Morning soon comes, too soon for some as they wake to the throbbing only a hangover can produce. The following hours are passed dividing up stores and saying goodbye's until around mid morning the group is ready to move.
With about half the group staying behind and no need to continue carrying the still, there's plenty of room inside the BTR-80 for once.
Don, head not hurting anything like the previous day is shepherded into the drivers seat with Virgil beside him as commander. Brown takes his usual position as gunner while the remainder of the passengers (Tanya, Mary, Katka, and Smith) either ride with heads out the roof hatches or relax in the now cavenous interior.

The ride southwards to Krakow is quick. Barely 15 minutes from leaving Ojcow and the BTR-80 is rolling through the outskirts. Information from the partisans keeps you atop the cracked bitumen - the Krakow ORMO had laid extensive mine fields around the city to keep out the less welcome elements of society.
The suburbs look just like one of those old movies about bombed out cities in WWII. Piles of rubble lay everywhere. Now and then small groups of people are seen rummaging through the ruins - a scraggly bunch of rag pickers that besides the colour of their skin could have come from one of those "help the starving" campaigns about Africa from before the war. Bone thin and dirty and little hope for a future beyond dusk...

"Damn!" exclaimed Virgil first at the sight of the ruins and then the people attempting to scratch some sort of existance from them.
"There's a whole empty country out there and they're tryin' to survive here?"
He shook his head in disbelief as first a handful, then dozens of refugees came out of hiding as the BTR-80 rolled past.
"Don't stop whatever you do Don. We could get mobbed."

Tanya wakes up in the morning with a hevy head but, remembering the good time she had the night before, a night that hasn't been that much fun since before the war started.  She gathers up her gear and makes her way over to where Lieutenant Ashton is so she can say goodbye to her.  She had been her close friend since they got out of captivity and shared many days talking and consoling each other.  Tanya gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before they departed.  "We'll see you soon lootenant," Redgrave told her shouldering her AK-74 and making her way to the BTR.

Tanya puts her pack into the now spacious rear compartment of the APC and finds a seat for the ride.  "I like what you've done with the place Brown," Tanya called to the warrant officer as he entered or got near the vehicle.  Tanya double checks her AK to make sure the safety is on and that there's a round still loaded in the chamber.  Satisfied, she secures the rifle next to her and puts one of her feet up on a bench seat since most won't be used.  Tanya looks to the British officer that they met here and asks her, "Beggin' yer pardon ma'am but, you the one runnin' the show here?"

Finnegan had taken the seat nearest where Brown stood manning the turret.  She was content to let Don and him work out their path, along with help from Virgil.  So much of leadership was allowing competent people the room to carry out their given tasks.   That showed trust and respect and, in her case, covered up any deficiencies of technical knowledge.

As always, she found that the female American sergeant was rather direct in her manner.  She turned in her seat to fully face Tanya, and steadied herself against any swaying of the vehicle with one hand on a grab bar.

"That's right, Sergeant," Mary confirmed in a confident, weather deck voice.  "As senior officer I must assume command, even in an ad hoc group such as this."  She kept her eyes on Tanya, making her countenance calm and serene no matter what she felt.

"Sergeant Major Brown let on as you were a good sort," she said, delivering some praise to the older woman.  "How did you wind up separated from your higher command, Sergeant?"

"Good choice of words ma'am.  You have any idea what we're doin' goin' to Krakow Commander?"

The day had started out badly. Willam had planned on moving at first light but it seemed some, or rather, most of his companion has seen to much partying. It had taken them to long before they could leave town.



Brown looked at the sergeant he was standing next to the left hatch giving entrance to BTR. At least she was one of the first to board the vehicle.

”I can’t take credit for all that sergeant. It’s the officers that have made sure there’s enough space for all of us in there” Brown returned in a gruff voice while looking at the next passenger to get on board.

When everyone is inside he takes his spot at the weapon. Making sure to inform Don to keep his hatch closed. This way at least he had some line of sight with the heavy gun.



Sitting next to the lieutenant commander who now gracefully occupied the platoon leaders seat next to his position Brown decided to keep quiet and see how the navy officer could handle herself with this obvious test.

Tanya's lack of an answer and return salvo made Mary blink.  She stared at the sergeant for perhaps ten seconds before answering.  "Beyond the fact that it is a major population center and possible location where scattered NATO elements might regroup and dig in, no," she admitted frankly but with a slight trace of shame showing in her pale skin.

"But I intend to bloody well find out," she added in a quieter voice before leaving her seat, pushing past Brown's legs and squatting down with her head between the driver and vehicle commander's position.

"Leftenant, brief me in on all of our purposes for entering Krakow."

Damn and double damn.  She'd been playing passenger and not leading.  Trust the veterans to spot her out for someone who hadn't even crossed the line so to speak.

Tanya turned her head a little and responded to Mary's answer, "Dig in?  You think we're going to Krakow to regroup and dig in?  That's good," Tanya says sarcastically after Finnegan pushes her way past Brown up to where Don is.  Tanya looks at Brown, "I guess no one got to tell Snow White the plan?"

Katka was suprised that they were leaving so soon. She had missed the discussion to leave the day before and had thought they might stay a few days till at least Don's injuries had healed. But she did'nt complain, just got in the APC and sat quietly, nursing her hangover and drinking lots of water till they got to town.

"Then are we the seven dwarves?" She spoke up suddenly. "Why are we in Krakow?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:03, Tue 26 June 2007.

Don managed to get the list of inventory made by putting his helper to work while resting himself. He told the helper who to speak to, so there wasn't too much work on his side either.

When waking up, he asked for Michelle', or rather Tanya's little gun after.

"Well, lass. This is the last time in a while that we share beds, Michelle. I'll get back to Scotland, then I'll send a 747 to pick you up here. So ask Bernie to build an airport here, hehe"

Once seated he makes his best to drive forward.

As they reach the outskirts of Krakow, he looks at the devastation and gets moody, but as the girls starts to talk he just answers Tanya with a smile. A girlfight is never bad, even if it is not regarding himself.

Tanya will poke her head out through one of the hatches and take in the environment that was once and still is Krakow.  She see's the people working in the rubble that look like they're undernourished and probably overworked.  Maybe they are a prison work detail or maybe they actually work for somebody that pays for them to do this.  "Some free city," she says.

"Ma'am, you should probably take over here," Virgil called Mary over the intercom everyone was plugged into.
"I'm better used as infantry and I'm a crap navigator."
Sure she was green on land, but Virgil was betting she knew a few more things than most.

"We're in Krakow for a number of reasons, the main one I'd say is that the locals aren't likely to shoot us on sight as enemy combatants. Secondly, we've got that trunk full of tech papers and blueprints back there we pulled off of a dead special forces unit. Only survivor mumbled something about "Operation Reset" before he died and that everyone'll want to get their hands on it. we play our hand right and we could come out of this just a little richer."
Or the KGB would track them down and kill them like dogs. Whatever...

Katka looks over to the trunk a little curious. "Do you think that it is important enough to kill us for?" She leaned back keeping her eyes on the trunk for a few minutes. "May I look?

"I reckon so. Somebody wiped out an entire spec forces B team. Strange that they took the prototype and not the papers though..."
Maybe it was just a marauder band that ambushed the American team, who really knew? But Schaeffer had said there'd be a lot of interest if they got it to Krakow - whatever it was...
"Go to it. Maybe you can make more sense of it than anyone else has."

"I'd say that that is an affirmative!  If someone went out looking to knock off this group of Green Beanies, I'd say we're a bit below them.  However, if we can get the right person, I'd say we could get a decent reward out of it.  We'd have to be very careful around here though.  No telling who's who around here.  If it's that important we could be in as much danger as those Green Berets.  We can't go blabbing around we've got the plans for this shit," Tanya says to Katka and Virgil's remarks about Operation Reset.

She squats down and pops the trunk, not quite knowing what to expect.

OOC: Whats in here?!

See the "Notepad" thread

William didn't say to much trying to keep an eye out through the periscope to make sure none of the locals got to close to the vehicle. He listened to the conversation going on over intercom.

"It will not be easy to get those papers out though. First we have to locate who to deliver it to and when we do, we probably have to convince them we didn't wipe out that Spec Ops team ourselves. I think we better be very carefull and political about this...How's your head Lieutenant, because I think you are going to need a clear head very soon"

Katka thumbs thru the various pages of scribble without a clue. "You should have asked the men at the castle. You can not milk a pig. How will you know what it is worth unless you know what you have, yes?"  She tosses them back in the trunk and shuts the lid.

Virgil's suggestion was eminently practical, so Mary went through the contortions of swapping out her seat for his.  Thankfully the less than full vehicle made that a bit easier and before too much longer she was up front next to Don.  She used the excuse of fiddling about getting plugged in to commo gear to avoid looking at him.

The view was definitely restricted.  A large, rectangular viewing port in front of her with a steel shutter raised, and a series of thicker, smaller ones set at angles above it allowed for some vision but it was still confining.  Mary was used to having an enormous bridge window to stare out of, or at least a great repeating screen from the radar and a plot board to make sense of things.

A hatch beckoned to be opened, but she knew that would put her in the way of Brown's turret if he needed to slew it to the side so she kept it buttoned tight.

"She's right," Mary announced.  "Not one of us has a clue as to what these are, save they are important enough for an American special services squad to die for them.  They will not be handed off until we know what they are."

And they won't be bloody sold at all if it's something important to NATO. she added to herself.  Duty was duty, even in the absence of legitimate higher authority.

"Krakow, historically, has been a center of education.  Even the Soviets have not managed to ruin that.  We're going to recce for one that is still standing and in some semblance of operation.  Or, failing that, we'll find someone who's qualified to interpret these plans and tell us what we have.  An electrical engineer or a physicist of some sort.  Let me see the map."

Mary began searching the map looking for anything marked as a university or such.

"There's a lot of things we could've done yes but, we don't want everyone to know what we've got if it's that important.  Everyone will be looking for us and trying to do to us like what happened to that B-Team," Tanya says back over the comm.

Tanya rolls her eyes when Finnegan gets on and starts spouting out about not handing them over until we know what they are.  "You're correct to some degree ma'am but if I may, if we go around Krakow looking for people to try and decipsher what we have, news is bound to get around to the people who may know what the hell this is and could be very hazardous.  I don't mind hazardous duty but, hazardous pay should follow!"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Thu 28 June 2007.

Credit me for not being as stupid and clueless as you seem to think, Mary thought to herself when Tanya spoke.  Without turning around or raising her eyes from the map, Mary addressed Tanya's concerns.

"That's a very sensible observation, Sergeant.  I'm glad we're thinking along the same lines about security.  Under no circumstances will we reveal either or possession of the documents nor show them to anyone outside of this immediate group.  We'll need a cover story as to why we're seeking out a scientist to help us, one that will withstand scrutiny and point away from any involvement with the plans.  Do you have any ideas along those lines, Sergeant?" she asked, trying to show Tanya that she valued her opinions.

"Well Snow White, since you're asking," Tanya thinks to herself before replying to Finnegan.  "If we were to be goin' around looking for scientists, professors, or computer specialists for this crap I'd say we start lower in their food chain and work our way up to see who's around.  Maybe we start out asking to see if there's anyone in the agricultural field since farming is a very big part of food production now since the major food stores have been offline for a couple of years.  Once they give us a name, then we try and go further up the chain by looking towards other fields that might be available and hopefully, if we're lucky, we'll find someone in our field that we need.  How's that for starters?" Tanya says over the intercom.

"I'll take your suggestion into consideration, Sergeant."  Finnegan folded the map to a more manageable size and continued to try to work out their location.

"If anyone sees a good landmark, sing out."

Katka peeks into the trunk one more time "All of the folders are labled. If you had a polish dictionary, you can read what they say. Maybe, find out what it is, yes?"

"That's a good suggestion, Valechzev," Finnegan answered, only stumbling a bit over the name.  "When we stop for the day, I want us to go through everything as a group and see if there's any more sense we can put to things.  First though, we have to find a safe position."

"Call me Katka, please."

"Maybe we could trade for a Polish to English guide to help decipher some of this crap.  It all looks Greek to me!  If it's something to do with engineering, I may be of some use, once again, if we get it deciphered," Tanya says.

"That is easier, isn't it?" Mary responded to Katka.  "You'll have to teach me how to say it properly when we've the time."

"I've no doubt your future contributions will meet or exceed your past accomplishments, Sergeant.  We'll add a dictionary to our resource requirements."

"Well laddie. If it is getting political, you've got the right guy here. My head is way better than last couple of days, thanks for asking, even if I guess my hats still fits bloody bad."

Don just had to loosen up a little on the gaspedal as Mary came over and started fiddling in his area. He changed his tiresom view from the road, and onto the curvy backside of the officer.

"Just so you know it, lass. I speak Polish, and if you'd like it we could have a tête á tête about the blueprints. I can read it, even if i haven't a clue what it's all about. I have to continue driving, but I have no problems with you standing there. None at all."

Tanya smirks at Finnigan's comments, "You're too flattering Commander!  That'll keep me goin'," Tanya says and then puts her head back against the side of the vehicle closing her eyes with a grin on her face.

Finnegan took a seat, abandoning looking for a landmark in favor of removing a distraction from Don's line of sight.  Absurdly, she found a hand trying to pat her hair into place and a flush on her face at Don's words.

Stupid, stupid useless gel.  Whack yourself on the head instead of fussing with your hair and get back to reality, she chided herself.

She couldn't decide if Tanya was going to be a problem or not.  Tanya was probably one of those Old Guard soldiers, some of the first women to break into the combat arms, and considered anyone younger who hadn't fought as hard as she had a feather merchant.  Add that to the usual disregard in which Americans held their officers and it was a recipe for insubordination.  Well, she'd have to find a way to win her respect.

"Leftenant you and the Sergeant will have a look through the documents when we're bivouacked.  I wasn't part of the Black Gang so I won't be of any use but I've full confidence in the two of you sorting it out."

She had to wonder why they hadn't before?  Had they been too busy, or had Major Finnegan been more intent on simply passing the documents along than in what they contained.  She made a note to skirt around the subject with Brown and see what he said.

"Roger that," Tanya said back into the headset while her head rested on the armored bulkhead of the BTR.

Katka moves over and pokes her head out the top left hatch. maybe she can help navigate by looking for landmarks. Church steeples, road signs, something.

Virgil clambered back to where Mary had been in the rear but rather than content himself with a seat, he popped open the second large hatch and stood. His rifle rested on the roof and eyes scaned the ruined city suburb as the BTR-80 rolled between the smashed and burnt husks of a once densely populated area.
"I just remembered," he said as soon as he'd plugged back into the intercom, "One of the locals gave me a name last night. Told me he'd be a good man to look up when we were in Krakow. An "Adam Weispolski", an officer in the Warta, whatever that is, he might be able to point us in the right direction."
It was always good to have a name, even if that name could only point you in the direction of the best bars.

"Well, it's a start!  At least we have a name to go with for now and if we're able to figure some of this shit out with Reset, he very well may point us in the right direction," Tanya says to everyone in the vehicle about Virgil's comment.

Don kept on driving. He was driving rather slow for debris, but also because he still wasn't cured from his headache.

"Aye, there are more potholes in this road than on M25"

Don smiles for himself. He could've said M8, but he wasn't sure that even Mary would get it.

"So, I guess the only way is to continue"

As the BTR rolls slowly by, more and more of the ragged refugees come out of hiding and head towards the armoured vehicle. Soon a hundred or more can be seen without even turning your head.
The road, cracked and potholed as it is remains clear of rubble. Signs of basic maintenance are seen here and there - a fallen wall cleared, a tree cut and dragged out of the way - but the surface itself...
The crowd quickly becomes a problem. Word of your presence appears to be racing through the neighbourhood, probably the sound of your diesel engine contributing most - a knot of twenty or so is arranged across the way, makeshift clubs, knives and spears in hand...
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:55, Thu 05 July 2007.

Katka ducks inside quick and buttons up. She opens a firing port and readies her rifle.

With her head resting on the side of the APC, Tanya lifts her head off the side when she sees Katka come back down from outside and see her stick her weapon throgh a firing port.  She quickly snatches up her AK-74 and gets up holding on to one of the bars, "Make sure everything is buttoned up tight!  And no shooting for chrissakes!  Katka, did any of 'em have guns that you saw?"

Don peers out his little hole.

