trial 1

```Viktor Raines / Instructor O'Reilly```
Commander Raines was an exceptionally revered veteran both against humans and paranormals. He'd been dodging bullets for a very long time. Starting as a Royal Marines Commando, before failing selection for the Special Boat Service, but upon a retry making his entry successful. He'd done a plethora of missions for Queen and Country. His tactics were unorthodox and at times hair-brained but his combat effectiveness was the stuff of legend. Sacrifices for the completion of the mission were a default for Raines. He had almost a decade of service to the Agency, most of it being Tier One work, but for a brief rotation he had been placed in the Special Projects Section, that was how it worked with most high-level Tier One Operatives. There was a constant rotation within Special Projects, very few remained as permanent Agents, but Raines knew a few. He knew why his team had been positioned for this Tac-Town. But that data remained sensitive, even to the rest of his team and the Instructors. The mission warranted compartmentalisation. He watched as the Instructors gathered their relevant recruits. He recognised the Instructors, some he had conducted operations with; namely O'Reilly.  The man was solid and he was concerned with his Fireteam above all others. The other instructors he had heard of, Holder had been mentioned by name. The case of incredible genius unable to abide with immeasurable stress and circumstance. He sighed, before pressing a fist onto his 2nd In Command's shoulder. "Tarkov, take Ainsley and Lewinsky. Set up the Complex." He said, nodding to the man as he took the other two Agents and left for the lumbering 5 storey apartment complex. Raines turned to face the Fireteams, before stepping forward. For his firearm, he held a preference to a heavily customised AR-15, he had used it during his time in the SBS, then he had carried it over with him to ADAPT.

--
 It was proven, tested and articulated to fit Raines' needs. Complete with a Trijicon MRO Sight,  Streamlight TLR-8 Weapon Laser/Light Module, VLTOR EMOD stock and a Magpul AFG, not to mention a host of Magpul PMAGs strapped across his chest and fitted into his rifle. Alongside his combat attire, there was a throat make, now evident underneath the collar of his shirt as his hands, encased in Oakley Pilots, with reinforced knuckles, grabbed O'Reilly's shoulder. "Eamonn, you keeping yourself well?" He asked, as the older Irishman cracked a grin, the greys of his beard twinkling in the sunlight. "Aye, Viktor. Figured a couple tours of Instructor duty should get me in the mood for fieldwork," He said a slight laugh escaping him as the Scotsman nodded. He looked over at the assembled Fireteam Alpha. "Got a fine looking fireteam," He said before requesting the Irishman to step away. He nodded. "We'll start 'em off simple, I've got Oskar setting up a flag for them to capture. We've set you up with a timer, so when they grab that flag, whichever team can secure it and maintain their position for the length of the timer will have won." The Scotsman explained as O'Reilly crossed his arms and nodded, his smaller frame dwarfed by the larger Raines. "Aye, sounds solid. We'll got for a few more?" He asked as the Scotsman flashed a grin, "Depends on how bad we beat 'em, but I've got a few more games planned." He said before stepping backwards. "Relay it to your Cohort, I'll finish setting up and contact you when it's done." He said as the Scotsman stepped off, disappearing behind the fence of the sawmill perimeter and making his way towards the town. Eamonn O'Reilly turned to face his Fireteam, offering them a smile before a sharp whistle escaped the Irishman; much to Holder's dismay. "Cohort," He called, his voice surprisingly filling the air as he spoke.

--
"Pay close attention, ladies and gentlemen. Whilst Commander Raines words were accurate and truthful, this will be a learning experience but get it clear in your heads that if you make mistakes, you will be punished." He said, pausing as he eyed all of the recruits. It was first instant that the man had stepped forward, utilising the respect he commanded amongst his peers. There was definitely something lurking beneath that cool, calmed appearance. "Your first task, will be capturing the flag. It will be housed on the 5th floor of the Apartment Complex. Raines and his team will be protecting it. The objective is to as a Fireteam, secure the flag and hold it until the allocated time is up. Once you have secured the flag, you will need to fortify your position and hold out." He called, before stepping back. If anyone were to look closely enough, they might've noticed the slight tremor in his left hand as he stepped back as Holder would deliver the briefing on the equipment. They didn't have this stuff back in O'Reilly's day. His training was much more brutal, but it produced results despite the washout rate. The technology they would be using would be experimental in a sense, and was only suitable in certain zones. Tactical Towns in the colder regions wouldn't make use of the same technology, the weather would fuck up the circuits; or something like that he assumed.

Once Holder finished his explanation he would take the equipment, gathering his Fireteam around. "Alright, lads. This is game time, do me proud. Check your corners, and work as a team. A house divided will always fall." He said, some final words of encouragement. He cast a glance at the towering Apartment Block and sighed. It was not looking hopeful for the Cohort.
---

