NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC-This is a neat way to RP tech development and characters at the same time- An Intl. Test Base, which would give some oppurtunities for everyone to show off/make almost any kind of military tech, test it against others, and develop characters, maybe even a spy conspiracy thing. (TG me if you want to do the spy thing, so we can make sure it doesn't screw the RP over)
What you can bring-
-Aircraft
-Aerospace craft (Eg spaceplane, transatmospheric fighters)
-Light Armored Vehicles or jeeps
-Small submersible or naval craft
-A new technology that can be outfitted on any of the above
And of course, good characters. But don't just bring test pilots, be different, bring some unique characters (The engineer who gets nervous breakdowns every time that cocky test pilot steps into his plane, the mechanics who end up screwing around all day, etc.)
There will be a fairly good sized town nearby if you want to get away from the miltech stuff, and of course the mess halls and dorms for any kind of interactions you want to keep at base. Please post the people you're sending, what you're sending, and as soon as I get enough people, we can get started.

OOC: Good way for me to introdce me Halcyons...I'll be in this in a bit.

*Is most interested*

OOC-Imitora, yeah, that'd be good. Keep in mind Cortina can't support capships, but Over-Cortina can, so I'll suppose I can give you that.
*This has been a glorified bump*

Halcyons aren't that big, a bit shorter than my Northies, but thats cool. And its also Ironic that the name of my first Halcyon's AI system is..wait, nvm. Though the city was named Cortana, not Cortina.

OOC-Cortina is the name of a fictional nation for US Special Operations excersises... Just a random fact.

For the event, The CLF had let the firts wing of S/F-109's run security. 12 of the exlempary aircraft were to fly saftey for deomonssrations as long as other tasks. Also, 4 teams of RLD's (Spec ops, like the US Navy SEALS) areto run security. The commanding officer was Captain Arteche, he and his uniformed men drove in the Hummer's that filed thier way into the air strip. They had asked and recieved a hanger specificly for thier operation perposes. They needed to get ready for the guests and civilian specttors who would arrive soon.

The F/S-39 Storm Rider sped along at 120 knots, fired 2 SeaSlam Supercav torpedoes, banked and reduced to 60 knots, and saw the 2 impact into the LA class sub, as it exploded, the Mk. 48s it had launched struggling to keep up with the now Supercavitating fighter, as it burst out of the water at Mach 4.
Of course, none of the "fish" were real, it was all computer simulated. But the craft were not.
"Yeah, score one for the home team!"
"Heh, you're just a flyboy playing as a real submariner."
"You're just lucky we didn't use those SeaSlams."
"Wonk Wonk Wonk. I'm gonna buzz the newcomers. Skipstone 1 out."
The F/S-39 ran low and fast over the runway, throwing in a muffled sonic boom at the end.
"Damn you, Helman. If it weren't for our need for test pilots and aces, I'd have people like you out of the Navy."
"Excuse me sir, are you being sexist?" Kelly Helman laughed, and VTOLed into a landing after clearing it with the base ATC computer.
The Admiral put his head in his hand and muttered something about Mondays.

OOC-Look... A bump.

OOC: If small arms testing is allowed, I believe I can send a few people. My nation doesn't do much else. Maybe I can hijack a secret fighter jet from a puppet nation of mine, then bring it to test? Does that work?

OOC-We were hoping for vehicles, but yeah, hijacking puppet tech is ok as long as we don't find out.

OOC: :twisted: Alrighty.
Do you want me to submit them now, or later?

OOC: -hurriedly flips through notes- Ahh...would...a...umm...Funky Hovercraft work? or am I still too young to rp...? Don't want to intrude on anybody...after all.

~Stark Out

"Vagueness and Ellipses forever"

OOC: -hurriedly flips through notes- Ahh...would...a...umm...Funky Hovercraft work? or am I still too young to rp...? Don't want to intrude on anybody...after all.

~Stark Out

"Vagueness and Ellipses forever"

OOC: I wouldn't hop into a war with your nation just yet, but if you have a decent tech thingie to RP, then I'd go for it. No one's ever too young to RP.

OOC-Revenia-Sure. Bring it in.
MS-Yeah, post them in now. Remember, characters too.

OOC: -stretch- Thank yeh, Thank yeh. But...'nuff chitter chatter

IC:

Griff cursed angrily, dropping his wrench in pain. His right hand throbbed with pain, grabbed his wrist with his offhand, and held it until the pain cleared up, then bent to retrieve his wrench.
"God forsaken things, I swear, they're out to get me," mumbled Griff.
He went back to work, this Hovercraft was his baby, but it was a baby that seemed to hate his guts. Mounting reinforced, jointed, titanium struts to support the skirts was a stroke of genius, but an old one. Making them lockable, now that was a stroke of Griffness.
He ran a soothing hand over the hovercrafts curvature, as he tightened the nut that last bit.
"There you are, now, doesn't that feel good. Hover quietly, but carry some big guns, ehh, isn't that right m'girl? Yeah, that's right. Damsel you may be, but you're not likely to be in distress, hmm?" Griff laughed.
The grizzled engineer wiped his hands with a rag, and stepped back. The twin gunpod's he'd just finished mounting on the new scout Hovercraft he'd named Damsel gleamed back at him.
"Well m'lady, you sure do look pretty in your test silvers, but I think you'll clean right up once we get you into camo. Not that it matters, The Bad guys won't ever see you, isn't that right?"
The Hovercraft mounted a prototype Instant Chameleon system, a blanket of small digital photo-cells were deployed from a receptacle atop the hovercraft's cockpit, covering the entire craft, then, using a system of digital camera's, it was made to appear as if the hovercraft were not there at all.
Yup, and old Griff was gunna make it happen, and keep it happening. But right now, he just had to keep his lady a virgin until Central sent somebody to take her flower. And God help that someone if he...or...would it be a she...wouldn't that just play hell with his little world...but, anyways, if he, didn't meet with Griff's Approval.

OOC: That's what my whole nation is centered around, and named after, a group of mercenary soldiers. I present my characters in this format because it's quicker, and easier to check on specfic facts.

Name: Dekker Bray
Age: 30 years
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 280 lbs
Nationality: American
Rank: Major
Hair: Brown
Style: Longer military style
Eyes: Blue
Bio: Bray is a mercenary of great renoun in some circles, following in his father's footsteps. Bray is a former Navy SEAL of seven years, drawn from the Marine Corps. Dekker is decribed as a handsome, rugged individual. His distinguishing features are his chisled physique, and facial scars. The first runs vertically across hi left eye, almost centered on the eye itself. The second crosses his right cheek, following the conture on his jawbone.
Dekker is proficent with most types of small arms, and is a master of unarmed and melee combat.

Name: Peter 'Poster Boy' Zion
Age: 27
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 196 lbs
Nationality: Australian
Rank: Private First Class
Hair: Black
Style: Shoulder length, tied back in ponytail at the nape of the neck
Eyes: Blue
Bio: Zion is a charismatic individual, sporting a picture-perfect face and dazzling smile. Zion is the assistant arms dealer in the RDMA. Zion is skilled with a sniper rifle. Zion served with the Australian SAS for three years before becoming a mercenary. Other skills include weapon matinence and lockpicking. Zion is also a certified combat aircraft pilot.

Name: Greco 'Greg' Torres
Age: 32
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 210 lbs
Nationality: Mexican
Rank: Corporal
Hair: Black
Style: Mullet
Eyes: Brown
Bio: Torres is described as 'angry' by his peers. He is the head arms dealer for the RDMA. Torres is an assault soldier, skilled with bladed weapons. Torres immigrated to America at age sixteen, and served in the US Army for four years. He sports a nasty-looking facial scar running across his face in a diagonal fashion, high left to low right, Starting at the hairline on the left side, crossing the bridge of the nose, and flowing across his right cheek. Mr. Torres recieved this scar in a fight with a man wielding a longsword. Torres is certified in the arming and disposal of explosives, and is a certified knife-fighting instructor.

IC: A Chinook helicopter appeared over the horizon, carrying under it a new 'Vulture' I400 Interceptor. The trademark Driddish scorpion's tail had been marked over in black spraypaint, giving the aircraft a battered appearance, despite the pristine black armor plating that covered the craft. The chopper gingery set the aircraft down at the testing field, then set itself down. Three men stepped out of it as the rotors wound down. The largest carried a trio of carrying cases; one in each hand, and the third tucked under his right arm. Each man carried a weapon, but in a non-threatening posture. They waited for the inevitable greeting crew to show up.

IC: A Chinook helicopter appeared over the horizon, carrying under it a new 'Vulture' I400 Interceptor. The trademark Driddish scorpion's tail had been marked over in black spraypaint, giving the aircraft a battered appearance, despite the pristine black armor plating that covered the craft. The chopper gingery set the aircraft down at the testing field, then set itself down. Three men stepped out of it as the rotors wound down. The largest carried a trio of carrying cases; one in each hand, and the third tucked under his right arm. Each man carried a weapon, but in a non-threatening posture. They waited for the inevitable greeting crew to show up.

