The First Age

Everyone knew about the shit going down in the middle east. Unless a guy was stuck in the jungle and never heard of things called satellites. Up until yesterday, there was plenty of time to sit around and scroll the news headlines - between episodes of Rump and Stump of course. Not that the Legion allowed for guys to sit around on their ass and watch cartoons, but there were things called breaks once in a while - and what else are you going to do in Africa? Sight-seeing? Take a tour? Go fishing? Hah! Actually, fishing wasn't a bad idea. There had to be some hella monstrous fish around. Maybe take a vessel out to sea for a day? Drop a pole in the deep waters? That's it. I'm doing that. ... Someday.

He had been listening to Miki. But it was some unconscious shields that threw themselves up between truly absorbing what the other Legionnaire was actually saying and Jay's fully absorbing what it meant. An entire Batallion, gone, in a night, fighting a war that wasn't theirs.

"Wonder how much money the CEO pulled out of the Custody's ass for that one."
He understood the Legion was a private enterprise, but Danjou wasn't in the business of bailing out the CCD out of the kindness of his heart. They paid up - and a deep anchor in Jay's heart wondered how much the lives of an entire Batallion were worth. He frowned at his own question and watched, jealous, of the way the kitten was oblivious to all the morbid talk.

"Wait a second."
Jay interrupted his own thoughts and looked up at Miki. He'd pulled over a chair and sat with enough weight to look like he'd been in need of a rest. Fuck, but Jay wished he was the one run ragged and Miki laying around drugged and sleeping. He felt like a complete useless imbecile, laying there with wounded brothers waiting on him hand and foot. "This happened last night and yesterday? The shit in Jeddah?"
Jay's eyes darted back and forth as he calculated the time difference. "That would have been happening at the same time as all this,"
he waved his hand around the room indicating Freetown as a whole. "And the CEO was in Jeddah, right? I thought he was in command of all major operations for the Legion."
He snorted, dry. "Two guesses which of the theaters the media is going to be covering. One hint: it won't be Freetown."


Maybe Jay was still too new to understand the chain of command. Damn french - he took french in tenth grade - for the girls of course - but the only things he actually learned from those days were not too applicable to the current situation. He doubted Miki wanted to hear how beautiful his eyes were or how his dress would look better on Jay's floor.

So maybe Jay just couldn't wrap his head around it, but the question was still there. "So if he was in command at Jeddah. Either he was watching over two completely different theaters at once,
which meant the guy was far more impressive than Jay realized, or someone else had final say while he was busy."


The kitten pawed up, claws and all, to sniff Jay's chin. By the end of the day his chest was going to be a tangle of thin red lines.

Maybe Jay had no clue how the Legion operated at all. But he doubted it.

If Jacques Danjou was here in an hour, Jay was going to need to figure out how to stand up on his own by then. Like hell if he was going to be laying around on his back when the CEO strolled by.

He moved the kitten to his lap and tried to sit up. "Probably too much to hope for crutches, eh Jagger?"
Miki - mik; aka, Jagger - with his big mouth, lanky height and scraggly hair shrugged.

Reed took turns between studying the view out the window and the one across from her. By far, the latter was more interesting.

He'd said the embassy no longer belonged to Morocco. Reed might have dismissed the comment but for the somber tone that delivered it.

Wallet charged from the plane, she took the time driving to study a map of the city. She also needed to catch up on her diplomatic factions, positions of power, people of influence, and any other detail she could imagine needing any time soon.

The embassy area was her primary objective. She was taking a trip along a bird's eye view when movement caught her eye. He rubbed tired eyes and looked to her.

"I still want my vest back, you know."


Reed glanced casually at the pocket where he'd hid the Wallet.

"I am still willing to give it to you."
She quirked half a grin. One of the other men in the car pivoted to look between them. Reed winked his way.

Jared stood at his post. It wasn't a hard or exciting job. He just had to make sure nothing got out of hand as the refugees entered the embassy district. To be honest, Jared was getting a little bored, albeit still irritated at the situation that these people were in.

