The First Age

He barked something in response that had the cadence of military dogma, though the words fizzled out long before they reached her ears. The edges of her vision darkened like the blackened edges of burnt paper; the light seared, then winked out, yanked by the force of lost control. Everything dimmed, then blurred; she blinked to clear her gaze but the improvement was minimal, and resultant disorientation rolled nausea in her stomach. For a moment she squeezed her eyes shut to dull the feeling. It didn't do much.

Relief that he was able to stand was short-lived. The rise back to her own feet was a nebulous thing, like the boundaries of her body had erased their edges, allowing her spirit to float just a little beyond. It anchored her oddly, making mockery of her balance, and she was grimly aware of the hailing bullets and spit of dirt as her body and mind fell out of sync. Her head felt loose, distant; though it throbbed. A lesser will might have seen her sink back to her knees, the unnatural fatigue was suddenly so crushing, but she forced herself on. Ekene supported her, though she was unsure if he was trying to help or if he clung through fear. His eyes were wide black saucers as they were ushered to cover.

Around her the legionnaires all blurred into one, aside from the one who limped on his comrade. The pop of bullets rattled around in her skull, and she braced herself against a wall. Whatever she'd done to the injured man had washed out what remained of her strength, and she'd only begun to realise how vulnerable it left her now that it was too late to pool a reserve. The weakness resolved her defiant soul to iron, but it rested on crumbling foundations. The Light was gone, and in its absence she was forced to relinquish her safety to her mother's money and four strangers. Not that she doubted the capability of either. Her mind burned with the need to know exactly where they intended to take her, though. Ready to rally a defence.

"Will they hurt me,"
Ekene whispered, "for what I did?"


"I won't let them."
The promise came immediately, with no thought or price. The "them" bled indistinct in her mind; a faceless enemy, though her mind flashed images of the crushed bones in his hand. Her vision hemmed in; she concentrated on staying conscious.

Word from Contee was received and the extraction vehicles were on the move in short order. They'd done what they could to stay close to the extraction team's location, but as the situation in the hospital had worsened they had been trapped by fleeing crowds, unable to change their position and more then once forced to chase folks away from their vehicles that had thought to try and take them by force.

Sitting in those vehicles waiting for the call for extraction had been a harrowing time for the drivers; they hadn't the strength of numbers or support needed to keep themselves or the vehicles secure if any real trouble had come their way, but they could not simply let themselves be chased away, as that would have left the extraction team, their friends, and the woman they had been sent to find, trapped alone in the city.

When the call finally arrived, the drivers both let out grunts of relief. A few moments were spent assessing their situation, then the two SUVs were thrown into gear, the drivers laying heavily on their horns to disperse the stragglers still choking the street ahead of them.

Both vehicles roared down a narrow road towards the hospital before splitting up, the rear vehicle laying heavily on the E-brake to rotate 90 degrees and fly down a different street, moving perpendicular to the road Natalie and Jay were on and under fire.

The two men were in constant communication, counting down to a mutual zero mark.

The group of Temne men thundered after the retreating Legionnaires at first, but when the Legion men returned fire, the eight's bravado faltered. Where their fire had been wild and ineffective, the retreating Legionnaires dropped one of the Temne with a single, well placed round, and two others passed close enough to a second Temne soldier that the man had thrown himself to the earth with a cry.

The group was quick to recover though as the Legionnaires found themselves a piece of cover behind a wall. The seven thundered to their feet to give chase, passing the mouth of a side-street without sparing a glance for that direction.

An SUV's horn blarred loudly, but there was no hint of breaks screeching as one of the Legion vehicles shot out of the alley at just the right moment, sending two of the Temne men crashing over the hood and armored-glass windshield, tossing their bodies ragdoll-like into the air behind the SUV.

The second vehicle emerged a block back, with the Temne men between it and the rescue team and VIP. The Temne shooters scattered from the first SUV, their weapons chattering loudly as rounds glanced off the Escalade's armoured hide, and they were too late to realize that a second had emerged behind them.

The second driver didn't hesitate on the brakes either, and simply barreled over another two Temne men, crushing one's hip and legs and the other vanished entirely under the front bumper as both vehicles then made their way after the Jay and Natalie's crew.

The remaining three Temne shooters were scattered and panicked, which was made more so as Pavlov fired and dropped another, as both he and Contee then walked back into the street to draw beads on the remaining two shooters. With only two left, they threw their weapons to the earth and their arms in the air, and at Contee's signal the two Temne men ran.

Neither driver dismounted or opened their windows; they weren't allowed. They had to stay with their vehicles, for if either driver was hit, it would make the entire extraction take that much longer. But they could communicate over their radios.

"CEO just confirmed it. We got the President's wife and kids. They're heading for the embassy now."

