could be used to hide hostile forces. He took note of a three story building in the distance that didn’t look inhabited. Stopping quickly as the rest of the group ground to a halt, Jori wobbled a bit and tried to keep his balance. His com crackled and Jeg’s voice came over it.

“Kiption, scout out the area northwest of us and Jori, scout out the area northeast of us. Collect as much intel as you can, while I take Mai and search that cluster of buildings to the west.”

Clicking an affirmative, Jori moved around Mai and passed by Kiption, who was already heading toward his assigned area. Quickly, Jori turned and adopted a quick pace, heading northeast. Staying low to the ground, he covered the distance quickly and set about collecting intel. There weren’t much in the way of buildings, other than some deserted ruins a little ways into the distance. There a lot of debris on the ground, looking to have been placed there by an explosion. There were charred stones all over and what looked to be small fires dotted the ground nearby.

Maybe the explosion originated from those buildings. Might be worth checking out.

Quietly, he snuck over to the buildings, staying close to the larger pieces of debris for cover in case there were enemies inside the ruined structures. He could see the shape of the buildings from the start. There were two of them and only one was intact. The roof was missing as was part of the wall on the building on the right. Raising the barrel of his gun as he neared the leftmost building, he looked closely at the door. It was made of what looked to be ferrocrete and had a rusted, metal lock hooked onto a chain that was wrapped around the door handle.

This might take a bit to get open.

Aiming for the lock, he kicked a few times and was rewarded with an audible pop and a rattle as the lock broke off the chain. Walking forward, Jori opened the door and slipped inside, scanning the room for hostile presence before he rounded the corner completely. Spotting none, he straightened up, still keeping the gun raised, and moved forward. There were a few tables that had some equipment lying on them and there was a set of double doors on the right side of the room. He walked over to the tables and looked at the equipment closely. There were mostly scientific equipment, such as burners and test tubes, but there was the occasional construction equipment such as saws and drills.

This could be of use later on. Not much, but of some use.

Finishing up there, he moved over to the double doors. Pushing them, he was disappointed to see that they didn't budge a bit. Frowning, he retrieved some of the tools off the tables and tried to cut his way through the door, but nothing worked. Sighing, he gave up and left the building. Outside, he reported his findings to Jeg and moved out.

The checkpoint's solid wood fence loomed out of fog that had slowly taken hold of the surrounding countryside. Its high barbed tops and rows of concrete dragons teeth sent a clear message to all those who approached. Both Jager and Abalar made continued though, the slush of snow, dirt and water crunched almost rhythmically under their feet.

"Remember, no eye contact, hands out of pockets" he murmured, his eye's transfixed on his destination. His squad mate nodded regardless of if he could see it or not. She seemed nervous and was rightly so. Failure was not on the menu tonight. Though it was available under special request, a dish served cold with a side of 7.62mm fries. Figures slowly took shape as the fog retreated from the pairs advance. The sharp outlines of their weapons the only distinguishable feature about them.

Jager ran through a final checklist. Details were important, he hated to think what would happen if he couldn't answer one of the checkpoint guards questions. A brief story fleshed itself together. He, Beir Eena's and his girlfriend, Ilina Ralov, where traveling to the city to see Ilina's sick parents... To corny, they'd see straight through it. The checkpoint was fast approaching so it would have to do. If he managed to look the part of a farmer then perhaps that was all that these men required. He extended a hand towards Abalar, who stared at it blankly but took hold of it after a sharp jerk made his intentions more clear. Couples held hands... More so for couples who were walking into a hostile situation.

His pace slowed as they crossed the first, low barbed wire fence. The ominous triangular signs decorated with a skull and cross bones didn't need an explanation. With a few deep breaths he approached the small booth that sat adjacent to a boom gate. The eye's of curious and trigger happy checkpoint guards followed his every move as if they were carrion birds hovering over a soon to be corpse.

A grizzled looking man stood in the booth, a look of contempt pasted across his pale and stubbled face. Jager greeted him with a nod and a forced smile, rubbing his gloved hands together in an attempt to warm them up. The checkpoint guard replied in kind, his eye's shifting between Jager and Abalar.

"Papers?" he grunted with a sigh.

Jager affirming though incoherent sounds and reached into his jacket pocket, removing the small leather bound booklet and placing it down next to a small slot in the booths window.

"And you're friend?" the guard queried motioning his head vaguely towards the shorter of the two. She had her eye's fixed on the ground and her arms folded nervously. A quick, gentle nudge was enough to break the girls focus and bring her back to the real, though simulated, world. Jager motioned for her papers, looking back to the guard and shaking his head knowingly. The look of contempt seemed to deepen as he watched the girl dig around in her jacket pocket for the small leather bound booklet, which she retrieved and placed infront of the opening. It was then when she broke Jager's rule.

Her gaze moved up from the booklet, up the glass and came to a dead stop on the mans dark brown eyes. It was then she froze. There were a few reasons for his rule of 'No eye contact'. One, because no matter how you went about it, it made the receiver think that perhaps you were up to something... a feeling which often prompted anything from a brief questioning to cries for backup and the buisness end of an assault rifle fixed towards the bridge of your nose. Two because if you lucked out and the receiver didn't see it as a sign of subterfuge, then the sharp breaking of contact that resulted after the realisation that you had broken the rule often did.

Abalar was guilty of the second. Her gaze locked with the guards for a brief second before she broke and hurriedly shifted her gaze towards the ground. Jager watched as one of the mans eyebrows began to rise, the last thing he needed was a search of his person. The combat knife strapped to the small of his back and the semi-automatic pistol that hugged against his ribs would have given the men more then enough reason to detain, question then subsequently execute or imprison the pair.

"Something wrong?" Jager questioned, a subtle nervous tone accompanying each and every syllable.

"Your friend-" the guard stated, his sentence filled with a cautious curiosity.

"My friend. Oh... she is just tired" Jager retorted, placing an arm on Abalar's opposite shoulder and press her up against himself, "We've been walking for almost two days now... and you know, women" he finished with a deceptive smirk. The guards eyebrow lowered and a smirk seemed to form at the corner of his lips.

"Heh... tell me about it" The guard muttered as he flicked through the documentation with an almost non-existent  interest. "Everything seems to be in order, here are your papers. Now continue on through to the gate to your right."

"Thank you" Jager added. The guard mumbled an acknowledgment as he waved them along before going back to staring at the pages of his magazine.

They had done it, and all without being shot at. With a sigh of relief he placed an arm onto his partner's shoulder as the pair walked out of the rear gates and into the low-set light industrial sprawl that was the cities outskirts. Two blocks down Abalar threw the sergeants arm off and created a few steps distance between them, her arms folding as she tired to warm herself.