A messenger approached the officer that had told Jared to stand there, and then signaled for Jared to come over. Jared knew that he had probably just been assigned to messenger duty. He was the FNG here after all, so more than likely he'd get more of these kind of easy assignments until things heated up.

"Go to the infirmary and pick up a cane that you'll deliver to a 1e named Jay Carpenter. He should be in the infirmary section of the embassy. Can't walk now - got a kitten with him - you can't miss him."


"Yes, sir,
Jared responded.

He slung his FAMAS over his shoulder after turning the safety on and ran towards the building. It was cool in the building as compared to the heat outside, and Jared was glad for the change of temperature. Jared headed to the infirmary. There was a young nurse there helping as much as she could. It was quite a busy area and Jared waited patiently for his turn.

"How can I help you, sir,"
she asked Jared with a smile. She was an attractive woman and her smile accentuated her pretty features.

"Hi, I was sent to pick up a cane for Legionnaire 1e Classe Jay Carpenter."


The woman nodded knowingly and pulled the cane and envelope out from under the counter and handed it to him, "There is a message for him too. It explains how much he should do for his therapy. We don't want him to overtax himself now."


"Thanks,"
Jared said giving her a wink and a bright smile.

The woman started to blush and smile, and it elicited another grin and a soft chuckle from Jared, "Have a good day."


Jared walked back towards the rooms, wondering which one Carpenter was in. He knew the Jay had a kitten, but would rather forego the awkward "look in every room until you find the one that has a kitten in it" routine.

Jared was saved that routine by a meow coming out of the room near him. He looked into the room and saw a couple of men lying on makeshift beds (if you could call the drapes beneath them beds) having a conversation. One held the small kitten that was meowing, and Jared knocked lightly on the door drawing the attention of both men.

"I have a gift and message for Legionnaire 1e Classe Jay Carpenter,"
Jared walked towards the man with the cat and knelt down. "I was told he was the one with a kitten, so I'm assuming that's you. I'm Legionnaire 1e Classe Jared Vanders. Nice to meet you."
Jared said handing the items to Jay and offering his hand for shaking.
Edited by Jared Vanders, Jun 30 2014, 12:03 PM.

The small motorcade eventually made it's way to the ferry terminal, where some of the security detail dismounted, keeping the crowd at bay until they were allowed through the perimeter General Wallace-Johnson's soldiers had taken up to control the flow of people into the city. Many were searched, and some were segregated or arrested, locked away in Sea-Cans pressed into service as temporary prison cells, or in some cases tents fenced off with barbed wire.

Jacques watched through the mirrored, armoured window of his SUV, paying close attention to the way the Sierra Leonean soldiers dealt with the refugees seeking their protection. Those of Mende birth seemed treated relatively well; many were forced to pay 'fees' to gain access to the ferries into the city. Such fees were levied against Jacques and his entourage, but the Sierra Leonean military officer who suggested it quickly backpedaled the idea with some persuasion from Jacques, who dismounted from the vehicle long enough to speak with the man.

As they rolled onto the ferry, a group of Sierra Leonean soldiers fired on a group of men lined up facing a sea-can, executing the lot of them while women and children, likely families of the men executed, watched and wept. Their belongings had been 'confiscated', and whatever the soldiers didn't want for themselves had been tossed into the river. Food and money was taken from them, 'to support military operations.' And they were left stranded and alone, unable to cross into the city.

Jacques' expression was devoid of emotion. Cold. The situation in Sierra Leone was not getting any better with the military's intervention. They stood at the beginning of a very dark path, one that had been witnessed in Africa far too many times in the past. One that he was intent not to see followed again.

Jacques found some hidden determination with what he had seen at the ferry terminal. Their ride across the river to the Freetown ports was spent again buried in work. His Wallet sprang to life once more, but this time the displays were kept opaque, whatever they showed hidden from Reed's angle of view. The way his eyes moved, he was watching video feeds and reading written reports. Occasionally he typed and forwarded emails, his fingers moving at a near blur of practiced familiarity.