So maybe Jay wasn't going to step out on the track for a triathlon at the moment, but he could lean against a wall and shoot at bad guys. They had the full clearance to take the guys out, and Jay had a hankering to aim for the knees, but those first few shots hit the ground a few feet in front of them. Warning shots that part of him thought was a waste of ammunition, but the Legion liked to give idiots a chance to save their own sorry asses.

It quickly became clear these Temne bitches weren't interested in saving their own asses. Contee gave the order, and Smitty put two down in the blink of an eye. He was a good shot, for a pirate. The look shared between the two team mates communicated exactly that.

Somewhere distant in his conscious his leg throbbed, but ever since the tourniquet, it was an easy ache to ignore. He checked the strap coiled around his thigh - still there - Who knew? Talk about a lucky strap. Maybe the thing was magic? Eh, he'd sprinkle the thing with holy water later.

A random shot struck the wall a few inches to his left not far from Natalie and the butcher kid. Jay flung himself around. "Behind!"
He called defensively. The magnificent Temne seven - technically five, after Smitty's aim knocked two birds off the wire - approached from the north. Any shots from their direction remotely close to their target should strike the other side of the wall. This one came from the south.

Natalie sunk like a wilted flower, and upon realization, Jay's heart rate spiked unease. Was she hit? Hurt? Just keep breathin', he silently urged, and quickly took stock of what to do.

Contee was in communication with alpha and beta evac. Pavlov and Smitty were simultaneously covering their corporal and keeping the Magnificent <del>seven</del> five at bay. No obvious threat stampeded from the south, but there were plenty of hiding spots for a shooter to lurk.

Jay braced himself for the swell of pain to come, and he shoved hard off the wall. He landed on his good knee, the other stretched out at that weird angle, in front of Natalie and the butcher kid. "Stay behind me!"
He barked over one shoulder and hoped she was cognizant enough to understand. Rifle at the ready, Hollywood was a hawk fixated on the field for the slightest of movements. With the wall behind Natalie and the kid and him in front, they should be safe, until one of the two shields failed, at least.

Evac blinked their approach in the corners of his LW's. A roar of engine soon followed. The shadow of one of the Escalades loomed close, but Jay didn't take his sights from the field to confirm. He trusted his team to know when it was time to move.

Smitty came to his side, but Jay cocked his head backwards, "Get them in the vehicles first,"
he grunted. The euphoria of before was beginning to drain. "And Smitty,"
Jay added, tone touched with concern. He didn't know how he felt it, but he sensed it somewhere likely instinctual and sappy. Like from the soul. Or somewhere. "Something's wrong with her."

Edited by Jay Carpenter, May 20 2014, 09:04 AM.

There was precious little she could do. It was the most infuriating kind of discipline to accept the impotence gracefully, but at least in that regard her wavering consciousness helped.

Natalie sunk against the wall. Smaller target, was the logic of her thinking, but the energy just flowed right out of her the moment she consented to hitting the ground, and she doubted she was going to be able to stand again this time. That realisation pinched her brows, but it was too late to reconsider now. Her boots had skidded a little in the dust, but her knees were by her chest; if she needed to scramble to her feet, she would just have to do it - or she was going to die here, in this little patch of Africa. Because of a bumped head and a little bit of tiredness, no less. Although given the obscene amount of money she presumed to have passed through her mother's hands and into Legion Premiere coffers, perhaps it would be a fitting tribute to her Northbrook legacy before she faced oblivion. Money can't buy you everything.

The support at her back helped ease the spin of the world around her; the less she moved, the more the dizziness receded back to the outer edges of her vision. She found herself staring at the back of the injured legionnaire, who'd launched himself out in front of her almost in the same moment she'd begun sliding down the wall. His leg warped at a sickening angle, and she had an abysmal view of the gaping flesh beneath the bloodied rip in his trousers.

The makeshift tourniquet had deadened the fresh flow of blood, but it'd only be so long before the tissue in his thigh would damage beneath the constriction. He needed to see surgery. In a city that lacked a hospital. Accountability burrowed into her usual apathy for such things; he was a soldier injured in the line of duty, and she didn't feel any guilt. Legion Premiere would take care of their own, she didn't doubt that, but somehow she would be ensuring he did not lose that leg.

Beside the legionnaire Ekene stood petrified, his limbs spiked like he was ready to bolt, his eyes glued to the man despite the confusing buzz of bullets. His fear of him eclipsed his fear of the Temne soldiers; he didn't appear to register the shots reverberating this side of the wall, else shock froze out the understanding that he was in danger where he stood. Or perhaps he simply expected the danger from the wrong quarter: the way he stared, it was like he anticipated the legionnaire turning his gun. Natalie had been told to stay still, but she would not be using a child as a meat shield. No matter what he'd done today.