Godmanit, lets go! Dr. James C. Yang cursed. At 32 years old, James was the youngest rocket scientist in the nation. More than that, he was the youngest person involved on the Halcyon project. The new cruiser which would take the general place of the aging Northampton, had taken 7 years of his life to think up, design, and build. And all he had to show for it was the 'gold' package on his little black Honda Civic. He alone had built one of the greatest things to happen to the Imitora Orbital Navy, and here he was cruising towards teh base in a front wheel drive, four cylinder Civic. He had no idea why he had been called in, but hoped it was important enough.

He head a wine, high pitched, come from behind him. Damnit, I hope the AC is blowing agian, he thought to himself, but soon was alived of that concern. A yellow blur appeared in the distance in his rear view mirror, and soon it wasn't a blur, but a very distinct shape. The yellow Ferrari 360 Modena Spider quickly zipped up next to James, and with little, if any effort, passed him ansd slifd into the lane in front of James.

LtCmdr. William 'Tiger' Shumacher piloted the so called 'Pasta Rocket' like he did his fighters. Fast. Very Fast. He held the Ferrari in third, the engine screaming, just long enough to let James read the liscense plate. "BADASS." James scoffed, but had to admit he was jealous as the yellow Ferrari zipped out, and took off, leaving the Civic in the dust.

As Yang pulled into the spot marked "Dr. James C. Yang", he noticed the car again. Damnit, he's here to... he though, looking at the convertable. He let it go, and walked inside, passing through the security checks. He entered a dark room, the lights were low, and looked at several familar faces. Dr. Craig JoHansen, head of the plasma weaponry project, Dr. Micheal Agular, head of the infamous Project Cobra, and Adm. Dean Winslow, Seceratary of COmbat Operations, or otherwise known as teh Secertary of War. And the intrepid Shumacher was there as well.

"Gentleman, you have all been called here to discuss the unveiling of the Halcyon class cruiser. Also, we will be showing off the new Pit Viper fighter, as well as the new plasma weaponry systems. After some consideration, I have decided that Dr. James Yang and LtCmdr. Shumacher will be attending the expose in New Empire. More specifically, Yang, your going there to talk about all teh techno mumbo jumbo of the new cruisers and what not. Shumacher, you'll be on the Pit Viper, doing all tha fancy flying stuff." Winslow didnt like eaither man. He was a submarine captain, not a scientist or a fly boy. If he had his way, they never would have developed a space program, and he would never have been promoted to an admiral, and he would still be in command of the Dutchess Elizabeth. He explained what would be expected of the men, and dismissed them.

Bump, didn't read my post.

Captain Arteche, CSMjr Baas, and Lcpl Guenther store out to meet the new arrivals. They were wearing full Urban Combat gear; which included(depending on what tech we're doing, I'll change if we permit future.) an M4C/203 across thier backs, a PN-90SD in front, a 9mm on thier right thighs, and a KBAR over thier left shoulder/chest. Kevlar vests and thigh pads, knee pads, combat helmets. They store in quick step. Before they arrived to the new commers the captain muttered something into his head set comm he was wearing.

"Welcome major. I am Captain Arteche, this is CSMjr Bass and Lcpl Guenther. We are RLD of the CLF and we are in charge of running security. Im sure your pilot got the run down from our Fly boys in the sky from the Special Liberty Air Wing. All weapons are to be checked with us right now. Taht includes fire arms, bladed weapons, explosives, and anything else inteded to do damage to others. You're soldiers you know what the F*uck im saying. If your weapons are part of your demo you can pick them up before your demo, no sooner. You dont start any Sh!t you wont get any sh!t This may have not been the best welcome but we arent trained for welcomes. We do our job. I hope you know your designated hanger, if you need help say so now."

We will send our new experimental YA-14B Warthog III craft, plus some test pilots and inspectors.

ESAA will send their prototype FE-1 (Fighter Ell One) to participate.

Auckland Airport
"Let's get going guys."
The pilot woke up and ran a comb through her long hair. She was ESAA's top test pilot, only prevented from becoming a full pilot due to a mental condition. She salutes the colonel in the hallway and boards the FE-1.
Destination: New Empire. The rest of her team would be there shortly.

Shumacher had been in the military long enough to learn to almost like industrial food. So the mass cooked steak was suprisingly good, and a welcomed treat for him. He dug into the tough, near tasteless meat with a reckless abandon, and downed his fourth glass of semi cold milk. "Good, uh?" he asked James, placing his fork down.

James just grunted, poking at the food with his fork. He bit into the meat, and it took everythgin to not spit it out. He sipped the milk. He wasn't looking forward to spending the next few weeks or so with this pilot, but learned to deal with it.
___

A day or so past, and James sat, rather unconvinced of the safty of everything, in a Pelican dropship. He was alone, as Shumacher sat in the 'cockpit' of a brand new Pit Viper fighter. With a heavy 'thud', the dropship fell away, and headed towards earth. He looked out a port window, and saw the Pit Viper slide away from the Halcyon

Captain Marik De'Valoran leaned into his turns, one with the machine. The sleek black RevTek "Malice" motorcycle he rode was a vehicle of insane speed, insane handling, and an insane price tag. Marik's ungloved hand's gripped the handlebars with a vengeance.
Two silvery leads ran from Marik's neck, one to his helmet, the other directly into the bike. He really was one with the machine, it was an extension of his body.
Marik had the distinction of being one of the best hoverjocks not just in Revenia, but in the entire Concord, but heck, he wasn't gonna go around chanting that. Revenia was just a backwater nation body'd ever heard of, and it was staying that way.
The Malice bike blazed past traffic as Marik made his way to the test site. Apparently he was to test some kind of Scout Hover Craft. Well, it was an acknowledged fact that he could pilot anything that moved with an atmosphere, and hover's were his specialty.
Nobody made hover's like RevTek, and nobodied modified 'em like the Revenian Military. Marik had heard of this Griff guy before, rumor had it he was a miracle worker. Well, if he could do half what they said he could, he had just become Marik's own savior. After all, Griff knew speed, and speed, was in Marik's blood.
Beneath his helmet, Marik smiled.

tag.

Unsel shakily stood up, got out of the jeep, and walked toward the F/S-39 parked on the runway. He had gradually recovered from the explosion that had nearly paralyzed him if it was not for the nanorepair that had been implanted in him 4 months ago. He was in as good shape as ever, and had been working out excessively during recovery. His doctors said he would never be a pilot again. Ha. Double ha. Nothing but death kept Captain Alex Unsel from flying. He wasn't going to be some desk jockey, that he swore off before he swore in. He was the best fighter pilot in New Empire, statistically. 55 kills in Sarlham, Markov, and during the SF insurrection. He was the son of Michael Unsel, a triple ace, if only because of the relatively peaceful time he had served in. Unsel had flown in almost every interceptor and fighter, both land and space, in the New Empire Aerospace Force. But this Navy thing was awfully good for the flying squids. He'd like to meet the cocky young SOB who buzzed the base, here he was, getting out of the cokpit...
Correction, he thought. She.
Damn the UCMJ.
He decided that now would not be the best time to break the said, as he noticed the foreign crews.
"Huh... Wonder what they got planned here anyway..."
It was 1235. Lunchtime, he thought. He got back in the jeep and drove toward the mess hall.

ooc:- Can i send a blacksmith?

OOC-Blacksmith? Unless that's some codename for a modern tech or up vehicle, I'm gonna say no. We're talking mass production and high tech, far beyond blacksmithing.

Double post

-DOUBLE POST-

-Damn Forums-

Dr. Nathan F. Wald arrives by plane to the Cortina Military Technology Test Center. He and a few other collagues arrived after the shipment of highly experimental Advanced Relativistic Plasma Technology from the Empire of Scientsim. Dr. Nathan F. Wald a young brash physicist, who was very young when he got his PhD in Theoretical High Energy Physics now stands infront of the main gates waiting for Dr. Craig JoHansen, head of the plasma weaponry project to show him the way to the Plasma weaponry facility, so that he can begin his research.

Captain Arteche, CSMjr Baas, and Lcpl Guenther store out to meet the new arrivals. They were wearing full Urban Combat gear; which included(depending on what tech we're doing, I'll change if we permit future.) an M4C/203 across thier backs, a PN-90SD in front, a 9mm on thier right thighs, and a KBAR over thier left shoulder/chest. Kevlar vests and thigh pads, knee pads, combat helmets. They store in quick step. Before they arrived to the new commers the captain muttered something into his head set comm he was wearing.

"Welcome major. I am Captain Arteche, this is CSMjr Bass and Lcpl Guenther. We are RLD of the CLF and we are in charge of running security. Im sure your pilot got the run down from our Fly boys in the sky from the Special Liberty Air Wing. All weapons are to be checked with us right now. Taht includes fire arms, bladed weapons, explosives, and anything else inteded to do damage to others. You're soldiers you know what the F*uck im saying. If your weapons are part of your demo you can pick them up before your demo, no sooner. You dont start any Sh!t you wont get any sh!t This may have not been the best welcome but we arent trained for welcomes. We do our job. I hope you know your designated hanger, if you need help say so now."

Bray frowns, setting the trio of large cases down. "I do my job too, captain. My job is to kill people. I'm told I do that quite well. I will keep whatever weapons I have on my person with me at all times, that includes my body. Corporal Torres and PFC Zion will keep their weapons on them at all times. I don't trust people who come out waving weapons in my face, if this were a combat zone, I'd have killed all three of you, allies or not. My troops have sidearms, and a few assault weapons in the chopper. These cases contain a new CQB weapon, the Arachnid PMG. They don't leave my sight. On the note of starting shit, I think you charging out here armed with assault weapons and shouting 'f**k' in my face would be considered a threat in most countries. You're an officer, act like one. I'm a simulated Major, so I've got some leway in that area.
Have I made myself clear?"