"I'd say we made a pretty convincing couple" Jager stated as his hands returned to the jackets pockets.

"Did you have to be so grabby?" The private queried as the two came to a stop near an intersection. Jager smirked and began digging around in his jacket for the crumpled packet of cigarettes,

"All apart of the act, hun'."

"Don't call me that" she snapped back, "I'm not your hun.."

Jager smirked around the cigarette that hung between his lips. "Fine, Fine... All apart of the act, 'stone'" The very uttering of the word made the young private scowl, though Jager had no idea why and frankly... he didn't care.

"Stop it..."

His smirking continued as he placed the lighter up against the thin white stick "Stop what?"

"Being an asshole" she replied bluntly. Her scowl changing to a despondent frown. Removing the lit cigarette from his lips and exhaling the smoke that had readily filled his lungs.

"Well, you get me in two flavours. Either as Beir, the caring and protective boyfriend or as the dashing Sergeant Jager Luth, a bad-ass rouge who plays by his own set of rules." he stated, his voice imitating a bad movie trailer narration.  "But choose quickly before I choose for you."

The private let out a sigh of defeat as they reached another street. Pausing to wait for the civilian traffic to pass. "...I wish I'd gone with Bright" she sighed as the pair crossed the warn and pocked road, continuing their way down the cracked and decaying concrete that lay beyond that.

"Bah.. fine, be that way. As long as you follow my lead when we reach the police precinct, I doubt we'll have any problems." he commented, "That is... if you make it to the precinct. No telling what Two fist Fal and the breakfast brigade are up to..." again he removed the cigarette from his cold lips. A thin cloud of smoke making its exit from his nostrils. "Just remember if we, when we run into them don't hesitate to let a few rounds go in their direction."

Abalar stopped in her tracks. Her blue eye's fixed on Jager's back. "But they are our friends" Jager followed in kind. Again he smirked at the young girls naivety.

"Hun, Stone... whatever. They are only your friends by circumstance, and when those circumstances come crashing to a halt don't hesitate to take them down, because they wont hesitate to take you." he finished, turning around to face the private.

"Even you?"

"Especially me... now quit standing around and keep up. You are starting to draw attention to yourself"

The patrol were on edge. The two canines accompanying the squad of four had abruptly dug in their paws and bared gleaming white teeth to the air. The constant low rumbling in their throats was getting to their handlers, who were unsuccessfully trying to get them to take trained action.

“They usually seek,” One of the handlers explained to the grizzled patrol leader, exasperation clear in the tone of his voice, “I've never seen them do this before.”

“Well something's obviously wrong,” The patrol leader replied dryily, “Let the mutts be. I'll call it in to central control then we'll spread out and scout the area.”

The handlers gave up trying to shake their stubborn charges into action, releasing the grip on the leashes slightly. It was all the two dogs needed. Both leapt forward with surprising strength, tearing the leashes from the hands of their respective trainers. Both men cried out as the canines sped out into the darkness of the other side of the fence. Eventually, even their whimpering was lost to the gentle whistling of the wind.

The patrol leader cleared his throat, his comlink raised halfway to his mouth, “Wonder what the hell is the matter with them.”

“They don't like the smell of me,” Came a hissed response. The veteran started as a pair of glowing yellow eyes abruptly flared into existence at his right shoulder. His yell of warning was cut off as a set of claws raked deep into the vulnerable skin of his throat. The iron scent of blood exploded into the air as the patrol leader toppled forwards, both hands raised in a futile attempt to stop the precious red wave spilling from his body.

The rest of the patrol reacted almost immediately, raising rifles to lock onto the shadowy figure which had ended their leaders life. Fingers tightened on triggers only to fall free as fire erupted from the tall grass to their exposed right flank, unprotected by the perimeter fence. The other three members of Jester squad calmly picked their targets, taking headshots over body shots from their concealed positions amongst the turf.

Eventually the entire squad lay dead or dying in a twitching heap. Jegora walked slowly forward towards where Mai was already crouched over one of them, peeling a uniform free of a body that was still jolting in its death throes.

“How did you know that you'd be able to get so close?” Jegora allowed himself a moments rest as he watched the slim Cathar work.

Alien golden eyes flicked up to regard him as she answered, “I don't know. Dogs have never really liked me.”

Jegora resisted the urge to point out the long held animosity between cat and canine, turning back instead to where Kiption and Jori were scrounging around the other corpses, “Did they get a signal off?”

“Clear boss,” Jori replied, “Central is still oblivious.”

“They'd have check in protocols in place,” Kiption was already half dressed, “We'll have to move quickly before we raise too many flags.”

Jegora chose not to answer, busying himself with getting into the dead patrol leaders uniform. Eventually all four squad members were adequately clothed in enemy guise, complete with the appropriate written I.D's.

“We all smell like walking death,” Mai remarked, if somewhat unnecessarily, as they started off towards the closest checkpoint into the city.

“A little musky perhaps,” Kiption gave himself a quick look over, “Guards shouldn't notice.”

“Here's hoping there's no more dogs,” Jegora muttered grimly.

After ten minutes or so of trudging, the checkpoint came into view. It was a small structure, though relatively well protected. Floodlights bathed the entire area in harsh intensity, making subterfuge impossible. Two armored buildings faced each other at each end of the break in the perimeter fence. In between the two bunkers an alert squad stood at attention before a large, locked, and gleaming gate.

“Code!” The head of the squad greeted them as Jester came into view. His companions stared unflinchingly down the barrel of their rifles, waiting for the necessary exchange.

“Six-Oh-Eight-Oh-Four” Jegora cited the checkpoints designation unflinchingly.

“Approach.”

Jester filed towards the gate in the appropriate order, Jegora at the fore. He halted and snapped a half-sloppy salute to the supervising officer, “Reporting in.”

The officer regarded them suspiciously, “Where are your dogs?”

Kiption, posing as one of the handlers, answered for Jegora, “Something spooked them. We...er...lost them.”

“Lost them?!” The officer's face purpled, “Fer christs sake!”

“We searched the area,” Jegora's interrupted calmly, “No sign of the mutts or whatever it was that caused them to run off in the first place. Thought it was best to cut the patrol short and report in.”

“Oh did you now?” The officer was shaking his head at the stupidity of it all, his anger fading, “Fine. I'll send out another team to retrace your teams movements. This is going on your records though. Bloody retarded if you ask me.”

“Very good sir,” Jegora managed to look sheepish and offended at the same time.

The officer waved one hand at his companions, retreating back into the interior of one of the bunkers. The other members of the squad resumed their post save one, who swiped a card through a terminal and entered the necessary activation codes to open the gate. It creaked open far enough to allow Jester to move through one by one. Once through, the Jester team dropped the pretense of their enemy alter egos, jogging off the concrete path into the sparse vegetation surrounding it.