Stars danced cold bursts across her vision as she braced and shifted enough to yank Ekene back, but she didn’t expect the way he collapsed into her. Debris crunched under her shins at his weight, the surprised wince jolting white pain in her head. She didn’t have much in the way of comfort to offer, but she relented to cocooning him in her arms. At least for a moment. He was bony, every muscle chorded tight. The metallic scent of blood, old and new, filled her nose, and she could feel his heart jackhammering in his chest. He didn't relax, not an iota. Trying to ease the dizziness, she rested her chin on his head.

"I can still hear you."
Wryness bit her tone; she appreciated she probably looked like shit, but she was not entirely incapacitated. Probably the legionnaire was right to be concerned, though. She wondered what their contract stipulated.

A legionnaire with a gold grin helped haul her up, still tangled with the child. She'd been so tuned out, she'd barely noticed the arrival of the cars shunting their way through the thinned crowds, and even now her focus was tunneled to immediate action, filtering out details like strewn and ruined bodies. Once back on her feet, she was fairly sure she could walk unaided despite a little wavering, though the legionnaire shadowed her every step until she was in the car anyway. Between that and Ekene's clinging, it was an entirely claustrophobic few paces. "Go help your friend."


Ekene had shuffled to the far edge of the seat already, tucked his legs up tight, injured hand cradled in the space between his belly and thighs. Natalie's limbs sunk into premature relief, but she pulled a slim-line half-sized Wallet from her pocket before she allowed stillness to settle her swimming vision. "Where do you presume to take me?"
That question directed to the driver, though she didn't risk dizziness by trying to peer and look at him. Her eyes ached to close, but even now she refused to submit.

Though still flashing power, the Wallet's screen had smashed into a rippling kaleidoscope. It still responded to touch, if a little sluggishly, and it took seconds to open a line to St. James. When the dial tone returned dead, she abandoned the device on the seat next to her and finally squeezed her eyes shut.

The horrors that had been unleashed on Sierra Leone had been wide-spread and brutally efficient. The military has split in half, with those units that could be assumed to be loyal to the ruling government and the Mende peoples bearing the brunt of the violence. The Sierra Leonean military was not a large one, nor was it expensively equipped. Bases were few and far between, with regiments often split into many smaller 'platoon house' positions around the country, especially near the borders. These were overrun by the Temne; some surrendered and suffered under the machetes of Temne rebels. Others fought tooth and nail, to no avail; taken by surprise, they were often found defenseless and were easy prey.

The brunt of the Sierra Leonean military, however, was based near the capital of Freetown. The Temne had no hope of overrunning so large a position, but they had no real hopes of capturing the entire country in one day. It was a delaying action; the strike on the capital meant to cripple the government and demoralize the people such that it would not turn into a drawn out conflict.

And they failed.

The government-loyal forces at the base near the Lungi International Airport repelled the Temne efforts to secure both the base and airport. It was a resounding victory for the thus-far disorganized government-loyal forces, with Temne rebels scattered or killed in the hundreds. The brunt of the fighting was across the wide open fields and runways of the airport, where the burning wreckage of trucks and Temne-captured military vehicles now sat.

With the loss of contact with the government, the base commander affected a coup of sorts, taking direct command over the Sierra Leonean military, or of what was left of it, and was quick to act.

By late afternoon the first of the government-loyal military forces began arriving in Freetown. They had seized the ferries at the Tagrin Ferry terminal, the hovercraft ferry of the Lungi airport having been destroyed in the fighting, and set foot at both the ferry landings in Freetown within a half hour of each other. Six Rooikat Mk2 infantry fighting vehicles rolled off the large civilian ferries, three to each landing, flanked by scores of Sierra Leonean soldiers still proudly wearing the country's flag, and the Temne aligned forces quickly realized their rampage was over.

A fresh round of fighting exploded throughout the city as the government forces began to rally and push back. Explosions and gunfire rocked the port district, thinning as it moved deeper into the city. Government loyal forces were initially taking prisoners, until they began to realize just how wanton the Temne forces had been in their retribution against the Mende.

Connaught Hospital, near one of the two ferry landings, was a horror story waiting to be told. Captured by Temne tribsemen rather then the rogue military forces, the government loyal soldiers found few survivors.

After that, there were no more prisoners. Temne forces that had surrendered were lined up and executed in an 'eye for an eye' fashion, set upon with machetes and left to bleed and suffer.

Similar horrors were discovered at the Prince of Wales school, an all-boys academy, that was often considered a breeding ground of Mende superiority above the less affluent Temne tribes of the north.