OOC: BTW, what do you need a surpressed weapon for? This is a miliary base! The other guards want to hear the shots fired, so they can head in that direction.

Sidearms:
Dekker: AMT M1911A1 Hardballer, .45 ACP
Torres: SIG P226, .357 SIG
Zion: Berretta M92FS, .40 S&W

OCC- Sorry about posting the same thing three times, but I had a bug on my browser. :(

OOC: So did I. Just edit them to say something like 'Double Post' or something like that.

Dr. Nathan Wald and his collagues check their weapons at base security

Wald: "Hi, I would like to check in my pistol."

OOC: I'm new to forum RP, so please bear with me.

A jeep drives up with 2 ORC armored soldiers, save for the head, which are covered with Aerospace Special Forces Blue Berets. Each carries a M-63 ATPW 10mm SMG, and a Glock 20 Custom 10mm. Another blue beret wearing man, a Colonel, steps out, and looks over the argument.
"Whether or not I fit your description of a proper officer, you're sure as hell going to listen to me. These people are in charge, right under me when it comes to the chain of command for security around here. Look, I'll cut you a little slack. No knives, blades, poisons, or silent kill weapons. Pistols are ok, but no silencers. Now, there'll be no b*tching about these guy's approach. This is APTO territory, and they are members of an APTO organization. Otherwise, enjoy your stay here, and carry on."

With the Pit Viper and the Pelican both in the hanger reserved for them, Shumacher and Yang exited, walking towards the small scene forming up because some idiot ground poundrs (OOC: Mercenary Soldiers) wouldnt give up some weapons. "Jesus eff all Christ," Shumacher said. He walked past the men, and over to the RLD, unhlostering his M6D sidearm, pulling tha magazine out, and handing it over. He looked back at the men from Mercenary Soldiers, and chuckled. "Never send a ground pounder to do the work of a pilot." He smiled and began walking over to the Colonel, ready to introduce himself.

Yang on the other hand scoffed at both groups. Why am I always stuck in the middle of a pissing match, he thought to himself. He had no weapons to declare, and looked around from someone else of an educated background.

"What the hell are you doing to my plane?!"
Helman looked up from the nose art she was painting.
"YOUR plane? HAH! Just cause you designed it doesn't mean you own every one that came off the assembly line."
Mitchell Larson slapped his forhead, and walked away.
"Stupid...freaking...flyboys..."
"Flypersons." replied Helman laughing. She looked back at the nose art, a small gray spotted mini-lop rabbit, wielding a switchblade, with "Bun-Bun" written over it in red letters. "And I like it."
Larson kept walking, hoping to find civilization in some form other than these jet-jockeys.

Marik slowed his bike as he neared the installation, his HUD readout told him it was the right place. He walked the bike in the last quarter mile, as was his want.

Marik walked his bike onto base grounds, his helmet tucked under his right arm. Locks of brown were cut mid-length, as there was no haircut rule in the Revenian Armed Forces. The most startling thing about him, were those bright violet eyes, hidden at the moment behind RevTek Covert HUD shades, which looked a lot like you're average sunglasses.

After checking in with base security, he had walked his Malice on over to the outbuilding where Chief Griff had set up camp. Noting the hastily scrawled "Revenian Hover Tuning: CWO Griff Jorgesson" sign, he chained his bike outside, and stepped in.

"Hello! Chief? You in here?" hollared Marik.
"Yeah boy, I'm here." replied Griff.

Marik's appraising glance turned to Griff, a well built man, a good 4 inches shorter than Marik, he noted where Griff's Combat Jumpsuit showed through his coveralls. Well, that said just about everything, Marik liked this guy.

"So chief, let's see your Baby, eh?"

Shumacher apprached the Colonel, and extended his hand. "LtCmdr. Virgil 'Tiger' Shumacher., sir," he said, moving from a hand shake to a salute as he noticed the rank of the New Empirian.

"Colonel Roger Alsmund, NE Aerospace Special Forces. Not really a pilot, but I'm in charge of security."
He saluted and checked on the Merc Soldiers.
"Welcome to Cortina. I've also been put in charge of hospitality. Any questions, ask for me. If it's the pilots and planes you're looking for, they're over there."
He grimaced as he saw Larson storming away from Helman.
"Goddamit, not again. Can't those two ever get along?"

Shumacher looked over to the hanger, and saw a somewhat attractive female inking a touch of nose art on her fighter. He looked over, and started walking towards her.

Meanwhile, James look lost. He had wondered over to one of the hangers, and peaked his head inside, just to see no one there. HE shrugged, and began to wander.

Captain Arteche, CSMjr Baas, and Lcpl Guenther store out to meet the new arrivals. They were wearing full Urban Combat gear; which included(depending on what tech we're doing, I'll change if we permit future.) an M4C/203 across thier backs, a PN-90SD in front, a 9mm on thier right thighs, and a KBAR over thier left shoulder/chest. Kevlar vests and thigh pads, knee pads, combat helmets. They store in quick step. Before they arrived to the new commers the captain muttered something into his head set comm he was wearing.

"Welcome major. I am Captain Arteche, this is CSMjr Bass and Lcpl Guenther. We are RLD of the CLF and we are in charge of running security. Im sure your pilot got the run down from our Fly boys in the sky from the Special Liberty Air Wing. All weapons are to be checked with us right now. Taht includes fire arms, bladed weapons, explosives, and anything else inteded to do damage to others. You're soldiers you know what the F*uck im saying. If your weapons are part of your demo you can pick them up before your demo, no sooner. You dont start any Sh!t you wont get any sh!t This may have not been the best welcome but we arent trained for welcomes. We do our job. I hope you know your designated hanger, if you need help say so now."

Bray frowns, setting the trio of large cases down. "I do my job too, captain. My job is to kill people. I'm told I do that quite well. I will keep whatever weapons I have on my person with me at all times, that includes my body. Corporal Torres and PFC Zion will keep their weapons on them at all times. I don't trust people who come out waving weapons in my face, if this were a combat zone, I'd have killed all three of you, allies or not. My troops have sidearms, and a few assault weapons in the chopper. These cases contain a new CQB weapon, the Arachnid PMG. They don't leave my sight. On the note of starting shit, I think you charging out here armed with assault weapons and shouting 'f**k' in my face would be considered a threat in most countries. You're an officer, act like one. I'm a simulated Major, so I've got some leway in that area.
Have I made myself clear?"

OOC: BTW, what do you need a surpressed weapon for? This is a miliary base! The other guards want to hear the shots fired, so they can head in that direction.

Sidearms:
Dekker: AMT M1911A1 Hardballer, .45 ACP
Torres: SIG P226, .357 SIG
Zion: Berretta M92FS, .40 S&W


The captain turned to a litle and again spoke into his headset. Something along the lines of,
"Stupid boys think they are the best. I want eyes on em at all times."
He then turned to the colonel,
"Colonel sir, I have to detest this completley. They have obviously shown agression and now you are lettign them keep thier weapons. I thought it was made clear to them that this was a demo show. They dont need to worry about being attacke,d thats what we're here for. Again, I ask you to reconsider letting them keep thier weapons; at most side arms."
He then turned to the Major.
"With all due respect. Your rank is that of a senior officer, but seeing as you are a guest of whose saftey and secrutiy I am partly responsible for; I will treat you as a non-equivalent, therefore your rank doesnt apply. Furthermore, seeing as you are under my jusridiction, respect for me when I am doing my job and obviously very busy would be alot more helpful than your current attitude towards me. If you want to keep things the way they are now, I can garuntee you that you will end up the un happy one, again I have no need to deal you threats, I deal in facts.

The Colonel looked over.
"Well, sidearms. As in pistols. With 1 magazine only. No silencers, knives, fiber wire, blades, poisons, etc. Do I make myself clear?"

Helman continued her work, colored it, and began applying a transparent layer to keep it from being damaged by saltwater.

Unsel was now in a closed hangar, completely dark, except for the corner he sat in at a table with the staff for the project.
"So why me? The SF-109K needs skilled pilots, from what I've heard, but why not some other guy?"
"Beyond skilled. This thing is capable of manuvers that are almost impossible to perform with human reflexes."
"Well, I'm firmly stuck as a human, so how the hell am I going to do it, huh?"
"Those implants you got during recovery."
"Wha?"
"We had it arranged so they could interface with the fighter's onboard systems."
"You a__hole! Nobody told me!"
"It was set up from the minute we found out you needed the implants. And we knew you would accept this project. Because it's the only way you'll ever fly on the cutting edge again."
Unsel clenched his fist and swore, knowing he was right.
"Your mind and nervous system will interface with the aircraft, you think about an immelman, you do an immelman. You think about moving your feet, you adjust the thrust vectoring, your hands change the mission adaptable wings. Flawless movement and information processing capability. Your brain is among the most powerful computers on earth, and you barely use it."
"Jesus... Can I at least get some lunch?"
"Fine." said the project officer, chuckling. "Go ahead."