"From the looks of it, I doubt they would want to do us any harm. I would guess they are hungry. It looks like the famine from Midge Ure's 'Do they know it's christmas?'. They probably need food more than anything else. We've got a car, so they prolly think of us as wealthy. There are a lot of people here now, so it can be hard to get any information for our small supplies"

Tanya goes to a firing port and opens it herself, peering out.  "Well, let's not stop and find out Don," Tanya says to him.

The crown up ahead starts to worry Brown a bit.

He slowly moves the main gun towards the crowd. Making sure to aim a bit high. If things get out of hand he intends to scare them with a well aimed shot over the crowd. Althoug he would hate for it to come to this as it might attract unwanted reactions.

"Try and keep up the pace. Hopefully they disperse if they see we're not slowing down."

"We should really get ourselves a hand on an allied flag. At least that way we can be sure they are not just reacting to us riding in under pact collors. Maybe they just want to keep the reds out of their beloved City."

"I did not see a gun but, a hungry people will do what they must for food. I also do not suggest slowing down for them."

Ducking back down, Virgil reached for Brown's RPK.
"You won't be wanting this for the moment?"
Without waiting for a reply, he stood back up and trained the automatic rifle on the gathering crowds, ready to unleash a storm of jacketed lead should they turn ugly. He'd considered and quickly discarded the idea of buttoning up as Tanya had said. With his head exposed he could fire in any direction. Through the firing ports they were limited to the frontal arc only.
"Lt Finnegan, I suggest you poke that rifle of yours through the port in front of you."
"Just in case...."

OOC: BTR-80 firing ports are angled towards the front of the vehicle.

"I think that's trhe general concensus Katka.  I'll double check the hatches," Tanya says leaving her port so she can go around and double check the main, obvious ways into the vehicle are secured.

"Every last one of you hold fast," Finnegan said firmly.  "They're no threat so long as we stay buttoned up and the last thing we want to do is open fire on civilians."

Civilians armed with all sorts of gashy and clubby looking things, but still nominally civilians.  What could they really do against the armor though?  God, what if one of them had a Molotov?  Or worse one of those...what were they called?

"Everyone hold fast," she repeated.  "Sergeant Major?  Do you see anyone with a... a..."  Tanya's going to have a bloody field day with this one.  "Er, with a rocket on a stick?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:37, Sat 07 July 2007.

I hope they arent TOO hungry. They might consider us to be a can of Spam. Does any of them seem to have large canopener in his hand?

Jokes aside. It might be time for a "Take us to your leader"-chat. We can do some namedropping. Anyone good enough in Polish? I still want to keep rolling the car. Otherwise I can go for the loudspeakers.

"I see nothing to harmfull, but I don't really have a clear view out of this periscope. Sergeant Matterson, you see anything more hostile?"

"I doubt if these peasants have any knowledge of a polish officer, but it might help to call it out."

"Don, whatever you do or whatever happens, keep this rig rolling. Never stop."

Just as Virgil was about to answer, something banged against the hull. A moment later another bang, then another and another. Within seconds a storm of rocks and rubble was bouncing off the armour, thrown from the crowd of starving refugees.
Up ahead, the group of twenty or so poorly armed men and women arrayed themselves across the way, blocking the road. Behind, the crowd was closing in as rapidly as options to deal with the rapidly deteriorating situation.

Talk was'nt doing here and Katka did'nt have a touchy-feally bone in her body. To her civilians were nothing more than people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and these quallified. All in all she would rather not waste the ammo but, the fastest way she knew to break up a crowd was gunfire. Directed gunfire. Let them take the high road later on, as long as she lived thru the experiance. She had done far worse in the past anyhow. So she took aim at the thickest part of the crowd her view offered and began to squeeze off bursts. Sweeping at chest level. No warning shots. No playing nice with the other children.

At the first bang, Finnegan hunched her head down and made a sharp exclamation of surprise.  The other rattles made her jerk also, head keeping an almost syncopated rhythm with them.  Finnegan opened her mouth-

The savage hammering rips of automatic weapons fire battered her ears.  Inside the vehicle the impacts were especially brutal.  "Wha-  Cease fire, damn your hide!  Cease fire!"  It was doubtful if her voice would even be heard over the weapons fire.

Tanya smiled and shook her head in disbelief, "RPG's ma'am?"

Hearing the firing from inside the vehicle and the shout from Finnegan, Tanya grabs on to one of the metal handholds and kicks her leg at Katka's hand holding her rifle.  "What the fuck is yer malfunction bitch?  You heard the commander, check yer goddamned fire!"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:36, Mon 09 July 2007.

”DAMMIT !!!  What’s going on? Who did the firing and why? Call it, where’s the threat.

In his mind the only reason for anyone to start firing straight into a crowd is when hostilities are observed or the vehicle is under direct threat..

Now you had it. The cat was out of the bag now. Well better change the rules of the game accordingly. When commander Finnegan called for a cease fire Brown made himself heard.

”hold your fire ! Conserve your ammo! Small burst only  and only at individuals taking actions towards the vehicle.”

“LT, get us out of here, quick !”

Then he starts scanning for targets moving towards the vehicle.

If the crowd was ugly before, they've now become positively hideous.

5.45mm rounds tear into the closly packed people. Blood, flesh and bone fountains in grotesque display, screams drowned out by the roar of the engine and chatter of Katka's AK-74 as the strong smell of cordite begins to fill the interior of the BTR-80.

The crowd first recoils as the front ranks collapse and then surge forward, murderous intent clear in every set of eyes. On the other side of the BTR, the sound of gunfire and screams of the wounded fire the blood of the crowd - projectiles that were at first targeted at the vehicle itself are now aimed towards the exposed upper body of Virgil. Rubble bounces around him, off armour plate and the opened hatch at his back until one jagged chunk of broken concrete catches him in his right arm, opening a shallow gash...

Ahead, the 20 or so blocking the road do not move. Clutching their makeshift weapons they appear as if ready to receive the charge of mounted horsemen, uncaring that the beast bearing down on them is 20 times the weight and virtually unstoppable by men alone.

"Ah, shit!"
Blood began to ooze from the gash on his arm aas he ducked back inside. Getting hit by a damn rock wasn't part of the plan!
"Close that hatch, quick!"
Seemed that although they had the automatic weapons, grenades and explosives, it was the rabble out there with the rocks, sticks and harsh language who'd gained fire superiority. Give them another few minutes and they'd probably have the BTR-80 on it's back like a helpless turtle.
"Floor it Don!"

After making the kick at Katka's hand/rifle, she moves over to where Virgil is ducking back down inside the APC and sits him down.  Tanya takes a deep breath before she reaches up for the hatch so she can secure the hatch.  "What the fuck is goin' on here damnit?"

Katka drops her weapon at Tanya's kick and curses her furiously in Unkrainian, rubbing her arm. "God damnit!" Was all she could frustratingly muster in English. She pulled the steelpot from her pack and put it on before picking up the rifle again. "Americans! Are you going to feed them all?" By this point she was no longer paying attention to the mob's resergence.

"Ain't nobody lookin' to feed 'em but, we ain't here to kill 'em either!  Who the hell are the local police in charge here goin' to beleive, the poor starvin' masses or the group of in an APC with automatic weapons?  You couldn't fire over their fuckin' heads or something?" Tanya says back into the APC as she tries to secure the hatch where Virgil came down from.

If she gets the hatch secured, Tanya turns to Katka, "Yer lucky I didn't kick you upside yer god damned head you stupid bitch!"

Don yells at the crowd through the windscreen.

"Go away, I'm gonna keep moving!", he shouts out in Polish, and keeps the pace forward.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:54, Wed 11 July 2007.

Knowing there was nothing to be done now, Mary clenched her jaw and forced herself to watch out the front as Donnachaidh relentlessly ground the vehicle forward.  Smart enough to realize there was no negotiation possible now - realistically there may never have been - Finnegan didn't further foul up the situation by complaining about it or launching recriminations.

She didn't want to imagine what it would feel or sound like if the armored car ran over someone.  But it was her mistake, her failure in leadership, so she was duty bound to not shirk from it as it happened.  She'd been schooled repeatedly that if an officer can order or allow a thing to be done, by God they can watch it be done and experience the consequences.

While he was slightly aware of the fuss comming from behind, William became focussed. He noticed the crowd of people trying to block their travel...

Slowly his finger moved. Suddenly the intense sound of the KPV machinegun filled the vehicle, drowning the squabble in the back. The first burst only took a few seconds.

His eyes fixed in front to see the effect the rounds from the machinegun had. He now became aware of things happening inside the vehicle.

A strong voice yelled out.

"COMMANDER!!!, get your troops in line. Man those fire ports !!!

After this small outburst his attention focussed looking for new threats.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:34, Sat 14 July 2007.

"Politsiya! What Politsiya?" At the sound of the RPK hammering away, Katka peered out the port once again. Seeing the crowd had'nt melted away into the background. "These people are fucking crazy and you want to talk to them!" She was talking to the wall at this point, busy setting her rifle in place for anouther burst.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Fri 13 July 2007.

Tanya moves back away from Virgil and then towards her AK-74 where she was seated.  She will pick it up and then move toward a firing port to one side of the APC that isn't obviously taken and opens it to see what the situation is outside.  "Here's another fine mess we've gotten ourselves into," Tanya thinks to herself and then yells out, "Orders Commander?"

"Drive for the thinnest part of the crowd, Leftenant," she ordered quietly.  "Do what you must to get us out of here."

Louder, her voice a trained quarterdeck soprano designed to cut through the noise of a North Atlantic gale, "Man your stations.  Fire upon hostiles if they pose a threat.  Sing out if you see anything."  Hostiles.  Hungry, scared people trying to survive were now hostiles.  Finnegan didn't know if it was because of the Pact vehicle or the shooting, but either was sufficient cause.  Mary reached for a handhold, not because the vehicle was swaying but because it gave her hand something to clench around.

Tanya goes back searching for any kind of hostile target that could do the vehicle harm from where the crowd is on her side.

Marcus had been dozing and only stirred slightly at the initial banging on the hull.  Realizing what it was he sighed and remained awake, although he did not expect the subsequent automatic weapon fire from the interior of their own vehicle.  The resounding echo nearly deafened him, leaving some ringing.  SFC Redgrave was a step ahead of him as she kicked the offending Ukrainian, although he would not have been so kind as to aim for her arm.  He muttered to himself as usual, "F**kin' stupid b***h." as he shook his head.

The crowd wasn't too pretty to begin with, but now there was no doubt they were downright ugly and probably looking for blood.  The 70's flick, Solent Green came to mind for a moment as he thought how hungry are these people.  It actually caused him to upturn a corner of his mouth that might have been mistaken with great scrutiny as a smirk.

As others turned to the officer for direction he was already calling out to Don, "Charlie Mike! Drive through man!"  He peered out a weapons port without putting his face to it and muttered mostly to himself, "No need to stop now."  As he brought his weapon up ready to fire at any attempted stowaways.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:31, Sat 14 July 2007.

Picking out a group of three that had just stepped up to the edge of a rubbled building, she fired off a short burst. They had been close, something in their hands, probably just bits of crete. They past her field of veiw before she could even see if her fire was effective.

Don closed his eyes when he saw that there was no intention from the starving people on going out of his way.

"Sweet Mary. Forgive me...", he said for himself, looking out of his confined area. He opened his eyes and tried to see beyond the crowd, to see the free road beyond, looking for the horizon. Then he pushed the gas-pedal. If they wasn't moving away from gunfire, they wouldn't go away from his vehicle.

What kind of cruel nightmare is this?, he thought for himself. Forgive me Father, I have sinned...

Almost drowned out by the deep throated roar of the engines and tinny ricochets of makeshift missiles are the thuds of bodies rebounding from the front and sides of the vehicle. Machinegun and rifle fire alike seem to have little effect on the closely packed crowd as they continue to push insanely forward.
Desperate refugees with little regard for their own safety charge the BTR, attempting to climb aboard even as Don accelerates. Half imagined screams of the wounded compete in your minds with the sound of breaking bones, torn muscles and crushed flesh.
Those blocking the way ahead seem a little more concerned for themselves, diving aside at the very last moment, dropping their useless weapons into the rubble. Yelled curses chase you down the now "open" roadway, echoing off ruined walls.

Virgil held his fire even as the heavy KPV machinegun roared above their heads. Sticks, stones, and harsh language were unlikely to do more than scratch the already heavily scraped paintwork.
Physically they were in little danger. Morally and emotionally was another matter altogether....

At least he wasn't sitting up front able to observe peoples faces moments before they went underneath ten tonnes of armoured death.

Tanya puts her head down as the BTR clears the area of the refugees.  She safties her AK-74 and holds it by it's sling with her one hand.  She turns to Katka, "Well, that was an unnecessary cluster fuck you just got us into!  They were unarmed for christ sakes woman!"

Brown looked at the effect of his fire. The first burst of the weapon were actually aimed just over the head of these poor but stuborn men and women. When it proved uneffective it was already to late to aim a bit lower. The vehicle already hit the first line of people. William could see how several of them were hit and some of them disappeared under the giant wheels of the vehicle. To his relief this seemed to have effect on the rest of crowd. Although the sight was horrible, he was also professional enough not to let it get to him. As soon as this crowd became hostile it meant it was going to be them or us. He was relieved this time it was them.

”Lt, keep driving, better get some distance between us and this crowd.”

After that he took the time to look at the Finnegan to see how she was handling. This up close and personal was far different from firing a missile from miles away, not knowing what the actual effect of it was.

”You OK, commander?”

Now clear of immediate danger, Virgil popped the overhead hatch and peered cautiously out.
"I never, ever want to go through something like that mess again!" he stated emphatically to Marcus beside him.
"Anyone got a bandaid?" The scratch on his arm was only superficial but with the world the way it was and medical care almost non-existant, he wasn't keen on giving infection ANY chance to take hold.

"I'm fine, thank you, Sergeant Major.  Get me a damage and casualty report please," Finnegan ordered in a tightly under control voice.  During the attack, she'd forced herself to keep her eyes open and face forward as the heavy vehicle turned people into so much miserable meat paste and butcher's remnants.  She seemed expressionless, but Mary knew she'd pay for it later.

She thought about interrupting Tanya, but decided to let the NCOs handle the situation for now.  If it went on too long or went too far, she'd put an end to it but she doubted it would.  Tanya seemed very capable, like most everyone on board.

"Steady on, Leftenant," she told Donnachaidh.  Mary reached out and temporarily unplugged from comms.  In a quieter voice she spoke to Donnachaidh.  "I'm nae your priest, but the fault's not yours.  I'll bear the responsibility so make sure you let me."  Briefly she reached over and touched Donnachaidh's arm before plugging back in to the comms and going back to looking for a secure place to stop.

Katka brought her rifle in and replaced the empty clip with a full one. Looking over at Tanya, she just could'nt understand what the big deal was. "It is always one you do not see that gets you. Better to be the one who shoots first."

Tanya takes a second and tries to calm herself before continuing any conversation with Katka.  "My point is Katka, we're trying to keep a low profile here and you're shooting up the homeless and hungry because why?  To shoot one that might be a danger to us.  Next time you do that, make sure your crystal ball is working!  We're trying to keep a low profile here and not get on anyone's bad side until we have to!  Please, don't do that again unless you're directed to or you see someone leveling a weapon at one of us!"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:05, Sun 29 July 2007.

Marcus was stone-faced through the whole ordeal, he was a bit crazy already anyway so the mass carnage didn't seem to bother him much.  Perhaps he had seen worse.  Still he readied for a firefight that never came, and withdrew the muzzle of his MP5 from the gun slit as the crowd faded in the background.  Marcus just glanced at Virgil as he emphatically swore off running over civilians again, no emotions either way, and he finally just shrugged.  His attentions were turned to SFC Redgrave berating Katka for her indiscriminate firing.  He did shake his head slightly, perhaps with the thoughts of how this Ukrainian really was undisciplined. But he said nothing, leaving the ass-chewing to Redgrave.

She tightened her lips and cranked the firing port shut, calm and deliberate "OK. No shooting people. Tak." Sat back in her seat, rifle between her legs, eyes narrowed slightly, looking at nothing.