The Legionnaires' movement from the ruined Netland Hospital, south west towards the embassies of Loop Road, took them away from the brunt of the renewed fighting. Temne forces were just beginning to realize the arrival of the Mende forces by the time Natalie was rescued and secured into a Legion SUV.

Few world powers still maintained embassies in Sierra Leone; the US had never bothered to established one, working instead through the Sierra Leonean embassy in the United States, or regional hub embassies in Africa. China, however, had maintained theirs, and it's security force had thus far been what had seen the Loop Road area safe. Far better equipped then even the Legionnaires, their sharp shooters had held the rebel forces at bay. Naturally, their goals were not altruistic; they did not seek the safety of their neighboring embassies, but so long as those buildings still stood, it meant the Chinese were that much safer.

On a good day, the drive from the hospital to the embassy would have been ten minutes, twenty on a bad day. This was a terrible day, however, and often streets were found to be blocked by crashed or abandoned vehicles or scenes of ongoing violence; people dragged from their homes by Temne rebels, or looters running unchecked. Fires too saw that the most convenient routes from the hospital to the Moroccan embassy were unavailable, and in dishearteningly few scenes were there any emergency personnel trying to combat the blaze. Many buildings would be gone come morning.

Picard was still driving the lead SUV, with Jay and Smitty in the back, to give the pair enough room to better tend to Jay's injury. Contee had taken shotgun in the lead SUV, working in tandem with Picard to navigate them safely back to the embassy.

That left Natalie in the second SUV, Pavlov seated shotgun and watching her and the boy through the rearview mirror as he began shoving loose rounds from a cardboard box into one of his empty magazines; bombing up, as they say in the business. Legionnaire 2e Classe Kofi Ihejirka, or 'Friday' (a loose translation of his first name) was driving.

"We are setting up our headquarters at the Moroccan Embassy, Miss Grey. God willing, the CEO will be joining us there tomorrow with the entire 2nd Battalion."
Friday glanced at her through the rear-view mirror and offered a white-toothed grin, showing off two gold-capped canines in the process. "Won't be a safer place in this whole forsaken country then."


A brick crashed against the driver's side window, but failed to break the armoured glass, and he pressed his fist to the glass as they rolled past, flipping the bird at a group of teenagers who, in their youthful exuberance, were getting on board with the general air of violence in the city.

A moment of attention, a series of clicks, and Smitty had the seat laid back. Jay managed to climb in the SUV, but every second Smitty was in danger because he was helping his broken ass made Jay ache with regret.

"Alright cripple, let's see what the damage is."
A snap of latex gloves and Smitty poked at the back of his leg. But not before tossing the confiscated machete on the seat next to Jay's face. Thanks, man. He glared at it.

The beat of rocks and the occasional gunfire peppered the vehicle. But the only thing Jay hated was that he wasn't able to see out the windows. That and the fact that he was compressed into a weird-ass prone position so Smitty could jab at the back of his knee.

"Just don't get any ideas while you're back there."
He muttered and fixed Smitty a look of mock warning in response. "Save the probe for later, Smit."
After winking, his gaze fell to the open med-kit that the Legionnaire was rummaging through. Jay's tone deepened. "No morphine in there I take it?"


Smitty ignored him. Despite twisting, Jay couldn't see the damage for himself, but by the look on his brother's face, he guessed Smitty wished he had morphine to give. Unfortunately they both knew only a corpsman could deliver the good stuff.

Jay let his forehead fall to the car floor. It smashed the front lip of his beret, so he pushed it back from his head as he felt the pant leg being cut away. Might as well keep some part of the uniform in good shape. Besides, the beret was his favorite part.

The adrenaline rush of earlier's firefight was leaking fast from his veins. As was the euphoria that he had to attribute to the tourniquet and the pretty lady touching his shoulder. There was no need to bring Natalie up no matter how much he thought of her. Every man with a pulse knew exactly how gorgeous she was. But none of them would say it while on the job. And the way she protected that kid. Almost like the butcher boy was her own flesh and blood.

Jay grabbed the machete to examine it, and as his fist closed around the handle, he almost forgave the kid for stabbing him in the fucking knee.

Smitty spoke up, like he knew exactly what Jay was thinking. "The kid thought he was protecting her. From us. Ironic, but noble in a way."
The sounds of an aerosol can being shaken were immediately followed by the most soothing spray of finest mist to ever touch a man's skin. "There,"
Smitty said, "I'm no fucking doctor, Hollywood, but your hamstring is a baseball in your leg now. At least the red smile's all sealed up."


Jay swallowed. The tourniquet was popped and the reperfusion of blood into his calf tingled heat of shooting stars. He gasped, and his fist tightened on the machete like he were hanging on to his pride instead.