```Instructor Holder```
Holder waited, eyeing the Scotsman up before he left and Eamonn took charge. The Irishman wasn't really one for words, he preferred actions whereas Holder liked verbal combat every now and then, if anything it helped solidify his superiority in his mind. He paused, trying to stop the ringing in his ear before he heard O'Reilly fall silent. Ah.. the introduction of the simulation tech. Lovely. He stepped forward, adjusting his shirt before raising his hand. "Alright, boys and girls." He said, hand reaching out and dragging a crate forward. He kicked open the lid, lifting it open. "Inside these crates is state of the art technology utilised for training. It will slot over your overalls, and will help keep things streamlined. Fitted to your issued firearms, is an adapter. You will be utilising simulation rounds, so you know- none of you fucking die or anything," He said, a slight pause before an unsteady grin. He lifted up the chest piece that would be mounted over the overalls. "These will emit a pulsing shock every time you are hit, and you know we as Instructors have the ability to shock you should we see fit." He said, an almost sadistic grin slipping onto his face. "You will have 3 lives, and once you've been hit 3 times, you will be out of the game and regroup at the sawmill. Treat it like the real thing and you'll be fine." He said, before placing the rig back down into the crate. Each Fireteam would require two crates. He grabbed his two, dropping them to the side and gesturing for his Fireteam to fall in. "Okay pilgrims, I'll let you in on a little secret," He said, stepping to the side and bringing them in closer.

--
 "Those shocks? They fucking suck," He said, his tone serious and face blank, "The big guy over there, Nazi youth? He could try and tank the first, but if you follow up in succession then he's out of the fight. The only piece of advice I can really give you guys is to take it slow, someone is bound to bum-rush Raines' position." He paused, standing tall and looking around before returning in a more hushed tone, his voice at a slow whisper. "Don't be that fucking team, wait for the meatheads to soften 'em up, pick your position to defend first, make sure it's good." He paused, pinching his brow, "But, my beloved pilgrims. I can't say anymore. Abada, Novak" He said looking at them intently, "Don't fuck this up, Matchstick, Ollie, you keep your heads on a swivel and make sure you don't fuck this up." He said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a battered hip flask. He took a gentle sip before grinning, "But in the words of our respected Commander Raines, it's about 'teaching you' and 'making as many mistakes as you can'- fucking," He faded into laughter, tipping the hipflask into his mouth, before wiping his lips. "What a bunch of bullshit," He muttered as he stepped away from them, linking in with the rest of the Instructors. Rousing words indeed.

```Recruit Malikova```

Nina Malikova was less than pleased with her Fireteam. How she had ended up here? Only God knew. A gypsie boy as their Team Leader, who could barely speak English, and then there was the other recruit; "I'm an archaeologist". Malikova could feel her brain cells committing suicide. She was FSB, a revered combatant and a well established figure in Counter Terrorism. Yet she was assigned to a bunch of misfits, a gypsie, an archaeologist, a nerd and her obsessive fan. Whatever was the purpose for such a punishment. She longed to be in Fireteam One, or at least in one of the nicer ones. Her only saving grace was Agent Victoire, but even then she looked she'd much rather be somewhere else; perhaps in France, knee deep in cancer sticks. Her wet morning wakeup had been a surprise, but Nina was a horribly light sleeper, the sound of Agent Victoire would've roused her up, long before the sprinklers. She figured that out of the entire fireteam, she had the best experience. She should've been Team Leader, but instead they were stuck with the Gypsie King himself. The sprinklers helped speed Malikova's morning, as she shrugged on her jumpsuit and stood to attention. During the flight over, she napped and studied the other recruits. She wasn't much for talk.

-
Upon arriving at Tac-Town she looked with wonder at the newer Agents, armed with non-lethals. Perhaps that was the scariest of things. She knew how much non-lethals hurt. "Well... Team Leader," She said begrudgingly, "What's the plan?" She said, eyeing the other Fireteams. She picked up her training equipment. Alongside their chest-rigs and such, they were given their weapons. The main assortment of very well maintained weaponry was MP5F's taken from the surplus within the French Military. Standard 30 round magazines, and no additional attachments; they were as stock as they could be. Malikova noted the strange little adapter on the barrel, which was fitted specifically for the simulation rounds they would be firing. She slipped on her rig, slapping on her helmet. Each was fitted with a helmet cam so their mistakes could be viewed in high quality by the instructors. Before Malikova put her helmet cam on, she pondered on unloading her clip into her Team Leader. He was horribly aggravating at times, without really meaning to be.

