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The Road to Masiaka
#11
The trip to the school was a blur of singular focus and heightened senses. Jay acknowledged a million little details along the way, yet he was having trouble recalling any single moment from the entire ride.

To Jay, the school was an uncertain island of safety. At least there was a wall. And he breathed a sigh of relief to see it manned by his fellow Legionnaires. If Danjou was here, it was probably the safest school on the continent. But at the same time, where Danjou went, animals prowled the perimeter.

He kept up with Natalie surprisingly well despite the cast. What heavy breeze there was snaked its way under the opened pant leg around his ankle. It accommodated the size of the cast beneath, but the splits up the sides couldn't hide that bony white exoskeleton that made him limp.

In the open grounds, he planted his hands on his waist while shaded blue eyes studied the sun overhead. His unease was unfounded, he told himself. At least it was in comparison to where it should be. He had a rifle slung around his back and a sidearm at his leg. A cautious awareness of their surroundings was one thing, but he had a bad feeling about today. He stayed sharp.

Such, he might have seen the bandaged up Azubuike before Natalie had. Jay tensed until it was clear that Natalie knew him. When they embraced, he frowned and looked away. The moment seemed too intimate to watch openly. He only wished they'd hurry it up.

She introduced him as Legionnaire Carpenter. The formality took him by surprise.

He thrust out a hand and greeted the professor. "Call me Hollywood."
They shook and he grinned. Despite Azu's wounds, his grip was confident and firm. At least Natalie had good taste.

Suddenly, children sprung up like weeds. One was playing catch and release with a lizard. Looked like fun, actually. Another was eyeing Jay's leg. And yet another snuggled up against Natalie. Brave, caring, and hot? If Jay had ovaries, they might have exploded. But, you know, being a dude, he totally didn't care about all the adorableness around him or that Natalie was in the middle of all of it.

A kid made the announcement, and Jay pressed a hand to his ear's wireless transmitter. "The press is here,"
he added. He had zero experience with the press. If MARSOC drew the attention of the media, someone was in serious trouble.

In the distance, new cars pulled in through the check point. Domestic and foreign individuals filed out but only one really drew his eye. A red head. But Jay couldn't watch her long. One of the men splintered off from the group, apparently recognizing Natalie, and came toward them.

Jay didn't feel the need to check up on mister Jared Wilson's presence. He didn't need to. It was pretty obvious who was allowing whom to conduct the interview. He also didn't feel the need to add his own introduction, even if the American in him felt the solidarity to do so.


Edited by Jay Carpenter, Nov 11 2014, 10:28 PM.
Only darkness shows you the light.


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#12
Jared summoned mana. He wasn't going to do anything to Lawrence; she was an unarmed, innocent civilian, and if worst came to worst, he'd protect her with his life. It's what he did. The familiar feeling of holding mana, however, prevented the irritation he felt from showing in his body.

First off, he felt insulted. He'd hadn't said anything he didn't know and believe to be true. Secondly, the thing about him being cute - what was that about? Was the flirt an attempt to play on his ego to get him to reveal more?

Jared wasn't going to bite at the flirt, but offered his name. "Vanders."
he said when asked. "Do you have any other questions, Miss Monday?"



Edited by Jared Vanders, Nov 12 2014, 03:14 PM.
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#13
Vanders.

Lawrence entered the name into her Wallet just in case something interested popped up about the handsome face of the Legion.

What did arise, she tilted the screen toward her intern. They shared a chuckle before Laurie blacked out the screen.

Meanwhile, she cast a wider gaze on the background school. Children seemed to have been let loose. Some came and investigated the reporters, from which Laurie waved, but most sprinted away to congregate around another small group nearby.

She turned her gaze back upon Vanders. "Actually, yes. When's the CEO's address? Put in a good word for me with him? Maybe I could score a one on one."
Her smile glittered coy like a secret shared between friends.
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#14
Jared saw the reporter enter something into her wallet. He was really getting tired of this game. It was one thing to ask him annoying questions and then throw his answers aside, it was another to look at his past - not that he had anything to hide.

Jared knew he could be irritated at her chuckle - seriously, what was so funny - or he could make a joke. He decided to - if nothing else, it would make him smile. "You must have found my speedo pics. I'm sorry I thought I had them taken down. Hope you like what you saw though."
He gave her a wide grin. "Or did you find out where I'm from? You don't seem like you're into that kind of journalism, but if interested, I'm sure I could arrange an interview with someone who had been abducted and/or has seen Elvis."


She then asked another question - a personal interview with Danjou. Jared returned to being serious and checked his watch. "The Commander's address should be starting soon. I'm not sure where I'll be ordered after it starts. I might not see him. If I do the most I can do is pass your request onto him and see what happens."


He couldn't guarantee anything, and he didn't want to ask Danjou about a personal interview. The guy had enough on his plate without having to deal with this, but he couldn't ignore the question. It was too late for that.