A few short minutes driving later and before the adrenaline rush has subsided, the cityscape changes abruptly. Buildings have been purposely torn down for almost 400 metres and the rubble built into a protective "hardpoint". A roofed wood and sandbag tower stands over a large rubble bunker system stretching nearly 200 metres acrosss. Walls of barbed wire funnel all traffic, vehicular or foot, towards a checkpoint built into the central section. Piles of rubble, barrels and beams force all traffic through a confined, twisting path with overlooking firing points until it reaches a solid log and metal plate gate set to swing aside as each vehicle has been checked.
Crowning the strongpoint can be seen the rounded shape of a Soviet heavy tank turret, 125mm gun barrel able to fire in any direction (except the tower slightly behind it) without obstruction. Whisps of smoke rise from several locations throughout the strongpoint and other signs of life in the form of heavily armed Polish troops are apparent. The dozen or so visible troops controlling the small throng of civilian refugees, merchants, farmers and travellers appear to be at ease - who wouldn't be if occupying such a strong position?
Bloated corpses hang from the barbed wire in various places, testament to the willingness of the defenders to fire upon those straying from the marked path. The fact that they remain on the wire indicates two things - they are a warning to others and there must be danger involved to remove them, probably mines.

Tanya looks out the viewports of the BTR at what is going on outside and around them.  "Charming place!  Let's see if we can hold off on killing the guards here for a bit, OK?" she says smartly in the back of the APC.  She will also place her AK next to her on the seat.

Don sits silently, having grave problems keeping the focus on the road, but manages nonetheless.

As Mary talks to him, he nods to her, and continues.

"..ye know, there are more lassies named Mary than you, Finnegan..."

He tries on a smile, even if it is hard. There IS a slight chance that she is a catholic by her name, but if she is a protestant, he wants to just clear it out.

Those poor people from behind has a terrible life. And now he has made it worse. Men dying probably have children in a shed at home.

He starts to think about the future instead. He will continue his deeds. It had been his work to save such men before, and now he had to let them die, hopefully to save others. The starving men will surely not be alive when some sort of normality is back in this part of the world.

Without actually asking anyone, Cináed slows down a little, but then keeps the pace forward into the jaws of the wolf.

Brown looks through his scope watching the roadblock up ahead. Of course this city was protected like this. No way it had the status it had gained if it did not take care of itself.

"LT, better keep her moving. Our mission is to get inside the city, I think this place is just as good as any.

After that Brown settles, moving the gun in the least threatening position. It was of no use now. Whatever happened next.

"People, we can just as well look friendly to our guests, so better open the hatches and look like the tired stragglers we are.

Leaning back inside towards the commander.

"Maybe those guys at the checkpoint are familiar with the polish office. We better ask."

With his head already out of a roof hatch, Virgil could see the obstacle around them.
"Big isn't it?" he commented on the sprawling Polish position with awe in his voice. In almost five years of fighting he'd never encountered such as well developed defensive position.
"Looks like they get a little action from time to time too." Virgil waved towards a body hung up on the barbed wire. Fortunately they were upwind....

Tanya pops one of the hatches nearest to her and sticks her head out first for a look around and then her torso to get some fresh air.  She takes in the scenery, or lack of it, and watches to their rear to see if there are any signs of the angry mob following them.  "Hopefully, that's not what they do to people who shoot unarmed civilians looking for food," Tanya says in respnse to Virgil's comments.

Marcus as always keeps any thoughts or comments to himself as they bounce along towards what could be certain death.  He cracks a small undetectable grin for a moment as he continues to scan his sector as they drive along.

Don guides the BTR to a crunching halt (he's still having some trouble handling the gearbox) at the end of the line. A number of people wait ahead, some obviously farmers with goods to sell in the city, others refugees seeking food and shelter in what they've heard is a haven from the madness the world's degenerated into.

The farmers, and others who demonstrate items to trade, skills to use or some other way of supporting themselves, are let through by the guards. Those like the rag wearing refugees are quickly sent packing, often with a boot to speed them on their way.

Immediately in front of your vehicle waits a white haired scruffy old man in his seventies pushing a wheelbarrow piled high with his worldly possessions. A battered suitcase, almost bursting with dirty clothes, family photos and other knicknacks perches on top of the barrow, a childs hand keeping it from toppling off.

The child, no more than six or seven years old and easily recognisable as the mans grandson, or perhaps even great grandson, is dressed in similar fashion. Dirty, torn and missmatch clothing cover his skinny body, shoes worn almost through on his feet.

The pairs turn comes and predictably they are turned away. Tears stream down both their faces as they plead with the guard, the child tugging feverishly at the freshly laundered uniform. The old man pulls a framed photo from the wheelbarrow, thrusting it at the guard, begging for them to look at the picture and take pity.

The guard doesn't even glance at it, instead rips it from the mans hand and throws it to the ground. A heartbeat later and it's ground underfoot by his boot...

Actions?

Tanya turns her attention to watching the line in front of them to see who is getting let in city and maybe, how.  Seeing a lot of the people being turned away, especially the old man and grandson in front of them, she shakes her head at the guards actions.  "Glad I left my old photo's in with my good clothes!  Look's like yer gunna have to bullshit 'em real good to get in Don," she says back into the vehicle.

"Hey, Katka, why don't you and Tanya show a bit of leg?" Virgil said in semi-seriousness.
"It's not like they'd be too interested in my ugly mug, and I don't think we've got much else to trade."
He knew he was treading on very dangerous ground but so what if he copped a few dirty looks - somebody had to say it.

Tanya looked down at her clothes and then looked back to Virgil, "Show a little leg, in this?"  Tanya ducks back into the APC and takes off her helmet, letting it rest on the her seat.  She begins to try and straighten out her her so it isn't too messed up.  She goes to her bag and looks through all of the cosmetic things she picked up with Cam and goes for something plain to put in her hair or cover it modestly.

When Tanya finds something suitable, she turns to Virgil, "You owe me for this shit troop," and then goes back up through the hatch to see what's goin on around them.

Brown decides that staying behind the gun does not make much sense. Their best weapon in this situation was sitting behind the wheel of the vehicle. He had to chuckle a little when he heard the remarks Virgil made. Well every little bit helped.

Leaving the main gun for what it was he stepped down from his seat and took position close to the side hatch. If Don was going to be the slick talker he was making sure to be by his side and look mean.

”LT, guess this is the time for you to prove you haven’t lost those negotiating skills you keep bragging about. I’ll be your escort.... Matterson, could you hand me back my weapon please”

"Oh, yeah," Vigil replied looking guiltily down at the RPK in his hands.
"Almost forgot it was yours there for a while."
He dragged the automatic rifle back inside and passed it over to the Englishman.
"You'll be wanting your mags too I guess?"
Weaponry exchanged, he hauled his precius PSG-1 up from the seat below and rested it atop the vehicles roof. Although nowhere near as effective in an all out firefight, it packed a serious punch that couldn't be ignored.
"Maybe you could offer them some of the stuff we picked up in Wolbrom?" he suggested.

Marcus unconsciously counts the number of guards, how many?  He cocks his head over to Brown, "I'm comin' with too."  He glanced around the area outside the vehicle before swinging his legs out to dismount.  At the very least he could get out of the tin coffin.

Brown and Marcus exit the BTR by a side hatch, weapons held non-threateningly by their sides. Meanwhile, Tanya and Katka do what they can to tidy themselves up - not a particularly hard task since enveryone was still realtively clean and fresh from the night in the village of Ojcow. Virgil remains with his head out of the roof hatch and the two officers stay seated behind the armoured glass of the windscreen.

With his boot still firmly in place atop the shattered picture frame, the guard looks the two men up and down with a gaze that borders on the insulting.
"Papoers," he demands in bad english while extending his left hand.
The presence of the BTR just a few metres away doesn't seem to phase him in the slightest, probably because of the firepower surrounding the position and at his immediate disposal.

The old man has crouched down and is attempting to retrieve the picture while the child continues tugging at his uniform, completely ignored by the guard.

Brown stretching his legs outside is unpleasantly supprised, being adressed by the polish guard this quick. He was still waiting for Don to get out.

“You wait for the officer, he will be out in a second”

He sais while pointing his thumb back to the vehicle. Taking a stance like he is only an escort waiting for his superior to get out of the vehicle.

Feeling a little bit more comfortable about herself, Tanya gives the guard a quick smile and a wave as she leans out of the BTR taking in the sights of the checkpoint.  She tries not to watch the scene with the child and the apparent grandparent before them if she can help it.

"Aye. I'll go out there as well. Just gotta see if we have any valuables interesting enough for grunts like those. I guess we don't have anything drinkable. Or what's on that list, Mary?"

He'll make another look for alcohol of any sort. Or cigarettes.

"Well, here we go. Keep low. Especially you, and your trigger-finger, Katka!"

With not as big problems as before, Don gets out of the vehicle. Without help, even if offered, he walks steadily over to the soldiers, with the woolen suite in an as impeccable shape as possible.

"Powitanie. Miły wobec do widzenia , mój przyjaciele!"

He digs down into a pocket for papers.

During the time he gets a pack of cigarettes out and offers to the guards. He even offers the old man one. "Pobyt wokoło.", he whispers to the old man, but hastily returns his attention to the guards.

"My podobny stać się w dzielnica handlowa Londynu i czynić niektórzy sprawa."

Tanya will try to keep up a smile while Don begins to his dealings with the gate guard.

Marcus sized up the guard with his own hard gaze and a mild look of disgust on his face.  For now he ignored the old man and child.  He did his best to make out and count the positions, guards, and anything hidden.

With Marcus and Brown acting as bodyguard, Don exits the vehicle in his worn but still servicable suit. As he offers the guard the cigarettes, the guard takes the entire packet from his hand - there'll be no satisfying him with just one!
"What business?" he demands obviously prefering to stick with his shaky English rather than have his native language sullied by a foriegner.

Tanya will continue to keep up a smile while Don continues his dealings with the gate guard.

Brown lets his eyes do all the work. Staying a bit behind he looks around. In his mind memorizing the scenery. Trying to figure out the best routes of escape if they needed to get out of here.

On the other hand he had all the trust in Don if it came to talking his way through this.

Don doesn't give away the analisys he is doing on the guard.

This man has obviously been into this a long time. He has seen more death and devastation than he needs. The human feelings has worn away. This is necessary to be able to endure the life as it is here, seeing all these shadows of humans that lives in no-mans-land.

No feelings, but by the way of taking the entire packet of cigarettes, he is an egoist. He is used to get what he wants, by force or by fear. This is nothing uncommon in the political whereabouts Don has been living in, so a small personal bait would probably ease up the entrance.

"Affairs... Selling, and buying... You see anything interesting?...", he says, making a small nod toward the vehicle, with girls draped as in a car show. Girls worked before the war. Will work again, Don reckons. What's on the market is however hardware. But seeing fair ladies, should ease it up a little. If Tanya would follow him into a shed around here, we would probably be able to go forward anyway. No guard would be alive after meeting her knowledge of close combat.

Marcus stood with his MP5SD at the low-ready.  It didn't matter much, it was really just for show, and for all they knew all of the security surrounding them could have just been for show.  Although he doubted that it was just that.  Nonetheless it paid to remain vigilant, but he quietly hoped things would go smoothly since they were standing it would appeared to be a meat grinder poised to churn.

"Udają się daleko!" The cigarettes quickly find their way into his shirt pocket as the guard yells angrily at the old man clawing at his boot. Both hands raise up his rifle ready to bring it crashing down on the helpless man below!
Meanwhile, the other visible guards barely glance in his direction, obviously used to such displays of brutality.

Tanya watches as the guards rifle goes up into the air in slow motion before she's able to get herself to react to the situation.  "NO!" she yells out as she begins to get down from the vehicle and move towards the old man and the boy.  She is unarmed and has her hands out in front of her (waving side to side and palms where he can see that she is unarmed) towards the guard and slowly approaching them.

If she's allowed to, she will help the old man off of the ground and help him stand up and back away from the guard.

As Tanya yells, Don throws the question to the guard.

"What'ya want for the photo?!!"

Marcus frowns as the situation seems to be turning into some bad movie scene.  At least some of the positions appear to be unmanned meaning less bullets ripping through them as their mowed down.  Marcus didn't like bullies either, but was this civilian even worth getting shot over?  Marcus seemed to be lacking some of the humanity his compatriots were now obviously displaying, but inherently he did have a compulsion to protect the weak from the bully.  He tensed ready to fight if need be, and quietly wondered if the tower guards would open fire on their friend down on the ground here too if they were to struggle.

The guard pauses, almost in shock, as first Tanya and then Don protest his heavy-handedness.
"What do you care?" he asks, lifting his foot from the photo.
Finally free to snatch up his precious memory, the old man clutches it to his chest and scampers a few paces away.
"Danke, Danke!" he says to Tanya while waving the child close.

As she bends down to help the old man up, she looks at the guard, "Because, it's all he has left!"

She smiles and nods at the old man as he thanks her helping him up.

William watches the picture unfold before him.

His first urge had been been to stop Tanya. But it seemed things were turning out alright. Still she could have caused them unnesesary trouble. It would be hard enough for Don to get them through, they didn't need suprises from people on their own side.

"Sergeant, please escort this man and his family away from here."

He said in a forcefull, urgent tone of voice.

Tanya looks back to where Brown is and gives him a nod.  "I'm on it," she says getnly taking the old man by the arm and walking him away from the check point.  She says to him in German, "Sorry if anything got ruined."

For the moment it seemed as though their imminent death had been averted yet again.  It didn't matter all too much to Marcus anyway, but every animal still has a bit of instinct for self-preservation.  He scanned the defensive positions for any signs of activity and then at the guard and what he was going to do next.

"Not alot, soldier, But you took your attention away from me! So, what do you want for getting us inside?"

The guard watches the old man and child being led away for a moment before dismissing them from his notice.
"Paopers," he demands again. "Pass, permit, voucher," he continues as he tries to get his point across. "Papiery identyczności!" he says, evidently giving up and returning to his native language in disgust.

"Dziękują," the old man stammers as Tanya leads him way into relative safety.
"Proszę, pomagają mojemu wielkiemu synowi I idę do domu kracow. Złodzieje skradli nasz papiery identyczności i baczność nie będzie słuchać. Mój dom jest w krakowie."
Tears stream down the old mans face as he gesticulates at the boy, the guard and the city beyond.

From on top of the BTR Virgil stated the obvious.
"I think he wants something from you Tanya. Something to do with Krakow, identity papers and the boy."
Krakow and the boy were the easy parts to understand. Identity papers, well, Virgil could barely speak proper English let alone a foriegn language like Polish, but so far both the old man and the guard had spouted the same words - "Papiery identyczności". It didn't take a brain surgeon to work out what that meant....
"What do you think Katka?" he asked the strangely silent and apparently very shy Ukranian hiding away inside the armoured vehicle.

Marcus uncharacteristically and rather deadpan jokes, "Do you think my U-S Army I-D will do it?  Without waiting for anyone to laugh including himself he continues, "Donny, can you ask the Pollock where the hell we can get these 'papiery identyczności'? Or maybe he can show us an example?"  Marcus was once a very patient man, but war and other bad things tend to wear on one's virtue, luckily for this idiot he didn't want to get everyone around him killed today so he refrained from bitch slapping the guard.

Don raises his hands to show he has no.

"I guess he wants some papers to let us in here. What was the name of the powerful lad here in Krakow? My head is still a little dazy"

Shaking his head with a mixture of disgust and dismay on his face, the guard motions two of his companions forward. The pair saunter forward towards the BTR, one climbing inside and the other heading directly for the fuel cap.

Inside, Katka, Virgil and Mary watch as he searches roughly through your assembled possessions, finally letting out a gasp of suprise as he uncovers first your supplies of food and then the molotov cocktail safely wrapped in rags to prevent it breaking accidentally.

Stuffing the glass bottle into an empty webbing pouch, he gathers about a dozen kilos of your valuable food before heading back out - it's clear that any resistance would result in almost immediate trouble raining down from the heavily fortified checkpoint.

Outside, the second guard has an easier time of it. Climbing up on top of the vehicle, he unscrews the fuel cap and sniffs the contents. His head shoots upright, a look of shock plastered across his face.
"Bogaty, one są bogaci! To jest diesel!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:03, Wed 31 Oct 2007.

Virgil stayed with his head and upper body through the roof hatch, observing the second guard as he climbed up the outside of the vehicle.
"Ah, Brown, I think you'd better take up your position," he said trying to keep free of the panic that was beginning to build within him.
"They're gonna find what we're burning in this can and we might have to stop 'em stealin' it all."
With a single litre of diesel going for upwards of $40 and more, the nearly 300 litres they were carrying in the tanks might just prove too much temptation for supposedly well disciplined Polish soldiers such as these.
"Major Finnegan, would you please slide over into the drivers seat?"

Brown had to think for a minute.