Their arrival in Freetown was with much less difficulty. More soldiers worked there to see that the refugees unloaded and moved away quickly. There were promises of camps being set up in parks or warehouses or the football stadium, but none had much by way of actual supplies yet. No tents, no food or water. Just areas sectioned off for people to wait for help to begin arriving.

Even on that side of the river, the refugees were often forced to pay 'processing fees' as their names were taken in disorganized, paper-written records. But it was being enforced by the army, the army loyal to the government, the one tasked to keep them safe, so in most cases the refugees paid it without complaint. The bodies of Temne rebels hanging from make-shift gallows near the ferry terminal likely helped motivate the refugees.

Freetown had been hit hard and seemingly at random. Some streets they passed down seemed untouched; stores that had escaped looting, hotels free of fire damage. And the next street, cars were burned out wrecks, shop fronts shattered and empty. Blood still visibly stained the streets in some areas, and teams of volunteers worked to collect the dead.

By the time they reached the Legion HQ, any exhaustion Jacques had shown when Reed had first joined him in the vehicle had passed. They were waved through the crowd of Moroccans seeking the services of their embassy to escape the country, and the motorcade rode into the open grounds of the embassy proper.

He climbed out rather then waiting for one of his men to open the door for him, and after returning the salutes of a few of his men, turned to offer Reed a hand out of the vehicle. He had a reputation to maintain as a businessman and white-collared fellow, not as a soldier.

"I assume you will be staying with us, Mademoiselle Reed."
It was less a question then an expectation, but he was equally expecting that she would expect to come and go as she saw fit. "Lieutenant? See to it that she is given an ID and pass."


One of his officers who had met them at the motorcade nodded in understanding and turned to Reed, intending to lead her off for processing, while Jacques strolled into the main building, where he was met by Capitaine Antić. They shook hands, "Sir. I wish I could have afforded you a warmer welcome. I can brief you on the situation here after you have settled in."


Jacques nodded his approval; he had already read every report that could be found of the situation, including those of freelance reporters and the government's official statements on the matter. General Wallace-Johnson had made a public statement that morning, broadcast life, the wording of which had made it seem very clear that the man assumed he, as the current head of the military (a surprising self promotion) was in charge. Temporarily, of course.

"I look forward to it, Capitaine. Lead the way."
The Capitaine nodded and Jacques soon lost two hours in an office adjacent the make-shift command center. Supply and staffing issues were addressed, as were rules of engagement. There were a half dozen besieged teams scattered around the country, dug into very expensive foreign-owned facilities where refugees had been gathered. It was just a matter of time before the most isolated ones were attacked.

Other issues were also addressed; the current political atmosphere of Sierra Leone, the elected government was scattered and in hiding, or plain dead. And General Wallace-Johnson and his command were a likely source of trouble in the near future.

Next came a discussion with the former President's wife and Ambassador Stankic. Mademoiselle Knezevic and her children were still under the protection of the Legion, at least until she had recovered from her injuries, although her children were going to be sent to Morocco for the time being. She had an inside view of the political situation; contacts and familiarity with many in the elected government, who were now returned to their offices in an effort to bring some sense of normality and leadership to the fractured country.

Jacques' worries were confirmed with what she had to tell him. Many of those government officials had voiced concerns to her after being approached by officers loyal to the General. The man was gearing to take over the country, Jacques was certain of it. Ambassador Stankic confirmed that Morocco had little interest in being directly involved in Sierra Leone's troubles, at least until a meeting of the African Union could be established. They would be gathering in Cairo in three weeks to discuss DV and would entertain the Sierra Leone situation at the same time.

