Soldiers and mercenaries have always been considered an interesting bunch. While they ostensibly serve the same functions, they go about it in different ways. Soldiers are trained and disciplined, slaves to doctrine and rank. They have a way a laid out for how they will train, fight, interact, shit, and even fuck. Any deviation, brings derision. Not only from those in command of them, but also their peers. Conform or die.
Mercenaries are the opposite. Very rarely do they have the same coherence, usually falling under the loose command of a regular military officer, or the most experienced mercenary available. They represent self learning, machismo, and hundreds of military doctrines from all over the world. Rarely do they even have the same weapons, unless provided by their employers. The older ones show wisdom and discipline, while the younger tend to act however the hell they want. They know that they only get paid if they deliver on what they say they will do, but they don't say how they will do it.
You do find exceptions though. African warlords tend to have horribly undisciplined troops that happily rape, murder, and pillage because they have nothing better to do. Many PMCs are made up of former soldiers from a particular nation's military, and represent sometimes exaggerated versions of such. The world isn't a consistent place, and that was a universal fact.
Soldiers and mercenaries rarely got along well. Each group viewing the other with derision, and suspicion. That said, you did find those that could move between the groups with some ease. They knew how the other worked, and were wise enough to respect such. Because at the end of the day, they were paid to do the same thing. Kill whomever decided to offend the people giving the orders, and making their pay.
Due to this, they often developed similar habits. Such as learning meditation, not for inner peace, but because it could put you deep enough to get a modicum of rest without making you completely unaware of your surroundings. Ethan had learned this from a former Green Beret that he was working an escort on in Cambodia. The man was apparently acting as an advisor to some high ranking official that Ethan hadn't given a damn about. However he had talked to the retired special forces soldier and learned much. The meditation trick was a favorite, especially when on long drives doing protection work.
"Mag, I am starting to wonder how professional you are, if you...," Balalaika started.
Ethan only sighed, "I would appreciate it if you would stop fiddling with that lighter, and you pulling your skirt back down. I understand that you are having fun teasing me like that, and that there are probably not that many people you can do it to, and not have issues further down the road, but I prefer professionalism from my clients."
The woman was surprised. She had noticed that Ethan had closed his eyes not long after they left the airport, and did remember that he hadn't slept well. She had no intention to actually reprimand him seriously, as she could actually take care of herself if trouble were to arise. She hadn't thought that he would have actually noticed her adjust her skirt to just the point before her lingerie would have been visible if he looked.
"I must say, maybe you are much better than I was expecting. As you point out, I don't often have the chance to act, unprofessional. Is it so wrong for me to enjoy these moments," she asked playfully.
"If I was doing this as a favor, out of the goodness of my heart, maybe. Right now I am on your payroll, so I have a reasonable expectation of you acting as you would if I were a complete stranger that you had hired. Also I am not sleeping, I learned from an old Green Beret years back about how to meditate without losing awareness. Hm. I wish I could have had enough time to order some trucks that were armored and soundproofed. I cannot stand pan flute music," Ethan finally opened his eyes to stare death at a street musician.
"I would imagine there is a story behind that," the stalled traffic had Balalaika bored, so it would have been a welcome distraction.
Unfortunately she was disappointed, "Nope, I just can't stand them. Too peaceful sounding for me, they don't start your blood pumping."
"I must say, you were much more interesting in Afghanistan, than you are now."
"Yes, and you were hornier, so we are even. Thank god we are finally moving," he replied sarcastically.
Ethan ran small convoys in threes, and large convoys in twelves. There was always at least one empty vehicle, and the rest would be holding VIPS. The large convoys would have multiple empty vehicles. If the VIP was being targeted, the chances of hitting an empty vehicle and putting forces at risk made the transport safer.
Balalaika was still looking for some mental stimulation, "I have to wonder at the profile of the arrangements. I would have figured you would have looked for much more discreet accommodations, rather than one of the most prestigious hotels in the entire city. Won't that attract too much attention?"
"Especially if someone attempted something. Area's like this have much heavier police presence than more discreet areas. While twelve Soviet paratroopers, a highly experienced mercenary, and Revy could handle almost any kind of trouble, we put any attackers on the spot with this fact. Plus it plays up the fact that you have, questionable, diplomatic credentials. Why would you stay at a Hilton hotel, when you can stay at the prestigious Adolphus Hotel," he replied as his hand briefly reached for his weapon as a hooded figure walked in the direction of the truck before entering a building next to the intersection.
"You have this well thought out. I appreciate the effort on my behalf, these are better arrangements than I typically have for similar trips," she said as the vehicle started moving again.
Relaxing Ethan looked over, "Now, give the full rundown on the meeting. What is the subject, who is supposed to be there, and what knowledge you have."
