05-08-2014, 05:20 PM
Somewhere above DV, bound for Dubai
Jacques sat in what amounted to his own private jet, going over pages upon pages of legal rigmarole and red tape. His various contracts in DV had turned into a nightmare of red-tape with the increasing violence in the region and the CCD's crackdowns on travel and movement through and into the region. Unsurprisingly, they had some qualms over letting a few hundred heavily armed private security employees into the region, especially since most were identified as Muslims.
The meetings in Jerusalem had gone well enough really; even in light of the growing tension, the companies whom had sought to hire him had still been eager to finalize their ends of the paperwork. They had even agreed to the increased costs of their contracts, in light of the current risks. Légion Première came with a very well earned reputation, and they were willing to fork out the cash for it to be in their service.
He set the stack of papers aside and glanced out the window, squinting against the bright light of the sun, unfiltered by cloud at this altitude and barely held in check by the tinting of his window.
A second stack awaited his attention; Sierra Leone. He had a few hundred men on the ground there, and it too was falling apart from the inside out. He'd already received reports from his field officers of the outbreaks of violence. A few had even already begun setting up refugee camps within the fences of the mines and plants they were contracted to protect. Not the most hospitable places for civilians to live, even temporarily, but it was better then being on the receiving end of a machete because of your last name. He was already planning to deploy the rest of his men in the Casablanca barracks to the region; contracts there had been much easier to ratify with the foreign companies. They stood to loose billions of dollars in infrastructure and profits should the situation spiral any further out of control, and Jacques was more then willing to take their money to save lives.
His mind wandered for a moment, staring at the distant earth through the thin wisps of cloud the desert heat allowed to form even at this altitude. Roads and villages doted the landscape far below a midst vast swaths of open dead earth. Dead from the air, at least. There was no abundance of life below, but it was there, hidden among the rocks and scrub brush. And people, of course.
It was a strange life they lived; ruled by religion and fear, barely eking out a living by the standards of most of the CCD, although that seemed mostly brought upon themselves by themselves. He couldn't fault them for clinging to tradition of course; who was he to look down upon such loyalty? Légion Première was but a shadow of it's origins, but they clung to their traditions no matter that they were forsworn by their homeland and birthplace.
His Wallet chimed to life suddenly, and he returned to the moment to see what it had to offer.
It was bad news.
DV was aflame with insurrection and murder on all fronts. It was happening far too quickly for the CCD forces to respond. Terrifyingly efficient and coordinated, with huge swaths of religious extremists popping up armed and ready throughout the region.
Over the next two hours, based off civilian news reports, he was already beginning to piece together an understanding of the situation on the ground. When word that Dubai was teetering on the edge, Jacques gave the signal to change their destination.
It was back home to Casablanca for him and his. He would have to cancel the contracts, or at least put them on hold. There was no chance the CCD would allow him to put his men on the ground in their territory in the current political atmosphere.
Jacques sat in what amounted to his own private jet, going over pages upon pages of legal rigmarole and red tape. His various contracts in DV had turned into a nightmare of red-tape with the increasing violence in the region and the CCD's crackdowns on travel and movement through and into the region. Unsurprisingly, they had some qualms over letting a few hundred heavily armed private security employees into the region, especially since most were identified as Muslims.
The meetings in Jerusalem had gone well enough really; even in light of the growing tension, the companies whom had sought to hire him had still been eager to finalize their ends of the paperwork. They had even agreed to the increased costs of their contracts, in light of the current risks. Légion Première came with a very well earned reputation, and they were willing to fork out the cash for it to be in their service.
He set the stack of papers aside and glanced out the window, squinting against the bright light of the sun, unfiltered by cloud at this altitude and barely held in check by the tinting of his window.
A second stack awaited his attention; Sierra Leone. He had a few hundred men on the ground there, and it too was falling apart from the inside out. He'd already received reports from his field officers of the outbreaks of violence. A few had even already begun setting up refugee camps within the fences of the mines and plants they were contracted to protect. Not the most hospitable places for civilians to live, even temporarily, but it was better then being on the receiving end of a machete because of your last name. He was already planning to deploy the rest of his men in the Casablanca barracks to the region; contracts there had been much easier to ratify with the foreign companies. They stood to loose billions of dollars in infrastructure and profits should the situation spiral any further out of control, and Jacques was more then willing to take their money to save lives.
His mind wandered for a moment, staring at the distant earth through the thin wisps of cloud the desert heat allowed to form even at this altitude. Roads and villages doted the landscape far below a midst vast swaths of open dead earth. Dead from the air, at least. There was no abundance of life below, but it was there, hidden among the rocks and scrub brush. And people, of course.
It was a strange life they lived; ruled by religion and fear, barely eking out a living by the standards of most of the CCD, although that seemed mostly brought upon themselves by themselves. He couldn't fault them for clinging to tradition of course; who was he to look down upon such loyalty? Légion Première was but a shadow of it's origins, but they clung to their traditions no matter that they were forsworn by their homeland and birthplace.
His Wallet chimed to life suddenly, and he returned to the moment to see what it had to offer.
It was bad news.
DV was aflame with insurrection and murder on all fronts. It was happening far too quickly for the CCD forces to respond. Terrifyingly efficient and coordinated, with huge swaths of religious extremists popping up armed and ready throughout the region.
Over the next two hours, based off civilian news reports, he was already beginning to piece together an understanding of the situation on the ground. When word that Dubai was teetering on the edge, Jacques gave the signal to change their destination.
It was back home to Casablanca for him and his. He would have to cancel the contracts, or at least put them on hold. There was no chance the CCD would allow him to put his men on the ground in their territory in the current political atmosphere.