The Replacements.

"I saw them in Moscow at Tushino Airfield in 91," Anastasia says in english, "was a good concert. I likes Master of Puppets, Enter Sandman, Disposable Heroes, Orion. All good songs."

"You seen them?" She asks raising an eyebrow, "You strikes as more a Garth Brooks guy. Friends in Low Places you know?

Anastasia glances at Octavian, "Secret partition of Eastern Europe. Fascist, Communist, Totalitarian circle. I has heard of."

@emberskyes

Rust chuckled at that, she had him pegged wrong but he didn't mind. Florida men sounded like Georgia and Kentucky men, but had a wildly different energy. "In the Everglade we listen t'Death Metal. Nile, Amon Amarth, Death. Metallica was my daddy's favorite, I can play every song, solos too. Metal shares DNA with Blues Guitar which is m'forte." The way his face lit up when he talked about music, it was clearly his passion he made no attempts to hide it. His voice even softened a bit, the inflection suggested (I am a nice human.) Even if months of struggle and killing had proved he was also a very dangerous one. "I am Rust, Rust McCain, but call me Rooster."

He took a beat adding as an after thought.

"Say I ain't got no battle buddy, n'most o'these gentlemen n'me would be getting a bit too close for comfort in a foxhole. Keen on watching my six, n'I watch yowz?"

Cristea glances briefly at the Marine when the question is thrown across the room. The grin, the tone - the need for an audience. He chooses not to answer. Instead his attention shifts to Kharchenko. A small inclination of the head. 'Precisely.' He adjusts the strap on his bag, as if the matter is now settled. 'Moldovan', he adds after a moment, almost as an afterthought. 'The distinction is politics not language.'

He walks to the door, pausing for moment. 'As for the sky...' He glances once more at the Marine, expression unreadable. '...I presume that was not a serious question...' He looks at the man more intensely, remembering the dosimeter. 'But blue light scatters more in the atmosphere, it is the Rayleigh effect.' And with that, he moves on.

@Mephistophilis

"Thing about me doc, m'deadly serious." Rust replied and listened to the doc's explanation nodding, eventually he shook his head when the scientific understanding was shared. "Nah doc, that may be the technical reason. But the skys'blue cuz God fuckin' loves the infantry!" He said from deep in his chest with his stupid knowing grin again.

"Anastasia Kharchenko." Ana says to the Doctor and Rooster with a nod.

Wolfe regarded the odd group as Thrace, McBride and Adams conclude the recruitment, trying to maintain as nondescript composure as possible. As the meeting concluded he leaned to Simmons, asking, "What do you make of this group? Sounds like a pretty serious mission to pull together a volunteer crew on. Including civilians seems especially odd."

His tone is more matter-of-fact than judgmental. Caleb knew next to nothing of the men and women gathered here or what kind of vetting they might have already gone through to get here. If they'd been on the transports that arrived the other night then they'd already gone through a harrowing ordeal and the fact that some were willing to step up and volunteer for a mission like this said a lot. Still, he wondered if there was more to this.

"I'm going to see if McBride can shed some light," he nods before moving forward. He was recon and his entire job was obtaining info ahead of any action, this was no different really.

"Excuse me Sergeant, got a minute?" he catches McBride's attention, "Figure it's not a surprise to say this seems outside of most manuals. Mixing random civilians and military personnel on a mission like this feels desperate. Anything we should know about what's driving this and how confident we can be in this group?"

Outranked, outgunned, or both by just about everyone around him at the present moment, Elvis gathered his things with quiet efficiency. He knew enough not to get involved in unnecessary conversations with superiors until you knew what kind of person they were. It was better to listen first. A man learned an awful lot by just shutting his pie hole for a while.

As he listened he made a mental catalogue of all the parts their trucks used, setting out some tools and discarding others as he went. If he could bring a whole machine shop with him he would, but of course that wouldn’t do on patrol. Versatility was the name of the game.

The only extra weight he allowed himself was an anthologion and a komboskini which he shoved into his left pocket quickly, as if he would be embarrassed for anyone to see it.

@emberskyes

Rust took pause after a moments consideration of the name. He spoke slowly not wanting his accent to butcher the important question. "У тебе є брат, Олексій?"

Jason noticed the socializing among the irregulars and the marine and heard Caleb's concern. Given his own experience with war, and prior to the conflict, he figured he could add his own perspective.

"Irregulars can be a helpful asset many missions. I trained several cadres here and in other places. They know the landscape and localities the best, and their own people better. They often have a better connection and will to fight than foreigners for their own country at least."

He gave his equipment another one-over, even though he was fairly certain it was as good as it was going to get, he made certain it was in peak condition as a matter-of-fact, despite rough conditions. He made for the truck by way of Robert Simmons before he hopped on.

"Rob Simmons, it's good to see you around here, here for the same mission, no less. Hopefully life hasn't been too unfair to you."

Anastasia looks at Rust, " Чому ти хочеш знати?"

"Not that it matters Mr. Rust but my family is no more."

@Emberskyes

"Oleksiy Kharchenko gave me enough bread and meat to keep me alive for a week at the very beginning of all this." Rust stopped grinning when he heard that Oleksiy had perished. His expression grim. "He saved a lot more than just my life. Are you sure he is gone?" He couldn't believe that. Didn't want to.

"Ось це його Богородиця." Rust reached into his underarmor and produced a golden pectoral of the grace of St. Mary. He pulled another, a Buddha, which seemed quite similar with it."Бо Олексій сказав, що я на місії від Бога."

