NationStates Jolt Archive

A slight scraping noise attracted the attention of the RDMA sentry, drawing him away from his assigned post. As he neared, the sound grew louder, and he drew the standard-issue SOCOM handgun from its hip holster. The sound came from a sewer grate, near the barrack's rear. The sentry opened the grate with his foot, and was immediately dragged into the grate by a clawed limb. A series of screams and gunshots followed, then silence.

A faint panting noise echoed in the close confines of the drainage pipe. The sentry had killed whatever it was that attacked him, but he had left his flashlight back at his duty station. As the adrenal rush left him, he climbed from the grate and sprinted to the General's office.

"Sir... there's something living in the sewer system..." The sentry stammered, trying to catch his breath.

"Get back to your post, son. I'll have someone check it out tomorrow. Dismissed."

The sentry saluted, then turned to leave. As he opened the door, General Garand called him back.

"Remeber: Stay awake. Stay alert. Stay alive."

The sentry nodded as he left, returning to his post.


The sun rose across the Badlands, its bright light hitting Dekker Bray sqaure in the face as he stood in front of the General's desk. Garand enjoyed having the window behind him, it saved on the electrical bill, but it was a bitch for sunrise briefings.

"Private Scotts reported a disturbance in the sewer system last night. Get the team together and go hunting. I'll expect you back in three days. Dismissed."

Bray threw a saulte before he exited. He rounded up the SpecOps team, the unit he led, and entered the drain. Bray was armed with a shotgun, a semi-auto made by Winchester. The others carried small H&K MP5-PDW's, a compact 9mm SMG based on the MP5 design. As the team entered the depths of the sewers, they came across an abandoned facility of some sort. Montego, the techie, hacked the keypad lock and the team entered. A long and glossy hallway stretched out before them, and they moved forward in a small triangular formation. Bray and his shotgun took point. They passed a deserted office, the floor scattered with bones.

A second office wasn't as deserted. Three large creatures attacked, slashing through the team. Bray blew a hole in ones chest, out of luck and reflex more than skill. The tactical lights mounted on the barrels of the weapons danced madly as the troops tried to locate their attackers. In the pitch blackness of the facility, friendly fire and elusive targets proved to be more of a hazard than the creatures that attacked them with claws and stinging tails. Three of Dekker's troops accidentally shot each other, the kevlar armor doing little to stop the expanding full metal jacket rounds that their weapons where loaded with. Morale dropped. Men died. The team finally broke and ran. Dekker charged off into the darkness, the light under the barrel of his shotgun had broken off. He ran blindly through the darkness. The screams of a dying comrade filled the halls as one of the creatures caught up to him. Bray kicked in the door to an office, and stepped inside, flinging a glowstick into the darkness.

The mercenary slammed the door shut, manhandling a desk into position behind it. The room had a chair, which he sat down in. The glowstick projected a dim green light into the room, and Dekker's eyes adjusted. For two days he sat in the room, waiting for the time limit to pass. Dekker could have kicked himself for not bringing his NVG's, but decided to save his energy. He took a pull from his canteen as the time limit passed. Garand would be sending out a call for a search party soon...

Back in the General's office, his dispatch officer, a man named Quincy, typed up a dispatch asking for avaliable mercenaries to report to the RDMA basecamp in the Badlands, to assist in searching for a lost attack team. Successful mercs will be well rewarded.


OOC: The purpose for this RP is to discover what this hidden facility was, and to find Dekker Bray.

OOC: I'm not letting this die without a fight. Damn thing took me an hour to type.

Sean Cassidy looked at his laptop. This wasn't an ordinary hacker. He might have seemed like typical nerd, due to his clothes he was wearing and the way his hair was. No, he wasn't ordinary. This man was an undercover operative. He worked for a man named Dekker or something like that.. This man was some type of military person. It didn't matter to him, all he did was told him the places to start hacking.

This latest one, even though he didn't do it, was a bit odd. Looking at the team's hacking schedule, which is linked to all of their equipment, they went into some sort of building. The name was encrypted, but the location was not. It appeared as they were in the sewer system under the base.

Cassidy went into the bathroom for a few minutes. he came out, looking like a different person. Grabbing a bookbag and a leather coat, he walked out the door.

[[OOC:We need some nore people to join here!]]

OOC: I'll agree, but who does your boy work for? Dekker Bray is exclusively employed by the RDMA, which has hackers of its own.

After reading the dispatch, Jack Furlan decided to take this job. He prepared to leave for the RDMA Base right away. Grabbing his coat and his two .357 pistols, he headed for the door.

OOC: I'm getting some intrest... perhaps a second BUMP is in order.

Dekker watched as his first lightstick fizzled out. He waited a moment before lighting the second. He had five, but he didn't think he'd want to waste them waiting for help to arrive. Dekker was an assault soldier, a veteran of countless conflicts, from Grenada to Mogadishu, Kosovo, Desert Storm, more than he cared to remeber.

Darkness was his ally in Kosovo, he used it as cover before slipping from the shadows and slitting his opponents' throats. During his time as a SEAL, Dekker had moved under the cover of night into enemy camps to plant explosives and assassinate rebel leaders. Now, his old friend had turned on him, blinding him to the danger that lurked just beyond his visual range...

Lieutenant Robert Borges of the LRR SAS recieves the dispatch in his office. It is in text form, with the words "Permission Granted" scrawled across the bottom.

"As, well, that settles it then. Corporal?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Round up the team, we are headed to Mercenary Soldiers."

Message to Mercenary Soldiers:

LRR is sending a team of 12 spec-ops to help you. Please be ready to recieve them at the airport in your capitol city.

