07-28-2014, 07:40 PM
Jacques' meeting with Legionnaire Vanders had went well. The man had given the topic a great deal of thought already; it made sense of course. It was something the man had lived with for years apparently, and had kept hidden even from the US military. If such skills could go unnoticed there, then it meant that perhaps the CCD hadn't quite the lead Jacques had feared. Perhaps the same scenario applied to Mr Vellas. Either way though, the cat was out of the bag. The arms race had begun.
Whatever Vanders had done to him, it had washed away any trace of his exhaustion. Or at the least, pushed it to the boundaries of his mind. Jacques knew his limit well, but whatever spells the Legionnaire had worked seemed to have given him more then just a second wind. Such magics could see soldiers remain combat effective for far longer then any degree of training could manage. But what were the side effects?
He wrapped up his paperwork in short order, then graced the halls of the embassy briefly. There were murmurs that Miss Grey had left her room, and he passed a few of his men commenting fondly of the woman. She wasn't bubbly and ephemeral, which seemed to be the initial expectations for those who had seen her. Instead, from what he could gather, she was far firmer of mind and tighter of emotion then her appearance suggested. Perhaps she would fair better in Sierra Leone the he had dared hope, because he had no intentions of forcing the woman away if she intended to help.
Eventually, Jacques found his way to the roof. He had always been fond of heights, although the embassy didn't offer much of an elevation. For some, there was a sense of withdrawal from the problems of the world. Being high above, looking down, made their worries seem small, insignificant.
For Jacques, it afforded him a view of the world at large. He could admire the view, certainly, but it was the glimpse of humanity that he sought. His actions and decisions influenced the lives of his men. And in an environment like Sierra Leone, those decisions had far further reach. From above, he did not see the crowds as a faceless mob. He saw them as the individuals they were. He did not loose any appreciation for the individual's strife, he just better grasped how far reaching the consequences could be.
The roof of the embassy was empty for the moment; the building was not tall enough to justify posting sharp shooters, and the perimeter wall came with a handful of small towers that served far better. Of course, there would be men there during the night, but that was not upon them yet.
He had stripped down partially; gone was the military fatigue tunic he had been wearing since Jeddah. He still wore the pants, and the holstered pistol, but he had gone 'casual.' Suns out, guns out, as they said. A simple, clean, white tank top, of the sort he would usually wear under his uniform to ward off chaffing and those irritating sweat drips. And of course, a white Kepi cap sat on his head to shadow the screens of his Landwarriors, and a pair of fightin'n'dyin' gloves tucked into his back pocket.
He stood a moment on the roof, tilting his head back to enjoy the heat of the sun. It was good to breath the air of his continent again, even with the ceaseless horrors that were spoken of and quickly forgotten in the world news. The selfish moment of indulgence past quickly, and he turned his gaze to the horizon, where he quickly realized he was not alone.
Again he found himself in Reed's presence, and again the woman was snooping. He studied her for a moment, admiring the way her jeans hugged her as she squatted to hide behind the roof's low wall, the way the sweat ran down the back of her neck and teased at wetting her white tunic.
The woman was dangerous. And arrogant. Driven by her own mysterious goals and intentions that, it seemed, spared little concern for those around her. How much trouble could be had should the Chinese spot her, and think he was housing spies. Inconsiderate wench.
He crossed towards her, and came to stand boldly a few feet to her left, hands clasped in the small of his back and staring out towards the Chinese embassy for a moment. He would pay it a visit before they had fully evacuate, to personally thank the soldiers who had been ordered to aid in the protection of the embassy district. The politicians he cared for only so long as they were able to serve his purposes. The soldiers had been ordered to kill, and for some, that never sat well. Better that they knew something of the reason behind it, asides the incomprehensible games that their leaders played.
"Where do you keep those binos of yours? You didn't exactly have any luggage when we landed here, and those pants are too tight to fit them in a pocket. Or did you lift them from one of my men?" Jacques glanced at Reed with a mischievous smile, then turned his gaze outwards again, studying the crowd that had gathered below. Foreign nationals still choked the streets, and desperate Sierra Leoneans crowded the check points at the embassy district's approaches, where Sierra Leonean soldiers screened them and turned away any without appropriate paper work.