"Adam Weispolski, when I recall correctly. That was the name of the officer in the Warta Virgil had heard one of the villager talk about. Demand to see him"

Brown looks as the polish guard seems to get annoyed and lets his eyes follow the other guards when they move towards their vehicle. No emotion visible on his face. When Virgil calls out to them he looks over, keeping his eyes blank.

There was no sense in taking a spot behind the weapon. There was no reason for panic. They were in this position right now. If it came to a firefight the ammo of the gun wouldn't last long enough to even get their vehicle clear of this roadblock.
In this position his faith was on Don. He now watched as the other guard came out of the vehicle obviously carying some of their supplies. Well they got their price now.

Unnoticed to the ones around he moved on his legs just a little, unnoticed taking a firmer grip on his weapon. At least if they went there were three annoying guards that would go with them.

"WEISPOLSKI! Będziesz nie dostać liczniejszy od nasz rzeczy! Puszczać nam przez. Jesteśmy wobec spotykać Weispolski!

Donnachaidh looks irritated that the guards just passes him without taking any notice. In his heart it works really good. Now the guards still think they have the upper hand, and they know that we really have something to make deals with.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:50, Thu 01 Nov 2007.

Marcus doesn't like the idea of these Polish bastards going through their things and now they know the group is carrying diesel.  It could get really ugly in a hurry.  They either had a bargaining chip, or the Poles were going to rape them for their possessions, fuel, and god only knows what else.  Marcus had seen much of human greed in the many third world countries he had served in, and the whole damn world or at least their little piece of the war zone had been much like a third world country.  Such distinctions really didn't seem to exist anymore, or at least in their current world, so he braced himself from straight out beating the assholes.  The only thing keeping him back was not wanting to be the cause of the death of others, as he didn't care too much for himself.  He would rather take a few of them with him, but his comrades most likely would not appreciate being made into swiss cheese.

Tanya will move back into the vehicle once the family is on their way and out of harm's way from the guards.  She checks her stuff to see what was taken and then finds a hatch to watch the area from.  "We shouldn't wait too long Marcus!  Who knows if those people from back there are headed up to the gates to report us!"

Tanya's words seem alomost prophetic as civilians who had been admitted through the gates just before the old man watched on. As the guard made his declaration of diesel, they become unsettled and quickly hurry away further into the city with worried glances over their shoulders.
The announcment also has an effect on the other two guards. A sly look appears on their faces, greed obviously a motive for their following actions.
Totally ingnoring Don's demand to see Weispolski, he struggle with his poor english after glancing over his shoulder towards the command post.
"We give paopers," he says conspiratorially to Don.
"You give 5 galon."

Don is surprised of the guards knowledge of gallons, but tries to look amazed on the horrible price the guard is asking for. 5 gallons isn't too much, unless they actually wants it per person.

He leans over to the guard and returns his conspiratorial way of talking.

"You get 6 gallons, but then we want to get the boy and his grandfather with us as well."

OOC: I know diesel is really expensive, but what is the marketprice for it? It's a little hard to deal when one don't have a clue at its worth.

Tanya nods with approval when she hears Don ask the guards about letting the grandfather and child in with them for the diesel.

Marcus shakes his head, f**kin' liberals he thought to himself.  He didn't like the idea of giving up so much of their precious fuel, and throwing in an extra jug for the old man and kid seemed unwise.  Wasn't it enough they had kept the two from being killed or beaten by the guards?  All Marcus did outwardly was sigh deeply, but he said nothing and only kept his watchful eyes on both the guards pilfering their belongings and the machineguns pointed in their general direction.

The guard lets his AK-74 swing down on it's sling, spits in his hand and holds it out towards Don.
"Done!" he declares with finality.

Grabbing two empty jerrycans from your collection of more than a dozen, the third guard (the one that called out To jest diesel) produces a short length of hose and begins syphoning. A short few minutes later and the first twenty litres have found a new home.
Pinching off the hose, he quickly transfers it to the second 20 litre container....

Meanwhile Tanya ushers the old man and his grandson towards the BTR-80 after helping them gather their possessions.

OOC: 6 gallons is slightly more than 27 litres

Don throws his hand into the guard's, with a big smile.

"Marcus, you see to that they don't take more than 7 liters, that's about 1,5 gallons in that can."

Then he turns back to the guard, still holding his hand.

"So, what should one do, here in Krakow? What should we not miss? What money could be made from this crew?", he makes a move with his right arm toward the BTR-80 and his people.

Don wants to take the chance to see what this man has for references, and if he knows the town well. He should know somed hierarchy in the city, who rules it etc.

Politicians never amazed to supprise him. There must be some political logic behind giving an extra gallon in their negotiations. Well that's why the LT was good at his job. He was good at his.

Brown remains close to the LT while Don orders Marcus to keep an eye on the syphoning process. Scanning the surroundings like a bodyguard.

The man looked at Don as if he'd suddenly grown a third arm in the middle of his forehead. Hadn't this band of foriegners disrupted his quiet day of shaking down peasants enough yet?
"You go Ratusz," he said coldly as the last drop of precious fuel was transfered into the can under Marcus' watchful eyes.
"You speak to Rzadzenie Miejksi. Get paopers."
"Then you do what like."
"Don't kill or," he pointed his hand at Don in the classic pistol sign, "Bang!"
"You fight and Bang!" Again the pistol.
"You shoot," he said pointing first at the BTR turret, "And BOOM!" he gestured clearly at the dug in tank.

Brown looked sideways at Don, hoping he had any clue on what this Polak tried to tell them. Because he didn't understand half of it.

It seemed though as if the LT had proven himself a good diplomat again as it had all the signs they would be moving into town.

Tanya smiles as she walks the two civilians in past the gates by their BTR.  She points with her hand for them to enter and go into the city.  Tanya gets back into the APC and looks around, "We done fuckin' around yet or can we get inside this god forsaken city and get some real food?"

Marcus wasn't about to let those scumbags take anymore than they were promised, but he also didn't want to endanger the other's lives.  So he just watched, hand on his MP5 slung at the low carry position.  When the transaction was complete he made sure the guards were clear and that everyone else had re-mounted the BTR before he climbed in himself.

Brown stays close to Don as his escort.

When they return to the vehicle he takes his spot behind the gun again. Although he is much more relaxed, not thinking using it will be of any use now.

Virgil sighed in relief. It looked as if they were going through without anyone having to die. He was pleased about that. As he waited for the BTR to head off, he looked at the huge defensive lines around the city. It was a well-prepared killing field, dug in tanks covered any weak points and aiming stakes told him the area was well-prepared for artillery support. The sentries had been well-fed, on the ball and only marginally corrupt. The city was one big death trap for an attacker, he only hoped that as visitors they suffered a different fate.

"Aye, let's get moving, laddies. We can just get going, nothing more to see here."

He climbs onto the BTR and tries to see that noone is left behind.

"You want me to drive? Otherwise I can just be your shield up here."

"Could be good to chit-chat to the locals if more of them is coming in our way, I reckon"

Tanya climbs abck up and into the BTR, "Let's get this show on the road!  Especially if those refugees come back to the gates looking for us!"

"Yup, let's grt moving ASAP. We'll need time inside the city to find safe shelter and then start trying to sort out how we survive in a place like this." Virgil said, "You saw the refugees and workers, this place lives by feeding it people. We need to be chilly and hard to make sure we don't become Krakow kibble."

"Sgt Smith, take over from Don at the wheel please and get us through this damn checkpoint."
"Don, I need you and Tanya to talk to the old man and his son please. Find out what you can."
Mary had considered Katka as driver but ever since they'd met the Ukrainian women had been slient and withdrawn. Marcus, while perhaps not the best driver amongst them, she knew was alert to the dangers their situation imposed upon them.
"Sgt Matterson, heads up and keep watch with the Sergeant Major."

Under Marcus' semi-skilled hands, the BTR-80 lurched forward and through the checkpoint. The narrow passageway underneath the guns openned out onto a busy street. Although signs of the war were evident, at least most windows still had glass in them and the bitumen was patched where every other village, town and city had little more than potholes and craters.

Very few vehicles competed for space with the hundreds of pedestrians crowding the roadway and footpaths, but those that were present were forced to crawl slowly around makeshift stalls selling anything from fresh food, through furniture (both used and newly made), to clothing, pots, coal, weapons, and far, far more.

For every adult that could be seen, it appeared as though there were ten children. Many were skinny and clothed in often patched hand-me-downs, and even in the cooler weather of early autumn, most were barefooted.

As Marcus crawled around another stall that had somehow grown in the middle of the roadway, a loud metallic banging reverberates through the BTR's hull...

"Stop the vehicle!" Virgil yelled over the engine's rumble and the incessant banging of the injured Pole, he looked down at the soldier again and saw the bandages that swathed his left arm and the sling that kept the injured arm close to his chest. Interesting, the big Sergeant thought, the local forces give the appearance of being strong and tough but they're using personnel that should be on sick parade. That suggested some lack of muscle.

Virgil yelled down again, "Don, get out the back, we've got more work for your silver tounge."
Virgil looked down at the Pole and smiled at him he used one of the phrases he knew in Polish to try to calm the man, he only knew four, one said hello, one got you beer, one got a soldier to surrender and one found out if a woman was of ill-repute or not. He stopped for a momnet, it was important he didn't mix them up for obvious reasons...

"Dobry Dzien." He said as he continued smiling. He jacked himself out of the BTR hatch and sat with his legs dangling over the hull, his PSG-1 resting comfortably on his lap. He looked briefly at the big gun. If they were going to spend much time in this city he'd need a weapon that was a bit handier.

As the Polish soldier stopped banging, he dropped down onto the road to wait for Don's appearance. He stood, towering over the Pole, his rifle crossed into his arms. He paused for a moment and pulled out the packet of smokes he had in his top pocket, he didn't smoke himself but he used them for hearts and minds work. He pulled a tab out a little from the packet and offered it to the soldier repeating the phrase, "Dobry Dzien?"

Marcus stops the vehicle against his own instincts.  Being in the middle of a crowded market in potentially hostile territory never sat well with him.  He calls back, "What the hell have we got?!"  He looks over at Don, and nods his head back as Virgil calls for Don.  Since Marcus was driving this time he was hesitant to leave the wheel, that's why he rarely drove, he preferred to be dismounted.  Popping open his door he glanced around weapon in hand and at the low ready.

Virgil saw Marcus emerge from the driver's hatch with his weapon at the ready. Virgil spoke quickly, "Stand down,Sergeant, let's be chilly, we've been pulled over by the cops is all. Try not to turn it into a clusterfuck."

Virgil smiled at the Pole again, the man had just taken a smoke before Marcus had appeared. Slowly Virgil leaned over and placed the rest of the pack into the soldier's hand. If nothing else he'd have to drop the cancer sticks to go for his gun. Looking around, he couldn't see the guys patrolling with the injured soldier but they couldn't be far away and he hoped that Marcus' reations hadn't spooked them. Smiling and holding both hands palm out he tried the international language of gesture. I'm friendly and harmless please don't shoot me.

At the same time he moved subtly to put the injured Pole between him and the crowd. If things went bad he didn't have time to bring his rifle into play so he'd grab the Pole and improvise from there. But only if things went bad. he called again, "Don, get your Polish speaking butt out here now before the Poles ventilate us." he turned to the soldier, "Does anyone in this city speak English?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:21, Thu 27 Dec 2007.

The moment he heard the thumb against the hull, Brown did not think to much of it. Only when he heard Virgil shout out to Marcus to stop the vehicle did he start cursing. What was it now again.

”What happened!!!”

Not planning to shoot in this city Brown dropped down from his seat, picked up his RPK and looked out the hatch. To see what was going on. Noticing the crowd around the vehicle he called down.

”Keep the sidedoors closed. Don use the top hatch when you want to get out.”

That said William crawls out of the hatch, squatting on top of the vehicle to get a better overview, weapon ready.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Wed 26 Dec 2007.

What do you know of the city?, was the first question Don popped to the man and the boy, in Polish of course. Getting interrupted, Don let the question hang in midair as he struggled to get out of the vehicle. As he peered up he asked Virgil what was the situation.

Police?

Virgil heard Don's query, "Nearly Boss, the Militia has pulled us over, I'm not sure why but if these gentlemen want another cut I say we hang tough and ask to speak to higher authorities. if every Tom, Dick or Stanislaw wants a cut we'll have nothing left for us." he turned back to the Poles and smiled.

He hoped that Don's charm could win them through.

Boss?

Don grins at Virgil's act of respect as he gets out. Although his head still hurts, this is the job he is trained for.

He looks over the gathered militia, trying to spot out who is in charge.

"Dobry pan dnia, ja jestem Don. Kto jest w oskarżeniu tutaj?"

Virgil's grin widened as he listened to Don do his thing. He sidled over to Marcus and said softly, "You cover our twelve and I'll take the six," he looked up at WO Brown, "Sir, could you call somebody else up to help with the watch? I'd advise against manning the turret, it might be too aggresive a move."

Virgil moved back to Don's side and resumed his alert stance. The militia troops were well-fed and had reasonable kit. He couldn't say the same for the civilians. Their attire ran from filthy rags to seedy genteelness. The stall holders were reasonably clean and wore a mix of civilian and military gear in good repair. More lowly vendors had a mixture of rags and well-patched clothing, most of these hawked wares like fresh water and cooked meats, mostly some derivative of cat, pigeon or rat, Virgil guessed. The worst were the kids, most of them were half or more starved and clad in rags. Virgil kept a close eye on the kids, he didn't want any of them stealing what little they had. It was selfish he knew, but they had bled and fought for what they had and Virgil was loathe to part with it for nothing.

Still, the deep set eyes and hopeless looks of the children haunted him. he remembered the first time he'd heard of Krakow, it had been in a film about the Nazi Death Camps called "Schindler's List", jewish kids had died by the tens of thousands just miles from here and now, less than sixty years later the same thing was happening. The fact that it was not planned gave him little comfort. Virgil shuddered, he wanted off this street as soon as he could.

William listens while the marine sniper talks to Marcus before he is looking up at him.



Looking back at the sergeant he takes a second to see if he was joking. Why did he think he had left the turret for his position on top. Virgil looked to be serious though.

”advise noted sergeant"

After a short pause he looks through the top hatch into the vehicle.

”Tanya get your weapon and cover our six...Katka, take care of our passengers...Commander, could you be so kind to keep an eye out on those side hatches, keep them locked."

Looking back down at Virgil.

”Sergeant, you better stay close to Don, keep him out of trouble. We keep our overwatch from up here."

"Aye, Aye, Sir," the big marine responded smartly, "I'll baby-sit the El-Tee and keep him as safe as I can."

Virgil shouldered his rifle and stood on Don's left, just about one step behind him. His big sniper rifle was next to useless in this environment, his fists and knife would be better close quarters weapons, best of all of course would be not having to fight at all. The troops in the vehicle were chilly and now it was up to the El-tee to do the talking.

Only one Polish soldier is to be seen anywhere in the area although scores, perhaps hundreds of civilians clutter the area, most going about their business but some obviously staring at the armoured vehicle.
His left hand is wrapped in bandages and held in a sling, his right grips an AK-74 around the wooden forestock. He continues to speak but until Don arrives still can't be understood...

Tanya grabs her AK-74 and moves to cover the 'six.'  "I'm on it Brown," she says responding to Brown and then looking back over to Katka.  "Try not to gun anyone down this time huh?"

Virgil stood there impassive, his eyes scanning for problems. He could still only see one soldier, what he wanted god only knew. Instinctively he began to check the surroundings for sniper positions and the civilians for concealed weapons. The Pole could be on the level but it paid to do the job thoroughly. Now it was up to Don to make the Pole's unintelligible monologue into a conversation...
This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Thu 27 Dec 2007.

After Tanya takes position and after he confirms only one polish soldier  is on the ground, the first adrenaline rush is over.

He now starts to take his time to scan the crowd for possible threats, also scanning the area for conceiled positions.

"Pewnien. Jeżeli wy dajecie mnie niektóre odpowiedzi, my może brać was trochę po drodze."

"Ok lads. Get him up on our old wagon. He needs medical care. He knows where to find a doctor he says. Unfortunately we are a little low on doctors ourselves for the time being, so I'll try to get information and knowledge of this place as much as possible from now on... A soldier from the surroundings and doctor should be a good way to start to get a small idea about the military and the society of Krakow"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:45, Fri 28 Dec 2007.

Virgil moved forward and offered the Polish soldier help to get into the BTR. The inside was getting rather cramped now but hopefully that would be resolved soon. He got the soldier settled and said to Brown, "The Pole is settled, Sir, where do you want ne for the transit?"

