Navratil
Navratil is my lead scout. He has a way with nature, almost an unspoken bond. He seems to listen to the earth, and feel the vibrations of the enemy's advance. He is light on his feet, and as silent as disease. During a time of combat he rarely kills while on missions, but he does rather alot of fighting. He seems to take great care in that, great pride. He has never returned to our compound without a key piece of information with which to plan our next move. Navratil is not a very refined man, but he has more determination and more dilligence than half my men combined. He was a very important soldier to have on our side. Which is why, perhaps, my bretrayal left him so bitter.
I had sent Navratil on a reconnaissance misson to bring back some very important paperwork that had been stolen, along with one of our spies. This, in case it is pertinent, was to do with details of our own guerilla tactics. Needless to say, Navratil was captured. Azrael contacted Gabriel to arrange for a meeting to trade for Navratil. I refused on Gabriel's behalf. I was cocky and arrogant. I do not have all the details of what he endured, however I do know he was heavily brainwashed. There were many occasions open to stage a rescue mission, but I held back. I allowed him to remain there for almost three months, while I chased my own ambitions. I thought, if Navratil could just hang on for that time, then I could get other missions accomplished. I needed him there, I needed to buy time. So, while he was tortured, I made extraordinary headway in attempting to defeat them...I say "attempting", because I see now that all I did was in vain.
Finally, I made my way to the Rahkas Headquarters. I sent a team of six men to release Navratil, and I went alone to meet with Azrael. He belittled me, enticed me to anger, and I fell for it. All my feral rage, my desire to rip him to pieces...it was fueled by his sarcasm and his disregard for me as Battalion Commander. I attacked him, I threw myself at him and clawed, and bit, and did all I could to inflict pain. Nothing worked. He overtook me in one move, laid me out and he did something strange: he held me by the throat, grinned, and said, "Thank you, but not today." I was immoblized. He left the room and I stayed there, uncertain, like a small child. After a few minutes, I stood to my feet and ventured out; Azrael and his Rahkas were gone. Their Headquarters, empty. I quickly left with my men, including Navratil, who was vacant and trembling. It was two full years before Navratil began to speak again.
Ethan
Ethan, known as Hunter during wartime, has an incredible knack for sharp-shooting, therefore I enlisted his talents as a sniper. He is excellent in every aspect. Ethan is squeamish with close combat; he always freezes. As a sniper, however, he excels:s sheer poetry in motion. He seems to be in his element perched high in the weepy branches of a tree, or nestled in the tall grass of the meadows. He only needs one shot per target, and by the time the enemy realizes where the shots were coming from, he had changed position. His level of concentration is intense, his movements are seamless. Ethan operates as a piece of finely tuned machinery: no doubts, no fear, no regrets, and always dead-center.
However, I have had my conflicts with him as well. As a sniper, I suppose it is rather unfortunate, and ironic, that he is rather opposed to killing. There were a few times--quite a few times--he flatly refused to kill one of the targets I had chosen for him. He always did in the end, but not without severe demerits having been imposed. I commend him in that he always knows the site to shoot which granted death the quickest. However, we all have our methods of escape, our maladaptive coping mechanisms. His was through chemical means: stimulants and alcohol. I knew he used them for quite some time, but it did not matter to me, as it did not compromise his effectiveness at his post. As time went on, however, he became sloppy and uncoordinated. His ineptitude granted him a month in Solitary. Now, however, he has improved considerably.
Steffen
Steffen is my chief negotiator. He is also responsible for certain aspects of intelligence, and interception of messages. I suppose that, in a way, he is directly responsible for Navratil in that Navratil's missions are almost totally based on Steffen's work. He has a way with words; he weaves a tapestry of language that flows effortlessly from his lips in a way that I envy deeply. His persuasion is unparalleled, in that those with whom he speaks become malleable with the power of his speech...it is unlike anything I have ever seen. The few cease-fires granted us were Steffen's doing.
He is loyal, and I can see he goes above and beyond what was required of him. Steffen, however, does have his problems. We all do, of course, even I am no exception. Steffen is plagued with a horrific temper; it was not uncommon to see him destroying any number of things when enveloped in his wrath. There are times I had to step in, as he often crossed the line of decency and decorum. Yes, even in wartime, there are rules, there is a code of honor to be followed. I believe a part of his anger management problems came with the fact that he abused inhalants. It was not on a regular basis; in fact, the episodes were few and far between, most times. However, in the first week he went without, he was feral and incorrigible. It was for that reason I had to carefully consider each and every mission I bestowed upon him. I felt that our troops were compromised, at times, by his issues. As time went on, it was made clear he could not be trusted with the most sensitive cases, and it saddened the both of us. After Ethan's stay in Solitary, however, he cleaned up, and is much improved.
Jet
Jet, known originally as Scott, fought with Piers during the First Invasion. I know only what I am told in regards to his role as a soldier. Scott wass young, perhaps eleven or twelve at the onset of the First Invasion. Piers gathered his troops and led them on a pre-emptive strike, and I stayed behind to mind the young ones. Scott, believing he was of age, and deciding it was his duty to serve, tried to run away to join several times. I, of course, would not allow it, and finally he went missing after a raid on Haven by the Rahkas. We did not find his body, but it was assumed he had been killed. We mourned him; I did, especially, as he was one of my charges. I was burdened with guilt for years. Recently, it came to pass that we realized that Jet actually was Scott, incognito. He had taken advantage of the raid, faked his death, changed his name and appearance, and had joined as a mercenary. We do not know much of what he did, exactly as we never pressed him for details; now he rarely comes about.
Traitors
Then, there are Ramsey Gunnar and Nazario. Ramsey Gunnar was a guard within our prison base, and took first watch for perimeter check. He was often unseen for weeks at a time, aside from which he was always very quiet and reserved. Nazario was Piers' first lieutenant, and often doled out commands and made strategic decisions in Piers' absence. He was incredibly intelligent and worked well under pressure. Both turned out to be unrepentant traitors.
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