Viktor listened to the weaponmaker's response, cringing a little at the insults. "Hey now, he's not that bad. Sure, maybe not all there, but there's no reason to...Eh. It's fine. I'll be over soon to make sure he doesn't break anything. See you then." He hung up as well, returning his PDA to its usual pocket. With a roll of his neck, he put his hands in his pockets and readied himself to go. The armory was a nice part of the base, and while he doubted Rock would freak out enough to knock down the walls, it would be a shame to see it go on the off chance he got pissed off and decided to do some renovations. If nothing else, a somewhat more familiar face might help keep him from doing anything drastic.<br/><br/>And so he began his walk, moving through the halls of the base. He thought of lending a hand with the guns later, since he did have experience with putting them together. Hell, the man could make a gun out of a pile of scrap as long as he had the bullets. Not really a high-quality assault rifle by any standards, but homemade stuff had done him well a lot in the past. Fixing up pre-existing ones was basically a second nature by this point. During the considerations, a familiar voice drew his attention away from firearms and towards itself. Nikita's familiarly droopy form appeared, accompanying Magpie. Viktor smiled in response, making his way over toward the two.<br/><br/>"Hey, man! It's been too long. How'd that last job go?" He greeted him with a handshake, which then led into a sort of one-armed hug for a moment or two. After backing up again, he looked over to Magpie, giving her a nod. "Liking the place so far? You couldn't have run into a better person to show you around.  Nikita can talk your ears right off, but he knows the place well." Viktor patted the shorter, skin-covered Stalker on the shoulder, still holding a light smile on his face. "If you two aren't up to anything, I'm headed to the gunsmith's place. She's met another one of the new faces, isn't too happy about that." Again, he turned to Magpie, offering a small clarification. "The big guy."<br/><br/>As they began to walk again, Viktor went along with them, returning his hands to his pockets for the short journey.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>His operating room finally cleared of patients after an incredibly hectic morning, Stefan could relax for a moment. A deep breath was taken, and his medical gloves were removed, set back in their usual resting place. With exposed hands, he also took off his ushanka, revealing the back of his head. Burnt-looking skin, exposed in a few places but otherwise covered by alternating layers of gauze bandage, slightly discolored from age. He ran a hand down the back of his head, feeling some beads of sweat.<span style="font-style: italic">Good,</span>he thought.<span style="font-style: italic">The glands haven't entirely shut down.</span>Where his actual burn scars started and his mutation scars began was unclear, and after particularly large use of his powers, sometimes that changed. It was odd, but he'd come to get used to it. The bandages needed a change though, so he slowly pulled off his mask and set it down, then unraveled the bandages covering his face, exposing his skin fully for a few minutes as he washed his face, took a drink, then prepared and applied new bandages, the inner layer lightly medicated to keep his skin from drying out.<br/><br/>Now rewrapped, he put on his coverings again, starting with his gloves, then his mask, and finally his hat. He also gave his coat a quick adjustment for good measure. Leaving the operating room behind, he returned to his office, opening the door just enough to peek inside. "Sasha, come here," He called out to the giant rat, sticking out an arm for her to hop into. Cradling her, he shut the door and began walking again, moving around the base's halls until he reached the greenhouse again. Someone he didn't recognize was in there already, going around examining and talking to plants. Another one of Viktor's?<br/><br/>"We do our best to keep things growing nicely," Stefan commented, strolling into the room. With a shift of his arms, he helped Sasha transfer from being cradled to sitting across his shoulders, her tail looped limply around his neck. As he entered, he tilted his head slightly at the sight of the stranger's plant. "Now that's new. One of your own?" It wasn't often people brought in fully potted plants. Gathered things like leaves and seeds, sure, but this was something else. The fact that she carried it and spoke to it was particularly interesting. A new face, especially one who seemed to like plants, was definitely interesting. The gardening crew could use all the help they could get.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Around the tower's top, a small drone hovered. Four propellers sectioned around a round center floated through the air, a camera extended from a ridge down its center. It observed the connectivity of the Chernovolk radio relay, high above the now-windowless viewing deck. Much newer machinery and reinforcing repairs to the old tower stuck out, devoid of any signs of wear from old age. The attachments were secure, no loose ends at all. That broadcaster wasn't coming down without a lot of force.<br/><br/>Within the deck, a few Chernovolk soldiers finished up final preparations. One of them held an advanced looking tablet, viewing footage from the drone while controlling its flight patterns. "Connection is looking good. Nothing loose or falling off. Broadcast's operational too. I'd say we did a pretty damn good job here." His voice came out of his masked helmet slightly distorted. Holding out a hand as the drone dipped into sight through the thick clouds, the soldier caught the small machine and turned off its control panel. It found its way into a pouch on his hip, while the drone was turned off with a click of a button. At once, the ridge closed up, making it resemble a plain, smooth ball. Removal from the flying frame was simple, as the reduced size simply allowed it to slip out, while the frame itself folded over a few times and got stuffed in a larger pocket on his leg.