The smile slowly died as he watched the brutality those soldiers used to turn away those that hadn't the proper paperwork. The situation in the city had not improved much with the arrival of General Wallace-Jackson and his men. It had only grown more systematic and quiet in it's violence. These acts were cloaked under the excuse of necessity.
Whatever Vanders had done to him, it had washed away any trace of his exhaustion. Or at the least, pushed it to the boundaries of his mind. Jacques knew his limit well, but whatever spells the Legionnaire had worked seemed to have given him more then just a second wind. Such magics could see soldiers remain combat effective for far longer then any degree of training could manage. But what were the side effects?
He wrapped up his paperwork in short order, then graced the halls of the embassy briefly. There were murmurs that Miss Grey had left her room, and he passed a few of his men commenting fondly of the woman. She wasn't bubbly and ephemeral, which seemed to be the initial expectations for those who had seen her. Instead, from what he could gather, she was far firmer of mind and tighter of emotion then her appearance suggested. Perhaps she would fair better in Sierra Leone the he had dared hope, because he had no intentions of forcing the woman away if she intended to help.
Eventually, Jacques found his way to the roof. He had always been fond of heights, although the embassy didn't offer much of an elevation. For some, there was a sense of withdrawal from the problems of the world. Being high above, looking down, made their worries seem small, insignificant.
For Jacques, it afforded him a view of the world at large. He could admire the view, certainly, but it was the glimpse of humanity that he sought. His actions and decisions influenced the lives of his men. And in an environment like Sierra Leone, those decisions had far further reach. From above, he did not see the crowds as a faceless mob. He saw them as the individuals they were. He did not loose any appreciation for the individual's strife, he just better grasped how far reaching the consequences could be.
The roof of the embassy was empty for the moment; the building was not tall enough to justify posting sharp shooters, and the perimeter wall came with a handful of small towers that served far better. Of course, there would be men there during the night, but that was not upon them yet.
He had stripped down partially; gone was the military fatigue tunic he had been wearing since Jeddah. He still wore the pants, and the holstered pistol, but he had gone 'casual.' Suns out, guns out, as they said. A simple, clean, white tank top, of the sort he would usually wear under his uniform to ward off chaffing and those irritating sweat drips. And of course, a white Kepi cap sat on his head to shadow the screens of his Landwarriors, and a pair of fightin'n'dyin' gloves tucked into his back pocket.
He stood a moment on the roof, tilting his head back to enjoy the heat of the sun. It was good to breath the air of his continent again, even with the ceaseless horrors that were spoken of and quickly forgotten in the world news. The selfish moment of indulgence past quickly, and he turned his gaze to the horizon, where he quickly realized he was not alone.
Again he found himself in Reed's presence, and again the woman was snooping. He studied her for a moment, admiring the way her jeans hugged her as she squatted to hide behind the roof's low wall, the way the sweat ran down the back of her neck and teased at wetting her white tunic.
The woman was dangerous. And arrogant. Driven by her own mysterious goals and intentions that, it seemed, spared little concern for those around her. How much trouble could be had should the Chinese spot her, and think he was housing spies. Inconsiderate wench.
He crossed towards her, and came to stand boldly a few feet to her left, hands clasped in the small of his back and staring out towards the Chinese embassy for a moment. He would pay it a visit before they had fully evacuate, to personally thank the soldiers who had been ordered to aid in the protection of the embassy district. The politicians he cared for only so long as they were able to serve his purposes. The soldiers had been ordered to kill, and for some, that never sat well. Better that they knew something of the reason behind it, asides the incomprehensible games that their leaders played.
"Where do you keep those binos of yours? You didn't exactly have any luggage when we landed here, and those pants are too tight to fit them in a pocket. Or did you lift them from one of my men?" Jacques glanced at Reed with a mischievous smile, then turned his gaze outwards again, studying the crowd that had gathered below. Foreign nationals still choked the streets, and desperate Sierra Leoneans crowded the check points at the embassy district's approaches, where Sierra Leonean soldiers screened them and turned away any without appropriate paper work.
The smile slowly died as he watched the brutality those soldiers used to turn away those that hadn't the proper paperwork. The situation in the city had not improved much with the arrival of General Wallace-Jackson and his men. It had only grown more systematic and quiet in it's violence. These acts were cloaked under the excuse of necessity.