*VT-30 Hering VTOL civilian/military transport 45 miles from Cortina island*

Lieutenant Capelli stares down at his MotorMAX motcycle magazine, marking thing that he wants. There were 6 test pilots, and 4 mechanics inside the VT-30. Capelli isone of the unlucky ones. He is the pilot who has to test fly the new F/A-90 Necromancer fighter. "Why do we have to go to Cortina?" he mumbled. One of the other pilots loooked up, purplexed "To test the Necromancer, duh." "But, why here? Why in New Empire?" "I'm not exactly sure, maybe to show off our technology...er somethin." "Well, I'd feel a lot morecomfortable if we could just do this in Markov." said Capelli as he stares out the window. The VT-30 slows down and begins it's descent to Cortina island. Inside, the ship rumbles as the engines rotate. Capelli get up as the doors open. He grabs his helmet and flight gear and exits the VT-30. He smirks at a New Empirian pilot on his way to the flight hanger.

OOC-Which one? Unsel is in a secure hangar, Helman is the one at the F/S-39. They'd react differently, so tell me which.

OOC- The hanger with the F/S-39

IC-

Capelli and the other Markovian pilots sit in the hanger with the F/S-39 waiting for the Albatross cargo planes to arrive with the Necromancer and the Firestorm interceptors.

OOC-Never mind. If you were in the secure hangar Unsel was in, you would have been shot. And the F/S-39 is on the tarmac.
IC-Helman noticed him, and smirked in reply.
"Think what you want now, but come the trials, you'll be grateful we didn't use real weapons."
She finished up, and decided she was done with the nose art. She was beginning to turn around, and saw the LtCmdr, and gave a salute.
"Ah, hello, uhh, Sir."

Capelli stands up and decides to check out the base.

IC- Is the SF-109k in the secure hanger?

OOC-Yes. It's closed up, except for a door guarded by 2 of Alsmund's men.
IC-Unsel, after finishing a large helping of lunch, was walking across the tarmac when he noticed Capelli.
Markov...
The word triggered back memories...
"26 confirmed kills in the Markovian Theatre of Operations"
The new set of Ace's Wings...
God, what are they doing here?
He had barely thought about the hawk-like stare he was giving Capelli.

Capelli's eyes shifted from the F/S 39 to Unsel who was staring at him in a very odd way. Capelli walks over to Unsel....."So, you gonna be flying today?" asks Capelli with a smirk.

Meanwhile, back in the F/S-39 hanger the other pilots begin to flirt with one of the (drop dead beutiful) female mechanics.

IC: Can i post images?

"Betcher a__ I will."
The anger began to seep into him...
"I can take you on anytime you freaking want, with ANY goddamn plane on this base. Might as well put down 27 on your plane."
He would have to. The SF-109K wasn't cleared for flight yet, but his SF-109C was.

IC: Can i post images?
OOC-Fine, but only 1.

Capelli smiles at Unsel sarcasticly, then walks to the the F/S-39 hanger.

OOC-It isn't in a hangar, it's on the tarmac.
IC-Unsel gives a predatorial grin, and shifts his shoulder enough to show the ace wings and Markov Campaign stripe on his jacket.

As Capelli stares at Unsel from a distance, 4 Albatross heavy cargo planes land on one of the main runways on the base. Capelli looks away from Unsel and runs toward the planes. The doors on the cargo bays open up to reveal the Necromancer and 5 Firestorm interceptors.

The Necromancer
http://www.mahq.net/mecha/macross/advvalk/vf-x-10-fighter.jpg

The Firestorm
http://www.mahq.net/mecha/macross/plus/vf-5000b-fighter.jpg

OOC-Ahem... I've been using the actual VF-2JA for a long time now...
IC-Unsel walked away, and made a quick conversation with the ATC computer, and took off his jacket, walking toward Hangar A-2. His flight gear was already on, he picked up his helmet, and got into the SF-109C. He was going to fly today. No matter how much the medical staff was going to b_tch about it.
He taxied up, and lifted up at a 20% angle, and accelerated towards the sky.
He was going to fly today, and nobody was going to stop him. Not the Project staff, not the medical staff, not some smart-a__ from Markov.
Only the Reaper stops Alex David Unsel from flying.

The aircraft are unloaded and taxied to the tarmac near the F/S-39

OOC-Ahem... I've been using the actual VF-2JA for a long time now...

OOC: Ok i changed the pic.

IC:

Capelli stared at the New Empirian jet streaming through the sky. "The Necromancer can that." he murmered to himself.

Unsel inverts the aircraft, and dives, the belly of the SF-109C glinting in the sun.
At 300 feet, he slams the afterburners, hits Mach 1, and fingers the alarmed ground crews.
--
"Jesus, there he goes again."
The mechanics sit on the flatbed truck, looking at the procession of Markovian aircraft.
"Little show offs. Parading their aircraft around like the whole thing is just for them."
This mechanic, obviously under the influence, but Unsels chosen man for his SF-109Cs engines, is not impressed by the Firestorm, or the aircraft that appears to him as a cheap rip off of the VF-2JA and JAS that the Aerospace Force used.
"Those old ones, ha, they suck. They got slaughtered in the war. I bet Unsel could take all 6 of those flying 1369s on, and win."
"Normally, I'd tell you to get that crazy sh*t out of your head. But I have to say that's one of your cockfight's I'd watch."

OOC-Ahem... I've been using the actual VF-2JA for a long time now...

But mine doesn't transform and it has a different name and states.
OOC-I never actually used it as a Variable fighter, just the fighter mode. And let's see those stats, I'm gonna need them if we do any mock-dogfights.

The Colonel looked over.
"Well, sidearms. As in pistols. With 1 magazine only. No silencers, knives, fiber wire, blades, poisons, etc. Do I make myself clear?"

OOC: I'll respect you more than someone who's trying to engage in a pissing contest with some like myself, seeing as you're the thread starter. Speaking of silencers, why do his guards have supressed weapons?

Dekker's eyes narrow. [i]This fella an' I are gonna throw down if he keeps this up...[i/] "We keep our stuff in the chopper, not in your office." He hands Torres his survival knife and three magazines of .45 ACP. Zion hands him a pair of magazines for his .40 Berretta. Torres deposits the items in a footlocker in the chopper, along with his P226 and his switchblade. "Happy?" Dekker asks in a cool tone.

OOC: BTW "Mercenary Soldiers is ranked 1st in the region and 5,243rd in the world for Largest Defense Forces (per capita)". :lol: I'm so proud.

OOC-I have no clue.
"Yeah, that's fine. But listen up. This is not just some damn gun show. Now I don't care about how much sh_t you've seen. This is a New Empirian base, and as long as you are here, you will abide by whatever one of our men, or appointed security teams tell you to. Now you can go piss yourselves silly over some weapons, or you can settle down and cool your jets. This is a highly secure base, our unit makes sure of that. Why you people are getting so worked up about this is moot. This is not a combat deployment, and we are not going to have mercs running around with more firepower than necessary. Now if you've got anything else, speak up."

"With all due respect, General, the last time I did this kinda thing, I got shot. I'm not trusting of new people, especially when they've got guns, and I don't. Just let me hang onto my gat for my time here, and we'll get along fine. Now where do you want this damn thing?" Dekker asks, jerking a thumb in the direction of the Vulture I400.

OOC: The three boxes he's carrying each have a prototype weapon inside of them. The ammo is in the chopper.

"With all due respect, General, the last time I did this kinda thing, I got shot. I'm not trusting of new people, especially when they've got guns, and I don't. Just let me hang onto my gat for my time here, and we'll get along fine. Now where do you want this damn thing?" Dekker asks, jerking a thumb in the direction of the Vulture I400.

OOC: The three boxes he's carrying each have a prototype weapon inside of them. The ammo is in the chopper.

Colonel Alsmund looked back at him, after smirking at the manuver Unsel had just performed.
"Look, we have a policy here, and it doesn't involve killing you people. We won't be shooting at you unless you start it, so if you're so worried, don't shoot anyone. And that, put it in hangar A-4. If you want we'll assign a special security detail."

Marik flexed his fingers, the hovercrafts yokes were still a little foreign too him, but that was about to change. His left hand went to his neck, peeling back the bit of synthskin that concealed his NI-Jack, he flicked the silvery lead into place, then targeted the corresponding slot on the instrument panel.

Marik felt his awareness increase a thousand-fold, he couldn't explain the sensation, even to himself. Marik tended to compare the transition as the shuffling of a deck of cards in some four-dimensional plane. As his mind cleared, he whispered to himself.

"Alright Marik, it's time to make this Damsel fly."

Marik had no use for stupid yokes, this vehicle ran on impulse. Thought Impulse, to be specific. It was all a matter of willpower, and Marik had -that- in abundance. Right now, Marik was going to push this hovercraft to its limits.

Pebble's bounced off Damsel's armored skirts, the scout hover's four-gun turret would normally have obscured Marik's view, but the cockpit was set at enough of a height that in fact, it didn't.

Now, to check the adaptation. Marik and Griff had put there heads together, and together, they had modified the Instant Chameleon system, to something a little bit more...useful.

Marik's mental command triggered the system. Data collected by external sensors shipped all the way from Armel was fed through his NI-Jack, and he began processing it. Unconciously of course, but still, it was processed. Using this impromptu link, he had an Active Camouflage system...that actually...worked.