"Ah, yes. I am, though it wasn't originally the plan so I am not as informed as I should be, meeting with the owner of the company. Despite my place in the Thieves in Law, the Bougainvillea Trading Company is a legitimate enterprise, and as such does require security that does not have connections to organized crime. While I typically talk to VPs that are responsible for writing out contracts and negotiating costs, the owners this time have decided to be more involved, possibly because I am seeking services for multiple locations in multiple countries. I tend to prefer hiring one company to maintain consistency in the service, and lower the number of people being dealt with. I was utilizing a french company that I have never quite gotten the pronunciation right on, and have even employed the Pinkerton Agency at one point. Sentinel has only been around for about ten years now, but they have a good reputation, and are more reasonable in their rates than most. I doubt that there will be any issues like you fear, but as you said, you are in charge of all arrangements," she explained.
"Indeed I am. The stetchkin, and that makarov remain under lock and key at the hotel. While I know you are going to balk at that, I don't want to have any chance that your credentials could be questioned. VIPs should not be carrying if they have bodyguards."
"And if I must relieve myself, you are going to stand outside the door?"
"No, we have Revy. I believe she should be enough protection for you, even barehanded. Not to mention I didn't tell you to give up that bayonet I noticed hidden in the lining of your coat. Just the guns."
Balalaika was impressed, "I don't think anyone else has spotted the bayonet before. In fact I had actually forgotten it was there myself. I have never had to use it. I do have a question for you. What is with the underwear you purchased for Rebecca?"
"What do you mean," Ethan glanced over confused.
"How much did all of that cost? I know that it is not, inexpensive," she replied to his question.
"Uh, like thirty six thousand. Does she not like it?"
"She does, but, men typically don't buy women they think of as sisters designer lingerie. Especially not multiple tens of thousands of dollars worth."
"I didn't think about that. I just thought she might enjoy something nice, that doesn't use 9mm for once. I just contacted a friend in Toulan and gave her the measurements, and she said she would send me out several sets. I didn't really care about the price, I have money squirreled away all over the globe. I'm glad she likes them though, hopefully I don't have to see her parading around in them half drunk in the middle of the night. That would be awkward."
"Holy fuck Rock. Look at this place, this is awesome. Ethan knows how to fucking live," Revy was impressed with the suite.
It was a more expensive one. Two bedrooms, a dining/living area, and a bathroom with a shower and a Jacuzzi tub. She had never stayed in anything this swanky in her life, not even when they had gone to Japan with Balalaika.
"This, I don't want to know how much it costs. Thank god it's on Hotel Moscow's dime. I know I can't afford this, even with how good Dutch pays us," Rock was also appropriately impressed with his surroundings.
"Who cares about the cost, there is booze in the fridge. It's only a drink a bottle, but they have Barcardi,"
"Be careful, who knows how much they are going to charge to restock that. I know that she seems to like us, but I don't want to push it too hard. I can't believe they are using our room for the extra luggage though," Rock grumbled as he looked at the bags.
Revy nervously chuckled, "Those, are actually, mine. Ethan, decided that I really needed a lot of clothes. My underwear is worth more than my bank account."
"Are you kidding? I know he is loaded, but that is just fucking outrageous. I mean, is he trying to get you to screw him or something," Rock, didn't like the idea for some reason.
"I doubt it would even happen if I had given her a cool million. Don't worry about the mini fridge, I have that arraigned already. Don't get black out drunk. We are here for a week, you will have a chance to later. Me and Sofiya are across the hall. The response team is at the end of the hall with the elevator. I doubt anything will happen here, I hope nothing will happen here, because I don't know if we could afford to pay for it," Ethan was leaned against the door frame.
"Yeah, yeah. We get it, you are technically our boss right now. We do what you say, and don't fuck it up," Revy still put the bottle back, reluctantly.
"Don't be a bitch about it. Regardless, we get all this done, we go home, and I share the pay with you two. I've been wondering though, why did she want you to come anyway Rock? She speaks English better than I do," Ethan asked.
Rock could only shrug, "I know how to negotiate, and I am the least threatening person she knows."
"From what I understand Rock, physically. I am wondering what some of the whispers I hear about you around home say. You two take it easy tonight, the meeting is at ten, be ready by 7:30."
"Mag, are you sure that you really want to sleep in that uncomfortable looking chair outside the door? Surely you could at least get a cot or something brought up here that you can hide behind the sofa," she couldn't quite understand how this individual worked mentally.
"Get too comfortable, and you lose too much awareness. I don't have a second, so I have to remain as aware as possible. Also I don't know if this kind of hotel offers such. I can get enough rest without hitting R.E.M. for a few days. Once we are back in the air, I will get some proper sleep," Ethan replied as he drug one of the room chairs from the living area to next to the bedroom door.
"At least this is one of those places that doesn't have that weird out of place chair in the corner of the bedroom. I can always have Boris take over for you for a while so you can get some sleep. He is used to doing so anyways."
"He is currently stationed outside the door in the hallway, and should be relieved in about three hours. I will be fine. Right now, you get some sleep, I will be right here, ready to shoot anything unfriendly that walks through the door. Have a good night."
Balalaika started to protest again, but then decided not to. If he wanted to be stupid like this, then he could. Of course he had been doing this for almost ten years according to him, so maybe he wasn't being stupid. From her knowledge, stupid mercenaries didn't live ten years.