Marcus didn't care what the jarhead thought, his weapon was already down at the low-ready anyway.  When he was able to get a glance at the injured Polish soldier he merely shrugged to himself and kept over-watch as they parlayed some more.  Scanning and waiting patiently, he nodded in approval to Don's assessment with getting in with the locals.  He readied himself to move the BTR again once everyone was settled and ready to move.

Brown looked from his position till Don returned. He completely agreed with the LT on this one and he watched as the wounded soldier was helped inside the vehicle.



"You better stay topside to the front. With this crowd we need one or two pairs of eyes to keep an eye out."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Virgil replied and took his assigned position, teady to keep a watch when the BTR rolled off.

"Right, I thought we should have him outdoors, but I guess it is better to keep him inside. Just make sure he doesn't have any ideas or weaponry to blast us to pieces"

"And yes, Virgil. Stay on top. We need sharp eyes. I'm sure Mary agrees"

Cináed jumps into the vehicle as well, sitting in front of the soldier.

"W porządku, gdzie miał udajemy się?"

"I, co może spodziewamy się od miasta? My po prostu przybywał."

OOC: Ok, where should we go?
And, what can we expect of the city? We have just arrived.

The Pole climbs aboard clumsily, his bandaged and slung hand obviously causing him some difficulties. Settling in behind the driver, he directs the BTR forward, mainly with hand signals and translation by Don.

During the short drive, the Polish soldier reveals little. Apparently his hand was injured during training with an antitank gun - he didn't get it out of the way quickly enough as the breach was closing.

The city he say is a wonderful place full of opportunity. He himself joined the ORMO just a few months ago and already has turned his life around. He stresses that you will all need to see the Rada to get the proper identity papers and passes. Although Krakow is a city of fortunes, it's only that way due to strict regulations. Break the law and justice is swift.

His destination, as promised, isn't all that far. Apparently he could have walked there in about 10 minutes but chose to try his luck for a ride. A battered two story house with only about half the glass left in it's windows has a red cross hand painted above the door. Outside waits a man wearing US fatigues with sergeants stripes. He's casually cradling an M249 SAW in his arms and watching your approach with genuine interest.

Sitting on top of the BTR, Virgil cooly surveyed the sergeant before him. Given his uniform and weaponry, he was probably American, but that was no guarantee, after all, he was wearing PACT BDUs and carrying a German rifle. There was nothing on the vehicle to id them as NATO, they'd had that problem before. Whether or not it would be a problem now remained to be seen. As soon as the soldier with the SAW was looking directly at him, Virgil pulled back the sleeve on his left arm to reveal the intricate Marine Corps insignia tattooed there. In a very low voice he said, "Sempre Fi..."

Mary had been travelling with her head and shoulders out of the commanders hatch to allow for a better view of the city. Wide eyed and awestruck that such huge numbers of people still existed in one place, she didn't notice that the BTR had pulled to a halt.
She raised her hand to her head to tuck a wayward strand of her black hair back into place. Her navy dress blues standing out against the drab browns and greens of the armour plate surrounding her.

"Wskazują mnie do Rada, potem wy możecie udawać się. Ma przyjemny dzień."

"Allrighty then, lets get some new papers at the Rada. Its the town government. The guard back at the palissades said the same thing"

"Do or die." the man chimes back. "Army here, Armour. Your ride seems a bit beat up. Want me to look it over? We're a hospital here, but my background is in vehicle repair. Anyone injured? Come inside, we have a medical staff, and some food."

The ole pulls a tattered tourist pamphlet from his pocket and hands it to Don.



"Go to the Grand Square," he says in Polish. "And ask for the Rada. Somebody will point it out for you."
With that advise he clambers awkwardly towards the hatch.
"Don't drive inside the walls though," he says as the door opens...

"Dziękują bardzo. Dbają o siebie i chłopca.", he says to the old man and the boy, letting them out of the car when they want to go.

"Thank you, sir.", he says to the armour-lad.

"We might take you up on the offer, I don't think we are too damaged here, my head is a lot better than a couple of years ago. But this old lassie", smacking the side of the 'car' "... might need a fixup. We'd better get some papers at the Rada, so we can come back here afterwards"

"Or what do you others think?"
"Its ok with you, Mary?"

"Sir, I'd advise having a constant guard on the BTR, at least until we are better aware of the situation here. You could go under guard with some merchandise to get the first lot of papers and on your return, you could pick up the second lot to go. This jallopy represents all our worldly goods and I'd be reluctant to leave it hanging en prise so to speak." Virgil said when asked for input.

The man mutters something under his breath as the Pole opens the hatch. He then taps his booted heel against the door behind him several times.
"That hinge seems a bit displaced." he declares before walking over to it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:38, Fri 04 Jan 2008.

"Thank you Sergeant," Mary responded to Virgil.
"You might remember next time to keep information like that to ourselves though."

"I'm sure that's a good idea Don," she replied to Don's suggestions before turning her attention to the soldier on the ground.

"How far is it from here to the Rada?" she inquired, her attractive dark eyes looking down upon him.

"Aye, aye, Ma'am." Virgil took stood looking out of the hatch, still scanning the area for potential threats.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:26, Fri 04 Jan 2008.

"3 Klicks south of here lady. Though I doubt you'll get a warm reception. The Rada isn't too hip on armored vehicles in town without permission"

He looked at the injured men. "Can't look at you now. They have VIP's inside"

VIPs taking precedence over the injured, Virgil thought to himself, different country, SOS. Still he thought more charitably, the VIPs might be wounded.

He kept his thoughts to himself and kept watch, it was probably a visit seeing as this hospital was outside the inner walls, he'd bet that the VIPs had their own facilities inside the pale. Still, it didn't pay to jump to conclusions.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Sat 05 Jan 2008.

"LT, if we can find a safe spot for the BTR and to camp we can do as the sergeant opted and send a team over to the Rada. Two can stay at the vehicle as guards and start up camp"

Brown opted after listening to the conversation for a few moments.

"Roger that El-Tee.  We get a camp started up out of the way where we're reasonable safe and send someone in sounds good to me.  Sounds like we'll need to get papers to do anything in this town," Tanya offers up after Brown.

Mary looked back down through the hatch she was standing in, listening to Brown and Tanya as they waited alongside Marcus, Katka, the old man and his son (the latter two moving towards the door).
"Solider, do you know of anywhere we could set ourselves up at for a while." she asked the man on the ground.
"All we need is shelter for a few days, nothing fancy."

As usual Marcus never liked being canned up inside a vehicle for long.  At nearly every opportunity including this one he dismounted and pulled security.

Don looks out on the soldier.

"Aye, laddie! Answer the lady!"

He acts like he just snapped out of a trance. "Sorry, I just wanted to see if two of every animal was hiding in there as well. I don't suppose thats going to happen."

Pointing down the road he continues. "This is really a self serve town. What you see is what you get. The four star joints are pretty much leveled, but you can find a few flats to rent for the night, if you approach the locals unarmed. Some places that are deserted can be used for a few days, so long as you move along when the local constable shows up. Or toss him some stuff he needs."

"Anything else you need?"

"Are there any areas we should avoid? you know, I bet there are gangs around here, do you know any of the local turfs." Virgil tried to be as congenial as he could, "I hope you're a good listener bud, cause I've got a tonne of questions. Now, back in the day, when we visited a far out Alphabetville, we'd hire a guide, would that make sense here? If so, where'd we get one? Also, these papers everyone talks about, I'm assuming we'll have to give graft to obtain them, what's the going rate? I don't mind getting gouged a bit by the locals, you expect that, but we ain't got a lot to spare so everything we can save is good for us, if we save enough, we might even be able to afford a make over for this baby." he slapped the side of the BTR.

Virgil leaned thebarrel of his rifle nonchalantly on his shoulder and then slouched against the side of the APC.

Krakow he thought where every opportunity was ready to jump up and bite you on the ass.

"There's no MAACO around here, so if you want repairs its either from a local, or on your own. I can look her over, I'm a mechanic by trade. Gangs, sure they are about, but the locals pay for protection around here, so the violence is low. As for the rest of your questions, why don't two of you come inside, and we can chat in private. You're drawing alot of unwanted attention to my friends hospital here."

William listened to the sergeants questions and honestly he had nothing to add. Therefore he looked up at the navy officer.

"I think we better go and search us a safe place to camp out. After that we get ourselves those licenses and maybe look for a guide. What do you think"

Mary came out of the BTR and looked at the soldier in front of us, "I'm sorry," she began,"but I think we've been rather remiss. Most of the conversations we've had lately have been punctuated by gunfire and we've rather neglected the social niceties. I'm Mary Finnegan, Commander in the RN, the big Marine isn't called Camouflage, his name's Virgil, the other guy you've talked to is Lieutenant Donnachaidh, the others we can introduce over a brew if you can reccomend a place. As to getting away from here, that's a capital idea, where do you suggest we go? We've been in bandit country to long, I think it'll be a while before we adjust to being human again."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:39, Wed 06 Feb 2008.

"Why don't you and the Chief go, Ma'am?" Virgil suggested, "That'll leave us Don to cope with any Poles that come sniffing around. We can manage security between the rest of us."

Don made a small salutation to the man.

"I'm Don. I'm just gonna move my Silver Shadow here over to that house and park. You never know who will scratch your paint. It would be sad if this car drew attention to some burglar or a bazooka-shot or something"

He hopped back into the vehicle again, and drives it 100 meters or so away from the hospital.

"Any of you guys (NPCs) wanna stand put and see to that noone makes a move to this lassie? I left Mary over there, so I'd better go and take care of her right now"

"Sure thing El-Tee, if you want to go to the party feel free, I'll stay with the BTR and mind the others."

Virgil wallked by the side of the moving APC until it was parked a little less conspicuously, as Don was about to leave he said to him,"Sir, you might want to take some of our food, booze and cigarettes to oil the wheels. I'd be reluctant to flash more fuel around until we have established a fairish market price for it."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:43, Wed 06 Feb 2008.

Mary hitched her L85 more firmly on her shoulder and looked at the American soldier, "OK," she said, "that's the BTR under cover, now, where do you want us?"
She smiled warmly and hoped that they were somewhere safe for a while.

Virgil looked around at the waste ground they'd stationed the BTR on. It was close to the hospital but somewhat less obtrusive. The ground had once been a buildong and two walls still stood firm with a triangle of second floor still remaining. The vehicle nestled in the v formed by the walls and was well sheltered from two sides. The third side was a mas of rubble and the fourth opened out onto the street.

Virgil examined the walls carefully. They were strong enough to not collapse and the thick Victorian era masonry would withstand a lot more punishment. The rubble was less solid but would provide an effective barrier to light vehicles and foot attackers. The way it shifted should also make it difficult to cross silently at night.

He popped into the hull and asked Katka to keep a watch on the house front whilst he grabbed the rope from inside. He climbed onto the roof of the BTR and reached up to the second floor. The remains of the floor were solid and as he teated it he was confident it would bare his weight. He looped the rope around his shoulder and then boosted himself up onto the second floor. He jumped on the joists gingerly to check their integrity and them looked around. The view to the back of the building was reasonable and placing a guard up here would eliminate the blind spot the walls provided. The view to the front was clear too, two lookouts up here would be able to keep all avenues of advance under surveillence. He took the rope and tied it securely to a joist before knotting hand holds into it. He left it dangling down to the BTR's roof.

He shimmied down the rope and popped inside the APC once more. The big man scavenged aroud for a while and found an empty crate, some tarps and lighter rope. He placed all of this onto the second floor and left them there as he slid off the side of the vehicle. He checked the floor for drains or tunnels and as he checked the rubble side of their base, he found a solid piece of wood, a battered and rusty cooking oil barrel and a few bent nails.

He carried these back up to the OP. Working quickly and quietly, he set up a tarpaulin roof and wind break for the OP. The crate would do for the sentry to sit on and he nailed the barrel to the thick wood. He used his utility knife to punch holes in the barrel, it would make a brazier for the night watches and the tarps would hide the glow from outside scrutiny.

As she prepared to move off, she could see Don coming over from the BTR, she waved to him and looked at the unidentified GI, "Looks like it might be more than two of us." She smiled at him again.

Once Virgil had prepared the OP he went over to Katka, "Listen," he said, "it's been a rough run for all of us, but you've had it worst. At least we could rely on people who supported the Allies, but to the Soviets you're a traitor and to the Allies you're a Commie. To us you're a friend. Now I know that your instincts must be to either kill or cut and run, but we can't do that here. You must think twice or we could all end up dead. Now, grab some wood from the debris and some tea from the BTR, then get up to the OP and start a fire, brew some tea, drink it and keep a lookout on the street and the back of the house. When the otehrs get back, I'll send someone up to join you. I'm going into the back of the BTR to organise our stuff better, we'll need to trade soon so we need to know what we can spare. Is that OK with you?"

When the partisan nodded, he squeezed her arm reassuringly and went into the hull once more. After he'd tidied away everyone's personal gear and what they needed, there wasn't much left for trade. The MOPP suits were a possibility but he'd rather have those for a rainy day he thought. That left only the fuel. He checked the tank with a dipstick and estimated there were abouit 250 litres left. From what he'd seen of the reactions of the guards they'd bribed with over twenty litres of the stuff, they'd given a way a small fortune already. Virgil frowned, if word got around they'd undersold a vital commodity, they'd never get a fair price for it.

Still. the had to be prepared. He took one of the packs they had found and stripped it of the canvas, making sure it could be put back on again when it was needed. This left the metal frame and carrying straps. He picked up two jerrycans,filled them from the tank and them strapped them to the pack frame. He covered the jerrycans with a tarp to disguise the shape a little. Hopefully, forty litres of deisel would be enough for buying papers when they got around to it. He carefully placed the pack inside the BTR and dogged the door shut. This done, he sat on the edge of the BTR to patiently await the others.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:31, Wed 06 Feb 2008.

"Names Fenris. Steven Fenris." Steven said, his best James Bond impression failing. "We have an alley around the back. You can park there, but  I wouldn't leave her unoccupied."

Steven opened the door to the hospital, hoping the others had had enough time to get situated. Pointing to the waiting room, he tried to be hospitable.

"Grab a seat, I'll get the doc."

"Doc is a bit of an exaggeration" Elena says while closing the door to the examination room behind her to give the young mother and her child some privacy.

The M3A1 dangling from her shoulder she approaches the unexpected visitors with a smile on her face. "I'm merely a nurse but if you require any medical assistance I'll see what i can do" Extending her hand she continues "My name's Elena by the way"

Marcus was one of the last people that cared for talking, but it might have been necessary to watch the officer's hides as usual.  He looked to see who would stay and who would go.  In the end it seemed if enough of the big cheeses went it would be enough for him to fall back on the parked BTR and help pull the security.

Mary was glad to see that Marcus had their back. hopefully everything here would be peachy but a real life shooter was always handy to have around.

She shook Steve and Elena's hands,"Mary Finnegan, RN, pleased to meet you. This is Don, don't worry about the rest of his names, they're unpronouncable to sassenachs, may I also introduce Chief Brown, Ranger redgrave and Special Operative Smith, that's his real name, honest. We have two others minding the BTR-80. I'll tell you, I'm mighty glad to see friendly faces. You seem to have a nice little set up here, how did you come about it?"

Don is glad to see Mary happy and vital. As he reaches the two new, he makes sure he doesn't loose eye-contact with the little blonde girl.

"Enchantée!", he says, but decides not to kiss her hand since he doesn't know where it has been, lately.

He gives Steven a firm handshake as well.

"Fenris, right? You don't have relatives in Ullapool, do you? The owner of the best restaurant in Ullapool is named Fenris, actually. The best fish I've eaten 'til this day, actually. Ah, and the scallops... Formidable!"

Don lets his dreams take him away a few years to the mighty cliffs in the north of Scotland, but too soon, he gets back to his own again.

"Donnachaid. Cináed Donnachaid. I actually think that at least the Irish lass here, should be able to pronounce it, though"

He points at Mary with his right thumb. The voice is more James Bond-ish than Stevens, but the name just isn't.

William observed the people in the room. By their clothing both looked American.

When the marine commander called out his name in introduction he stepped forward extending his hand as a polite guesture of friendlyness.


"William Brown to be more exact, but Chief will do"

He added with a smile.

"When the goverment officials need medical care, they need a place to go. So in exchange for free healthcare, we get a cut rate on the rent, they toss us medical supplies at less than black market prices, and we can charge a fair rate to the locals when they come in. They provide protection, and we make a little on the side doing vehicle repairs. Its not capitalism, but it keeps us warm and fed."