The remainder of the drive was a blur. The liquid bandage sealed up the wound, but it'd need cleaned and attended by a corpsman at the Embassy. Assuming one was going to be there. The corporal's request for one was acknowledged by the battalion, but Legionnaires were all over Freetown and the surrounding area. Who knew what kind of heat the other guys had seen.

Jay was a little light headed by the time they arrived at the Embassy. That or the car booked it down the highway. And as there were no fucking highways in Sierra Leone to speak of, Jay had to assume staying still for so long was finally getting to him. He loathed surrendering to the mercy of fate.

"Made it, boys."
Picard spoke as he shifted into park and turned off the engines. From where he lay, Jay could see the roofline of a two-story building looming near. Until the second Escalade pulled up and blocked the view.

The idea that Natalie was going to be taken inside was the best motivation he had to get out of the car himself. That and in this heat, the SUV would soon become an oven without air conditioning. Then there was that pesky little thing about abandoning his brothers while they all forged on without him. That might have had something to do with it.

He used the handle bars on the car's roof to monkey-bar his way out. Rifle dangling from his neck, Smitty met him at the side of the door as Jay slid the beret back in place. Smitty shook his head mockingly, "Come on. We'll get you crutches later."


Jay smirked and popped his sunglasses on his face.

The Morraccan flag waved in the air atop the building. There was a wall surrounding the building like a good, reliable compound it was. The state seal and all sorts of official signage were plastered every where else, but what felt the greatest was seeing other Legionnaires posted about. What was also the greatest thing was also the worst. The first time one such brother, a 1ere classe standing sentry shot the wounded guy hobbling on his brother's shoulder a sympathetic look, Jay's guts wanted to curl up and die inside.

Before ducking indoors, he stopped and turned. Heart caught in his chest. "Where's Natalie?"


He needed to make sure she was safe. Smitty pat him on the shoulder. "Relax. She's inside already."


Jay blinked. "Ah. Okay then."
Of course she was. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Smitty frowned like something was wrong. Strange. Jay was of a mind to think they were in pretty good shape given the circumstances.


Edited by Jay Carpenter, May 26 2014, 08:59 AM.

Natalie didn't open her eyes, so she missed the flash of a grin offered by the driver. Her temples ached, and the grate of the engine gnawed offensively as they began to move. Moroccan Embassy? She had no objections, of course, but it took a moment to realign her expectations to the reality. The seriousness of the situation painted itself in broad strokes, devoid of detail, though if the CEO of Legion Premiere deemed it necessary to attend she could well imagine the breadth of the conflict. Her own concerns lay closer than the affairs of a country; the flames spiralling from the hospital bloodied the back of her eyelids; the white gleam of a child's skull washed in an ooze of scarlet, his eyes rolling a frenzy. Despite her fatigue she itched to act. She needed to know what had happened at the school. What had happened to the rest of Masiaka.

She started to ask more questions, but snapped her mouth shut. One thing at a time. A violent smash against the window made her jerk before she managed to speak again, prying open a gaze that longed to sink into oblivion. "What kind of medical provision do you have? The boy has a broken hand. It's among the reasons we were at the hospital."
There was an edge of chiding to her tone, but not much; the legionnaires neglected to offer Ekene aid with good reason given that he had incapacitated one of their brothers, and Natalie did not blame the apathy of their oversight. Did not blame them for not noticing either. A contract only negotiated so much.

They had a medkit. No pain relief, but it would have to do.

Conflict sickened her stomach when she finally looked at Ekene, crouched as close as he could get to the car door, his features faintly ghosted with the wreckage he had left of Kofi. It was easy to read a lack of remorse in the selfishness of a child's imploring gaze, and the blackness of Ekene's eyes dwarfed his irises, offering a baby demon in the guise of a child. Brown blood rusted the darkness of his skin and stained his school uniform. Child's blood. Legionnaire blood. She protected a murderer.

Back at St. James she hadn't attempted to treat his hand because she'd wanted him to endure the pain of it. To suffer it, just as she'd intended him to suffer the consequences of what he'd done while his friend bled out on the front seat of the car. In hindsight her negligence seemed cruel; pain screwed the edges of his expression, blanched him grey. But between the first gunshots at the hospital and the arrival of the legionnaires, there had been no opportunity to try and help. She didn't feel guilty for it. Even now it'd be easy to shut her eyes, as every fibre of her spirit begged her to do, and let the child languish until she felt better able to help. Or let someone else do the job. Somehow her own weakness motivated her more greatly than compassion. She held out her palm flat to him.

He presented his hand cautiously. It was the first time she'd properly looked at it; in the back of her mind she'd assumed he'd hurt it falling in the school compound, but looking at the inflamed bruising now hollowed out some horrific doubts for new scrutiny. Her gaze flickered up to his, and though she didn't speak he must have caught the question. A scowl knitted his brow and he tore his face away, shunting his gaze down.