“We have maybe a few minutes before the other patrol comes across the bodies,” Jegora informed the others as they sprinted towards the distant lights of the city, “Keep up the pace. They're not going to waste time coming after us.”

The sky grew dark, bringing with it a further drop in the already low temperature and the rhythmic flicking to life of streetlights. Even at night the city was a dilapidated heap, only now the more colorful and dangerous inhabitants slowly beginning to trickle into the street's like ants to a corpse.

Abalar had moved up and taken the lead. Her pace was quick but Jager didn't find it difficult to keep with her, on the count of her smaller strides. It was clear that she had very little idea where the two were headed signified by her pace slowing enough for him to overtake her. As for Jager, he'd always had a way with maps and directions, so his brief examination of the maps back at the farm house had given him a fairly detailed, if a tad obscure sense of where he was headed. That and the occasional guard patrol's which all seemed to approach from the one direction only pushed the point further.

The pair had stopped any casual chatter after Abalar had her little spiel about the connotations evoked by referring to her as simply 'Stone'. Though Jager payed little heed to anything the irritated private had said. Thus was the magic of being of a higher rank, you didn't have to give a damn about anything those below you whined about. A motto which he intended to stick to.

The two passed a flaming drum with a several homeless crowding around it for warmth. Even over the smell of burning oily rags he still caught a whiff of the musky stench that emanated from the group. He could see the obvious disgust as the private gagged slightly, her pace quickening more so. He wasn't as bothered, the smell reminding him of the area around his ship-come-apartment though he still turned his head away in the hopes to avoid the brunt.

It was as he cocked his head to the side that he saw him. The long, dark brown trench coat topped with a concealing hat. His collar pulled high as to shadow his face. At first Jager said nothing and continued. Some may have run, attempted to lose him, others may have approached him... but those people were clearly trying to hide something. A far more sensible idea was to determine if he was in fact trailing them. For all he knew it could have been a coincidence... though in a simulation nothing is ever a coincidence. So, under the ruse of innocence, he continued.

Three deserted intersections later Jager decided it was time for a quick break. A tattered bus stop stood silent watch over the empty street, its corroded frame perched under a dim streetlight. Without saying a word he halted, looked around, removed the crumpled cigarette packet from his coat pocket, lit one up and took a seat. Abalar however continued for a few more meter's blissfully of her squad mates change of plans. It wasn't a bad thing that she was so singled mindedly focused on reaching the precinct, but spacial awareness was often the key between a long and happy life or a short, painful and ultimately pointless death. It didn't take long for her to discover his absence and quickly return, the dim lighting making it hard to tell if her cheeks where a light shade of red from embarrassment or because of a slow frustration that was building inside of her.

Narrowing her eye's she glared at the Sergeant, her arms folded in an attempt to warm herself. "Why have we stopped?"

Jager smirked and tapped the ashes off the tip of the cigarette. "Tired, thought you'd enjoy a quick break as well." It was clear that the redness in her cheeks was not from embarrassment as he first thought. With a frustrated grunt she slammed her foot against the ground, her jaw clenched to stop it from chattering.

"Wasn't it you who said we cant waste anytime, and that Sergeant Fal was going to beat us there?"

She was right and in light of such biting logic and her apparent ability to pay attention to the things previously said by himself, Jager conceded defeat. "You got me..." he sighed, taking a quick drag of the cigarette. His third one by his count. "We're being followed" he stated bluntly. The statement came as a shock to the private, her head darting up and looking around in an attempt to catch a glimpse of their tail.

"Fer' chrissake, don't look around. Shit..." he sneered hurriedly, pulling the girl to the seat. "Never look directly at your tail, makes them nervous" he began to lecture, "Hopefully that little display hasn't spooked him" He didnt bother to look at the frustrated glare that Abalar was shooting him. Yet another example of Jager's lack of interest in anything she had said about grabbing earlier.

"Kid. I'm glad this wasn't the real thing... you gotta' sharpen up. Simulation or not"

"Like you are helping, you could have at least told me we where being followed." she retorted in a sharp whisper. Again the private had a point. Jager was no teacher, but he was a higher rank and therefore never wrong...

With a calculating calmness he got to his feet, stamping the stub that was once his cigarette beneath his boot. It was time to take some sort of action against their tail who had remained, even after it was clear that the two had spotted him. Subtly he motioned for Abalar to follow him, she too gave a wary glance around as she got to her feet. What looked to be an abandon store lay just up the road, on the corner. Its windows were boarded up but the door was clearly open, possibly by the homeless or junkies who had decided to squat.

Casually he stepped inside, arching his head around the corners of the door to check for occupants. To which he found none. His pursuer watched from his position in a small, darkened enclave of an apartment block. Making his move when he saw Abalar disappear into the buildings dark interior. Jager took up a position to the right of the door whilst Abalar jumped behind a disused shelf.

Footsteps echoed on the cracked pavement outside, stopped short of the entrance. With an unyielding calm Jager drew the semi-automatic pistol, gripping it firmly in his right hand. Then unsheathed the combat knife and held it blade down in his left. The streetlight adjacent to the storefront gave a the tail a long shadow, making the job of ambushing him that much easier. The Sergeant waited for the man to take another step before he flicked the safety on the pistol off, the 'clack' of his shoes on the concrete disguising the 'click' made by safety toggle.

The tension hung heavily in the air, much like the dust the pair had stirred up as they entered. Though unlike the dust, it wasn't slowly drifting to the ground. He watched as the man took another step, then another, stopping short of the threshold that separated the shop interior from the outside world.

Then, after a second of contemplation he took the final step.

Jager reacted quickly. The knife pressed against the mans throat as the pistol was brandished towards his face before being holstered, freeing his arm up so that he could further restrain the man. In a matter of seconds Jager had pulled an arm around his back and half pushed/half guided him over to the shop counter.

"Ab, Door" he grunted as he pushed the man against the counter and quickly patted him down. Their ex-tail was shaking slightly, the fear induced sweat on his forehead reflected the small rays of light from a streetlamp that perforated through the holes in one of the window barricades. A few more pats brought the impromptu search to an end, the Sergeant proceeding to spin the man around and push him face up onto the counter whilst he feet still touched the ground.

Speed was the key. keep your opponent guessing, keep him confused but most of all, keep him powerless to stop you. Jager topped the maneuver off by sheathing his knife, re-drawing his pistol and pressing it against the mans head. He watched as he threw his arms up in mercy, though the fear had dried his throat allowing him only a hoarse and barely distinguishable 'Stop'.

"You where following us..." Jager stated bluntly, "Why?"