```May the odds forever be in your favour, and may the games begin```

Once all the Fireteams were geared up, the Instructors gathered at the forefront, facing the assembled force of around 17 or so recruits. They had lost a few. During training, the more physical aspects had seen Carter break his arm. He had opted to take up the offer that had first been given to him, and dropped out of training. In the following week, Recruits Vissier had been pushed a little too hard with the physical aspect. Holder whilst appearing to be a high-functioning drunk had his moments during sobriety. He was rough, aggressive and expected nothing but the best. Vissier did not meet the mark. Barakat was a different story. Deeper background checks into his family revealed a shocking truth, as such he was taken out of training discretely and handed off to U.S Authorities for questioning in their infamous Guantanamo Bay facility. O'Reilly had overseen the hand off with disappointed eyes.

The Fireteams would be taken to the separate corners of the town. Alpha took the North, closest to the Apartment Building. Bravo took the West, and Charlie would be directly opposite them entering from the East. Holder had very tactfully chosen for Delta to take the South. It was the furthest away from the action. In some eyes his choice was to the disadvantage of his team, but in others he had just given them the greatest blessing they could ask for. Those $50 meant a hell of a lot to him; it was booze money.

--

Raines had his position set up from the 5th floor. Lewinsky sat beside him, arms wrapped around a Heckler & Koch G28 E2. It was modified with a Schmidt & Bender 3–20×50 PM II, RIS Foregrip and Harris Bipod. It also came with a OSS SRM6 suppressor, and a back up red dot sight, on canted rails. He lay prone, in a perfect positioning, the vantage point looking down on the main road. There 5 floors to clear, and Raines' team was on the fifth floor. There were ropes leading off the side of the building. The residential areas were the best place to set up a shop if you weren't lazy enough to take over the pre-established base for the flag. It was close quarters and gave for a lot of opportunities to lay traps and baits. You never knew what could be hiding in the corner. Lewinsky and Raines looked out into the town below whilst the noises of Tarkov's heavy lifting and Ainsley adjusting barriers and cover points pulsed from the room adjacent to them. Raines looked out into the sky as a red flare sailed into view. "Alright Goliath, lets get dug in, Ainsley, Tarkov get to your positions. Lets show them how it's done.

With the sighting of the flares the Fireteams would be given the go-ahead to begin their offensive. Alpha to the North, Bravo to the West, Charlie to the East and Delta to the South. Each with a firm statement in their eyes; Do not fail.

From within their air-conditioned control room, Instructors O'Reilly, Holder, Victoire and Kasia would observe the 17 live feeds from individual helmet cams, as well as their updated tracking positions on the map. This would be very interesting to watch. As Holder raised his flask to his lips, his eyes faintly glanced over the crumpled $50 on the desk with a sigh. He hoped, he truly did hope that they didn't fuck up but even as he had made the bet he knew it was bound to go south for him. "Don't suppose I can take my fifty back now, can I?" He asked, with a sheepish grin.