(( Authorized by Hawkeye. ))<br/>- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -<br/><i>"You're on your own now. Good luck."</i><br/><br/>It would have been a revitalizing thing to say after a harsh training regimen, or perhaps after earning one's jumpwings or some other decoration, but those words came right out of left field and took everyone by surprise with just how batshit insane it all was. The Soviets and their allies were still out there licking their wounds like tigers waiting in the brush while the environment, the concrete jungles these NATO soldiers were in, shook and crumbled all around. The smorgasbord of military types, drawn from elite pools to reserves to whatever body could fill the space, was skilled enough to handle an enemy force, but with the world so totally fucked as it was, there would be civilians, looters, human scum and who-knows-what-else lurking around looking for someone, anyone, to make a wrong move. For the NATO forces in Frankfurt an der Oder, a German city positioned right on the Oder river/German-Polish border, luck wouldn't be enough to get them out of this shithole.<br/><br/>Some of the soldiers might have relished the challenge, perhaps felt a sense of pleasure or pride at the prospect of fulfilling their purpose. Marcia Cervantes was not one of them. She stared at the radio that had given them their final message and twitched in anger and anticipation, yet she didn't dare speak. Apparently, though groomed for a position as a logistics officer, she was still an officer and thus was expected to keep her composure in front of the enlisted. Her latino blood boiled, and it was her hope that someone from their ragtag platoon would say what was on everyone's mind at that time.<br/><br/>Thank goodness they were in that Observation Post at the time, and even better that it had a roof on it, for things were surely going to get slick with shit.