The man struggled to collect himself, the tremors in his arms gradually increase as he felt his time and Jager's patients slip away.

"I.. I was told to" he finally managed. Though his answer failed to please the Sergeant.

"So you're what, Secret Police? Intelligence Service?..." He queried, pressing the pistol into the mans forehead, "An' be brief, I've got places to be" Abalar stood back and watched. her head slightly turned away in the event that Jager did decide to execute him.

"You.. You're Beir, I'm Lugash..."

The statement only confused the Sergeant, sending one of his eyebrows up in confusion. Pressing the pistol against the mans head again he turned to Abalar,

"hun', you know a Lugash?"

The private shook her head, turning further away as it seemed more and more apparent that their tail wasn't going to be around much longer. With a smirk he turned turned his attention back to the man,

"Guess she doesn't know you either... ahh well. It was nice meeting you Lugash." he replied with a shrug before lifting a hand to shield his face from any of the blood spray.

Lugash watched as Jager began to apply pressure to the trigger, sending his heart rate through the roof and his mind racing as it tried to find a way to prevent his imminent death.

"Resistance, I'm with the underground... supposed to take you to the others who are in position near the precinct." he managed to stammer at a blistering pace. Jager let some of the pressure off from his the trigger and lowered the hand shielding his face

"Go on.."

The man sighed with relief quickly before continuing his last words, "You're Bier and Ilina, You're here to free Nast." he managed to say before the emotions entailed with someone realising they were about to die took hold, turning the man into a blubbering mess. "Just please... Please don't kill me"

Jager smirked confidently. Suddenly their two man assault on the police precinct followed by the escape from the city to the extraction point whilst being hounded by Jegora and his team didn't seem so impossible. He looked over to Abalar who was clearly disturbed by the borderline psychotic act what she had just witnessed,

"Looks like we've got reinforcements, hun'." She gave an uneasy nodded but kept her head still turned away. Jager quickly reholstered his pistol and pulled the man to his feet, catching him as he almost collapsed in a heap.

"Well, Lugash.. was it? Take us to your friends." The resistance member nodded nervous as he regained his nerves.

"Follow me" he managed to mutter  "and.. thanks"

"Anytime" Jager beamed back sarcastically before following the man to the door. Abalar had gone a little pale, it was almost a shame that he wasn't going to see how'd she react if he'd decided to execute the man, though his money was on nervous breakdown. 'Next time' he pondered as he threw an arm around the girl and guided her towards the door.

"Well, Illina. I think we're gonna be alll-right" Just managing to finish the statement before she threw his arm off and took several steps away. It was clear that their apparent friendship was clearly not going to last the rest of the simulation, let alone the walk to the precinct... but at least they'd have the memories.

Bloodhound tossed another useless piece of junk over his shoulder just to hear it crash into a hundred pieces on the tile floor of the kitchen. Apartments were boring. This one was especially boring. He really wasn't enjoying the ran sacking of the place. In part because there was nothing of value, and in part because even if there was something of value he wouldn't be able to take it with him. He opened another drawer, it was full of silverware. He spilled it across the floor anyway. Nope, nothing in the bottom either. How boring.

Bright hadn't let him anywhere near the bedroom or office or really anything that looked like it may be important. Apparently he was too clumsy. He couldn't really argue with that assessment. He definitely wasn't the delicate cautious type. Infact, he was seriously considering removing his Tropov and opening up on the walls. Instead he dumped out a drawer full of towels then smashed the drawer against the floor. Something about the way that it broke apart just didn't seem quite right. Then again nothing he'd broken had seemed to fall apart quite right. It wasn't something he could put his finger on, it just seemed. . .funny.

He sighed and stepped out of the small kitchen and into the living room. It was a corner apartment, a bit run down but nice enough, and it had a good view of the city. Bloodhound pulled his sunglasses off and stared into the city at night. There were few lights on and the city was greatly obscured by clouds and fog. All and all a shitty place to live. Bloodhound didn't want to stay. He stood out too much to survive in places like this. Red eyes and the red tips of his hair would see him singled out and where the reason they hadn't been able to fake being peasants. In the end the fake passport had done him no good.

A noise behind him made him turn, instinctively reaching for the Tropov nestled against his ribs. Brightstar emerged from one of the rooms; Hond replaced the sunglasses. He stared at her for a second, but she shook her head. Nothing. Of course.

"Either this place has already been cleaned out or there was nothing here to begin with." She said, stepping around his mess in the kitchen.

"Awesome, what do we do now? Plug up the sink, leave the water running?"

"We'll have to try and meet up with Jager's team. Or wait for them outside the city."

"Wonderful. I hate this place."

"Either way, no point staying here, lets go."

"Right behind you."

They exited the building swiftly, Bloodhound trotting slightly behind Bright, hand always ready to reach for his pistol. He liked Bright, or atleast he could partner with her. She was calmer and professional, he could trust that. Other members of the squad he wasn't so sure about.

There turned out to be a rather glaring problem with thier plan, and that was the fact that prior to splitting up they hadn't actually made any plans for this scenario. Finding Jager's team was going to be difficult and about the only comfort they could cling to was that because they had not real idea what they were doing there was no way for Jegora's team to know. It wasn't much of a comfort. Wouldn't even keep them warm at night.

If there was one thing Jager hated more then anything, it was stereotypes. He hated how they were always so predictable to the point where he could almost announce what they were going to do next which also made him hate how monotonous meeting new people had become Unfortunately the universe was made up of them, which meant that by extension so was the simulation.

The 'rebel underground' that the pair had 'discovered' were all baby faced and impressionable idealists who had all been persuaded to fight someone else cause under the guise that it is what they themselves wanted. The males were all angry and gruff with itchy trigger fingers but lacked sufficient marksmanship to hit the side of a barn at three paces. The females were all tom boys looking to prove themselves in a male dominated world, but usually cracked under the first signs of pressure or were the first killed. Then it came to the leaders. The leader's were often slightly varied, either ex-military types who had lost faith or sight with their comrades and chosen to fight against the established order with the idea that senseless slaughter would lead to a better word... a better world run by them or slightly older, slightly more grizzled but still impressionable idealists who's sole purpose was to simply be a thorn in the local governments side. A purpose that often was hidden from them. 

Upon meeting the leader of the 'underground' Jager sighed inwardly. If first impressions were anything to go on, they had been stuck with the latter. Even more unfortunate was the fact that the latter also resembled Jager in more ways then he'd care to admit. It was almost like looking into an alternate universe. A universe where Jager had slightly longer hair, was in command of almost two dozen people and was a pawn used to fight for things he didnt believe in. Much like the universe he usually inhabited except he had shorter hair and no subordinates. The realisation making him shudder slightly and feel like downing a strong drink.