Steven placed his shotgun against the wall, feeling a bit more secure with the newcomers. Still it was well within reach.

"So whats your story?"

"Well, that's a long story, most of the prople here escaped from a Soviet POW camp and have been running and trying to survive ever since. It's been a tough time but we're alive and we've got the wherewithal to stop people taking us for granted, and, hopefully, to make a living. I joined the group later, usual story, sailor turned grunt ends up wandering lost in Poland and picks up with a group of desperados who turn out to have hearts of gold. Now, Don will be more than happy to give you the full story later." Mary began, "But at present, we need to ask for information about this place. I've got several questions to ask and I'd be greatful for any answers you feel you can give us."

She stretched and began,"Ok, so we need papers from the RADA, for that we'll need to trade stuff, what is the going rate for papers, we don't mind paying a fair price but if we go in ignorant we will be ripped off. Another thing I'd like to know about," she lowered her voice to a more conspiratorial level,"is the cost of fuel. In our travels, we managed to find about sixty litres of deisel. Now we used some to bribe the perimeter guards but we have about thirty odd litres left. How do they reckon money here and how much would be a ballpark figure for a litre of fuel would you think?"

Virgil looked out over the alleyway. This was a solid enough position, one way in and the rear covered. With two guards in the OP, the BTR-80 would be safe from theives or anyone else for that matter. He looked at the gunsmith kit and selected a small file. By his side he had laid a piece of cloth and had emptied one of the PGS-1's magazines onto it. He checked the magazine itself for problems and then turned his attention to the individual rounds. They were standard 7.62mmN ammo, not the match grade ammo that he was used to and he checked each bullet for blemishes or imperfections. When he found them, he carefully filed them off and smoothed the bullet with some emery cloth. It might do no real good he thought but it would pass the time nad made him feel better. When he'd finished, he reloaded the magazine, switched it with the one in the rifle and then did the same with the rest of his mags.

Given the choice of staying outside with Katka or going in with the others, Tanya takes the obvious choice and goes in with the others.  The incident with gunning down the people on their way to Krakow was still fresh in her mind and burning her up still.

With her AK-74 slung over her shoulder, Tanya will introduce herself when appropriate.  "Tanya Redgrave.  Nice ta meet you!"

"Fuel will run you about 140.00 a gallon American, if I do the conversions right." Steven says from the back. "Papers in town are about the same rate per person, last I heard. We caught a good deal ourselves."

"We have a still, so if you have the basics we can distill you some, but I don't know what your running on currently."

"That's useful to know, so to get papers for the seven of us we'd need seven gallons, that's good. Um, as for distilling fuel, methanol is probably the best, it doesn't use food as a base, looking around food doesn't look plentiful enough to waste on fuel." Mary said, "Thanks for the offer, we'd appreciate it. What can we do for you in return? We're pretty much at a loose end here so anything we can do to help you would give us some focus."

Marcus simply raises an eyebrow at Finnegan's introduction of him as "Special Operator Smith."  He wondered to himself what that was all about, and he never really told anyone exactly what he did before.  Finnegan and a few of the others seemed to settle in easily, a little too easily for Marcus' tastes.  He remained vigilant and scanned the area and others around, his MP5SD held at the low ready position.  He sure as hell wasn't going to put it down, after all he was from New York.

"So you people are not from around here, and your broke. Papers are free, so long as you can show you can support yourselves. Someone will no doubt take you people for a ride."

Steven apologized to Mary," Forgive me for the ruse, but I had to be sure you were from out of town, and not local security forces. Bad people will try anything or say anything to get in here and see what we can offer. They usually just try to take our stuff at that point."

"Everybody needs to be careful, we came in here mob handed in case you were pulling a trick on us so I'm hardly going to take you to task for being suspicious of us." Mary replied, she was thinking quickly, everyone assumed they were raggedy-assed tramps with an APC. It was going to be difficult to prove that they had a visible means of support. Steve had mentioned the relative vulnerability of the hospital...

"But if anyone had take your stuff at gunpoint, you wouldn't be in buisness which means you've enough shooters to deter such thugs or beat them off if they do try it on. I was going to suggest that you took us on as a Security Team, in name only of course. That would give us a legitimate reason to be here and show we could support ourselves. I was thinking it would benefit you because we could provide you with extra muscle, but I doubt if you need that. If that's a non-starter, what other opportunities for employment are there in town?"

Mary did some quick maths, at $140 a gallon, the group had between $7-8K to play with, if they could sell it without getting killed, so they could use that to start up a buisness of some kind or kit themselves out for Mercenary work if they needed to.

"They don't care whether you have a job here or not, all you need is some way of supporting yourself." Elena interrupts "I heard rumors that the CIA as well as the KGB both have affiliates here, also the local government are always looking for people that will run errands without asking too many questions."

She pauses a while flashing Don a glance and then continues "If you don't know where to stay we have plenty of room in the second floor but you'll need to support yourselves as we don't make enough to feed halve a dozen hungry mouths. So i'd suggest you go get your papers first and then we'll discuss what to do with you afterwards. Maybe Steven could go to RADA with one of you, the rest can stay here and accommodate themselves in some of our rooms upstairs as we don't have any in-patients at the moment."

Turning around "Speaking of which I have to go tend to a patient, so please excuse me" She opens the door to the examination room again where you can get a glimpse of a teenage girl lying on a gurney with a newborn in her arms. Stopping Elena turns around again "Oh i almost forgot. Any of you speaking polish? We do need an interpreter."

OOC: Nuked could you tell Steven and me what we do know about krakow thus far or should we just make something up?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:25, Fri 08 Feb 2008.

Tanya turns to Elena, "No Polish but, I do speak fluent German and a bit of Spanish if that helps?"

"That's a very generous offer, thankyou. And don't worry, we won't be a burden to you. We've food enougn to last us about five days and if we haven't found a way of making a living or paying you rent by then, we'll move." She smiled before continuing, "You're in luck, Don here speaks excellent Polish, he could also do with his head looking at, literally as it happens at the moment, figuratively too if you have any psychologists. I'm betting on Don Juan and Munchaussens myself."

She turned to Don and the others and said, "I'm inclined to have you stay here Don whilst I and Marcus go with Steve to the RADA. Your Polish might be useful there too though so I'm torn. What do you all think?"

After he'd sat on the BTR for a while and finished examining his bullets, Virgil shouldered his rifle and slowly walked the alleyway. There were no obvious manholes and the wall of the hospital aws solid and unbroken by any window or doors on the ground floor. When he reached the junction with the street, looked around carefully, trying to scope out possible routes of attack. He wasn't particulary expecting trouble, but it did no harm to be thoroughly prepared for it.

"Hahaha, Mary"

Don is relieved that he is into the discussion after all. He smiles broadly.

"I have to drink a lot of vodka or other strong fluids to speak Polish fluently. But sure, I get by. Been negotiating down here, so of course, I'll get around. Let me just have a quick chat with the lass in there, just to make sure everything is ok. Then let's go to the RADA directly after that."

He pushes himself forward between the others and over to the door where Elena went in.

"Elena, could I help you with something? "Język polski, wszelki?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Sat 09 Feb 2008.

Mary smiled, trust the canny Scottsman to come up with a compromise that kept him in all the action. Still, she'd value his skills with the rada so it was all good. She turned to the American Tanker and said, "So, Steve, how did you guys get to sunny Krakow?"

"It feels like we just woke up one day, and here we were." Steven joked. "When the orders came to bug out, Elena Luke and myself grabbed an ambulance and bugged out. We stumbled on John, just outside the base, and we just drove."

Steven looked out the window, just to see if trouble followed.

"If we are going to get your papers lets leave now, before you get stopped without them."

Marcus looked at Elena and something within him was moved.  He wasn't sure what it was but he couldn't stop looking at her for the moment.  Perhaps she reminded him of someone?  It felt familiar, yet distant, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it.  He was pretty much staring, and he caught himself turning away suddenly and a bit awkwardly.  He hoped she hadn't seen his possibly inappropriate actions.  Marcus felt something he had not really felt in a long time, nervous.

"That's a good point Steve," Mary said, "Don hurry it up, we're wasting daylight. Marcus, William, and Tanya, I want one of you with us and the others helping secure the BTR and getting us squared away here. You choose which."

"We can take the ambulance. Better fuel consumption, and we won't get stopped along the way. It will take two runs, unless you all want to come in one trip. We could save more fuel that way, and it will look less suspicious. We can drop the security story though. Dress down and we will say your here to help with restoration and maintenance with the hospital."

Steven looked to Elena.  "Watch over our patient."

"That's a generous offer, Steve, but everything we have is in that BTR, I'd be reluctant to lose it now by leaving it unatended. I don't suppose that your man, John, would look after it for us whilst we were away? Once we sell the two jerrycans of fuel we can contribute to the communal pot and make it worth your while." she turned to the rest of her unit, "What do you think? Should we all go?"

Brown stayed close to the officers, but kept his mouth shut. Unless they were going to say something terribly stupid there was no reason to interfere and question them.

"I've no problem staying behind setting us up here commander. I tend to agree with you. At least one of us should stay behind and help these folks out keeping an eye on our gear."

"Thanks, Chief, I appreciate that, you and Virgil should be enough of a guard which leaves Don, myself, Tanya and Kakta to go and get papers. Is that acceptable to everyone?" she looked at Fenris, "I know it's a pain this way but trust me, we will make it worth your while."

Elena smiles at Don pretending not to notice Marcus' stare "Yes you could help me talk to the girl in the examination room" Leading Don inside she continues "She's just given birth so just ask her about her name and if there are any relatives we could bring her to" Closing the door behind them "And tell her that she can't stay here for too long please" saying this she sighs and stares at the floor for a short while.

Marcus had been lost in some thought while Finnegan had been mulling over what they should do as a group.  When it seemed his name was left out of any particular action he simply shrugged to himself.  He was starting to get a strange feeling, and it didn't matter to him whether he stayed or went to get the papers.  Nonetheless he felt it was his duty to say something, "I guess I'll be staying here ma'am."  He looked at the doors that Elena and Don had passed through and suggested, "Perhaps my meager medical skills could be of some use here." stated more matter-of-factly rather than a proposition.  He looked at the British Commander with a straight-face to see if she objected.

"I'd already figured you into the Rada party," Mary said to Marcus,"that's why I left you out of the last question, however, if you want to stay here and help with the injured, that's fine by me. We'll have enough shooters along and hopefully we won't need any anyway. Anybody else have an opinion."

Mary was happy to change her standpoint on this, the group were still following military protocol at this point and it made them a stronger team but there was no point being autocratic, if Marcus wanted to stay here, it would be because he thought he could do most good here. She trusted the man's instincts and was happy to go with them.

Don was just about to jump into the room when he stopped since he heard the last sentence from Mary.

"Shooters? No shooters. I'll be right back"

Walking into the room, he hoped that the suit would make the girl comfortable, even if it was in need of washing.

"Dobry Dzień Przepuszcza , JA jestem Don. Gratulacj. piękne dziecko. Kto  jest szczęśliwy ojciec, albo robi wy macie inny rodzina co moglibyśmy znajdować dla was?"
OOC: Good Day Miss, I am Don.
Congratulations. A beautiful baby.
Who is the lucky father, or do you have other family that we could find for you?

"I'll take the walk with you guys ma'am.  Plus, I'd rather take the walk and stretch my legs and see what's goin' on in the city," Tanya says to Mary and the others.

The bison pulls out front, and Steven taps the horn.

"Lets move people, this fuel isn't free."

He checks his watch. Fuel really isn't his cocern. The coming night brings out the seedier element of the apocolypse.

Mary heard the horn and said, "OK, if you're coming, get aboard, I'll get Katka. Chief, tell Don to get a move on."

She left the hospital and trotted over to where Virgil sat drinking tea. She filled him in on what was happening and Katka came down from the watchpost. Between them the two women carried the jerrycans back to the bison and stored them in the back. Mary got in next to Steven and waited for the others to mount up.

  After securing the cans, Katka shouted behind her as she ran to the BTR. "One moment!" Scrambled inside to stow her AK next to her pack and lighten her load a bit, happy for the reprieve of being stuck on gaurd duty for her earlier incident. Stuffing grenades and helmet into her pack, she checked her pistol and slid it back into her holster before running back to the ambulance. "Ready!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:35, Wed 13 Feb 2008.

Mary looked back at Kakta and noted the lack of heavy weaponry. Mary nodded at the other woman and smiled. She looked over at Steven and said, "When you said ambulance, I was thinking flashing lights and red crosses, not this beast. It's wonderful isn't it?"

Virgil finished his tea and looked at all the activity around him. he smiled at Kakta's concious decision to leave her heavy hardware in the vehicle, hopefully that meant she wouldn't be going postal any more. He settled down to wait and see what would happen next.

"We use the Bison as an ambulence. One of the reasons it wasn't "borrowed" from us, months ago." Steven, stated, checking his mirrors. He noticed the new woman, with the grenades and pistol.

"When we get there, leave those inside the Bison. It will make our story more plausible."

"Good point," Mary agreed and took of her own webbing. The eclectic mix of gear she had on was unique, but blended in with the hodge podge mix of military and civilian clothing that the townspeople appeared to be wearing, "Whilst we're out, where do you guess would be the best place to off-load the fuel? It'll give us some working capital."

  She removed her webbing, placing it at her feet. Took the Makarov out and held it up to show the young Amerikan. "Will they search us?" She had'nt been without a weapon of some sort for six years now and the vary thought of it made her feel vulnerable and naked. In a place where everyone else seemed to have one, it just went against every instinct to go without. Too many people too easily drunk on their own power to risk going without some sort of personal protection. And why should she? Why would he want her to? What was his game? The mistrust showed on her face but, she could'nt help it.

OOC: For clearification. My pack had been stored in the BTR for a long time now, so everything that got stuffed in it stayed in the APC. No grenades or helmet on my person. My webbing only has a couple cateens and hand full of AK mags on it, few other pouches and the like. I also try to update my description on a regular basis so you can normally count on that to show true.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:33, Thu 14 Feb 2008.

"There's an open market along the way. As we return, we can stop by to sell your fuel. As far as searching you, no, they won't. They may be more curious however if they see my maintence crew armed as such. The Bison has working locks and I said before they know me. Your weapons will be safe."

Shifting into drive, Steven pulls out into the road and heads for the RADA.

"10 Minutes till we arrive people."

Mary settled down in the seat behind the driver and made sure her gear was stowed away neatly. She turned to look at the back of Steven's neck and said, "OK, so from what you said, our fuel should sell for a reasonable amount, we don't have a wish list yet so do the merchants use gold or some sort of script? Is there anything the Hospital needs?"

  Katka nodded appreciatively. She thumbed the safety (though it was already on) and pulled up her sweater to stuff the pistol down the front of her panties. After a moments fiddling with her clothes, she was satisfied that none would be able to make its presents.

  She offered her hand and a quick smile to him, "I am Katka Valechzev. How long have all of you been in Krakow?"

Tanya will go and get ready for the ride and just bring whatever she has on her at the time.  Thinking she doesn't have much to trade for, except the women's clothing and simple HABA (health & beauty aids) her and Cam had found and collected for themselves, she thinks this might be a long outting with Katka along.

"Nice to meet you Katka. Krakow? We've been here for almost a year." Spinning the wheel, Steven takes them though the ruins of Krakow. Some buildings are outright destroyed, others showing signs of rebirth. People wander the streets, as the ambulance bounces along, some waving, others pointing to the vehicle as it passes.

"Here we are. Let's get your papers."

Mary made sure she looked non-descript enough to be a construction worked, although she had no intention of showing her arse crack in public, she turned to the others and said, "OK people, let's stay chilly, I don't want any visible weapons and I want you to stay calm. Katka, refrain from commiting atrocites in this hub of administration." Mary knew Katka's English wasn't up to that last sentence so she said, "You will not shoot anyone without my order, even if they do look at you funny."

Walking up to the window, Steven flashes his papers. Talking to the man inside, he points to the group standing by the ambulance. A heated discusion ensues, followed by Steven slapping some currency down. A few words later and Steven waves the others over.

Looking at Mary, he scowls slightly. "None of you speak Polish. Keep that in mind. Just smile and sign your name."

Mary smil,ed sweetly at Steven and went over to sign her name. She kept the smile on her face for all the ime she was dealing with the officials.