This was evident now, as the seemless transitions of the AC system made the hoverscout invisible, even while it was moving at 50 kilometers per hour. The hoverscout had been designed with stealth in mind already, and a the reason it carried such a light armament, only four all-purposes, was due to the RevTek ECM the Damsel was outfitted with.

Yes, Marik was quite pleased with his new toy, as he cut the Active Chameleon a distance far enough from the research base to...discourage...unwanted...attention. Yes, altogether a succesful trial. He leisurely brought the Hover on back to it's stall, and prepared for another all-nighter.

You see, Griff, was not only a good engineer, he was a perfectionist. Marik cut the power with one thought still ringing through his head.
"Something's missing...and...I don't know what it is...but...I'll be damned if I don't find out."

And with that, Captain Marik De'Valoran disconnected himself from the vehicle, exitted his craft, and prepared himself for another session of debate, improvement, and lots of coffee.

OOC-Never mind. If you were in the secure hangar Unsel was in, you would have been shot. And the F/S-39 is on the tarmac.
IC-Helman noticed him, and smirked in reply.
"Think what you want now, but come the trials, you'll be grateful we didn't use real weapons."
She finished up, and decided she was done with the nose art. She was beginning to turn around, and saw the LtCmdr, and gave a salute.
"Ah, hello, uhh, Sir."

Shumacher returned the salute. "Nice plane ya got there. Good ink," he said, pointing to the nose. He extended is hand to the other aviator, "LtCmdr. William Shumacher. Imitora Orbital Navy."

She shook his hand.
"Lieutenant Helman, New Empire Navy. And thanks. It's a great aircraft, but it's really more than that. Capable of underwater supercavitational movement. Air/Submursible, F/S-39 Storm Rider. We get a lot of flak from the Aerospace Force crews, they call us "Flying Squids."

"CAPELLI! THE NECROMANCER IS READY!" yelled one of the mechanics. Capelli, already in his flight gear ran over to the Necromancer and climbed in. "I'll show Unsel who's go the better fighter." he said to himeslf. The Necromancer is taxied over to one of the main airstrips. "Lieutenant, all flight systems are green, you have go for take off." Capelli fires the VTOL engines and the main engines at the same time, lifting the Necromancer off the ground. Within a matter of seconds Capelli has broken the sound barrier and is flying at high altitude.

The other five Markovian pilots begin to taxi their Firestorms to launch positions.

She shook his hand.
"Lieutenant Helman, New Empire Navy. And thanks. It's a great aircraft, but it's really more than that. Capable of underwater supercavitational movement. Air/Submursible, F/S-39 Storm Rider. We get a lot of flak from the Aerospace Force crews, they call us "Flying Squids."

"Pleased to meet ya," he responded. He looked over the Fighter/Submarine, and nodded. "Well, at least yours looks like it belongs in an atmosphere. My baby," he nodded back to the hanger where the Pit Viper was being kept, "has trouble staying up in any place where gravity takes effect," he finished.

"Heh, catch me if you can!"
The SF-109C injects into the PDE engines, followed by ScramJets, and accelerates into space at Mach 10. He angles to come out of the sun, and hit Athena, followed by Adaptive Camoflauge. He shut of his radar, and turned on the layer of variable temperature gel under the skin. Even IR would have trouble finding him. He plugged into SkyEye, and watched as GPS coordinates flowed into his HUD and HMD. If he wanted, he could have plugged a simulated kill with the Switchblade Deuterium laser. He was invisible to radar, the eye, and IR.

She shook his hand.
"Lieutenant Helman, New Empire Navy. And thanks. It's a great aircraft, but it's really more than that. Capable of underwater supercavitational movement. Air/Submursible, F/S-39 Storm Rider. We get a lot of flak from the Aerospace Force crews, they call us "Flying Squids."

"Pleased to meet ya," he responded. He looked over the Fighter/Submarine, and nodded. "Well, at least yours looks like it belongs in an atmosphere. My baby," he nodded back to the hanger where the Pit Viper was being kept, "has trouble staying up in any place where gravity takes effect," he finished.
"Hey, different machines."
She looked up at the Necromancer.
"Hah, that SF-109C has enough sh*t to keep them flying in circles. This is gonna be interesting."

Shumacher just shook his head. "See, thats whats wrong with todays combat aviator. Its all about technology. Who gives a crap if your plane can become invisible? I mean shit, its about being a better pilot, not a techno jockey. Anyone can fly an invisible fighter, it takes skill to do it while it can be seen." He contemplated firing up the pit viper, but decided against it for now.

"0X, do you read? 0X, please respond." said the Markovian flight officer. "This is the 0X Necromancer! I read ya!" shouted Capelli across the comlink. "Capelli, be careful with that thing, it's loaded with live ammunition.....we didn't get a chance to replace it with a dummy armament because the cargo planes came late and we were running behind schedule. So, try to act like a sane human being and refrain from attacking Unsel's aircraft. Ground control over." "Whoa this thing's loaded" Capelli said to himself. "Hehe...think of the damage I could do..."

"But this guy, Unsel, damn, maybe the best Aerospace Force pilot in the country. Took down plenty of enemies where the techno-sh*t doesn't count- Dogfights. Before AdCam was even a viable tech, he just ran right up to the b@stards, riddled them with good old 20mm. But hey, they're are 6 of them, so he's gonna stay quiet until he's under their asses, and then he'll smoke them. Or that's what I've heard from the others."

"Hehe..so Unsel wants to play a little hide and seek eh?" "Well let's see what he's got." Capelli, having never flown in the Necromancer before stares at the holo control panel searching for the right buttons. Meanwhile Unsel is flying circles around the Necromancer and Capelli doesn't know it.

Unsel slammed into Mach 10, and slowed down right to the Necromancer's high 7, and thrust vectored out to his 6. He activated the 30mm gatling and spewed the paint rounds from less than 100 feet behind Capelli.
"This is hardly fair... But wait, another 5. Maybe I was wrong."

"OH Sh--! He's right on me!" Capelli becomes so frantic that he starts pressing random things. The Necromancer begins to swirve around and finally ends up in a sky dive heading toward the ocean.

On the ground, the Markovian flight team is going frantic trying to figure out what the hell is happening to Capelli.

"Still, I'd have more respect if he did it while visable. Anyways, when in Rome," he wondered off back to his hanger where a few mechanics were working on his Pit Viper. He nodded, and slid up into the cockpit.

The cockpit was less of a place for him to sit as it was a place for him to stand. Mechanical arms and leg straps hooked to him would read his movements, send them through the flight computer, and translate them into complex manuvers and what not that all came with flying. With a gentle push of a control stick on the right arm, he could control the vectored thrust of the ion powerd engine, and it also alowed him to fire the fighters weapons. He put in to small contacts in each eye, and after allowing himself a few seconds to adjust, the world suddenly became a giant HUD/Radar Readout.

With the depression of the starting motor, done by a technician, the ion engine hummed to lifeand he felt teh clamps give way. He didnt need a runway or tarmac, and when the doors of the hanger were fully open, he nudged the control stick all the way forward, and moved his arms back, pulling the fighter straight up.

OOC: When in an atmosphere, the 'wing' is locked horizontaly, and go to the link to see the fighter, other wise you'll have no idea in hell what I'm talking about.

http://www.aptt79.dsl.pipex.com/StillsGallery/HiresHTM/BFTiger.htm

"He's no pro. Cracks under pressure, I got him dead, fair and-Hey, Necromancer, you OK?"
He keeps on his guard, in case this was a trick to lure him out.

OOC: The Necromancer specs:

Wingspan: 14.78 meters
Overall length: 14.23 meters
Overall height: 3.84 meters
Standard atmospheric cruising speed at 10000 meters: Mach 2.5
Maximum atmospheric cruising speed at 30000+ meters: Mach 13
Maximum rate of climb at S/L: 68000 meters/minute
Atmospheric combat action radius: nearly unlimited
G-limits: +10 G
Propulsion type: 2 Markovian industries HyperX PDE engines+ 2 SVTOL engines.
Armament/Equipment: 1 Pinpoint barrier system, SHADE active camouflage system, 4 30mm recoiless gatling guns, missile bays: can hold up 8400 kg of missiles, compatible with the Markovian industies ARMD system: extra propulsion/extra armor (ferro fibririous).

"THIS IS 0X TO GROUND CONTROL I AM UNABLE TO MAINTAIN CONTROL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The Necromancer begins to swirve uncontrolably toward the fligh tower on Cortina island.

"Still, I'd have more respect if he did it while visable. Anyways, when in Rome," he wondered off back to his hanger where a few mechanics were working on his Pit Viper. He nodded, and slid up into the cockpit.

The cockpit was less of a place for him to sit as it was a place for him to stand. Mechanical arms and leg straps hooked to him would read his movements, send them through the flight computer, and translate them into complex manuvers and what not that all came with flying. With a gentle push of a control stick on the right arm, he could control the vectored thrust of the ion powerd engine, and it also alowed him to fire the fighters weapons. He put in to small contacts in each eye, and after allowing himself a few seconds to adjust, the world suddenly became a giant HUD/Radar Readout.

With the depression of the starting motor, done by a technician, the ion engine hummed to lifeand he felt teh clamps give way. He didnt need a runway or tarmac, and when the doors of the hanger were fully open, he nudged the control stick all the way forward, and moved his arms back, pulling the fighter straight up.