The apartment block which the group had taken up a position in was within sight of the police precinct. Its foreboding walls topped with rows of barbed wire and the occasional guard tower giving it more of a prison feel.

"Nast is being moved within the next hour and a half, so we' gotta act fast." Litis began as he placed a crude blueprint of the prison onto a three legged table, sending a puff of dust into the air. "Luckily we've been planning this for almost a week, so its gonna be a cake walk" the man seemed supremely confident in his tactile abilities, if a bit excited to finally get to do something. A sign that did little to reassure Jager. Storming a government building of any kind was a daunting task. Storming a heavily fortified government building that was undoubtedly filled with people armed to the teeth even more so. Any experienced tactician would be at least somber when explaining his plan as he knew the risk involved.

"Red group are going to assault the precincts main entrance. This'll draw most of the attention..." The sergeant nodded vageuly as he drifted in and out of the mans ramblings. He cared little for how it was going to be done but such an attack was like stirring up a mynocks nest, which meant he was going to have to high-tail it to the extraction point before the government forces got their act together.

"Now, this little distraction will likely force them to get Nast out of their asap, but we'll be waiting here" his fingers danced around the map, his eagerness growing with each passing second. "-Which is where we storm the three car convoy, hijack the transport and get Nast out of here."

"WE get Nast, YOU keep the police distracted until we're clear of the area..." Jager stated assertively so that there was little confusion to who was in charge.

"Of course" Lisit retorted, "But you'll need at least a two speeder escort or you'll never make it out of the city" As much as Jager hated to admit it, the man was right. Escapes were best done without a map, especially when it came to high speeds. The fact there were two other vehicles to shoot at also helped ease him on the subject as it meant there was a one in three chance of him dieing in a horrible explosion. The sergeant nodded silently,

"Fine. How long?"

"He gets moved in a little over an hour."

"Get your men ready" The two men exchanged polite nods before Jager exited the room with his partner in tow. The plan was crass and short sighted, but it was these exact elements that would hopefully catch the police with their pants down and give the two enough time to get their Vip out of the area. Neither Abalar or himself exchanged words as they made their way down the hall. It to, like all the other building interiors, had dried and cracked wallpaper and a damp, musty smell that came from rotting wood.

An assortment of weapons lay scattered atop an old mattress. All various types of sub-machine guns, blaster rifles and shotguns likely stolen from a government armory at one time or another judging by the condition of a few. An aged M13 shotgun caught his eye, it being one of the better maintained weapons in the arsenal. With limited enthusiasm he took hold of it and performed a quick check.

"Here" he stated, handing one of the smaller sub-machine guns to his partner who until then had been staring pensively at the selection. "Check the mag', make sure sure the safeties off then just point and shoot"

"I am a stormtrooper as well, you know." Abalar remarked as she sized the weapon up. Jager mumbled something under his breath as he turned to retrieve a box of shells from a crate against the wall.

"Just, one tip. Dont shoot me in the back... I could do without that"

"I do know how to use one of these as well" she countered, which Jager was aware of but his experiences with recruits and firefights had taught him to always stand towards the back.

"Ehh, yeah. I'll take your word for it" His comments only frustrated the private further. No one liked to be talked down to, regardless of how coy or standoffish they where.

"So much for inspiring confidence, jerk."

Jager snorted, "Hey. I'm just being real. Just promise me you'll keep it together when shit hits the fan. Because we're going to be walking into a massacre"

"Then why are you going ahead with it?" the young private queried. Jager had come to understand a few things about soldiering. One of them being sacrifice. Sacrifice was the backbone of the corps, it was the bread and butter of being a trooper, but any stormtrooper who intended to survive more then their first mission learnt that the best sacrifice was someone elses. It was a lesson that everyone in the corps learnt at one point, a lesson that some couldn't come to terms with but that was just the way things where.

"Would you rather it be us doing the dieing?" the sergeant proposed as he took a seat on the mattress. The moral conflict that his statement had begun was evident on the girls face, even if it was a simulation.

"No, its ju-"

"Well, then who better to do the dieing for us then someone who is not us. Because I don't feel up to it" Again she went to voice her problems with the way things were. Slowly he got up and placed a hand on her shoulder,

"Do you see now why I don't learn the new troopers names..." The trooper made a sound of disgust as she shoved his arm away to which he cackled as he approached the door.

"I think I'm gonna be sick..."  she moaned, hunching slightly and placing a hand against her stomach. Regardless of how she felt about it sooner or later she was going to experience the key lessons that the Corps offered. Whether it be her sacrifice or someone else's didn't matter, eventually everyone learns.

The sharp hiss from a medical injector signaled the return of reality and its cold, hard and painful truths. Truths  such as; the assault was a catastrophic failure, the government forces were now on full alert and most predominantly... he had been shot. A mortal, small caliber wound to the lower stomach meaning he was going to bleed like a stuck pig before he eventually succumbed to blood poisoning.

His recollection of the events that had led to this point were an adrenaline fueled haze accompanied by the sounds of rocket propelled grenades and small arms fire, though he'd managed to narrow it down to between when Abalar, a handful of rebels and himself stormed the transport and when he felt himself being dragged through the vehicles rear door as it started to pull away. But the past was the past, there was nothing he or anyone else could do to change that. What mattered now was those around him kept their cool and followed the plan.

The injector had thrown a disorientating blanket over his senses. Gradually the world grew less bright and the white noise in his ears gave way to the chaotic and often incoherent cries of frustration and panic that reverberated around the cramped interior of the armored transport.

"Ha-HA! He's alive" A blurry figure of a man announced with half-hearted glee as he took hold of both Jager's shoulders and shook him. "Had us worried for a moment there" The fog continued to recede until it made recognizing the man almost as painful as the bullet burning away in his stomach.

Litis, alternate reality Jager. Out of all the beings in the simulation he was the last one Jager wanted tending to him. With a groan he shrugged the mans hands off and attempt to sit upright, a feat that proved too challenging.

"Ey, easy buddy. Just stay there, everything's cool." Jager felt, no, knew this man was somehow responsible for his wound but he was in no real condition to construct proper sentences let alone vent his frustrations in the form of a right hook. He raised a hand to rub his forehead in frustration but the crimson stain that it had donned put him off. A muffled cry of frustration echoed from the cabin prompting Litis to leave the wounded sergeant alone. Again he sighed. It wasn't supposed to happen like this...

He was supposed to be the hero. The one who managed to survive the entire simulation to earn the right to stand over Jegora as he lay dying, quip, then discharge his pistol into the mans temple. Now it seemed he was going to slowly bleed out in the back of a commandeered prison transport, alone. Which begged the question... where was Abalar.