"It hurts. It hurts bad."


His anger was dulled by pain, and the words were brittle. Natalie frowned, felt her senses quest out instinctually; she did not know how to direct the energy to fix his hand, but she could at least dilute the pain. Only the glow of light dawning a horizon in her peripheral slipped evasively through her fingers, humming a warning against overuse that sparked stars. Tired frustration knotted in her chest; the defeat settled uncomfortably, but she let go before it consumed her. Her blood-stained braid dipped over her shoulder as she lowered her head to him instead, wisps of pale hair making a halo of her face, framing the intensity of her eyes. She was still frowning. "I'm not going to ask you now. But you are going to tell me who did this."


His face pulled further away.

Natalie did not have the expertise to set a splint, not when she had no notion of the breaks and fractures under his skin, but she cleaned the blood and dirt silently, and he grit his teeth and cursed and screamed every time she brushed against his fingers. The SUV rattled and her vision felt dull, though she tried to be gentle. The pain in her own skull had receded a little, like elastic snapped back on skin that had finally stopped stinging; she was relieved to find she was still able to concentrate, if the heavy tiredness of her limbs did not exactly make it agile work. She was no nurse, but she'd worked field hospitals enough to fashioned a decent sling, to tide him over until someone professional could look at it. Ekene didn't deign to speak to her after, just sunk back in his seat and watched the legionnaires warily through the rear-view mirror.

Natalie was content with the silence. It occurred to her several times during the remaining haze of the journey to ask the legionnaires' names, less for the sake of politeness and more for the knowledge. For some it might only be the incitement of a paycheck, but men who risked their lives in such places deserved the recognition whatever their motivation. The question never quite coalesced beyond thought, though she tried to hold on to it. After the brick against the window she didn't close her eyes again, but she tuned out, left her thoughts to blur the horrific images of the day. Let herself rest as much as she was able, before the death of the engine marked their arrival at the embassy.

Fresh columns of smoke had erupted along the Freetown skyline, but the brunt of the violence seemed to part around the embassy district, thanks in no small part to the security detail of the Chinese embassy. The Moroccan embassy, and various other African ones that dominated the Loop road, hadn't the expertise or equipment to accomplish what the Chinese could, and most of them were more focused on packing up and preparing to leave.

The Moroccan embassy's official inhabitants were of the same thought; files had already been destroyed, computers wiped, and belongings packed. They would not be staying long either; official word from Morocco was that they had no official stance on the Sierra Leone situation. There was already arguements back home about what to do about the deceased President Knezevic's wife and children.

Capitane Antić's convoy had returned a short time ago, the freshly acquired trucks parked near the embassy proper. Their trip back to the embassy had been...hairy...as the fresh holes in the sides of those trucks indicated, and two Legionnaires stood in the backs of either, running houses to clear the blood off the rough wood slates that made the floor of the cargo area.

The front foyer of the Moroccan embassy, a high ceiling'd and cool space, had been made into a temporary morgue, where over a dozen bodies were kept within bodybags or under sheets and tarps. Ak100s of the Presidential Guard were laid on the chests of many of the bodies, but four held the service rifles of the Legion.

Of the dozen Presidential Guards that had been rescued from the State Lodge, only two had survived the drive back to the embassy, and those two had found a new found purpose after their poor display in service to their government.

The conference room off the main foyer had been repurposed as a field hospital. The boardroom table had been assembled with six smaller tables pushed together, the fact hidden under a nice tablecloth. They had been re-positioned and re-purposed as surgical tables, where Legion medics, the Toubibs, and the embassy's in-house doctor worked tirelessly to patch up the wounded.

The arrival of the Hell Cats and their VIP was met by Capitan Antić and a Legionnaire serving as his assistant.

Capitan Antić met Natalie and Ekene as they both dismounted, although the man was understandably distracted by whatever was going on over his radio and displayed on his Landwarriors. "Miss Grey. Can you confirm how many pers are employed at St. James' School?"


He glanced away for a moment, one hand touching his ear, then clapped an adjacent Legionnaire, "Plane's off the ground. Four hours to jump. Government-loyal military are moving mostly unopposed. They should have the city secured by nightfall. Spread the word."
He looked back to her and Entec, "Your boy there has a bad hand? Lets get you both inside and checked out."
He waved off his assistant to go check in on the rest of the newly arrived team.

Armed Legionnaires and Embassy guards manned the perimeter wall, watching for signs of trouble, while others moved to or from various Légion Première vehicles, either preparing to depart or actually in the process of leaving. They had no shortage of work to be done, and were desperately short staffed; none of them had had much of a break since they woke up that morning.