With those conversations complete, Jacques eventually showed up in the ward of the embassy dedicated to the wounded. Word of his presence had spread like wildfire through the embassy and the mansions that had been secured for the Moroccan refugees. He spent a few minutes in each room, discussing with the exhausted medics and embassy doctor, the tasked orderlies, and the wounded. Who were simply the wounded still capable of walking.

He eventually stepped into the room given to Legionnaire 'Hollywood', as was lovingly scrawled across the cover page of the clipboard holding the injured Legionnaire's medical files. He had heard of this one. Well, he had heard of them all, but this one especially. He opened the door after knocking once, and was met with Legionnaires Vanders and Carpenter, and a handful of other bedridden Legionnaires. And a kitten.

"Gentlemen."
He still wore the uniform he had dawned for the mission in DV, but had relieved himself of the bodyarmour and gear, save for the pistol still strapped to his thigh. That would likely change after he had had a chance for some time to himself. Despite how exhausted he surely was, he seemed alert, and stood tall. He still smelled of the fires the runway, and of gun smoke.

Jagger said something about seeing what he could do about the crutches, but Jay wasn't going to hold his breath. He didn't doubt Jagger's determination, but it wasn't like there was a corner pharmacy down the road. Still. He really didn't intend on sitting around on his ass when the CEO strolled by. If he had two legs to stand on, he'd crawl to his feet. If he didn't, he'd hold himself up on the stumps.

The kitten turned in a circle and decided the soft spot under Jay's chin made for a cushy bed. It would. Throats were usually like that. Or he'd imagine they would be to a kitten not much bigger than his adam's apple. He held his breath for claws, and gently pushed it down a few inches. Thankfully, the little guy was already asleep. That sounded great. His head was full of fog.

His lids slid low. Just for a minute. The kitten purred a very tiny, but very powerful little engine on his bare chest. He'd rest his eyes for just a minute..

...two-hours later he was stirred awake by the trampling of boots. The kitten hadn't moved. For that matter, Jay hadn't either. Not until he realized the guys were carrying in another wounded man for him to share the floor with. The guy was awake.

Within the heartbeat that spaced being comtose and fully aware, Jay's senses returned full force and he jerked awake. Boots, voices, commotion.

He sat up, cradling the kitten at the last second so it didn't slide down his chest. His heart was pounding. His muscles tensed to strike at .. well. nothing he quickly realized.

The two Legionnaires carrying in the wounded stopped to look at him. One asked if he was alright, and Jay waved him on. The man understood. Being roused from sleep under strange circumstances shifted men like them to the edge of instinct.

The kitten wiggled out of his hand, and he gently placed the little guy on the floor next to him. Since he was wide awake, might as well see what the 411 was on Danjou's arrival.

The two wounded were chatting it up when a knock came at the door. Having just been talking about the CEO, both men shared a look and braced themselves to be greeted by their executive officer in command. Turned out. It was only Jared. At first glance, the Legionnaire was 1e class, like Jay, but he'd seen the guy around before, although they'd never met. He held himself typical of the Legion, but importantly, was bright-eyed and straight-backed. He was one of the fresh bloods called in to Freetown after yesterday's battle. Even more importantly, he had a cane.

A pleasant enough fellow, he knelt down by Jay who caught him eyeing his kitten. Jay smirked, "Glad to meet you, Vanders. Carpenter."
He offered a hand, noting another American accent. "Hollywood."
He added his real name on at the end.

"This little guy doesn't have a name yet,"
the kitten was chewing on a wad of Jay's shirt still in its box.

Since the kitten was entertained elsewhere, Jay accepted the cane with a glint and a wink. "Usually prefer flowers or a nice balloon set, Vanders. A cane's a bit unusual, but I'll take it."


About then someone pounded on the door and peeked inside. "CEO's coming down the hall."
A fellow Legionnaire warned them to get read. Moments later, Jay heard the guy pound on the room next door.

"Shit!"
Jay said and tried to scramble. He was in nothing but his shorts since the pants had been cut away to get to his leg and his shirt was kitten bedding. The CEO was going to see him in not but boxers and dogtags. But at least he had a pimpin' cane.