There was little chance that she made it during the assault. The rebels were dropping like flies as the government forces shredded their ranks with heavy machine gun fire. In a way he felt sorry for the kid. Her first simulation and she was ventilated and left to die whilst he was pulled to relative safety. Luck was a bitch like that, but these things happen. A zig when one should have zagged was all it took.

"I'm sorry for what happened" A voice stated, "but, thank you for this." With a low groan Jager arched his head back, his eye's meeting with the a face he had seen before. The bald head, sunken eyes and sharp features made it almost too easy to identify the man. Nast Batti, the most important man in the simulation.

"So, Imperial or have they outsourced?" he was well spoken for a man who bore a resemblance to a habitual drug user. Jager chuckled lightly before a hoarse, painful cough stopped him.

"Imperial" he sputtered dryly.

"Its good to see a fellow Imperial, regardless of the state he's in." he sighed, "I see you've met Lisit... grand hero of the revolution" the mans tone showed he had little love for the man, though it was by no stretch of the imagination to understand why. "I suppose the daring assault was his idea". Jager wasn't given time to respond as the transport swerved violently, throwing him off the seat and onto the cold, hard and indifferent floor. He knew he should have given the simulation a miss, the voice in his head made a convincing argument but the allure of besting Jegora was to great.

There was little point in rising to his feet. He was simply a burden on the group and no-doubt Lisit would opt to leave him behind. A call he would have agreed on as any movement sent a torrent of pain to every extremity. It was then the sharp 'hiss' from a medical injector filled his ears for the second time,

"Better?" From the sudden kick and the almost complete lack of feeling that surged around his body, Jager knew he had been injected with an adrenaline stimulate. The kind that turned well mannered, calm under fire troopers into raging monsters who shrugged off weapons fire like it was a light breeze. With a low growl he pulled himself to his feet, slumping forward and pressing a hand against the red patch that had spread across the front of his shirt. Nast clapped his hands together joyfully,

"Well, that should keep you going at least until we make the extrac-" His sentence was cut short by the heavy 'thump' that began towards the front of the transport before bouncing along the roof. A panicked scream followed as the transport came to an abrupt halt. They had hit someone, though that didn't explain why they stopped. With a beleaguered stumble, Jager dragged himself to were the rear door had been until a charge removed it during the assault. The street was poorly lit, much like the rest of the city, yet it was still bright enough to see. The chill in the air that had been building since the simulation began had reached its peak, though the stimulate fought off much of it.

A crumpled lump lay several feet away, just short of the darkness. Jager sighed heavily as he half climbed, half fell out of the back of the transport and began a slow advance toward it.

"Is it Jori..." An unexpected voice queried prompting him to look back. Abalar stood with her arms folded along side the transport, a worried expression on her face. 'She survived' he mumbled, 'Good for her...' In a way he was surprise she hadn't broken down after such an incident, but then again she was probably running on the same things that were keeping him going, save the stimulant, so the break down was going to have to wait till the after party. The crumpled heap in the middle of the road twitched as he grew nearer.

Even with the myriad of injuries he had received from bouncing off the bonnet of the transport, then bouncing across the roof before being thrown to the road, Jori still possessed enough strength to verbalize his surprise

"Oh... fuck..."

"Yeah, skip the pleasnantries" Jager replied as he drew the M4 attached to his hip. The mortally wounded sergeant managed to raise an arm towards his would be killer. With a frustrated groan he extended his middle finger,

"Fu... fuck you, Luth"

The flash from the pistols barrel threw an eerie light over the surrounding area, similar to a flash from a camera. Jager stood in silence for a brief second. Not five minutes ago he had been annoyed at the hand that fate had dealt him when he could have just as easily ended up like Jori. Lying cold and alone as he struggled to draw breath through a set of crushes ribs.

"Was it him?" Abalar asked as he half limped, half stumbled back to the transport.

"No..." he mumbled, "Just a civilian.." The look of disappointment on her face gave a mixed message but there was little time for interpretation. He'd avoided telling her the truth, not to make her not feel as guilty but to keep her head clear and focused. His present company didn't inspire much confidence or give any illusions of trust making it an imperative that he kept her as calm and collected as possible. The mission and his ego depended on it.

OOC:

revised edition

As Litis half dragged Jager back into the rear of the armoured transport, Abalar had another quick glance at the corpse. It was Jori, just as she had thought. Abalar had been curious as to why Jager had shot a random, so she had doubted that the man was a civilian. However, she realized it was Jager, so she stopped trying to find any large amount of logic in his actions. That was why she had another look, she wanted to make sure. A wave of satisfaction passed through her, replacing the disappointment she had felt when Jager told her it wasn’t Jori. She had never gotten a chance to "thank" Jori for volunteering her in their last impromptu mission. Hitting him with an armoured vehicle was much more satisfactory than a nut shot.

Abalar smiled to herself as she walked back to the driver door. However, once she opened the door, the man sitting on the passenger side had changed clothes miraculously. There were another three sets of matching clothes on her seat. Abalar recognised them as the uniforms the opposition had worn, and instantly caught on to their purpose. This simulation was getting to be a little redundant in her opinion, and she had learned that when the simulation supplied her with something, it meant that she was going to need them in the near future. She ran quickly round to the back, opened the door, and tossed the clothes in. She noticed Jager had his shirt off, and Litis was quick treating his wounds. The one in his lower stomach area looked the worst, and dumbly, Litis wasn't treating that one. Part of her wanted to get Litis to drive, but she didn't trust the man behind the wheel, but then she noticed her clothes had the medic emblem on them.

"Jager, throw the pants on at least before I return. Litis come with me."

She didn't even check to see if the man was following, Abalar knew he would. She opened the driver door and pointed at the passenger.

"You, you can drive yes?"

"Uh, yes," came the wary reply.

"You’re driving. Litis, you're navigator. Hop in on the other side. I'll bang on the wall when I'm ready to go," Abalar said.

She then ran round the back, and peeped into the vehicle. Jager was sitting there, but thankfully, he had changed his pants like she had asked. She hopped in, and closed the door, not wanting to waste anymore time. Abalar then banged on the wall that seperated the driving compartment from the back, and she heard the engine start up, and felt the motion of the armoured vehicle move in response. She then turned to Jager.

"I'm going to have to change here, so no looking," she said in a serious, but yet slightly joking tone.

"Alright deary, I'll respect your privacy," was Jager's pained response, as he covered his eyes. The two in the front had no idea that she wasn't wearing just her bare essentials underneath, so it was mainly for theatrics.

Abalar did a quick strip, but still conscious of her scar that she knew had shown, as she had her back turned to him. Not surprisingly, the uniforms fit perfectly. As Abalar turned to face him again, she noticed a large med bag sitting in the corner. She rolled her eyes, then retrieved the bag.