She put most of the thoughts of the man out of her head as she began dressing for bed. She took a minute looking through her bags for her pajamas. Once she found them she started taking off her day clothes. As her suit came off, so did a seeming weight from her shoulders. Right now she wasn't Ms. Balalaika of Hotel Moscow, she was just an overly tired Sofiya Pavlovna. She missed her days with the VDV, but the Russian Federation hadn't maintained the Soviet Union's policy of putting whomever on the frontlines. Who knew where she would have ended up after the change of government. When the last of her clothes were off she looked in a full length mirror on the closet door.
She was still in enviable physical shape. She didn't look like any of the scrawny supermodels that most women wanted to look like. Her abs weren't sharply defined, but rather smooth and firm. Her arms and legs almost the same, though more defined. It was other things she was dissatisfied with. As a soldier, she was not happy with how large her breasts were, a G cup just got in the way too much trying to take a prone position to line up a shot. Not to mention it seemed like her derriere had increased in size since she was drummed out of the army as well. Of course, the Red Army had not cared how well nourished its troops were as long as they were nourished enough to fulfill their orders. The worst were the scars though. It would always be the scars.
She let out a sigh as she surveyed them. She didn't think about what caused them, just what they had caused her. She might have had a better life if they had never been forced upon her. Maybe she would have had more than drunken one night stands with whatever man she thought was worth fucking that night. Maybe she should have ended it herself, like so many of her men had before... no that though wasn't worth completing. She had been to too many funerals because of that.
She dressed for bed. She needed to stop thinking like this. It didn't do her any good, and she knew that it had caused issues in the past. If it wasn't for the professionalism that Ethan displayed, she might have tried to find some fun during this trip. It would be much more satisfying than her hand was, though, no it was unlikely that if she did it would override his feelings on the subject. Much to her disappointment.
As she drifted off to sleep, she put it all out of her head. She needed a clear head for her meeting tomorrow, and thinking about how horny she was would not help with that in any way. She let the darkness overtake her, and for a while it did. Unfortunately, there was one thing soldiers had trouble doing. They rarely forgot anything they saw in war. Unbidden, memories of Afghanistan came to her, not the slightly good times like her rescue by Ethan, rather seeing her men die. Parachute drops that landed in a machinegun crossfire, mortar attacks on camps, and even seeing Hinds taken down by stinger missiles, and the screams of burning men. You could become desensitized to it in real life, but you never could get used to it in your own head.
"Sofiya, calm down. Calm down, it's ok," she heard a voice, and felt hands on her shoulders, and jerked from sleep.
"Mag, what, is something wrong," she suddenly realized she was half naked in the living area, instead of in bed.
"Are you ok, I just heard screaming, and then you came out of there tearing your shirt to pieces. Did something bite you, does it feel like some..." she put a finger up to the man's mouth to stop him.
"I'm sorry. I, think I was just remembering things that, I don't want to remember. A soldier's curse, you could say," Balalaika breathed deeply trying to calm herself.
Ethan helped her up and led her back into the bedroom, "It isn't just soldiers. Anyone that fights like we do deal with these kinds of night terrors. Though I don't think that I have ever torn my clothes off from it before."
"Phantom pains from these scars. It is a shame, Chinese silk pajamas are not cheap. At least not the ones that I prefer," she replied, not worried about the fact he had a perfect view of her chest, after all he had seen it in much better condition.
Ethan nodded, "I can understand. I don't know how often I feel the stinging from one of my bullet wounds. I can only imagine how those burns treat you, I see how much they truly cover. I can also guess that there are more where I can't see them now."
She had no reason to be shy at the moment, "I have one covering most of my labia. I doubt that a man would understand how much of an interesting pain that is. I had trouble walking without pain for so long, even after I left service. It actually got infected at one point, and I spent over four months in a hospital bed from it. Thankfully it didn't affect being able to achieve orgasm, not that it happens enough for it matter."
"I can imagine that it has made it hard on your love life. As I said before, those scars make you such much more beautiful, but I can imagine they could worry a man when he sees them completely. Surely you should be able to find, ok maybe more than the scars would intimidate anyone you might find in Roanapur. It is lonely at the top, and for a woman I can imagine that is worse in the world we live in. I will do you a favor tonight," he said.
Balalaika looked at him questioningly, "What kind of a favor?"
"I won't fuck you, but I will lay in the bed with you. Only if you want me to. I don't know if it would help you sleep any better, but it may make you feel less lonely."
She had to think on the offer for a second. She could only imagine what any of her men would say if they came in and found them in bed together, even mostly clothed. That being said, what say would they actually have, she was approaching forty, she had every right to sleep with whoever she wanted to sleep with.
"Thank you. I would actually like that. Mag, I, can I call you by your name?"
"Sofiya, I don't even know my real name anymore. I may, I don't know. I don't know how long it has been since I used it. If you called me Ethan, that would just be weird, wouldn't sound right. I like things how they are now, I was actually surprised that you started wanting to see me so often since I came out of surgery. Lay back, and get some sleep. I will be right here, don't worry."