The two teams combine, rearrange themselves and split up again, this time with a different mix of people.

Inside the delapidated but sound building taken over and called a "hospital", the sounds of a newborn baby crying for milk compete with the tramp of heavy boots and conversation as stories are swapped and friendships begun.

The mother, no older than 15, lays still, shallow breathing giving cause for concern amongst those with medical training. Her weathered, dirty and torn clothing lays slumped in a corner, tossed out of the way mere minutes before her child was born. Thin, and obviously malnourished, barely more than a child herself, her future, and that of her daughter, is grim. No papers were found among her few possessions, all signs pointing towards her having barely scraped by squatting in abandonned buildings and either stealing or begging enough food to last just one more day.

With winter rapidly approaching, and her body obviously drained of all reserves, she should be in a proper hospital, cared for by doctors, supplied with a carefully balanced diet and then released into the care of a loving family. In the Krakow of 2000, the best she could hope for, if she survives to see her child with her own eyes, is a life selling her body to criminals masquerading as soldiers.


Meanwhile, the Bison trundles slowly through narrow streets, lined with small booths selling everything from food, to weapons, fortunes, scrap and furniture salvaged from ruined buildings, medicines, electroncs and even supposedly guarenteed maps to lost treasures.

A constant haze hangs in the air - woodsmoke from the thousands of fires used for both warmth and cooking now that electricity and gas are a distant memory. The smell is unforgetable. Wood smoke mixed with the sickly sweet odour of decay. Garbage and death left to rot wherever it falls, city garbage collection apparently a thing of the past. Even the rubble around you smells of mold and dampness.

The noise is constant. There are the yelps and barks of seemingly ever-present dogs, the grunts and squeals of pigs here and there in pens, or being herded somewhere by a pack of grimy children briefly employed as swineherds. From shops comes the din of metalworking, shouted arguements, and lower volume bargaining. From the streets comes the ritualised chants of pedalers and street vendors, the cries of children, to rare sounds of another alcohol fueled engine.

And then there was the gunfire......

Several single shots ring out from an alleyway, clear enough over the sound of the Bisons engine to tell it's several pistols, or other small calibre weapons.

Mary started at the shots and looed over at Steven, "Is that a common occurence here? Should we investigate it? Or would we be better off just moving on? We were told not to get involved in any fighting in the city."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:51, Mon 18 Feb 2008.

Marcus stood over the malnourished new mother, his expression blank, untelling.  Inside though he was torn, he wanted to help, and knew how, but he also wanted to rescue her, to take her with them.  It didn't seem rational or may be even plausible.  Something in Marcus had been stirred that long sat dormant, his humanity.  He looked at Elena and Don and simply offered, "How can I help?"

  Katka glared when she was told not to shoot anyone. She was tired of hearing about the whole thing and it was starting to piss her off.
  Running into Sebastian and Dok had been a Godsend. They had accepted her at once and had gotten her farther east than she proubably could have gotten on her own. Only Sebastian had seemed to warmed up to her. Or maybe it was just that he was the only one she had really warmed up to. And now they were gone. She was starting to feal alienated. It was'nt anyone's fault. She just thought differently than everyone else. Was raised in a different world. And it was starting to cause tension. She was trying to do her part, trying to fit in. But how do you fit in when you remind everyone of the enemy they've been fighting for so long? When your different from those around you. When the truth is, you need them more than they need you.
  Mary's question about the gunfire was a prime example. Katka had dismissed it off-hand. Locals fighting over scrapes of food or something like that. Surely nothing she should concern herself about. But others were concerned. She almost said something but, thought it might be misconstrued and make things worse. It pissed her off even more to be second-guessing herself. So she just sat there glouting and kept her head down.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:45, Fri 22 Feb 2008.

"So long as they are not shooting at us, I don't think we need be concerned. Besides we are medical and maintenance personel. We don't dive into gunfights."

Looking to try and see what the shooting was about, Steven looked at the ladies. "Lets sell our goods and be on our way, shall we?"

"That sounds good, Steven, the sooner we get back to base, the happier I'll be. Do you have any idea who would be most likely to buy the fuel for the currency I saw you using. If we have to barter, it'll be a real pain. I'd rather sell in bulk than trade a gallon for food, another for ammo and another to pay you back." Mary asked, "As she was waitin for an answer she addressed the others.

"Ok, when we're out on the street its concealed weapons only and even those are the very last resort. I'm going to try to trade the fuel here for cash, any other suggestions?"

The Bison rolled slowly onward, picking it's way through the narrow streets, made all the more crowded by piles of refuse, occasional heaps of rubble and the usual stalls crowding out over the pavement.
The vehicle has barely travelled a few dozen metres when the crowd ahead parts like water. Rushing along the road is a patrol of ORMO, probably responding to the shots a few moments before. Although you've seen no evidence of police anywhere in the city, lawlessness appears to be quickly quashed.
Covered in grime, a street sign shows you're on the Warszawska road and heading roughly southward. Ahead the road makes a slight turn, avoiding what were probably once beautiful buildings several centuries old. Now there's nothing left but rubble. Men and women toil to load the broken bricks and stonework into handcarts. Others push the carts south towards the city centre. Overseeing the workers (of which there is probably several dozen) are half a dozen armed soldiers. Closer inspection shows that many of the workers have been fitted with leg chains, limiting their stride to just half a metre or so.
A few hundred metres onward and it becomes clear why the workers are shifted rubble into the city. A wall, approximately 4 metres in height extends in both directions from the Barbican, a massive 10 metre high medieval remnant of the wall that once ringed the inner city. Torn down in most places during the nineteenth centry, it's now in the process of being rebuilt with blocks of stone, bricks and sandbags, topped with barbed wire and a board walkway.

Beside the Barbican, a late model T-72 or T-80 squats behind a defensive berm (wall of sandbags, dirt, etc) with a perfect field of fire back north up the road. It's deadly 125mm gun swings smoothly around to point directly at your vehicle.
Several dozen more armed guards, all dressed in the standard Polish army uniform and carrying AK-74 assault rifles, AKR SMGs and a handful of RPK-74 automatic rifles check the passing pedestrian traffic as they head both in and out of the narrow gap in the defenses. Besides handcarts, trolleys and the like, nothing on wheels, or tracks for that matter is even trying to pass through the checkpoint.

Elena grabs a relatively clean towel and wraps it around the newborn. She then hands the baby to Marcus. "Hold him while i examine the mother please"
Turning around to the girl she forces a smile on her face while auscultating her lungs.
They've been to Krakow for some time now and Elena is aware that the locals have other worries then to provide for orphans so either both mother and child survive this birth or none of them she thinks to herself.

  Katka poped her head out of the bus and took in the view. The building was vary distinctive and she wondered how many tourists had stood in wonder at the sight of it before the war. What the city must have been like before armies drove back and forth over it? Her own unit had by-passed the area in favor of easier ground to the north but, she was sure someone had gone through the southern pass during the last push west. It was a wonder the place was'nt nuked a long time ago.
  She waved at the tank as though it were an old friend.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:21, Fri 22 Feb 2008.

Virgil sat on the BTR patiently. He resolved not to leave the vehicle unguarded, once they had some trade goods he thought, they could invest in som heavy hasps and padlocks.

He sipped his tea and kept a wary eye on his surroundings.

Mary looked at the checkpont ahead of her, "OK, Steven," she said, "this looks like it's the end of the road for now, is there a market iside the walled city where we might find a buyer for our goods? If we can pick up some working capital as well as getting papers, that'll be really handy."

"Yeah, I gotta agree with you here. I don't think this is where we wanna be."

Putting the ambulance into reverse, Steven performs a K turn to get out of the way of the tank's weapon. Heading back into the city, he heads for the RADA.

"But hey, we could just walk from here, right? Is there a market behind the barrel for the fuel?"

Tanya will lean up and ask Steven a question, "What kind of weapons they got in the market place and do you know any of the sellers?"

Marcus has no choice but to put his arms out and receive the newborn baby.  He doesn't flinch, but he's a bit stunned.  He can't even remember the last time he held a child in his arms, his wife had wanted children, so did he, but things were strained then.  It didn't matter anymore though, only the here and now, he snapped back to the present and looked at the baby.  It was squirming, barely, eyes closed -- it was so alien-like to him, so helpless, he was staring at the baby.  He almost didn't know what to do, so he just stared.

Mary mulled the pros and cons of going or staying for a moment and then said, "OK, I think we should park the Bison and lock it up here. We'll carry the fuel in the backpack rig and go and get the papers. Once we've done that, we can look for a buyer for the fuel. The first thing we need to do is repay the hospital for their kindness. Steven, can yo draw up a list of what the hospital needs that will cover what you have to spend to help us out and a bit on top, say 15% for our gratitude. After that we need to prioritise food, ammo that we're short on and then more firearms, if at all." Mary paused to let her suggestions sink in, "Chief and Tanya, I'd like you to make a list of the ammo we need and a prioritised wish list of other kit. Katya, can you come up with a list of food? As a partisan, I'm betting you're hot on logistics. Don's probably best at negotiating so if we do find a buyer and subsequently sellers, call him to do the bartering."

She drew breath slowly, "If anyone's got a different opinion, chime up before we dismount, believe me, all will be greatfully recieved."

  Katka nodded and began to go over it in her head. She would'nt be able to make a full list of their supplies untill they got back to the BTR but, she already had a pretty good idea of what was left in stock.

"Now, what we have to trade is valuable, nearly four months' of food for one person so we are in a strong position. If we can't get what we need on this trade, go for high ticket goods with a good resale value cigarettes would be good, they can be used for bribes." Mary continued, "the only real limit we have is the number of Polish speakers, we can't really hope for the merchants to speak English, that leaves us with a group led by Don and a group led by Steven. Have I forgotten anyone else?"

"I'm not too keen on just leaving the Bison here. I mean its not lojacked or anything."

Locking down the ambulance, Steven throws his shotgun over his shoulder and turns to Mary.

"Lets go, shall we?"

"Being worried about the Bison is a fair point, Steven. Wait a minute everyone. OK, I need two volunteers to stop and watch the Ambulance. Polish speakers need not apply. If no one wants to do it, I'll stay here." Mary spoke to the whole group. The last thing she wanted to do was lose somebody else's vehicle. Especially a Good Samaritan's.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:00, Tue 04 Mar 2008.

Don jumps off the Bison.

"I'm ready to go, lass. Someone should stay here, definately"

If anyone was going to be able to nail a sale, it would be Don so Mary smiled and said, "Great, Don and Katka, head off. Katka, keep him out of trouble and make sure he drives a hard bargain. Take one of the jerry cans with you, it's worth about two month's worth of food, seven hundred fags or about three kalashnikovs so don't go selling up short. Remember prioritize stuff we need or stuff we can trade easily, good booze, fags or gold. Happy shopping."

"Aye, come on Katka. And don't shoot anyone I wouldn't shoot"

He brings some sort av small arm with himself.

"Given your marksmanship, that doesn't leave her many targets." laughed Mary, "Which is probably for the good. Katka, use your best judgement, you've probably more experience in this sort of environment than our crazy Scot."

The Bison is soon parked out of the way and guards assigned to watch over it.
As those leaving get themselves ready, Steven informs Mary that he can't actually speak Polish, in fact, none of them at the "hospital" can. They'd only managed so far through gestures and the odd person who came in who could manage a few words in English, German or Russian. Once, they'd had somebody come in who only shared schoolboy French as a common language!

And so the plan was altered to that all four would stay together.

Entering through the massive gates guard by the dug in tank and numerous infantry, Steven showed his papers, indicating through gesture and Don that he was escorting the group to the Rada. Ushered through the group entered the crowed inner city.

Buildings several stories tall towered over the narrow street crowded with people, dogs, pigs and handcarts. No vehicles could be seen, but that wasn't suprising since you'd be hard pressed to squeeze a mini through the gates.
Although teeming with people, it seemed that some elements of normality existed here. The streets were relatively clean and the rubble that seemed everywhere in the outer city had been cleaned up. Windows were still missing glass and many had been shuttered to keep out the cold, but evidence of an effective government was everywhere. Even street lights were in evidence, probably alcohol fueled lamps instead of electrically powered globes of just a couple of years before.

The buildings fall away from either side abruptly, revealing a large open square, crammed with stalls and booths and lined at the edges with shops. Everywhere you look, commerce is thriving. Almost everything you could imagine is to be seen somewhere in the field of merchants known locally as the "Rynek Glowny".

Off to the side sits the imposing structure of the Ratusz, which now houses the Rada and is your immediate destination. You begin to push through the crowd when a small girl, probably about 8 or nine years old and dressed in worn and dirty clothing trips over directly in front of Katka. Katka is hard pressed to avoid falling over the child and joining her on the cobbled ground as the girl looks back up and speaks rapidly in Polish.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:39, Tue 04 Mar 2008.

Mary stepped in quickly to steady Katka and looked down at the young girl. She smiled at the youngster and offered her had to the girl.

"Look out for pickpockets! They might use the girl. She says Katka pushed her."

Don puts up his biggest, talking-to-smallgirls-smile, and bends down to speak to her.

"Ja jestem żałujące mały dziewczyna. Ona nie oznaczała. Może otrzymujemy was coś od jedzić z sklepów?"

Tanya nods to Mary, "Might not be a bad idea since we don't speak the lingo ma'am.  Just hope no one comes askin' 'bout the vehicle here!  If it's German, I've got it covered.  Me and Brown should be able to handle security Commander," Tanya says with enthusiasm.

  Katka curses in Ukrainian as her foot catches and she ends up stradlling the girl in an effort to maintain a standing position and not drop the jerrycan. She glares angrilly down at her, still in a bad mood from all the jabs at her expense.
  With her webbing in the bison, the only thing she has to steal is safely pressed against her groin or in her hand at the moment. Untill Don says as much, it does'nt even occur to her that this might be a set-up. It was true that she had been in this kind of enviroment before but, not as a civilian. When the Russian millitary came rolling through a town, the crowds of people did'nt play around for fear of reprisal. They begged for food or try to trade but, stealing ment a hand full of people put against the wall and that never ended well.
  Katka backed away from the girl at once and looked around her at the crowd. She wondered how well protected the kid might be. How the crowd would react to her pushing their children around. She could see how smart the kid had been for picking her as a mark. She tried to put on an innocent smile to anyone looking on.

"Katka, check your pockets. I don't think she just tripped." Leaning into Mary's ear, Steven whispers.  "Watch yourself. Desperation breeds theives even in the sweetest of faces."

Steven gestures ahead. "Your papers await."

"Let's go," Mary said, "but keep an eye out for stalls that might buy the fuel."

Virgil finished the last dregs of his tea and looked around. The place wasn't the fun palace that rumours had promised. The people had a hopeless haunted look and the whole place seemed to be falling to pieces one broken dream at a time. He frowned, making a living here would be buying into that slow, inevitable decay. maybe it would be better to use the money they could get for the fuel to re-equip themselves and head away from here. If he was to settle in Poland he'd rather it was some nice little 'ville where he could have a say in calling the shots rather than being swallowed up by this monster.

  "I have nothing to steal." Katka says with a simple shrug to Steven.

"Make sure she didn't plant anything either." Steven states. "I've heard stories of white slavery starting that way."

Tanya slings her rifle and follows close to Finnegan.

  Katka frowns in disbelief, attempting to shoo the little girl away instead of checking her person.

Mary thought for a moment as they were moving through the crowd, "Keep your eyes peeled for milk, goat's preferably or anyone selling baby formula, that's a long shot I know. If the mother dies, that baby's going to get hungry."

Virgil shifted slightly on the top of the vehicle. He jumped down and did a quick perimeter check. That done, he called in through the hospital door, "Is everything alright in there? It's all quiet out here."

He looked at the dead eyes of the people going about their buisness on the street and a memory tickled the back of his mind, a young Butterbar had shown him a poem once, it was about soldiers so he'd tried to remember it. As he did the rounds again he brought the poem back into his recall:


Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us
Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent
Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient .
Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
                                But nothing happens.

Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Northward incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles,
Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war.
                                What are we doing here?

The poignant misery of dawn begins to grow
We only know war lasts, rain soaks, and clouds sag stormy.
Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army
Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of gray,
                                But nothing happens.

Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence.
Less deadly than the air that shudders black with snow,
With sidelong flowing flakes that flock, pause and renew,
We watch them wandering up and down the wind's nonchalance,
                                But nothing happens.


Pale flakes with lingering stealth come feeling for our faces—
We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed,
Deep into grassier ditches. So we drowse, sun-dozed,
Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses.
                                Is it that we are dying?