He managed to stand - aka, lean - on his good leg and the cane by the time Jacques' knock announced his arrival. The kitten was still chewing on the shirt in the box at his feet.

The CEO himself was younger than he'd imagined, despite the pictures and movies of the guy. There was something distant about his presence, though. Like he were fully immersed in both the present and the ancient past at the same time. Jay blinked to clear his gaze. That had to be the drugs talking.

The cane creaked in the moment it took for Jay to switch hands. At least he was on his feet when he saluted, steely eyed and determined. For that he breathed a sigh of relief. God bless Vanders.

"Sir! Hellcat Carpenter, Sir!"
He retured the greeting and identified himself, but said little else in the meantime.

Jacques' appearance wasn't lost on him. The man was armed and wearing a field uniform that wafted the telltale scent of smoke. Not only had he been in Dominance V, but he'd also been caught in the battle itself?

Jay wasn't about to ask. He just held his superior's gaze like he were ready to be ordered into the field at the moment's notice. Despite the .. lack of clothes and.. bum leg...

...and the kitten that had suddenly decided to crawl up his other shin. All twenty claws stabbed its way toward his knee, but damn if Jay didn't so much as cringe. He did try to subtly shake it off, though. To no avail.

Carpenter, no Hollywood, accepted the cane with a joke, and Jared admired the man. Hollywood was in a shitty situation. He couldn't walk and was likely still extremely tired, but still kept going. It wasn't easy to do, but, hey, he lessened the pressure.

"I prefer to make my gifts a little more memorable. Think about it, you probably don't remember all of the people who gave you flowers and balloons, but when you're an 80 year old man, you'll remember the one who gave you your first cane. I guarantee it,"
Jared replied, a joking smile on his face.

As Jared finished the line, another Legionanaire entered the room and stated matter of factly, "CEO's coming down the hall."


A knock followed the announcement from the next room over. Hollywood scrambled, trying to get up, evidently not wanting to be laying down when Jacques arrived. Jared, sensing his urgency, helped the man stand.

Hollywood was able to stand with his weight held on his good leg and cane and both men saluted as the knock came to the door. The familiar motion becoming synchronized between the two men. Old habits never die.

Jared was struck, however, by the automatic reaction. He knew that Jacques was a businessman and technically not a military leader. Technically a salute wasn't necessary. Jacques reputation, however, preceded him. Any of his fellow Legionnaires that had come into contact with Jacques had spoken highly of him and the fact that he was not only here in Sierra Leone, but had also been present for Operation Jeddah showed that he wasn't a disinterested businessman looking just to make money; he truly cared about those who worked for him. A salute wasn't necessary, but to Jared, this salute was truly earned and deserved.

Hollywood greeted Jacques and Jared followed suit, "Sir, Leigonnaire Vanders, Sir!"


It was the first time Jared laid eyes on the CEO of the Légion Première. He looked tired, and Jared assumed he had spent most of his time the last couple of days dealing with the aftermath of Jeddah and the Temne attacks. Jared's respect for him rose again. Jacques could have easily found a place to rest instead of checking in on his soldiers.

Jared didn't move, but kept an eye out to make sure that Hollywod was standing alright. His kitten had moved and was attacking his shin, but Hollywood seemed to be ignoring it well despite his bad leg. Keeping his eyes towards Jacques, Jared stood at attention waiting for any orders the CEO might give him.


Edited by Jared Vanders, Jul 2 2014, 07:38 PM.

Jacques quirked an eyebrow at the view that greeted him. A few of the Legionnaires had sat up; the ones that were conscious at least. Two were still unconscious, the IV's rigged to them likely coming with a nice dose of rapidly depleting anesthetics to keep them as comfortable as possible.

But front and center-most of the room were two of his American Legionnaires. One, clearly, was Hollywood. He'd read the After Action Report (AAR) on their rescue of Natalie Grey on his flight from DV to Sierra Leone. The other was one of the men of 4th Platoon; the ones which had arrived just a few hours before Jacques had himself. He'd brushed up on their files as well, as they were likely to be his primary work force for the next few days.