<br/><br/>"Good. The General isn't going to be sticking around much longer, so it's our squad's job to make sure this tower stays operational." Another soldier, taller and more rank-decorated than the first, called the shots of the ones in charge of the tower. The group was mostly new blood. Green recruits that had been out in the wastes of other countries once, twice at most. This one had quite a lot more experience. No General, that was certain, but competent enough to keep the rookies in check.<br/><br/>A comparatively easy job was given to them, both to ease them in to the campaign ahead and keep them from mucking up more serious operations. Keep the tower broadcast going, keep hostiles away from it. "Security will need to be upped in preparation for his departure. I trust you'll be able to handle installation of a few cameras."<br/><br/>"Not a problem at all, sir." Straightening himself out, the younger soldier gave the superior officer his full attention. While his face was obscured by a visor, he had a smile on. Unprofessional when speaking to an officer, but he couldn't see, so it didn't much matter. "Nobody's going to be coming toward the perimeter without us knowing about it."<br/><br/>"That's what I like to hear. Once you and the other pups have everything set up, head to the mess tent. After that, all you'll need to do is keep an eye open and take out any tainted that come your way. Good luck, Nylund. Dismissed." The superior officer left the rookie to his duty, taking an elevator down the tower. Some of the old ones still worked, but in the shafts that had only broken down ones, replacements had been installed after clearing out the debris. They were more open, essentially a floor panel and waist-high fence with wheels on the sides that carried the thing up and down floors, but they worked just as well.<br/><br/>The rookie, Emil Nylund, gave the observation deck one last sweep to make sure everything was in check. Aside from minor structural damage due to neglect, age, and things taking out the windows, the floor was in good shape for their purposes. The tower area in general would require some extra cleanup, but for now, securing the place entirely was the main focus. Making it homely could come later. With that done, Emil headed into an elevator was well, one of the still functional old-world ones, and returned to ground level with it. From there, he did as instructed with some of the other recruits, setting up security points and making sure the connections to the monitoring tent were fully functional, giving whoever manned the station a view of all points that sentries couldn't see on their own. It wasn't exactly hard work, but it was an important procedure all the same.<br/><br/>With securing efforts finally finished, Emil headed to the mess tent alongside the others. During the approach, he decided to remove his helmet, unhooking two securing points below his jawline. A quick hiss of air came from it as the suit's environmental seal was opened, and the face plate of the helmet moved forward, allowing the rear area to be lifted and pulled away. Once it was off, he pressed the two halves back together, balanced it on his hip, and ran a hand through his hair to straighten it out as he walked into the tent.<br/><br/>The tent had a good setup, with high quality utensils for cooking and dining alike throughout. Emil entered last in line among the group, and was stopped by another soldier. This one wasn't one of the rookie recruits, but an actual veteran of the squad, to be shipped out along with the General when he decided his time in the area was done. Emil looked slightly up to match eyes with them, looking somewhat confused. "Yeah?" He asked, adjusting his grip on his headgear.<br/><br/>"You were last in, so you've got a special task." The soldier, looking all sorts of smug, grinned toothily as other veterans made some sound in the background, muffled laughter and mumbling in various languages Emil didn't speak. "General Graf's meal needs to be delivered to him. He's a very particular sort of guy, doesn't join us in the tent a lot. So you'll be taking it to him." A wheeled cart was pushed forward by another soldier, bumping into Emil's arm. "If you do this well, you'll probably get in good with the guy. Good luck." They nudged Emil's shoulder, then took his helmet, leaving him standing very confused for a few moments.<br/><br/>Eventually, he gave in. If the general was really as particular as they claimed, then it was best to just get it over with. He took the cart and wheeled it toward the exit, huffing slightly when he heard an incoming comment from one of the seated soldiers, followed by laughter.<br/><br/>"Hey, I heard Graf's into maids. Dress up next time and he might give you a promotion."<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Dumskalle,"</span>Emil muttered, leaving the tent while looking down at the cart he was pushing. The fancy metal cover atop whatever was underneath looked amazingly out of place in their encampment, let alone the rest of the environment around them. A touch of home, maybe, to keep things familiar? He could see it being useful for someone to retain morale. Or maybe Graf was just pretentious. Who could know? Emil had never met the man directly, and from what he heard, he was always dead serious about everything.<br/><br/>As he drew nearer the General's tent, Emil was suddenly struck by the realization that he was about to come face to face with the leader of their entire army. His low rank and the context behind his recruitment into the Chernovolk felt painfully obvious, and he now wished he'd left his helmet on. He pursed his lips as he reached the tent's entryway, walked around to the side of the cart, and picked up the tray, not daring to enter without permission.