"I don't know who that guy was but he wasn't my brother." Anastasia says pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

Rooster shrugged then more seriously said. "My condolences for your family. C'mon looks like we're disembarkin'." Rust shouldered Hillary, double checked his AT4's harness, then started to sortie out joining the line behind Elvis Bledsoe.

SSG Robert Simmons shifts his weight, watching the last of the volunteers break formation, eyes tracking movement more than faces—habit, not curiosity. He leans slightly toward Caleb Wolfe, voice low, casual but measured.

"Hard to say, Sergeant. It’s not clean—that much is obvious. Civilians in the mix tells me this isn’t a straight-line mission. Either we’re short on bodies, short on time… or both."

He glances across the group again, picking out posture, gear, hesitation. "I’ve seen worse collections pull something off, and I’ve seen better fall apart. Irregulars can work if they’ve got a reason to be here. Question is—who’s actually in charge when it matters?"

A faint shrug follows. "But yeah… feels like something serious enough they’re not waiting on perfect conditions."

---

Simmons turns as Jason Black approaches, recognition hitting before the words do. The corner of his mouth pulls into a grin. "Jason Black… what the fuck are you doing here?" Sergeant Wolfe, let me introduce you to an old Ranger buddy of mine
He lets that hang half a second before continuing, grin widening.

"You’re too senior for this mess. Shouldn’t you be riding a desk somewhere as a First Shirt by now? Or did you screw something up bad enough they kicked you back down here to babysit us?" A quiet chuckle slips out—no heat behind it. He nods toward the forming-up volunteers.
"You’re not wrong, though. These irregulars—they’ve got skin in the game. That counts for something. Hell, I’m seeing less actual replacements and more civilians walking in ready to fight. That last batch we got from the States? Not up to snuff. Training was garbage. These civilians—at least they understand what’s at stake. Might make ’em more willing to close with the enemy."

A pause. "But… everything remains to be seen."

He glances toward the trucks staging up. "I’m ready to move to Charlie Company FOB. Get the hell out of this replacement company AO and get the repple depple stink off." He picks up his ruck sack and looks between the two of them. "Have either of you heard anything about the recce patrol objectives?"

---

As Wolfe peels off to ask SSG McBride about that very thing, Simmons watches him go, then shifts his attention back to Black, lowering his voice just a notch.

"Same old Army, huh? Different war, same chaos." He exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Gawd… I miss R&R already…"

Justin quietly gathered what gear he had left, listening to the others as they talked around him. Still, the words between Anastasia and Rooster kept drawing his attention back to them. The words sounded Russian to him but was sure it wasn't, was it? He almost asked but the words stuck in his throat.

Then Anastasia mentioned Moscow as if it were just another place. Justin found himself looking away, unsettled by how strange that felt. There was a time he would have heard something like that and known exactly what to think. Now he wasn’t sure of much at all.

"I've had to ask myself the same question some mornings," Jason replied to Simmons.

"Tell me about it, I'm nearly there, and you're about nearly on point with your conclusion and my luck. I ended up volunteering for my gig here when the 173rd came to town, when I...lost...something, let's say. It seems now as luck would have it, birds are dropping out of the sky, and now we've got this mission handed to us; details are sparse on that all I know is that it's long distance and long endurance. The type of thing we're trained for, so hopefully it won't be asking for too much."

Jason sighed.

"Same old, same old. This is why I'm not cut out for commission, I'd flip the script too wildly if I were in charge, and who knows what that would mean?"

Wolfe listened grimly before offering a curt nod, "That tracks. Will look forward to the briefing tonight."

"They all stepped up, even after everything they went through to get here," Caleb looked back to the group gathering their belongings and beginning to make their way to the waiting vehicles outside, "Good sign they won't give up when it gets even tougher. Spirits like that; we'll get it come together."

Taking his leave of McBride, Wolfe returned to Simmons and Black, "We'll find out more at the Captain's briefing tonight but McBride paints a grim picture of how the war's going. Gonna need to get this group integrated and working as a team and only a couple days to do it."

"I know you're right about Irregulars," he glanced to Black, "I've had limited experience with them in Romania so far but they were soild. By this point those are the only ones left fighting. They were already working with Romanian military, maybe some of these folks have that same experience. Going to be an adjustment on all sides I figure."

One eyebrow raised as he regarded Rooster while the scruffy Marine speaks with Anastasia. "Yeah definitely an adjustment," Wolfe shakes his head to the pair but there was a hint of a smile tugging a one cheek.

David was gathering his gear in silence engulfed in his own thoughts, but found the conversation between Anastasia, Dr Octavian and peculiar marine - Rooster - interesting. He even wanted to throw in his comments, but somehow didn't manage to think up anything that wouldn't seem out of place. When the Doctor was commenting about the scientific reason the sky is blue, it especially picked his interest: "A man of science. Maybe there would be someone to talk to." - he thought. He almost even added something to doctor's answer, but he managed to disappear behind the closing door, so Clank bit his tongue in last moment.

Clank looked visibly surprised at Anastasia's way of dressing... "for the coming mission"... but again... said nothing.

He decided to hasten himself and catch up on doctor to take place next to him in the truck. He threw everything that was left of his possessions into his backpack, not caring about proper placement, tied it and almost run after the doctor.

@Honor_Over_All

"Howdy Corp'ral." Rust said as he fished a pack of lucky strikes and offered Elvis a cigarette. "First time outta th'wire?" His tone brokered that he meant no offense. "Believe it o'not, I neva did see combat 'til Ivan shot up my embassy." Rust was trying to be friendly. "Rust McCain." he said and sparked up his cigarette.