Edited by Jared Vanders, Nov 16 2014, 09:22 PM.
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#15
Laurie's lips twisted wry amusement, but her laugh wasn't girlie. She waved the Wallet at Vanders without showing him the screen. "I was actually chuckling over a kitten video, but I'll have to look up those speedo pics first second I can."
Vanders' hometown might be worth a search also. Anywhere involving Elvis, aliens, and a pre-Legion Vanders might be entertaining.

But Laurie was looking for a story. Her followers at the Monday Margin wanted insight - the story behind the story. Africa, crime bosses, violence and coups were obvious topics. The problem with writing about the less-than-obvious ones was digging around to find them.

"If the address is to be any minute, I'll be sure to stay close."
She winked at Vanders and turned around to survey the rest of her little kingdom.

That blonde with the sunglasses, handsome enough, definitely, but Laurie frowned as she studied him. More accurately, she frowned the whole scene around him.

She leaned toward her intern. "Find out who that blonde is, Z. I know I know her from somewhere."


True to an intern, he abruptly started searching for the wrong blonde. "No not him. The girl."


He looked up at Laurie with those big doe-eyes of his and profusely started apologizing. Laurie chuckled and pat him on the arm. "Calm down, Z. Just get me a name before we reach them. If you can't, no big deal, I'll just leave you here with Vanders. He looks like he could use a friend."


Z snapped his face behind them until he realized Lawrence was just messing with him. Hopefully.

Laurie loved screwing with the interns. There just about wasn't anything much better.
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#16
Nobody in the history of ever meeting Jay Carpenter would have said he was the strong silent type. Handsome and vulnerable type, maybe, but strong and silent, definitely not. Yet ever since the caravan of press rolled onto school grounds, he grew alert and tense. He chalked it up to nerves around the press and was grateful the CEO assigned Vanders to deal with them. He was all kinds of more comfortable dodging machetes and bullets than questions and interrogation.

But behind the black, lifeless sunglasses hiding his eyes, he was watching a pair in particular. The red-head and her partner. In fact, he was watching them so intently that he berated himself for growing so distracted. A four-year old might have taken out his other leg in those few minutes and he might not have noticed.

He couldn't remember how he knew her. If she were here, she was likely a face of the news, but Jay didn't think that was it. Then they turned and she looked straight at him. The look crawled his skin and he had the overwhelming urge to get the hell out of there.



Only darkness shows you the light.


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#17
Any softening of Natalie's veneer abruptly ended with the addition of the press. Ghostly pale eyes watched one of them pick his way through the refugee camp, any dismay at his presence quickly shored up behind an expression of blank marble. The press had glorified in her father's fall, and had ravaged through her grief for the bones of a story to tell in its wake. She'd yielded little, and her family had bent that weapon as a tool to their will, but she'd never had a hand in those political games. The Northbrook name had endured. But Aaron's later betrayal had only fortified her dislike of privacy metered out for public consumption. She didn't trust the warm smiles and charm of people trading for secrets. Even, and perhaps especially, those who did not announce what they were.

Her gaze broke away, for a moment discarding the concern. She stooped down to the child clung to her leg, the hand rested on the girl's head rounding down her cheek to lift her chin with a finger. Her eyes were raw from tears, black pits to yet another broken child. "Find your strength, Ayo."
There were no platitudes nor kindnesses, much as she wished to offer the empty comfort. An embrace or the whispered promise of a future might have soothed the grief for a while, but for now it was better the girl still fought to rely only on herself, despite how very young she was. "Take the others to the Red Cross quarters. Make yourselves useful for a while."


For a moment the girl looked stung with rejection. Then she scampered away.

Natalie did not send them away to exclude them from the conversation, though she doubted the journalist had come to dig for anything wise for children's ears to hear. For him, it was a story. A pay-check. His name on the byline of an article. For those children it was a grim and hard future, one that did not end when the interest in Sierra Leone faded from the public's eye. But they had little left of such innocence to protect; she sent them away because for the time being she thought they might be safer beneath the banner of the cross than under Azu's wing. Such a timely arrival of journalists might not be simple coincidence, and her mind ticked over the possibilities of Jacques' intentions if it weren't. This was a Temne camp. And it was vulnerable.

Tension cemented her own gut, and she could almost feel it radiating like heat from Jay. She was being cautious, but it felt necessary. With her colleagues, the children might only be seen as children, sheltered by the arms of an organisation famed for its compassion. Not Temne children. Not the children of rebels. But innocents. And maybe in that way they may be spared. If the worst should happen. For that abrupt decision she did not dare look at Azubuike, not because she expected condemnation for sending away his flock, but because she feared to see the grim understanding. There was little protection she could offer him. If the worst should happen. When the worst should happen.