He studied the two men for a long moment, letting Jay stew in the discomfort of a kitten clawing it's way up his bare thigh, then slowly saluted back. The grim, serious look slowly melted into an amused grin; his men were tired, but enthusiastic. They had weathered the storm well so far, even after the blow of Operation Jeddah.

He dropped his arm and squatted down in front of Jay, "Permission to touch you, lad."
Then carefully plucked the kitten from the man's leg, cradling the tiny animal in his hands as he stood up again and lifting it to his face to get a better look at it. "She'll make a fine addition, I think. Need something to keep the pests down. I'll have the clerks try to find a vet."


He carefully returned the kitten to Jay's care, "Now please, Hollywood. Sit. I need you in fighting shape as soon as possible. With 4th Platoon on the ground, we have some time for you men to recover. Some of you will be shipped home, to Casablanca, as soon as can be arranged. The sooner you are seen by proper doctors, the sooner you can return to the fight."
Even after spending most of his life in Africa, there was a strong hit of his French origin in his accent.

His tone and posture grew somber as he stewed over his words; he had already had the same conversation in the other rooms leading to this one, but between exhaustion and the subject, his walls were crumbling. There was a hint of tears in his eyes when he began speaking, but he did not flinch from them, did not try to hide from them.

"As you have heard by now, we lost many of our brothers in Saudi Arabia. In Dominance V. I was not able to bring their bodies home."
His emotions were worn raw from the past day. He had lived the horrors of Operation Jeddah first hand, and had watched closely those that the Legionnaires in Sierra Leone had born witness, but he still stood tall, his hands clasped tightly in the small of his back. "Know that their sacrifice saved the lives of hundreds of innocents, and of hundreds of Custody soldiers. Soldiers which will bring our vengeance upon those that even now commit unspeakable atrocities against our fallen brothers. They fought well, and in the coming days the world will see their sacrifice first hand."


His tone hardened then, and he addressed the other horror that came of Operation Jeddah. "The face of war has been changed forever. And, I fear, not for the better. There are men in the world who can work powerful magics. They can tear buildings down with a wave of their hand. I know not how they do it. But I know that they can be killed, and they do tire. They may be wizards or warlocks or whatever you may wish to call them. But they are men still, and are just as allergic to a bullet as the next."


"Fear? What has a man to do with fear? Chance rules our lives, and the future is all unknown. Best live as we may, from day to day. Even now, we are planning how best to deal with such men. Luckily, you, my brothers, have always excelled at unconventional warfare, and so you shall quickly learn the new doctrines. A new priority target marker is being programmed for your Landwarriors. One day, you may find one of these magicians on the field working against you, and we shall be ready."
The quote was of Sophocles, a Greek philosopher. Jacques seemed determined; unshaken by the fact that all of reality had been shattered for him only a few hours ago. He had seen the new reality, and rather then shy away from it, he faced it with teeth bared and spear at the ready.

"We shall work to find these men. To bring them into our fold. Some will be of a like mind to us. They are a force multiplier, and shall open a whole new realm of tactics for us to continue to prove our superiority to the murderers-for-hire that claim to be our rivals."
Other mercenary companies; Africa was rife with them.

"Are there any questions?"

Jared relaxed after Jacques returned the salute, waiting for any orders that he might be given. Jacques first moved to Hollywood and removed the kitten that had attached itself to his leg. Surprisingly, Jacques accepted the kitten as one of his own and promised Hollywood to see if he could find a vet to take care of it.

Instructing Hollywood to sit, Jacques continued with a briefing. He was clearly saddened by the losses in Jeddah and once again, Jared found himself admiring the man. He made no attempt to hide the tears forming in his eyes. It showed the care he had for his troops and he had lost a lot of them.