She knelt in front of Jager, and inspected the wound in his abdomen. It was then Abalar realized she hadn't suffered any real wounds. She had come burn marks, bruises and cuts, but nothing as serious as getting shot, much to her surprise. However, she turned her attentions back to Jager and his wounds.

She glanced up at him from her kneeling position, and laughed.

"I bet you don't see this view that often," Abalar said with a smirk.

"Haha, real funny. Since you mention it though..." Jager said.

"Wait, I don't want to know," Abalar said interrupting him.

She reached up and pressed his shoulders back. It felt strange touching his bare shoulders, but she quickly moved beyond that. She was going to have to touch him much lower than his shoulders if she was to try and treat him.

"Please don't enjoy this too much," Abalar as she pressed her hands up against his abdomen. She examined the gun shot wound, then reached into the bag and pulled out some alcohol swabs and some heavy duty hand sanitizer. Abalar quickly used the sanitizer, then started to clean the surrounding area of the cut. Her movements would have been smooth, except the road quality combined with driver capabilities made her hand jerky. She eventually gave up after many curses from Jager were emitted.

Abalar examined the wound closely. It was still bleeding, much to her concern, but she should see the bullet. She grabbed some decent sized tweezers from the bag, then looked up at Jager again. She pushed his shoulders back yet again.

"This will almost definitely hurt. Unless... how many stims did he put in you?" Abalar asked.

"Litis? Uh, at least two," came his reply.

"How far apart?"

"Within five minutes."

"Shit. Ok then, you probably may not feel it, but prepare yourself anyway."

She then rested her hands on his stomach again, and moved in slowly. Before she could even touch the bullet, the vehicle broke hard, sending everything forward.

"Shit," both Jesters said. Abalar noticed Jager hadn't put his dog tags on, so she quickly threw them on him as he tried to recuperate on the flood. She then dragged him back to his seat.

She heard voices coming from outside the driver's side.

"Of course, a check stop. What else?" she said to out loud. "Your Sergeant Mantar," Abalar whispered to him as she got up and opened the back door. Abalar had checked hers: she was now Corporal Divum.

"What the hell are you doing?" Abalar yelled. She had failed her acting before, but she was no longer nervous. Her system was running on adrenaline, and she just wanted to finish this simulation. A group of armed men then quickly surrounded her. A man, at least a foot taller than she was, stepped forward.

"May I ask who the hell you are?" he said in a deep, intimidating voice.

"Corporal Divum."

"Regiment?"

Her mind scrambled for an answer. "2nd," Abalar said.

He seemed to regard her for some time. "You're a medic?"

"Yes, and if you don't mind, I was right in the middle of treating a patient,"

"Were you know? I'd like to see you patient."

"Very well. This way." She then turned and walked through the armed men. The hesitated, but the parted for her after she gave them a cold look. "Sergeant Mantar, my patient," Abalar said, motioning with her arm towards Jager. "I'm right in the middle of extracting a bullet, so it you don't mind me, I'd like to finish it."

"Very well. I'll have a word with your driver. You won't mind if a couple of my men watch?" he said.

"As long as they don't touch anything," Abalar replied.

After the man turned away, Abalar busied herself with treating Jager. It was amazingly easy to remove the bullet when they were stationary. The man then appeared around the back of the armoured vehicle.

"I've checked out all four of your names, and they all check out. And I also see you've finished the delicate work, so I've cleared you all to continue. Good night." With that, he shut the door, and hit the side of the vehicle. They continued on the abandoned train yard.

During that time, Abalar was able to completely repair the gun shot wound, and apply disinfectant to bother their wounds. Jager was needed though, when it came to Abalar's back. Thankfully, there were not many cuts on her back, so she was able to get that done quickly. Abalar also had time to bandage Jager's whole abdomen, preventing the gunshot wound from reopening.

Abalar was glad when they stopped and the back door opened. Litis helped Jager into an old shed, while the other lackey helped carry all the other supplies they had, including the med bad inside. He then drove the armoured vehicle away, to help hide their location. He returned though, and the four just sat around, taking turns at watch while the others caught up on sleep. Even Abalar was able to go to sleep.

A harsh wind whistled through the aging train yard. Its gargantuan, hollow sheds moaning and creaking in rhythm with each gust. From first glance it was clear that it had been left to the elements a long time ago judging by the tangle of weeds and other insidious flora that had taken a firm grip around any and everything they touched, persistently inching its way across the steel girders as the years gradually marched on.

They had abandon the transport in one of the outlying sheds, leaving it to rot amongst the rusted carcasses of what were once train carriages. After shielding them from the brunt of the assault, acting as the vessel of Jori's demise and bringing them here, it had earnt itself some much needed rest. Much like the small, beleaguered group that had taken charge of it. But rest was a luxury that the group couldn't afford. No doubt the government forces were on the hunt for their stolen transport and the cargo it was originally carrying, and they didn't seem like the kind of people who would let such a thing go unnoticed.

Hopes among the group where still high though. After a brief transmission by Jager their salvation was only a handful of hours away and all they had to do was survive, and of course tie up a few loose ends. Jager sat on a heavy, rotting desk and began to list the things he had yet to accomplish. Enter City, Check. Find and Extract Nast, Check. Kill Jori... Check. Of course his original list had to be altered to accommodate change.

Kill Litis and his compatriot. Jager watched the men cautiously, rebels were never to be trusted regardless of who's side they claimed to support. Of course Litis was still, to Jager's knowledge, in the dark about who had organised this little escapade, an escapade that had the overall point of removing any physical trace of the Imperial involvement from the city, which is what the overall gist of the assignment was really about. Litis was a liability. It didn't take a genius to guess that both he and Abalar were Imperials, and if he managed to put two and two together whilst say, in the custody of the government, then the whole operation would have been for naught. His fate was sealed, now all that remained was for Jager to devise a correct method of execution. 

He continued to study the man as he sat next to Abalar on an old mattress and chatted casually whilst his friend enjoyed a cigarette. Chances were she was not going to see the logic or reason in Jager's plan, though it mattered little what she felt. He was still surprise she had managed to survive this long. As far as simulations went this was one of the hardest Jager had ever participated in, even more so then the time he had to fight himself. His ego told him that it was purely because of his excellent leadership ability that she had managed to beat the spread against her, his ego was a terrible liar, but there was no way she would have made it this far without him.

It was as he sat contemplating his next move when Nast caught his eye. The man too was watching Litis inquisitively, giving a subtle nod towards his savior to show he understood what had to be done.