Slowly our ghosts drag home: glimpsing the sunk fires glozed
With crusted dark-red jewels; crickets jingle there;
For hours the innocent mice rejoice: the house is theirs;
Shutters and doors all closed: on us the doors are closed—
                                We turn back to our dying.

Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn;
Now ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit.
For God's invincible spring our love is made afraid;
Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born,
                                For love of God seems dying.

To-night, His frost will fasten on this mud and us,
Shrivelling many hands and puckering foreheads crisp.
The burying-party, picks and shovels in their shaking grasp,
Pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice,
                                But nothing happens.

It's quickly apparent so a few of the more sharp eyed amongst you that the girl tripping was just a distraction from the pickpockets trying to snatch anything they can from behind. Once the alert is given, several are caught red handed, one had even managed to have a webbing pouch open and a magazine half out without even being felt.

Realising they've been detected, most race for the concealment and protection of the crowds, disappearing amongst the sea of humanity. The remainder attempt to first grab anything loose before dashing away.

Once the immediate "danger" is passed, pockets and pouches are checked. Beyond a few small items of little worth nothing appears to be missing but given another few moments undetected......

Standing tall overhead, the Ratusz awaits with the Rada inside ready, so you've been led to believe, to issue passes and other assorted necessary paperwork. Like bureaucracies the world over, you expect to be faced with dozens of clerks with stacks of forms waiting to be filled out, stamped, filed, refiled, lost, found again, denied, appealed, and then, finally, approved.

Reality however is quite different. Just inside the old gothic stone building a battered desk has been set up. A single man in a suit similar to the one Don is wearing is seated in a high backed, gilded chair. Behind him are boxes and baskets, crates and cartons, sacks and saddlebags.

Several labourers appear, hoist containers and head deeper inside the building with their loads. Standing at either side of the area are two Polish soldiers armed with AK-74s and dressed in imaculate uniforms and polished boots. Even their webbing is in excellent condition, obviously never having seen combat although the puckered bullet graze across one of the guards cheeks shows that at least he has...

Leaning forward, the "clerk" for lack of a better description speaks quickly in Polish.


Back at the "hospital", the new mother sleeps on. Deeply exhausted, it's still too early to say if the stresses of the past few hours have been the last straw for her abused and malnourished body. The baby also rests but there seems no doubt that she will live - as long as milk can be found for her.

Outside all appears normal. Virgil maintains his vigil over the BTR that has become the closest thing to a home he's had lately. Beyond the occasional gunshot, barking dogs, yelling children and the hundreds, if not thousands of other noises in the city, he could almost describe it as "peaceful".
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:44, Fri 28 Mar 2008.

Mary waited for the guy in the throne to stop speaking. For all she could tell he was asking the way to Carnegie Hall. When he finished she turned to Don and said, "OK, Don, what'd the guy just say?"

As Virgil poked his head into the hospital, he heard the healthy squall of a hungry baby. He hadn't seen the kid yet, or it's mum but his sisters had given birth plenty of times. If the mum was OK, she had everything the baby needed. If she wasn't, well that was another matter, they couldn't just pop out to the supermarket for infant formula.

Virgil knew that they didn't have any milk in the supplies they'd liberated but that bady was hungry and it needed feeding soon.

"English?" Steven asks, then pulls out his papers. "We need to papers for workers at hospital." He says pointing to the document, then to the others he brought with him. "Essential workers for a stronger Poland."

Don pats the little girls head once more when the pickpockets runs away. Then he smiles and waves his finger toward her, saying a few words in Polish.

When he walks into the big building, he is refreshed. The old, gothic building reminds him of the castles back home, Edinburgh, Stirling, Eilean Donan...

As the clerk approaches him, he smiles widely. That's the spirit! I could for sure make a great living here!

He replies, in a slower Polish. Keeping the voice moderate.

He keeps his smile, eager to hear the rest of the bargaining. In English he tells the others, in a fairly low voice. "He wonders if we want to fix it directly or wait a couple of weeks, hehe"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:09, Fri 28 Mar 2008.

Mary spoke softly back to Don, "The guy's looking for graft, fair enough, do the best deal you can and remember how whilst we ain't completey brassic the Bodie and Doyle is worth a lot more of the ponies than you let the Jam Rolls off with last time. Do the best you can mate."

Virgil frowned at the squalling. the baby was hungry. Where to get milk in this God Forsaken place eluded him. He went back to the BTR and looked through the boxes of food they had stored. He picked up a couple of the smoked sausages and a few apples. As he was about to leave the vehicle, he noticed Katka's AK. He picked it up and grabbed a few spare mags for it. It would be handier in the city than the german sniper rifle.

He slung the big rifle across his body and then arranged the AK to hang at his right side. He secured the BTR and walked slowly to the sidewalk. He looked out at the kids and people passing and slowly started to eat an apple, all the time watching out for a kid or passer by to catch his eye.

Marcus broken of his reverie of the child had cleaned it up the best he could before placing it bundled up next to her mother.  He checked the vitals of the mother knowing full well the child's survival depended greatly on the mother making it through.  As Virgil popped in and then out Marcus followed him to the BTR to procure some food and rations for the young mother.  It felt strange to have a purpose that involved life rather than so much death.

Tanya stands behind Mary and Don with her AK slung at over her shoulder as the conversation continues.

  Katka glanced blankly at Mary. She was getting used to the Amerikan's English and while she understood the words, the meaning of it was completely lost to her. Nothing to do but, stand there in the background and try not to call attention to herself.

After about an hour, Virgil's vigil paid off. The kid had obviously never been warned about starnger danger but looking at the kid's pock marked, gap-toothed and cross-eyed visage, he realised that he was more likely to be picked up by a pervert than this kid.

as the kid happily munched the apple, Virgil showed him a few of the sausages, he had the kid's attention an said, "Fetch me someone who speaks English",Virgil could ask for surrender, order beer, start a fight and try to get laid in Polish, that and how to ask for an interpreter had always seemed sufficient to him.

The kid nodded and after consuming the apple down to the core, dashed off.

Virgil hoped he hadn't wasted an apple.

About half an hour later, the homely kid brought another, less homely and slightly older kid back with him.

The older kid was derssed in cut down and patched combat trousers, a dirty grey hoody and a black watch cap. The kid had an intelligent, mobile face and bright blue eyes.

"Hi, you want someone to speak American with you?" he prodded a thumb into his own chest, "I am Tadeusz, Tad. I speak number one, one hundred per cent American."

Virgil smiled, "Where did you learn it Tad?"

"School first, in Warsaw. Then, when Army invaded, I was picked up by the wolves, Air Cav, number one!" the boy explained, "I looked after them but I got lost last year in a fight. Ended up here. What can I do you for?"

"First," Virgil said, "give these sausages to the kid and then sit and eat this bread, sausage and apple. I have an important job for you."

The boy looked up, "I don't do jiggy jiggy, but I can find you a nice girl, or boy..."

"No," Virgil replied, "nothing like that. I want you to find me milk, goat's if possible, about a liter and a baby's bottle. A kid has just been born, if his mom dies or can't give milk, it will need food soon. Can you do this?"

"You bet," Tad replied around a mouthful of food, "what will I use to trade?"

"Food, how much do you reckon it'll take?"

"For the milk? Say four kilos. The bottle, another two kilos, they aren't common but they go fairly cheap. Plus one kilo for me." the boy said.

Virgil looked at him, "OK, but you get your cut when you get back." he saw Tad nod, "do it well and you can stick around, we could use and interpreter. If you stick around you'll eat what we eat and sleep as safely as we sleep, understand?"

The boy saluted and said, "Roger that, wilco, asap."

He gathered up the food and headed off. Virgil watched him go wondering if that was the last he'd seen of the food. He heard the baby squall hungrily. He hoped not.

Virgil waited for just over and hour, every minute it seemed less likely the boy would return. Then, in a burst of activity, Tad hared around the corner, the boy seemed incapable of doing anything at less than a run.

He was carrying a cardboard box with three litres of milk, two babies bottles and a selection of rubber teats.

"Here you are Boss, you like?" the youngster asked enthusiastically.

Virgil smiled at him, "Yes, I like it very much, thank you." Virgil took the box and ushered the boy inside.

He looked at Marcus and said, "This is Tad, he's our Gofer for a while." He showed Marcus the box, "Get some water on to boil, we'll sterelise the bottles and some of the milk. Then, when it cools, we can feed the baby. Leave out about 100mls of the milk, put the rest in the fridge. A baby this little won't take much more than that in one meal. We also need to feed the mum up, her first milk is vital for the baby. I saw you take some food in for her already, that's good. Take as much as you think she needs. Anyone cuts up rough and send them to me." Virgil stopped, "Sorry, forgot who I was talking too, you can deal with them better than I ever could. I'll keep watch outside with the kid, let me know if we need to get anything else."

The guy on the throne appeared to be being cute and making them wait. Mary stood impassive, a pleasant smile now almost frozen on her face. Krakow was a bustling hive of activity, a den of theives and a hotbed of intrigue and they had found it's slow, imperceptibly beating heart. She turned to Don and said, "Don, can you ask the guy if there's any way we can get papers, if not we can get back in the BTR and haul ass out of here."

Virgil poked his head into the hospital again, "I'm going for a walk about with the kid, keep an eye on the BTR."

Virgil went back to the APC and switched back to the PGS-1. He secured the vehicle and grabbed a jerrycan of fuel. He slung his rifle and hauled the can in his left hand. He looked at tad and said, "OK, kid, let's go take a look see."

The massive marine and the skinny teenager made an unlikely looking team as they walked through the ruined suburbs. Virgil marvelled at how many people still lived in this decaying ruin of a place. How they could survive was a mystery to the Sergeant. Out in the country, Virgil could have kept himself and others alive for months or years without much problem, but here, here the predators out numbered the prey and the wolves had two legs.

"Dobrze, my rzeczywiście niezbędne papiery, pan. Może wy sprawiać przyjemność mówią mnie co my miał robić?"

Don is calm. He knows that with corrupt people, or really with most people that has some sort of power, you just have to play along. Small people has a tendency to use their powers whether it need to be used or not. Just for showing it.

OOC: Well, we really need papers, sir. Can you please tell me what we should do?

Marcus might normally have had an ass to chew about the Marine's attitude to a senior Non-Comm, but really Marcus didn't give a shit anymore about that kind of rhetoric.  He simply nodded figuring Virgil knew more about the care and feeding of a baby than him, he only learned to birth them in the obstetrics section of his medical training.  Taking the box he set about the task of heating some hot water for sterilization and getting the milk ready for the baby.  He inquired about a fridge and stowed the rest.

  'Billy' leaned against the shaded side of the big ambulance and drew in a refreshing lung-full of cigarette smoke.  The crowd, as much of a crowd as any lately, kept a wide berth of the two guards and the Bison itself.

  With a sigh, he hefted the RPK and strolled around to check on his partner and to make sure the Bison had not been 'liberated' while he had leaned on it.  He scanned the surroundings and noted with interest that yes, there were 'interested' eyes looking at the big vehicle with a barely concealed avarice.

  The babel of Polish language swarmed his ears and he saw a small, maybe 8 or 10 year old boy watching him and the Bison with large, hungry eyes.  Billy waved at the little boy and the youth started and ran off and hid behind a small group of adults haggling over something that had been offered at seemingly too high a price for their tastes.  He saw the boy peek around and not wanting to unnecessarily frighten him, Billy carefully made sure he wasn't looking at or for the boy, but kept him in his field of view as he took a look around and stopped near his only other companion.

"You need to fill out these forms and provide identification. Processing takes several weeks while we check your details. You will need to report twice daily to ORMO and provide full details of all goods in your possession."

Basically, doing it "by the book" would require weeks of wasted time while being unable to do anything. A notice on the wall in several languages proclaimed it to be a crime to receive payment for any activity if not in possession of the proper Krakow identity papers.

"Alternatively you might be interested in joining the Robotniki and earning your citizenship. One years intenture to the city. All food, shelter and clothing provided in return for your complete devotion to the tasks assigned to you."

Another option that wasn't particularly appealing, especially having seen the treatment of the Robotniki on the way. The girl back at the "clinic", although unconfirmed, was likely to be asent from her duties with the work units. From the look of her, she'd been half starved, frozen and repeatedly beaten.

Sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, the suited clerk leaned forward conspiritorially and in a stage whisper continued, "Or you can show that you've the means to support yourselves and not be a drain on the city's welfare systems." A thumb was jerked at the goods stacked behind him and gradually being shifted by workmen. Evidence of the ability to support oneselves was apparently code for "bribe".

Milk, still steaming from the goat it came from, is easily found for the baby and after payment of the agreed upon food, several litres and two bottles (with teats) are handed over.

Elena, with Marcus' assistance seems to be making some progress with the mother. An IV line had been set up, feeding precious glucose and saline directly into her bloodstream. Although still very much in danger, her colour appears to have improved. A few more hours and it might be time to try waking her for some food.

Meanwhile, John and Luke, who barely showed themselves early on, have returned to their apparently normal duties - providing security and working on minor mechanical jobs for some of the locals. Payment, as with most things in the city, is usually by barter, although occasionally somebody parts with a ration chit or two.

The young boy Brown was watching without "watching" was typical of many of the children in the city. Dressed in often mended hand-me-downs and leather shoes with the soles obviously replaced once or twice, his hair was cut short, almost shaved completely off, probably in an attempt to deal with the lice children of that age always seemed to be infested with.

His parents, or at least the adults he was hiding behind, seemed to also fairly typical. Clothing patched and relatively clean, from the lack of personal possessions carried with them they were most likely locals, a secure residence not too far away.

Food was what they were bartering for, a selection of shoes, boots and gloves, both newly made and repaired their chosen items of trade.

  Billy looked with interest at the footgear from the distance.  Some of it seemed tolerably well done and this interested him.  He looked dead at the boy and waved him over with a silver wrapped stub of chocolate he had scrounged from Wolbrom.

  The boy nervously approached although nerves fought with the desperate hunger of a child for sweets and the hunger won.  The boy nearly walked over and had his eyes locked on the chocolate.

  "Do you speak English young fella?"  Billy hoped the boy's English was better than his Polish.  "I'd like to chat with those people there about shoes and boots.  If you can get them here, this is yours."

  The boy nodded and ran back to the adults he had originally retreated to and he pulled insistently at the skirt of a woman who looked a lot like an older version of the boy.  She waved the pestiferous attention away until the boy pointed to Billy and chattered away.  The woman, a pretty thing once, was worn and tired looking.  Her gray streaked black hair was pulled back in a braid and Billy figured she was in her mid-30s.  The woman turned to an man and spoke a few quiet words to him, then walked over to Billy.

  "Hallo.  I am Magda.  Whatchoo want wit' Adam?"  Her eyes were intelligent and sly as well as a stunning green colour.

  "Hello Miss.  I am Billy Brown I noticed your people have some shoes and boots you are trading.  Does your friend repair boots also?  Maybe we can talk a deal?"

  "Choost you, yes?  Maybe we talk deal on boot repairings.  Andrej has lots to do."    Her eyes narrowed at the prospect of trade.  "What you got for dealings?"

  Billy thought rapidly and decided to work a deal on his own before he talked to the others.

  "I have a few extra rounds I can trade, and some cigarettes.  Good tobacco too, not factory made though.  I need my boots resoled."

  Damn! he thought.  Where is everyone when I need them?  His musings almost lost him his train of thought.

  "If your friend does a good enough job, maybe I can get some more things together for trade for some shoes and boots, eh?"  He smiled to ease the woman's suspicions
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:38, Thu 15 May 2008.

"Dobrze, my byłby nie brak osuszać wasz system dobrobytu. My mamy dostateczna ilość poparcie samodzielnie. I inni, hehe."
("Well, we wouldn't want to drain your welfare system. We have enough to support ourselves. And others, hehe.")

Don smiles gives back at the clerk.

"Pomyślimy moglibyśmy rozdzielać niektóre paliwo, z niezbędnym."
("We thought we could share some fuel, with the needed.")

Don translates to the others, so that they are informed on what he says, if the others makes questions to the clerk, he will translate that as well, even if he tries to put it in the way that he thinks the clerk would like.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:07, Mon 19 May 2008.

The clerk waves the offer away.
"What would we do with more methanol? The city stills produce thousands of litres every week. What good would another few drops do?"
Leaning back in his very comfortable chair, he looks almost at the point of hoisting his feet onto the desk.
"No, you'll need to do better than that..."