OOC: When in an atmosphere, the 'wing' is locked horizontaly, and go to the link to see the fighter, other wise you'll have no idea in hell what I'm talking about.

http://www.aptt79.dsl.pipex.com/StillsGallery/HiresHTM/BFTiger.htm

Uh, no offense but, umm...........that fighter looks like it would fall apart before it broke the sound barrier.

OOC: Um, no offense, but didnt we bomb your ass back to the stone age? Last tiem I checked, I still had troops ocupying your captial city.

OOC: Um, no offense, but didnt we bomb your ass back to the stone age? Last tiem I checked, I still had troops ocupying your captial city.

They're still there?! New Empire left my country on October 15th!

Yup, still there.

Yup, still there.

Wait, so that means that Elarian troops are still there too?

Dunno. All I knwo are mine are still there, and gellin like fellons.

OOC-Alright you two, quiet-HEY! 39.5 Gs? Are you BSing me? 10Gs gives people in flight suits problems. At 39.5 gs, a 180 pound pilot will weigh 3.555 TONS! He'll DIE much before the plane hits 39.5G, and the plane will explode!

"0X, please divert your course or you will be shot down. 0X, please respond."
The operators switched to Unsel.
"Captain, if he comes within 1000 feet of the control tower, slice off one of his wings with the ABL."
"Roger Ground Control. And ahh, you may want to tell everyone else to stay groundside for a bit. I don't want this getting violent."
Unsel sighed, and zoomed in the target display screen onto the wing of the Necromancer, and highlighted the path for the laser. At the push of a button, the weapon would lash out.
--
"God, what a__holes. I can't believe Unsel is pulling that sh*t, and I can't believe that jerk from Markov coming up to try to wipe him."
"But damn, that Markie is no pilot. Someone splashes him with the paint rounds, and he freaks out, dives into the ocean, and then decides to turn toward the ATC. If they have any sense they'll blow him out of the sky right now."
The grounds crew sat watching, but there was a hunch Helman had there was going to be some friction between them and the Markov teams later tonight.
Maybe Shumacher is the only pilot here who isn't a flying wanker.
She saw the Pit Viper rising.
Dammit. Maybe he'll have some sense and stay out of this.

Inside the Necromancer, Capelli was doing everything within his power to regain control. The Necromancer was still on a collisiob course with Cortina island. "This is Ground to 0X, please respond! Come in 0X this is Ground control!" "0X to ground, I read!" "0X, fire your SVTOL engines and the PDEs at the same time, like you do at take-off!" Capelli doesn't think this is going to work, but out of deperation, he does it anyway. The Necromancer veers away from the island. Capelli has regained control. He begins an energency landing on one of the main runways.

Unsel pulls in for a quick SVTOL landing, and gets out of the plane as mechanics swarm over it.
He ran over to the Necromancer, his helmet still on.
"Hey! You OK?"

Capelli, opens the cockpit only to be swarmed by Markovian flight officers. He takes off his helmet and climbes out of the aircraft. Capelli walks up to Unsel looking angry. "What the hell were you do'in?! This wasn't a combat exercise! I was just getting warmed up you ass!!!"

Shumacher pivoted his hip, putign the Pit Viper into a nice bank. He looked trhough the bubble cannopy, down towards the commotion on the runway. He could have some fun, and buzz the group, but decided not to. He rotated his hip again, and the plane banked the other way.

"Tower, this is Cobra One, request open vectors, I'd like to see the country side. I'm at Angels four, and climbing."

The tower cleared Shumacher, as crews swarmed to the incident.
"So that's why you came up after me, you rat. After all those challenges from you, you come up after me, get splashed with PAINT, freak out, go into a dive, and then decide to level off at the Control Tower! You're no combat pilot! I'd expect that kind of behavior from trainees! You get shot at, and nearly crash and burn. I hope for Markov sake all their pilots have more brains than you, you pansy."
One of the mechanics rode over in a jeep.
"Hey you Markie sh_t. I just got a copy of the radio transcripts! You went up with LIVE AMMO. You trying to start something, you prick?"

"You shut the hell up fu** face 'er yer gonna get it!" "And as for you, Unsel, the mechanics never changed the armament after it arrived from Markov! I wasn't trying to pull anything, I had NO intention of attacking you!" Capelli said sarcasticly.

"Riiight, so that's why you went RIGHT UP AFTER ME. They didn't have time to change because you're a hotheaded a__hole who can't stand someone taking up "your" air. You know DAMN WELL you would have liked to shove some up my tailpipe. Now if you wanna fight, come at me. Let's hope for your sake it's better than your flying!"
The mechanics circled around, knowing what was coming.

"You wanna fight eh?" Capelli stepped forward, letting his ego take control. Capelli, a black belt, throws a punch at Unsel.

Unsel put his helmet in front of the punch, crouched, and threw an uppercut followed by swinging his elbow at Capelli's chest.

Capelli falls to the ground from the double impact. The Markovian flight officers are making fun of him in the background.
Capelli rises and body slams Unsel.

Unsel falls, but puts down a knee and backs away, jumps up and delivers a kick to Capelli's head, just as 2 ORC armored guards rush up and restrain him, and 2 more move in on Capelli..

Two of the stonger Markovian mechanics move to escort Capelli to the VT-30. Capelli has drawn his MP-52 9mm handgun and is attempting to shoot Unsel with it, but the ORCS disarm him.

OOC: I'm getting off the rP now.

OOC: sorry been busy havent been able to respond, guess its best tho. That merc hot head wanted to start a fight over not being allowed to be armed. And to answer his question about the silenced weapons. It is because if we need to eliminate a target, we dont want gunfire heard by participants because they are all military officers, the first thing they will do is arm themselves. We dont want that.

IC: A Humvee rushes to the scene, a solder at the .50 cal and 4 others jump out. They have thier firearms shouldered and knight sticks out. They move in to assist the NE ORC's. A lieutenant rushes out of the front seat. (leaving a PFC at the wheel and a Corporal at the .50 cal)
Lieutenant Kendall Spoke with one hand on his thigh, where his 9mm was holstered but un fastened.
"Alright I want both agressors detained. No one touches a weapon who isnt authorized to use one, is that clear?!"
He then got on his comm headset,"This is Lt. Kendall We have a dispute down here, how do you advise command, the brig for now?"

"Put them in the brig. Don't let either of them leave the area."
The Colonel was angry, but somehow he knew something like this was going to happen.
--
The 2 ORC armored troops walk up to the Markovian mechanics.
"Stop right there. This guy is going to the brig."
--
Helman watched the scene in amusement.
"My God... What a bunch of idiots."

"Aye sir, do you want statements from witnesses?"
He truned to the 4 soldiers(2 Pvts, a PFC and a Gunny)
"They're going to the brig, Privates, assist the NE guards. Gunny, I want statements. PFC, gimme a hand with this Pilot.
The PFC and the LT grabbed Unsel and slapped some retraints on his hands. They then put him in the prisioner's seat in the specialy modified Humvee.(it has a seat in a cage with clamps to attatch to the retraints. The humvee is a closed top, the cage doesnt show unless the side door is opened.)

The 2 ORC suited guards grab Capelli, and encase him in magnetic cuffs. A V-130 armored car pulled up, and they put Capelli inside. The magnets on the walls attached to the cuffs, the door was locked (it can only be opened from the driver's seat), and they drove off.

Dekker's troops begin to prep the Vulture I400 for launch. In the meantime, he looks for the colonel, he had a question for him.

The humvee followed the V-130, the gunner kept a keen eye out. RLD's dont like taking chances when it isnt needed.

OOC: is DEkker any where near the site of the 'incident' ?

The Colonel saw Dekker, and turned from the MP.
"Can I help you?"

A Markovian flight officer walks up to one of the other test pilots.
"Hey, I just got a call from Markov......they're send'in and new pilot."
"Well, I hope it's not another fu**ing rookie ass****"
"They're sending Captin Edwards."
"Well, it's about time, now we'll get somebody with experiance flying the Necromancer!"

OOC-Markov, let's keep everyone on the same watch. It's only 7:00 PM NEST.

OOC: Ok i'll edit that out.

Helman lets the crews deal with the F/S-39, and takes a walk around the base, bored as hell.

OOC: What hanger should the Necromancer go in?

10 RLD's Headed by 2nd Lt, Yasutomo. They had thier P-90SD's on thier fronts, as they quick stepped towards the Markov Designted Hanger. They walked in and spread out. The 2nd Lt. Spoke.

"All Markovian demos are halted as of right now. We are brining in inspectors due to occcurence of un-authorized live ammo in the air."

Half a dozen aircraft techs and other techs came in behind the soldiers, they were the inspectors

"Please stand down and yeild to the inspections, cooperation is needed, and you can all get back to work in a moment"

The techs started moving towards the various vehicles

OOC: any technicalities ill change just let me know wut i missed/messed up/read wrong. :)

OOC-C-1 has room for 6 planes and crew.

10 RLD's Headed by 2nd Lt, Yasutomo. They had thier P-90SD's on thier fronts, as they quick stepped towards the Markov Designted Hanger. They walked in and spread out. The 2nd Lt. Spoke.

"All Markovian demos are halted as of right now. We are brining in inspectors due to occcurence of un-authorized live ammo in the air."

