PROLOGUE
25 Club and Grill
25 Liikkalankatu
Santahamina
Province of Alavus
Confederal Republic of Pohjola
"Everyone who's Air Assault, names, units and identity cards now!", Sergeant Jussi Halman bellowed, his standard-issue MP baton pointed in the direction of the five onlookers for emphasis. Though evidently in various stages of alcoholic intoxication, they obeyed, deciding that to offer resistance to the three military policemen who had just joined two members of the Pohjolan Police Force as well as the bar's four bouncers at the site of the unrest would have been a fairly dumb move.
Nodding his head when the five men, now standing in a row, begun to produce military identity cards, Halman left Corporal Jackson to record their names. Air Assault soldiers, all of them. Not exactly a surprise in a city of thirty thousand, where the largest single employer was the CNDF, specifically through the Fort Somers military base and its tenant units including the 11th Air Assault Brigade and the 27th Air Transport Regiment. A bunch of fit, nearly bald men like that in a bar in this town were bound to be military especially as this Monday would be a day off for them and 25 was a favorite soldier hangout. Hell, Halman was sure that he'd seen these guys before anyway.
"So, what happened?", Sergeant Halman asked one of the doormen, whom he incidentally recognized as Staff Sergeant Hälinen from Fort Somers' Air Force security team, in spite of the black pilot jacket with a "SECURITY" breastpatch that he wore instead of the usual camoflage uniform. Evidently, the man recognized him as well.
"The one with the blood all over his face started a fight with this guy here", Hälinen said, pointing at one of the five soldiers standing nearby with a policeman and two of the bouncers, "Typical dancefloor scuffles, you know the deal."
Halman nodded, noticing the second cop with a handcuffed, seated man administering first aid.
"So his friend comes at him from behind and strikes him with an empty beer bottle", the moonlighting Air Force sergeant continued and pointed at another man, handcuffed and lying facedown on the floor next to another doorman, "Then when the guy's down he kept at it until we showed up and pulled him off, gave us a hell of a fight too. One of your guys, by the way."
Hälinen handed Sergeant Halman an identity card, and the military policeman sighed when he realized that it was one of the Air Assault Corps. 83rd Air Jaeger Battalion, 11th Air Assault Brigade. Private Jan Leavitt.
"Private", Halman asked, approaching the handcuffed soldier, "Are you injured?"
"I want to complain against the doormen in this shithole of a bar, I ain't done shit!", the response came from the Private, incoherently enough for Halman to guess that the man was way more drunk than was appropriate. One of those moments when you seriously grew to question your choice of personal career.
"The other guy's going to stay with us overnight, though we'll take him to the emergency room first", one of the regular police officers cut in, "Seeing that if he presses charges they'll come through the MoD court, so we'll be letting you know about this tomorrow."
"Right", Halman nodded, "Jackson, got the names taken?"
"Yes, sir", Corporal Jackson replied while placing his notebook back into his uniform's breast pocket, "They're all with the same battalion as him."
"Alright, the Private's here going back to the barracks. The rest of you are looking at a hearing unless you're back at your barracks within the hour."
Sighing, Sergeant Jussi Halman pulled on his gloves and nodded at Jackson to help him lift Private Leavitt off the ground. Another night of noticeably dreary routine for a garrison town MP. Little did he know that he'd be wishing for that routine to return in a few weeks time.
25 Club and Grill
25 Liikkalankatu
Santahamina
Province of Alavus
Confederal Republic of Pohjola
"Everyone who's Air Assault, names, units and identity cards now!", Sergeant Jussi Halman bellowed, his standard-issue MP baton pointed in the direction of the five onlookers for emphasis. Though evidently in various stages of alcoholic intoxication, they obeyed, deciding that to offer resistance to the three military policemen who had just joined two members of the Pohjolan Police Force as well as the bar's four bouncers at the site of the unrest would have been a fairly dumb move.
Nodding his head when the five men, now standing in a row, begun to produce military identity cards, Halman left Corporal Jackson to record their names. Air Assault soldiers, all of them. Not exactly a surprise in a city of thirty thousand, where the largest single employer was the CNDF, specifically through the Fort Somers military base and its tenant units including the 11th Air Assault Brigade and the 27th Air Transport Regiment. A bunch of fit, nearly bald men like that in a bar in this town were bound to be military especially as this Monday would be a day off for them and 25 was a favorite soldier hangout. Hell, Halman was sure that he'd seen these guys before anyway.
"So, what happened?", Sergeant Halman asked one of the doormen, whom he incidentally recognized as Staff Sergeant Hälinen from Fort Somers' Air Force security team, in spite of the black pilot jacket with a "SECURITY" breastpatch that he wore instead of the usual camoflage uniform. Evidently, the man recognized him as well.
"The one with the blood all over his face started a fight with this guy here", Hälinen said, pointing at one of the five soldiers standing nearby with a policeman and two of the bouncers, "Typical dancefloor scuffles, you know the deal."
Halman nodded, noticing the second cop with a handcuffed, seated man administering first aid.
"So his friend comes at him from behind and strikes him with an empty beer bottle", the moonlighting Air Force sergeant continued and pointed at another man, handcuffed and lying facedown on the floor next to another doorman, "Then when the guy's down he kept at it until we showed up and pulled him off, gave us a hell of a fight too. One of your guys, by the way."
Hälinen handed Sergeant Halman an identity card, and the military policeman sighed when he realized that it was one of the Air Assault Corps. 83rd Air Jaeger Battalion, 11th Air Assault Brigade. Private Jan Leavitt.
"Private", Halman asked, approaching the handcuffed soldier, "Are you injured?"
"I want to complain against the doormen in this shithole of a bar, I ain't done shit!", the response came from the Private, incoherently enough for Halman to guess that the man was way more drunk than was appropriate. One of those moments when you seriously grew to question your choice of personal career.
"The other guy's going to stay with us overnight, though we'll take him to the emergency room first", one of the regular police officers cut in, "Seeing that if he presses charges they'll come through the MoD court, so we'll be letting you know about this tomorrow."
"Right", Halman nodded, "Jackson, got the names taken?"
"Yes, sir", Corporal Jackson replied while placing his notebook back into his uniform's breast pocket, "They're all with the same battalion as him."
"Alright, the Private's here going back to the barracks. The rest of you are looking at a hearing unless you're back at your barracks within the hour."
Sighing, Sergeant Jussi Halman pulled on his gloves and nodded at Jackson to help him lift Private Leavitt off the ground. Another night of noticeably dreary routine for a garrison town MP. Little did he know that he'd be wishing for that routine to return in a few weeks time.