As he continued with the briefing, Jared was surprised to hear about the use of magic in battle. He had heard rumors and as a Red Mage, he had assumed the rumors were true, but believing something to be true and hearing that it is are two different things.

Jared listened intently to the conversation. The entire face of war had just changed. Everyone would need to learn new combat tactics. Of course, some of these would have to be recruited to the cause of the Legion. Jacques was unaware that there was already a Mage in his midst.

Jacques brought up his plan to bring some into the Legion itself. Jared thought about it and made up his mind. He had to tell Jacques of his abilities. It was important that Jacques knew of every tool at his disposal. He wasn't sure if the CEO would want the whole Legion to know at this point, so he decided to try to tell him privately.

"Are there any questions?"


Jared waited until the others had asked some questions before taking a step towards Jacques, raising his hand to get his attention and keeping his voice low.

"I know your time is very valuable, sir, but if you have a moment, I would like to speak with you privately. I think that what I have to say is important and and at the very least you should know."



Edited by Jared Vanders, Jul 5 2014, 10:10 PM.

When there was a storm to weather, Jay endured. Why? No other option. If men buckled every time hail and winds destroyed their crops, they would have starved a long time ago. It was a farmboy thing. Though Jay wouldn't realize that.

So while the ache in his chest mourned the loss of Legion brothers and the visions in his head dealt with the atrocities witnessed yesterday, there was no other option but put his head down and keep on trucking along. Although, of all the aches and pains, he could deal without kitten claws stabbing their way up his leg.

"Yes, sir."
He replied, teeth clenched when Jacques sought permission to .. remove the fuzzy growth mauling his shin. Jay even breathed a sigh of relief when it was removed. He was sure Shredder had sliced up his shin, now surely gushing with blood, but he managed to not look down and check. The sight of his employer cuddling up with Jay's kitten stabbed a hurt, a minor hurt, sure, but twinged a foreign emotion through him. Strange that he'd be jealous over the way the kitten curled around Jacques hand, the way its little tail curled around his fingers and his ears twitched annoyed in midair. He didn't like the feeling any more than he could explain it, but Jay was all the more relieved when the little guy.. ahem, girl... was returned to his care. He nestled it in the crook of one arm so he could hang onto the cane with the other hand. It instantly settled down. That the little guy wasn't going to reject him in favor of a better dad washed him full of relief. It gnawed on his arm, but it didn't hurt, the kitten's mouth was hardly big enough to bite down on his thumb let alone get a good puncture in his arm. It was just so damned cute, and Jay felt the heat of attachment sting his eyes teary.

Jacques report quickly stole the remaining shreds of Jay's attention. He listened to the tale, unfolded by their CEO, but a glaze of distance had to insulate him from absorbing everything it truly meant. Or perhaps that was the morphine. Either way, the heat in his eyes soon dried of its tender emotion, only to be replaced by the sting of anger. As the tale continued, and the emotion overwhelmed their commander and leader, Jay's grip on the cane was white-knuckled and his jaw tense with disgust.

The urge to act rose like a flash flood. But he was stuck there, damned to infirmity by a kid staked through the heart with injustice. What a fucked up situation!

Compromised of integrity. Drugged. Jay's spiral out of reasonable cool gained momentum. His reaction to Jacques' wizarding revelations was delayed. His clear-eyed curiosity and misunderstanding was obvious when the acknowledgement settled, but only for a brief moment. Jay took Jacques at his word. If his superior said aliens had landed, Jay was aimed at the sky. That's how trust worked.

Whatever curve ball was thrown the CEO's way, he already had a plan to deal with it. Pride swelled, and Jay knew Legion Premiere had been the right choice. Though, really, the right choice might have been not fucking up his career with the marines. But back in Guatemala, there was more at stake than following orders or not following orders. No, nevermind, Jay had made the right decision at the time. Even though it landed him discharged. Look where he was today. Look at the kinds of men surrounding him. Jacques was a leader Jay would follow into the eye of the storm and at his word hack his way out the other side.