Half a dozen aircraft techs and other techs came in behind the soldiers, they were the inspectors

"Please stand down and yeild to the inspections, cooperation is needed, and you can all get back to work in a moment"

The techs started moving towards the various vehicles

The Markovian flight officers and engineers back away from the Necromancer and the Firestorms.

The tech moved in, they replaced the ammo that wasnt already dummies. One of them voiced over to the RLD's

"We are gonna need some of the dummie missles"
"They're comming" Responded the LT.

Two more techs came in wheeling a power cart with the missles on them. They re-aremd the remaining craft and thne backed off.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Said the LT as they left the hanger.

OOC: forums ate my post

Techs replaced ammo and missles. thanked them for cooperation and left

A VT-30 Hering transport nears Cortina Island with the new test pilot onboard.

"Cortina control, this is 07Angel requesting landing clearance."

" This is Air Sec, we give clearence for landing, prepare inspection and check points once of the ground."

OOC: 1.) Air secrutiy is what 'Air Sec' meant. They are the 12 S/F-109's of mine running secutiy(what a surprise)
2.) Sorry NE if i ruined something, It was just for the sake of keping the ball rolling.

OOC-No problem. If somebody who already said they want to participate flies something in, you have permission to clear them.
--
Cell 2B, secure
"Godammit, what were you thinking?"
Unsel sat up on the bed in the cell.
"That little wanker wanted a fight, he swung first. Self de-f*cking-fense. And if he wasn't trying to kill me the first time, he was when he pulled the pistol."
"That I understand. You are still going to fly the SF-109K, but you will be restricted to the brig for the time being. As in no nights on the town."
"You're sh*tting me."
"You're lucky we aren't in a court-martial. See you tomorrow."
The project staff member walked out of the cell, and the door shut.

The VT-30 lands and awaits inspections by Liberty Fighters security officials.

Helman stopped, and looked at the VT-30.
"Huh, a new pilot. I hope he's not such an a__ like the last one."
She kept walking, and went up a hill. The lights of Casnent shone brightly in the valley, with nothing but darkness for about 10 miles.
"These guys are way too uptight. I'm taking a night on the town."
She jogged back down, and went to the hangar blocks. Some people were way ahead of him. The USNE mechanics and crew, as well as some pilots, were already piling into some covered trucks. One of the drivers stuck his head out the window.
"Hey guys, were going out for some drinks! Anybody with us?"

Captin Rick Edwards steps out of the VT-30 holding his helmet and flight gear. He and two Markovian marines make thier way from the tarmac to the Necromancer hanger.
As the new pilot enters the hanger, all the engineers and flight officers look up.
Edwards walks over to the Necromancer and inspects it.
"Where's Capelli?" The Captin asks. "New Empirian officials took 'im to the brig yesterday.......he made a scene with one of the New Empirian pilots...." a flight officer responds. "Typical." The Captin chuckles.

The truck pulls up outside the Markovian hangar.
"Oy! Markies! Wanna grab some drinks?!"
Helman laughed. These were the guys who were earlier circling around the fight, hoping Unsel would beat the sh*t out of Capelli. She guessed the grudge was only against the pilot, and she couldn't blame him.

Edwards and the others turn around.
"Captin, we need to stay here and do some final ajustments to the Necromancer." says an engineer.
"Uh, sure I could use a somethin drink right now." Says Edwards
Edwards turns to the engineers and mumbles something about the PDE allignment then turns and jumps into the truck with the New Empirians.

Helman turns around, and the truck is quite cramped.
"So, you the guy replacing Capelli?"
The driver turned around and yelled "Alright, let's get going."
The truck drove off towards the town.

"Yeah, I'm replacing Capelli. God, he's an ass. During the war I was stationed at the same base as him...."

OOC: Can I send few Anti-gravitional ships? They're fun. Also, If I can, I'd also like to send a national leader with the nasty habit of being demonic and killing people, and a engineer that breaks somethng whenever anyone says anything to him.

"... And? I'm suprised that guy lived through the war, you see any combat?"

The Colonel saw Dekker, and turned from the MP.
"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I believe you can. I've got three near-final prototypes of a new infantry weapon that we 'liberated' from the same place we got the place from. Any place where we could demonstrate these things? They're pretty handy in CQB." Dekker taps the large, square case sitting on the tarmac with his booted foot.

"We were never in combat. We were stationed at an airbase 100 miles SW of Sparta. We were the last lines of defense if NE forces broke through the opposition at Sparta. After y'all took Sparta, our government and military fell apart and we surrendered."

OOC: Can I send few Anti-gravitional ships? They're fun. Also, If I can, I'd also like to send a national leader with the nasty habit of being demonic and killing people, and a engineer that breaks somethng whenever anyone says anything to him.
OOC-Sure. But ah, if you're demonic guy does his thing, he might, y'know, die. Security is pretty tight around here.

The Colonel saw Dekker, and turned from the MP.
"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I believe you can. I've got three near-final prototypes of a new infantry weapon that we 'liberated' from the same place we got the place from. Any place where we could demonstrate these things? They're pretty handy in CQB." Dekker taps the large, square case sitting on the tarmac with his booted foot.
"Well, ya ain't gonna get much of a crowd. Half the damn base is heading out for a night on the town. Tomorrow we can set you up with a firing range, some of the test dummies." (They're dummies that have similar internal and external densities and structure as a human being, good for showing how well a bullet would penentrate a person.)

Helman looked around, and then looked back at Edwards.
"So, might I ask what this has to do to Capelli?"

Helman looked around, and then looked back at Edwards.
"So, might I ask what this has to do to Capelli?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry I kinda got off track....."
"When word got to the airbase that we were losing, Capelli got pissed that he wasn't in the battle and set fire to several aircraft......the records of that were lost...so he didn't get court martialed."

"Jesus, and they send this guy to fly their BEST aircraft?"
The truck bounced over a bump in the road, the town not too far away.

Dekker and his companions hitch a ride into town.

"No, actually the RMAF sent him here to get rid of 'im for a few weeks."

"A__holes. That b*stard was going to kill someone."

OCC: sorry, I havent been responding (hint hint) something else is going on.

Out from behind the security hanger, sped a Humvee, same compliment that responded to the fight. Driver, Gunner, 4 passengers including an officer. They stopped at the Markovian Hanger where the new arrivals of equipment and personel had gone after waiting too long for security inspections. A sgt, got out with to Pvts, the rest stayed in the vehicle. The Sgt rose her voice as she spoke.
" Im sorry boys, we are under manned as it is, plus we're pretty busy with all sorts of stuff. If you dont mind, can we look through here again, security, you understand right?"

OCC: sorry, I havent been responding (hint hint) something else is going on.

Out from behind the security hanger, sped a Humvee, same compliment that responded to the fight. Driver, Gunner, 4 passengers including an officer. They stopped at the Markovian Hanger where the new arrivals of equipment and personel had gone after waiting too long for security inspections. A sgt, got out with to Pvts, the rest stayed in the vehicle. The Sgt rose her voice as she spoke.
" Im sorry boys, we are under manned as it is, plus we're pretty busy with all sorts of stuff. If you dont mind, can we look through here again, security, you understand right?"

The Markovian mechanics back away mumbling about the tight security.

The trucks stopped outside a bar, with a sign labeling it as "Fox One". It was run by an old pilot, and military personnel got drinks free.

Edwards rolls his sleeve up and checks the time, then hops out of the truck and heads into the bar.

Two men jump out of an old Jeep, they are wearing jump suits with the CLF patch on thier shoulders, by the look of them you could tell they were mechanics. They were joking with ach other as they walked into the "fox one"

Edwards sits down at the bar with the New Empirians. The bar tender walks over to the men.
"What'll it be tonight boys?"
"Uh, get me a margarita on the rocks please..." says Edwards.

Edwards sits down at the bar with the New Empirians. The bar tender walks over to the men.
"What'll it be tonight boys?"
"Uh, get me a margarita on the rocks please..." says Edwards.
OOC-Oy! Don't touch my bartender anymore.
IC-
"Alright, what about you guys?"
"The usual."
"The usual."
"Ditto."
And so forth. Fox one was a regular destination for Cortina AFB pilots.
"So, you get stationed here? I haven't seen you around before."
(Directed at Edwards)

The two jovial mechanics walk over the the markie and NE's at the bar. The bald one spoke up,
"How goes it boys, hope those RLD a$$ holes aint givin ya too much trouble, those guys really need to get laid if ya know what I mean. You know what RLD really stands for? Rectally inserted d!cks. Hah, what kinda machinery you uys riding anyways?

Edwards sits down at the bar with the New Empirians. The bar tender walks over to the men.
"What'll it be tonight boys?"
"Uh, get me a margarita on the rocks please..." says Edwards.
OOC-Oy! Don't touch my bartender anymore.
IC-
"Alright, what about you guys?"
"The usual."
"The usual."
"Ditto."
And so forth. Fox one was a regular destination for Cortina AFB pilots.
"So, you get stationed here? I haven't seen you around before."
(Directed at Edwards)

Edwards looks up.
"I got sent here after Markov's previous test pilot got, shall we say, in trouble"

The bartender came back with the drinks.
"Ahh, Joint Excersises and expos. Back when I flew you had to be pretty close to come here."
One of the Empirian pilots laughed.
"Hey, the RLD ain't as bad as Alsmund. Guy acts like he's got a crowbar up his a__."

