06-23-2014, 07:07 PM
Word of the Battle of Jeddah had reached the Legion officers in Sierra Leone as it unfolded, and by morning the picture was clear. 217 Legionnaires were lost in DV, but an as yet un-tallied hundreds had been saved, and as for the number of fanatics killed, well, that number would likely never be confirmed.
Already, propaganda was leaking from the insurgency that CCD soldiers and mercenaries had run rampant through the city and left thousands of innocents dead. The CCD had yet to release it's official statement as it waited to gather a better understanding of the bigger picture. And the Legion...well, it was just a matter of time before their truth was revealed. All of the footage of the battle, shot from the cameras mounted in every Legionnaire's Landwarriors, was being combed over by the public relations department, which had hired a small private production studio in Morocco to assist.
But the rumours were already spreading through the repurposed Moroccan embassy, and anyone with a Wallet had not shortage of news sources to reference. District Five of the CCD had fallen into a lawless state. Hundreds, if not thousands, dead throughout the entire Dominance. Early accusations of war crimes on both sides, the speculation of economic repercussions. Hastily compiled profiles of the most interesting people involved. Even those rallying for or against the CCD's use of mercenaries in Operation Jeddah.
"...entire 2nd Battalion?"
"A few survivors. The wounded are being treated in Jerusalem. I hear old Israel is solid as a rock. As always."
Two Legionnaires, tasked as Orderlies to keep an eye on the wounded in the rooms (they themselves were little better then walking wounded; one man had no left hand, the stump neatly bandaged and slung tight to his chest, and the other sported thick bandages on his neck that vanished under the loose shirt he wore), were caught mid-conversation and mid-stride past his door as Jay came around, and they shared a glance before the one with no hand calm towards Jay, and the other stepped out of sight.
"Hey Hollywood. Only way you get to wear socks is if we cut the toes out of them. Need to see your feet, so we can make sure the circulation is good. The bone-saws say it went well I guess."
The man offered a shrug and a glance at Jay's leg, then lifted his slung stump, "Guess you were a bit luckier then me right? Your cat's in the other room. Gave it a bath, seems to be doing pretty well."
Legionnaire 1er Classe Amirmoez, Iranian by birth, stood then to check Jay's I.V., although he clearly didn't know what he was looking for asides to make sure it wasn't empty and there were no air bubbles along the line leading into Jay's arm. "The CEO landed an hour ago. He'll be here soon."
The other wounded Legionnaire returned with a small box that seemed to be lined with someone's shirt. In fact, it was Jay's; the man's scent lingered on the clothes and had seemed to do wonders to keep the little fuzzball within quiet, and the box was carefully set down at Jay's side.
-----
Shortly after Natalie found her way to the small computer that still held a lofty post on the room's desk, there was a knock at the door. The knocker waited until given permission to enter, then stepped in to reveal a Legionnaire, part of his face and his left eye covered in bandages. The injured man carried a surprisingly stylish wooden meal tray, acquired from the Embassy's kitchen, on which sat two plates of what apparently passed as breakfast for the day.
A large heel of bread, a pitifully small block of warm butter and a little dish of olive oil. There was a few blocks of cheese and cup of apple jelly. And even a small cup and kettle of mint tea. A very classic Moroccan breakfast, albeit a bit on the small side in it's servings.
"Morning, ma'am."
He glanced at the computer, and grinned a strange smile. He'd been told from higher that she would probably want to get on there as soon as she could, and on the tray sat a post-it note with a guest log-in for the system.
Already, propaganda was leaking from the insurgency that CCD soldiers and mercenaries had run rampant through the city and left thousands of innocents dead. The CCD had yet to release it's official statement as it waited to gather a better understanding of the bigger picture. And the Legion...well, it was just a matter of time before their truth was revealed. All of the footage of the battle, shot from the cameras mounted in every Legionnaire's Landwarriors, was being combed over by the public relations department, which had hired a small private production studio in Morocco to assist.
But the rumours were already spreading through the repurposed Moroccan embassy, and anyone with a Wallet had not shortage of news sources to reference. District Five of the CCD had fallen into a lawless state. Hundreds, if not thousands, dead throughout the entire Dominance. Early accusations of war crimes on both sides, the speculation of economic repercussions. Hastily compiled profiles of the most interesting people involved. Even those rallying for or against the CCD's use of mercenaries in Operation Jeddah.
"...entire 2nd Battalion?"
"A few survivors. The wounded are being treated in Jerusalem. I hear old Israel is solid as a rock. As always."
Two Legionnaires, tasked as Orderlies to keep an eye on the wounded in the rooms (they themselves were little better then walking wounded; one man had no left hand, the stump neatly bandaged and slung tight to his chest, and the other sported thick bandages on his neck that vanished under the loose shirt he wore), were caught mid-conversation and mid-stride past his door as Jay came around, and they shared a glance before the one with no hand calm towards Jay, and the other stepped out of sight.
"Hey Hollywood. Only way you get to wear socks is if we cut the toes out of them. Need to see your feet, so we can make sure the circulation is good. The bone-saws say it went well I guess."
The man offered a shrug and a glance at Jay's leg, then lifted his slung stump, "Guess you were a bit luckier then me right? Your cat's in the other room. Gave it a bath, seems to be doing pretty well."
Legionnaire 1er Classe Amirmoez, Iranian by birth, stood then to check Jay's I.V., although he clearly didn't know what he was looking for asides to make sure it wasn't empty and there were no air bubbles along the line leading into Jay's arm. "The CEO landed an hour ago. He'll be here soon."
The other wounded Legionnaire returned with a small box that seemed to be lined with someone's shirt. In fact, it was Jay's; the man's scent lingered on the clothes and had seemed to do wonders to keep the little fuzzball within quiet, and the box was carefully set down at Jay's side.
-----
Shortly after Natalie found her way to the small computer that still held a lofty post on the room's desk, there was a knock at the door. The knocker waited until given permission to enter, then stepped in to reveal a Legionnaire, part of his face and his left eye covered in bandages. The injured man carried a surprisingly stylish wooden meal tray, acquired from the Embassy's kitchen, on which sat two plates of what apparently passed as breakfast for the day.
A large heel of bread, a pitifully small block of warm butter and a little dish of olive oil. There was a few blocks of cheese and cup of apple jelly. And even a small cup and kettle of mint tea. A very classic Moroccan breakfast, albeit a bit on the small side in it's servings.
"Morning, ma'am."
He glanced at the computer, and grinned a strange smile. He'd been told from higher that she would probably want to get on there as soon as she could, and on the tray sat a post-it note with a guest log-in for the system.