With a heave Jager pulled himself up, the table groaning with relief as he did so. The wound was no better even after Abalar removed the bullet. She still had a long way to go to become a medic, her poking around inside of him only proved aggravating already aggravated tissue as well as leaving him un-stitched and with nothing to dull the pain whilst they traveled down unsealed roads showed her inexperience, but it was the thought that counted. It served as a reminder to never get shot during a mission.

Nast followed his lead and slowly made his way across the room. He waited till both men were distracted in their tasks before he made his move. Those who were not aware of the sergeants intentions and were taken completely off guard when he discharged a round point blank into the rebels face, the smoking barrel shifting without hesitation towards Litis. Both he and Abalar had jumped to their feet in a bewildered surprise. The private stepped forwards to voice her views on her superiors sudden homicide when Nast wrapped a bony hand around her mouth, silencing any protest. Then began muttering reassurances to her whilst Jager finished up.

"Beir, bu-" The look of confusion on the mans face quickly changed to one of deep betrayal.

"On behalf of the empire, I'd like to thank you for your services but sadly they are no longer required." It was the official tone in his voice that captured the moment, though he was sure the correct protocol for terminating a contract was a single shot to the back of the head. Litis straightened his back, and lifted his head high.

"Go ahead then, if you are ga-" Jager was too tired to listen to anything further. The pistol letting out two quiet 'clicks' as he discharged as many rounds into the mans sternum. Abalar let out a muffled cry of disgust and horror as she watched the man collapse back onto the mattress, then again as Jager limped up and finished him off with a shot to the temple. With it over Nast released the private who immediately stormed over to Jager and shoved him. If he'd had time to explain the plan beforehand to the girl, he would have, but he didnt.

"Wha... what did you do!" It was unclear whether she if she was more hurt about the sudden death of the man, or by the fact that she had been left out of the loop. Again, such facts really didn't matter. "He helped us, and you..." It was defiantly the sudden shock that frustrated her the most, the feeling of betrayal would come later.

"He outlived his use... I shot him. That's what I did." His bluntness did little to calm her down. The expression on her face changed by the second; disgust, horror, shock, betrayal, confusion. It was all there, then as it all seemed to come to a head she stormed out of the small room they had taken up residence in. A crisp breeze followed her as she pushed the metal door to one side and continued into the hollow shed. 

"She took that well" Nast remarked. Jager smirked as he lent down and picked the still smoldering cigarette that had fallen from the dead rebels hands, shielding the flame as he took a few quick puff's to reignite it.

"She'll be fine..." he mumbled, "Still green"

Nast nodded knowingly, "Nice shot though" The two chuckled half-heatedly. There was something wrong with two men having a casual chuckle after the impromptu and outright murder of two people. A silence fell over the small room as Jager continued to periodically take a drag on the cigarette.

He was going to have to explain what had just happened to Abalar, she wasnt going to like it, but it what had to be done. Otherwise she might get the crazy idea that everyone in the corps was a cold blooded, trigger happy psychopath... which most weren't. Taking a final drag on the cigarette, he threw it to the ground and moved towards the door. Briefly motioning for Nast to stay put.

The crisp breeze that swept through the room was more prevalent outside, the shed howling as it drifted through it. She had obviously taken a walk somewhere, the indentations in the gravel indicated as much. Gradually he began hobbling in pursuit of them, the path leading towards the shed's main doors. He expected to hear sobbing or at least a stern 'go away' as the crunch of the gravel gave away his approach...but instead got nothing. Surely she couldn't have gone much further then the door's, the risk of being spotted was far to high and obvious.

"Stone, come back. Its cool." There was no response.

"Private, get your ass back in here before someone spo-" He was unprepared for what greeted him at the entrance. The gravel was spattered with a crimson stain that arced inside. His paced quickened, though the limp slowed him as he moved into a position hard up against the door. Taking a deep breath and taking a tight grip of his pistol he peaked out.

Dead.

He kept his peak brief. From the looks of it, small caliber at close range. He cursed at himself, why did he let her past him. Then again her death was most likely inevitable and also served a twisted purpose, he now knew that Jegora was nearby. There were no gunshots, no calls to move in, just a single shot from a silenced weapon. Defiantly Jegora.

This was finally it. He was finally going to get a shot at the man, but the timing was terrible. He was wounded, barely running at half strength and the man already had the element of surprise. Cautiously he began to stalk back to the room, his pistol held out at the ready, his step light as to not give away his position if he hadn't already. He had just taken his first step back onto the concreted platform in front of the door when he felt an incredible force connect with his right shoulder. He had been hit, the force and precision of the shot causing him to drop his pistol and collapse to the ground.

Like ghosts two figures emerged from their positions near an old train car. Their stance was low and one watched the back as they advanced slowly towards the door. Jager's vision had begun to blur as he slowly succumb to his wounds. Any attempt to reach for his pistol was thwarted by his sudden and almost complete lack of strength. Reaching the concrete platform the two wasted no time, Kip quickly kicking the pistol well out of Jager's reach before pushing him onto his back. Jegora mumbled something as he continued his approach to the small room.

It wasn't fair. He was supposed to best Jegora... he was supposed to be the hero... he was to be the one to gain bragging rights over this little adventure. Not Jegora...

Yet that is the way it turned out. Instead of him standing over his assistant squad leader in triumph, he lay mostly incapacitated and stewing in his own self-pity. His vision continued to dim as Jegora pushed Nast out of the door, stopping the man within Jager's line of sight and dropping him to his knees. He could see the smugness in Jegora's  face as he lined the shot up and squeezed. Nast slumped forwards without a word.

That was it... game over, thanks for playing.

The imposing tower of a man strode over and knelt in front of the wounded Sergeant. His features were darkened by the lack of natural lighting but Jager could still see the satisfied smile on his face.

"Sloppy, Luth. Real Sloppy."

The quip. Next came the shot. Jager prepared himself for the sudden numbness that a simulated death brought. No doubt he was going to taste breakfast when he was unplugged. But the shot never came.

The drone from a shuttle's engines buzzed over head, sending reverberations through the entire structure and shafts of light from a search beam that cut through the cracks and holes in the decaying sheds structure. Jegora shot a look over to Kip, to which the man gave a nod. By now Jager could barely see the outlines of the men as the made a quick getaway out the main door, disappearing into the darkness... leaving Jager to his inevitable death either at the hands of the government force's who where no doubt on the verge of storming the yard, or by a culmination of blood loss and loss of all hope. Strangely enough he was not angry at Jeg for his plight.. Nor kip... Nor Abalar. He was more angry with himself for failing so hard. Not only did he fail his primary objective, but he even failed to finally get revenge on Jegora...

It had gone just as he predicted. The simulation had just been one long, pointless and painful exercise in failing.