The shorter and blonde man spoke up
"Hes got a hard job, just think of the paranoia hes going through right now. Would hate to be in security, haha."

Edwards sips his Margarita, then glances at his watch again.

Shgumacher walks into thte bar, and sits at a table, ordering a beer. Noticing the few Markovians, he decided to have some fun, and began telling a young lady his stories of the Markovian campaign. SHe seemed fairly intrested in the pilots exploits, and he knew that with the right set of words, he'd have a bed mate.

Shgumacher walks into thte bar, and sits at a table, ordering a beer. Noticing the few Markovians, he decided to have some fun, and began telling a young lady his stories of the Markovian campaign. SHe seemed fairly intrested in the pilots exploits, and he knew that with the right set of words, he'd have a bed mate.


There's only one Markovian pilot in the bar.

Helman smiles at the scene, knowing this was going to get interesting.

Shgumacher walks into thte bar, and sits at a table, ordering a beer. Noticing the few Markovians, he decided to have some fun, and began telling a young lady his stories of the Markovian campaign. SHe seemed fairly intrested in the pilots exploits, and he knew that with the right set of words, he'd have a bed mate.


There's only one Markovian pilot in the bar.

Ok, so he notices the one markovian, and keeps talking.

"So there I was, it was like a simulater. I just up and overed, and blew away five of thier fighters. It was amazing."

Another pilot seemed to overhear this, he was a regular customer, stationed on the base, and it was not the first time he had seen her. Far from it. He glared, and started to get up, when a sonic boom rippled through, unmistakeable. A group rushed out, and saw what appeared to be an outline of a Bone in the dusk clouds (B-1 for all you people who don't get the lingo), going at Mach 1. But this looked different, it had a cylindrical device upfront, but looked different from the LB-1D Airborne Laser variant.
"That the Vamp?"
"Guess so."
The EB-1C Vampire was an object of high speculation. It was flown out only from "Dreamland" to use the weapons range at Cortina. Rumors of the aircraft varied. Some called it a flying carrier for the U/MF-5 StealthHawks and U/MF-6 AirHawk UCAVs, others said it was the next step to replace the EB-52 Megafortress. Some even reported it to be a testbed for the new Microwave weapons, or a launch platform for the plasma yield warheads, which were rumored to be the next big thing in fission weapons. Either way, the all black aircraft screaming along, accompanied by 2 F-109Bs was an impressive sight.

Dekker and his companions enter the bar, taking seats at near the others. Dekker orders a Guiness, while Torres enjoys a Dos Equis. Zion treats himself to a few shots of vodka. The three men relax, and talk about the raid that got them the I400 that they brought with them.

Another pilot seemed to overhear this, he was a regular customer, stationed on the base, and it was not the first time he had seen her. Far from it. He glared, and started to get up, when a sonic boom rippled through, unmistakeable. A group rushed out, and saw what appeared to be an outline of a Bone in the dusk clouds (B-1 for all you people who don't get the lingo), going at Mach 1. But this looked different, it had a cylindrical device upfront, but looked different from the LB-1D Airborne Laser variant.
"That the Vamp?"
"Guess so."
The EB-1C Vampire was an object of high speculation. It was flown out only from "Dreamland" to use the weapons range at Cortina. Rumors of the aircraft varied. Some called it a flying carrier for the U/MF-5 StealthHawks and U/MF-6 AirHawk UCAVs, others said it was the next step to replace the EB-52 Megafortress. Some even reported it to be a testbed for the new Microwave weapons, or a launch platform for the plasma yield warheads, which were rumored to be the next big thing in fission weapons. Either way, the all black aircraft screaming along, accompanied by 2 F-109Bs was an impressive sight.

STOP READING DALE BROWN!!! READ CLANCY/COONTS!!!! :lol:

I do. I read Clancy, Coonts, and Dale Brown. They're all good. (Clancy for the characters, Coonts for the plots, and Brown for the tech. Besides, Day of the Cheetah and Flight of the Old Dog ruled.

Nothing can compare to the bear and the drgon though...it had everythgin, lol.

Nothing can compare to the bear and the drgon though...it had everythgin, lol.
Yeah... I need to read that again. Anyway, get back to the RP.

OOC: How in the hell could you forget Rainbow Six? Dekker's based off of Ding Chavez.

OOC: How in the hell could you forget Rainbow Six? Dekker's based off of Ding Chavez.

I have a Character named Ding Chavez, use him with my version of Rainbow. However, as good as Rainbow was, it wasnt the best. It was more of a side story for Bear and the Dragon.

Ok, for RP purpose...

IC:

"So there I was inverted, and I got two of those Marky bastards on me. So of course, I'm thinking, ace in the f*cking hole. I tap the burners, flick the control switch for the paddles, and litteraly flip the fighter around, nose towards them. No time for missles, so I pop both of them with the main gun. Rip the wing off of one, and it goes flying into the other fighter." He told the story with great enthusiasm, taking a puase at crucial points to sip his beer. "My final total for the war, 23 kills."

It was 11:46, and all personnel were to be on base by 12:00.
One of the pilots came in out of the billiard room, checking his watch.
"Holy shit! We've got 14 minutes to be on base, let's move it! Anyone who doesn't get their own ride or hitches on the truck has to deal with Alsmund. In a collosal rush, the men scrambled onto the truck, some still holding beers.

Alsmund stood at the gates, a scowl on his face.
You've got less than 15 minutes... Some of you are going down.

Shumacher watched the rush, then went back to his conversation.

"Shouldn't you be heading back?" the young brunette said, with a hint of concern for Shumacher in her vocie.

"Its gonna take more than some cheap curfew to keep me aways from such a beautiful young lady like yourself," he siad, offering his signature smile. She blushed slightly at the comment, and he took her hand.

"Tell me more about the war," she asked, with pleading puppy dog like eyes. Shumacher only smiled.

The CLF mechanics still sat there in the bar, laughing and drinking, talking to the abr tender. They didnt have a curfew, they were there just too keep the security forces' aircraft running.

IC: Edwards finishes his margarita and heads toward the truck with the New Empirians. As he walks out of the bar he catches fragments of Shumacher's conversation with the brunette.

After getting the gate open, the truck raced by Alsmund, stopped outside the dormitory (Cortina has very nice accomodations), and the men piled in. At 12:05, the 12 pilots of the resident F-109C squadron sat, laughing. Lt. James Fresnan walked around the room, stiff and uptight, performing his best impersonation of the Colonel.
"Now listen up you arrogant flyboys, there is a 12 Midnight Curfew, and I don't want a single one of you violating it. If the Imitorans want to f*ck the locals, and the Liberty Fighters want to stay up all night drinking, they damn well can. But I don't want to hear about those guns coming out of those holsters outside a latrine, y'hear?"
The pilots burst into laughter, as Fresnan continued.
--
The EB-1C Vampire began the landing approach, and made a quick touchdown. It was quickly taxied into a hangar, where mechanics pored over it. The crewdogs got out, and walked past the impromptu nose art that they were allowed to put on, "Voodoo Child".

After a few drinks, the trio hitches a ride back to the base, where Dekker stops off at the Chinook, and check on the three Arachnid PMG's he locked up. He was looking forward to trying them out.

An RLD got on the comm, (OOC: Hes hidden)
"Ghost-1 to base, we have 3 tardies, please advise."

Shumacher watched the Markovian walk outa the bar, took a sip from his drink, tehn back at his catch. "Musta been one that got away," he said laughing. She laughed back, and put her hand on his.

"So. Mr. Aviator," she smiled, and took a sip of her drink, "got any plans for waht to do tonight."

"Do? I was thinking you, bu it all depends on the way things go from here on out," Shumacher offered his signature smile.

She giggled.

Alsmund scratched his head.
"If they ain't USNE, leave em be. I just don't want a repeat of the last time I let 'em stay out."
He grimaced as he thought back to "the last time". The men had copiuous amounts of liquor, held a boxing match on the fuselage of an F-106C Vampire, and then the pilot of said F-106, a very attractive female who had a few many drinks, performed a violation of the UCMJ under the F-106 with an equally influenced pilot. Needless to say, the mechanic was quite surprised when he saw them. And that particular female pilot was veeerrry particular about who she fraternized with.
Alright, that wasn't exactly true. Kelly Helman was probably the most contested woman on base, which explained the drunken F-109C pilot trying to convince her to get a bit more personal. After being asked for the third time, she fingered the pilot, who responded with a epithet, and left the room.

And once again, the base was quiet, even the crew of the Voodoo Child had finished the debreif and were hittin' the sack.

Shumacher's eyes poped open, and he looked at the ceiling above him. Not bad. Not gret, but not bad, he thought, as teh brunette, obviously still asleep, nuzzled into him more. He stretched his legs out beneath him, and slowly crept out from under her arm. He stood, and stretched his arms out, pulling on the pair of jeans he had been wearing the night before. He grabbed his 'Imitora Navy Blue Water Boys' tshirt, and pulled it on over his head.

He walked around through the house, and made a cup of coffee, leaving hte pot for teh girl when she woke up. He walked outside to where his rental car, a black Mustang GT, stood. He got in the car, started it, and backed out of the driveway, heading towards the base, sipping his coffee.

So is this even an RP anymore?