Right now the last thing she wanted to entertain was the distraction of the press. Right now she felt the urgent tug to grill Jay on what he might know of Danjou's plans, if anything. At the very least she wanted the reassurance that he understood the stakes, that if it came to it, he was going to have one hell of a job bundling her back into that SUV. Instead her gaze slid passively to the man who charmed and smiled for an audience. The media painted her cold, and with her unsmiling and formal distance, it was easy to see why. "Education will always be among our priorities here, Mr. Wilson. For now there are more imperative concerns. If you have questions about St. James School, they are best asked of Mr. Timbo."
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#18
For now, it seemed that Monday was done with him. That was a relief. He was tired of reporters already. Jared hoped that he wasn't becoming the Legion's press boy. That was all he needed. He wasn't sure what they would say about him, but inside, he was sure he screwed up somewhere. Outside, he displayed the same confidence he always had.

"Miss Monday, if you need anything else, let me know."
Jared didn't want to say the words, but they were implied in Danjou's orders to him. He was there to cooperate with the press, not get in their way. For now, he was following his standing orders until Jacques' statement.
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#19
The Sierra Leonean reporter, Adisa Jackson, took note of Legionnaire Vander's response, but before he could follow up on anything, he was interrupted by another reporter. The American woman he had been hearing of lately. With only a limited time before the Legion's CEO would be available for questioning, Adisa took his leave of Vanders and Lawrence, and moved off to learn more about what had happened at the school and how so many Temne had come to be in the Legion's care.

He was Mende by birth, but he hadn't the same prejudices that had led to the current conflict. Perhaps he was a bit of an idealist under it all, but he did hope for a day when Sierra Leone had become whole again, and such ridiculous and outdated notions could be set aside. And, perhaps, the stories he could glean of the conflict would help lead to that day.

The American reporter though, Jared Wilson, he had an important VIP at his disposal. At least for the moment. "Of course, Ms Grey. I understand you weren't at the school when this all started. Is it true that your mother paid a large sum to hire Legion Premiere to secure your safety? And of your fellow Red Cross members, of course. It seems unusual that the Red Cross would willingly hire mercenaries."


The man didn't much care for what happened in Sierra Leone. Natalie Grey was a direct link to important people within the CCD. He was indeed a man of veiled prejudice, aimed against the CCD, and anything that might make people of power there look bad was good for his business. Legion Premiere, despite it's seemingly glowing and spotless reputation, was at it's heart just mercenaries. Murderers for hire.

Jacques emerged from the make-shift command center of the camp, located in the main building, with Lt Aaron Kamenashi at his side. He turned to speak briefly with the Lieutenant, and the man's posture was stiff, his response curt but professional before taking his leave and vanishing into the building that housed the Red Cross' office.

Knowing the reporters were on the ground, he had his game face on. All smiles, Jacques stopped to speak with some of the leaders among the refugees, then moved towards where the reporters had parked to set up their gear. The interview would be a more static shoot and they could rely on better gear, with a strategic view of the camp. The trucks of General Wallace-Johnsons' troops were due to arrive shortly, just enough time to let the reporters get in a few questions.

He cut an impressive figure in his fatigues and armour, a sidearm boldly strapped to his thigh. At first glance, he certainly didn't seem the sort to stand in a boardroom speaking to businessmen about employment contracts and investment opportunities. It had been a carefully maintained reputation for years, since he had become the company's CEO and he had been thrust forward as the face of the Legion, but after the publicly witnessed events of the Battle of Jedah, it was perhaps time to let that mask go.

The reporters were informed of the CEO's availability for questioning by some of the Legion's Sierra Leone augmentees, local men that had been hired on and trained by Legionnaires in the field. It was a somewhat unorthodox approach for a private security company, especially one with such strict employment requirements as the Legion, but it went far towards winning over the local population. The Legion brought security and employment wherever they were contracted, and having a few locals on the payroll gave them a direct link to the local rumour mill.


Edited by Jacques, Nov 27 2014, 10:13 PM.
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#20
Natalie dealt with the pair of reporters, and Jay was perfectly fine to hang back. In fact, he limped a few dozen steps toward the wall. He frowned as he examined it. His parent's back yard had a sturdier fence surrounding it. This thing was just good enough to keep the kids inside and the stray dogs out. Actually, now that he looked at it, a dog could probably dig its way under in a few hours. But, the wall was manned by Legionnaires and with the CEO on the grounds, this was probably the most fortified structure in all of Sierra Leone.

When Jay turned back, the sweep of his gaze caught sight of CEO himself. Jacques's emergence immediately drew people swarming like flies. He looked good though, competent. But more importantly, well-rested and sharp. A small beam of quiet pride straightened Jay's otherwise tall posture and when he returned to Natalie and Azo, the limp was less pronounced.

He pointed the scene out to Natalie when he returned. "Do you want to hear this? If you have something else you'd rather do, there's probably fewer people around to see you do it. They'll all be out here, distracted."


His brow lifted conspiratorially. He knew Natalie preferred the background to the spotlight. If there was something she wanted to do while nobody was paying attention. Now was the time. The spotlight was elsewhere.


Only darkness shows you the light.


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