"No sir, no questions."
Jay immediately responded, but too soon. He did have a question, but he held it until Vanders had his say.

The inquisitive part of him was curious what Jared had to share with the CEO, but Jay wouldn't interfere. Except to speak up with his own delayed question.

Sincerity touched his tone, a tenderness similar to the way he white-knuckled the cane in one hand and gently cradled the kitten in the other.

"Actually, sir, do you know...uhh. How is Miss Grey?"


There was also an eagerness. He couldn't rest until he knew she was okay.

A few of the wounded men in the room had questions for him; mostly regarding the state of affairs in Sierra Leone. They were aware that Freetown had quieted down and was, more or less, secure. But what of the Chinese? Would they send troops to protect their country's assets? What of the Legionnaires trapped at those very facilities and mines in the northern half of the country?

Jacques had little information to provide. At the moment, it seemed the Chinese companies would be pulling pin on Sierra Leone, at least until the dust had settled, although the Legion's legal team were working on expanding the security contracts they held with those Chinese companies. Every penny they could squeeze would be needed to help fund their operations in the country.

As for their people in the north; there had been some minor confrontations. Lieutenant Afolayan's men had gotten into a hairy situation, but had come through intact and with dozens of civilians bottled up in an American-owned rhodium refining plant. Similar stories surrounded the other half-dozen Legion teams; civilians and Red Cross employees were held secured in foreign-owned factories and mines, where dangerously small teams of mercenaries held the perimeter fences and hoped the Temne did not turn their attention their way.

All things considered their causalities thus far had been blessedly few. Satisfied, Jacques was about to take his leave when the two Americans piped up. He grinned; Americans, of course, both had one last thing to ask of him. He nodded to Jared, indicating for the man to walk-and-talk, but first looked to Jared. "Yes, Mademoiselle Grey."


He studied Jay for a moment; the man's tone, facial expression, posture. If Jacques wasn't far off the mark, Jay was quite likely stricken with the Red Cross worker. Jacques had already perused the woman's public records; nothing in-depth, but enough to get a read on the woman. She was lovely, there could be no denying that, but for all her humanitarian works, there seemed some touch of...distance, about her. Young Jay had his work cut out for him.

Work that Jacques could accommodate, at least until the Legionnaire was in fighting shape again. They had lost many friends on the Jeddah rescue operation. He had little doubt that the coming weeks in Sierra Leone would not be any more pleasant; any distractions would be well received by the men. An underdog love story, perhaps?

"She is well. I believe by now she's making use of one of the embassy computers."
He looked at Jay's leg and seemed to ponder a moment, "You were on the team that rescued her. Well, until such time as you are in fighting order, you shall be the Legion's liaison with the Red Cross in Sierra Leone. I somehow doubt that Mademoiselle Grey will be leaving the country any time soon.
" He grinned mischievously; the woman simply did not seem the type willing to make a decision to leave just because it was dangerous.

"Have the medics take a look at you. Once you have a clear bill of health, pay a visit to the young woman and see what she needs of us. I expect the Red Cross' assistance here. Whatever they can spare."
DV would surely draw most of their attention; the sad truth was that they were a political tool as much as any other group, whether they realized it or not.

With that, he nodded to his men and waved for Jared to follow, returning their salute as he took his leave of them. One of the Legion clerks waited in the hallway, a stack of papers waiting for his attention. The clerk would show Jacques to what would pass as his quarters and office for the coming weeks. He had planned to pay a visit to Natalie Grey first, but would save that for once he was better rested.

The woman was probably aware by now that her mother had paid for Natalie's safety. He did not want the girl thinking Jacques had done it just for the money. Giving her some distance and room to work would hopefully allow her to understand that. He hoped she would prove a useful tool in fixing a broken country.

Jacques indicated for the clerk to lead the way, but allowed them some distance so Jared could speak with some semblance of privacy. "What is troubling you, Legionnaire?"