Ambassador Stankic stood in the foyer, trying her best not to look at the bodies that occupied one side of the room. Gone was all the expensive furniture that had once been housed there; it was stacked outside, as best out-of-the-way as they could manage for the moment.

The Legion had been stacking an ever growing amount of stress on the woman since their arrival only a few short hours ago, and she was trying to take a break from ongoing 'discussions' with her government regarding the children of the deceased president. His wife, Esi, still had a role to play in trying to keep her country's government from dissolving completely, but the Legion wanted the kids moved with the Ambassador and her staff back to Morocco for safe keeping.

She stood talking quietly with some of her staff, trying to ignore the pair of Presidential Guard that stood flanking the door to the make-shift surgery; Esi was within being tended to still; she had been beaten rather soundly, but there was no signs of serious injury.

Capitan Antić's assistant stepped up to Caporal Contee and Jay, moving to take Jay's arm to help the man start limping towards the surgical suite, passing on the relevant information. Legion members had secured the handful of Red Cross projects in the country; luckily, they hadn't been priority targets for the Temne. All but the St James School, which had been paid a visit by Temne soldiers searching for Natalie. Sierra Leonean soldiers, loyal to the government, had arrived in the city and were pushing the rebels south towards the Western Area National Park.

Smitty started them forward again.

"STOP"
Jay yelled. Smitty jerked to a halt, but despite the injury, Jay somehow managed to guide the bigger man around, oblivious that he was about to leap prematurely from the bird's nest and plummet to his death.

"What the-!"
Smitty cut himself off when he realized what Jay was pointing at.

Sitting in the shade the fan of a fern leaf was a dirty yellow ball of fuzz. It looked up at Jay with those big round eyes and mewed a dehydrated, sad cry.

"Oh my god, we have to save it."
Jay hobbled off Smitty to brace himself on the building's exterior wall and managed to scoop up the little kitten before it could realize it was taken captive. It must have been tamed at one point, because it didn't claw and hack his face off, then again, its paws were too tiny to do much good in that regard. It was still of a size to be needing its mothers milk.

Smitty quirked a half-grin and tickled its head with his fingertips while Jay nestled it protectively against his chest.

He cupped the kitten in one hand while they went indoors. He weighed less than a piece of paper, and the distended belly rubbed its delicate ribs against his palm. It had its head up, wide awake, though, and watched where they went.

The scene inside was what Jay feared. He made himself look at the bodies of the fallen as they passed by. And with the kitten safe in his hand, an old ache swelled in his gut. Sadness wasn't quite the right reason. Men died in war. Both ones he knew and ones he didn't know.

Neither was it the endlessness of war. Jay never believed for a second that it would ever end. That someday would come when the very idea of war was forgotten, and the only men who died were ones succumbed to frailty and age.

When the Capitaine's assistant grabbed his other arm to help him to the board room, he knew exactly where the ache lived. It was in a delicate eggshell of duty, something as fragile as this lost kitten. Every fallen man of war died because a brother didn't take the hit instead. Every time it happened, Jay wished it had been him instead of them, no matter the circumstances. That was why he didn't want to face the medic because he was terrified of being told he was out of the field. That meant abandoning the Hell Cats. Abandoning the very men that risked their necks to get him here in one piece.

A medic directed him to a table vacated by a man with his arm wrapped in a blanket of bandages. By that point, Jay was happy to lay down. At least they had the good stuff here.

The windows were open, but they did little to dissipate the noise echoing within the four walls. It made his head pound, and he squeezed his eyes shut like it might help buffer the cacophony.

He corralled the kitten with his arms so it wouldn't accidentally fall from the precarious height of the table.

"Do we have any milk?"
He asked the medic as the man turned away.

His expression fell to the mewing kitten, "I'll see what we can find for it."

Jay nodded his thanks.

It would be some time before the medics returned to tend his wound. There was only one doctor in the room, and Jay's, while serious, was not as imminent an injury as some of the others around him. He was a grown man who had already been tended in the car. There were others, like Natalie's boy, who suffered long enough. Of course, Jay refusing to yield to their attention until they'd tended Ekene's hand had something to do with it.

In the meantime, a woman came by. She was past middle-aged, but no gray stained her dark-hair and no age-spots mottled her fair-skin, but she was weathered with an air of leadership nonetheless. The Moroccan ambassador to Sierra Leone, Jay recognized her.

She placed a bowl of milk on Jay's table, unknowingly smiling at the sweetness of the pair. Jay breathed a sigh of relief that served to take the sting out of his leg. The kitten eyes were sunken and crusted with infection. Its belly was stretched tight of dehydration. It fatigued of mewing some time before, and the worry over its life was nearly unbearable. Now, with milk and Jay's attention, there was hope. The kitten had loped to the edge of the bowl, sniffing the chilled surface of white.

She pat Jay on the shoulder, "I'll see if a nurse has an eye dropper."

"Thank you, madame,"
Jay almost cried, and did his best to coax the kitten to drinking until an eyedropper could be found.

The legionnaire who greeted them was brusque, his attention divided between communications; and those, she suspected, far more vital than the woman standing in front of him. Whereas another of her prestigious standing might have read offense, Natalie was only grateful for the competency she observed in his multi-tasking. She answered his questions succinctly, and was appreciative of the brevity before they were ushered inside. Relief lightened her head, but it also ignited more questions. Had the legionnaires secured her colleagues at St. James? Once she had seen to her immediate priorities, she would pursue the answers burning in her chest, but for now she was content to balance on a wire of patience, and let those around her get on with their jobs.

A provisional morgue welcomed their arrival into the domed foyer. Natalie pressed her fingers to the back of Ekene's head to turn his gaze away, though didn't stop him glancing back at the dozen and more covered bodies arranged on the floor. Her attention lingered upon the expression of his face, but she saw no reason to protect him from the horror. He'd seen enough already, and she wasn't his mother.

The makeshift surgery was unpleasant, permeated with the strong tang of blood and antiseptic enough to make her feel vaguely nauseous. It was not squeamishness; her gaze passed impassive over torn flesh, and if the pained moans of patients touched her she did not show it. Functionality repurposed what had once been a grand room, removing everything extraneous. Natalie was not so prim as to avoid sitting on the floor - and regrettably she did need to sit. Alone she might have let the weight of her head fall into her arms, but under the circumstances she steeled her spine and forged on. Ekene shuffled down beside her. A beleaguered doctor wove between the injured, directing medics and seeing to the worst. The room was a hive of activity, but someone came to tend Ekene relatively quickly. In such an improvised setting she was not sure what they could do for him, though since she was by no means knowledgeable on the sorts of tech they might have to hand she allowed a meagre chink of hope. He probably needed x-rays. Definitely pain meds.

"Smashed with something blunt,"
she told the medic, glancing briefly at Ekene lest she had inferred wrongly, but he was belligerently avoiding her gaze. At least that's what she thought at first; a glance following the direction that stole the spiked wariness of his attention led her to the injured legionnaire, laid out prone on one of the sheeted tables. He wasn't looking at them, in fact his attention was thoroughly diverted and all she could see was his back, but she could feel the tension radiating off Ekene like heat.

"You're afraid of him?"
He had asked about punishment, she recalled, when she'd been too violently dizzy to pay more than cursory heed. The look of horror on his face as she'd pulled him back from the bullets flashed in her mind, making the question all but void.

His brows knit together. The conviction hardened then washed away uncertainly, a complex knot of emotion tinged with shame. Surrounded by so many strangers he sucked into himself, edged by a myriad of wariness and fear and anger that pierced onlookers with a black gaze. To her the pinch of his expression spoke of desperate questions, but he swallowed them down, refused to speak at all. Instead the fingers of his good hand crept out along the floor, seeking hers. Natalie squeezed them briefly. His world had burned, but she was concerned he would unduly attach himself to her if she allowed him to cling now that they were safe, which was why she stood. Alarm blanched his face, but she let the faint swell of guilt hammer at fortified walls. He was in good hands. "Then I'm going to talk to him."


As she walked away, the impure part of her was glad of the respite.

As Natalie rounded the legionnaire's table, she pressed the heel of either hand into its edge, fingers wrapped under for support; she'd rather be sitting, but it was only weariness that weighed down on her, a battle she fought almost without thinking. The light-headedness was mostly peripheral. "I told him not to trust the men with guns. At the time there didn't seem a need to differentiate."
It was a dry commentary on fate rather than an apology, though clearly she felt some accountability.

Her gaze caught on the ball of fur sharing the table before she said any more, but the oddity of a kitten in the midst of chaos didn't appear to faze her. Where on earth did you find that? It tottered at the edge of a milk bowl it was clearly too young to drink from, encased in the legionnaire's arms lest it wobble its way off the table. "Ekene's afraid he's going to be punished for what he did. I've told him no-one's going to hurt him."
From the tone of her voice she didn't expect nor was she imploring for his forgiveness; she was just imparting facts to mediate an unfortunate circumstance. The kitten was mewling pitifully, and she stretched out a hand to curl a finger under its chin; it swayed with the movement, began to purr with a voracity belied by its frail little body.

After a moment Natalie looked up, actually looked at him properly for the first time. Her pale gaze narrowed. "Is there a reason you're lying here unattended? That's hardly a scrape on your leg, and the medkits in those SUVs had no pain relief, because I looked."