The LRR SAS team of 12 troopers boards a Learjet, which heads out to Mercenary Soldiers. The LRR government, while never fond of mercenaries, was very curious about the occurrances in Mercenary Soldiers.

The 12 SAS troops and the Learjet set down in the Mercenary Soldiers capitol, and disembark into the main terminal. The sight of 12 fully combat dressed troopers with machine guns slung over their shoulders, and obviously of forigen origin must have caused some alarm in the airport.

http://www.specwarnet.com/europe/SwedishSOF7_Arctic_ranger_Barret.jpg

An LRR SAS trooper.

OOC: A bit of info first LRR. I was hoping that this would be more character-based, but a spec-ops team will be fine, as long as there's at least one notable individual among them. Secondly, Mercenary Soldiers is situated in the Badlands region, a dustbowl for all practical purposes. The 'city' is more of a massive military base, comprised mostly of shabby tents, with a few prefab builds. The landscape resembles that of mars, with reddish dust. There is no airstrip, and the ever-present dust ruins most jet engines. I apologise for not posting this info sooner. I also appreciate everyone's participation in this RP, I was afraid that I'd have to kill it.

OOC: A bit of info first LRR. I was hoping that this would be more character-based, but a spec-ops team will be fine, as long as there's at least one notable individual among them. Secondly, Mercenary Soldiers is situated in the Badlands region, a dustbowl for all practical purposes. The 'city' is more of a massive military base, comprised mostly of shabby tents, with a few prefab builds. The landscape resembles that of mars, with reddish dust. There is no airstrip, and the ever-present dust ruins most jet engines. I apologise for not posting this info sooner. I also appreciate everyone's participation in this RP, I was afraid that I'd have to kill it.

LRR jet engines can take dust. And a no-airstrip landing is no problem, since most LRR 'airfields' are big flat grassy expanses where aircraft are kept, although LRR does not have any deserts.

OOC: Fine with me... is that an L85A1 with a bipod your SAS fella is holding?

Morty Quazuj read through the report sent to his office by the Milatary. Something about a lost team in the middle of the desert. Morty didnt really have anything better to do than to risk his life, so he took the assingment. It called for a crack team. Morty already had one such team, Namley himself, one of his assosietes, Cortez Malarkey, and his long time friend and Operative-in-arms Ike Dellagatta. All were equally supurb fighters and all would be sure to come heavily armed and ready to blow something up.

The team left Ravea by helicopter, and starded to head to the badlands.

By the dim light of the glowstick, Dekker took stock of his resources...
He had his trusty AMT M1911A1 Hardballer, modified with a match-grade barrel and a recoil compensator. He also had two knives, one a high-carbon steel survival knife, and the second a Smith and Wesson SWAT knife, with a locking, half-serrated blade with black finish. His backup handgun was still in its bootlace holster, it was a small Glock sub-compact, in the same .45 ACP that his Hardballer fired. The last thing was his shotgun, a Winchester-made semi-auto loaded with slug ammo.

Ammo would not be an issue, Dekker always brought plenty. He had five clips for his .45, as well as around fifty shells for his shotgun. Resource-wise; Dekker had three long-burn glowsticks, a canteen of water, and a ration bar. The canteen was getting close to two-thirds full, and he'd eaten part of the ration bar...

OOC: Fine with me... is that an L85A1 with a bipod your SAS fella is holding?

OCC: I know as well as you that the SAS usually doesn't use the enfield SA80's, but do you realize how hard it is to find a picture of a member of one of the world's most secretive spec-ops forces?

I probably shoulda used a picture of a swedish coastal ranger. I'll change it.

OOC: I just had no idea that that weapon would mount a bipod. Ya learn something new everyday, I guess... :lol:
I'm American, by the way, so I prefer the M4.

OCC:Just to add to this conversation, I like Uzis the best.

[Tag] for intrest and possible later entry into the RP.

Buisness had been very slow the past few months, Leona had recieved offers for a few jobs, but in the chaos of Ziggurath's invasion, not many good jobs were forming. Her primary client, Prime Minister Zagoth, hadent contacted them since their previous failure, and she feared that she may need to look into a new career. A faint ringing filled the small room, slowing proding her from sleep. At first she thought it must have been a dream, but it indeed was her wall mounted communicator. She hurried to her feet, leaving the dark blue recliner she lay open swishing back and forth rapidly. Only Zagoth knew of this communicator, and on one side, she was excited, seeing that things may finally be turning around, but on the other, she hated Zagoth with her entire heart. As she pressed the small switch on the screen, the Prime Ministor's face appeared, his beauty was like that of an angel, but she knew all too well that his face hid unequaled cruelty. He began to speak immediatly as usual, she barely had time to give her usual salute. "Leona, there has been a request for able mercenary's to investigate a missing search team. Its seems a simple task, even you should be able to do it without trouble." Leona immediatly could tell something was wrong, Zagoth wouldent give her such a menial task, he obviously was hiding something. "Of course if you find anything useful, I'll leave it to your discresion, you will take the usual actions." Leona saluted again, now coming to understand what the Prime Minister really wanted. "I do not accept failure Leona, no agent before you has ever failed to accomplish a mission I gave them, if you dissapoint me again, I will tear your brother apart, and throw him to my creations." The screen immediatly blacked out, and Leona wasted no time in getting to her armory, and waking Phillip whom was sleeping atop his new bean back chair. With a yawn, Philip rubbed his eyes clean and readjusted the bola like band tieing his long red hair. "So sis, any bites?" Leona cringed a final time from Zagoth's threat, and immediatly returned to normal. "Yes, Zagoth wants us to locate a lost squad of mercenarys. She didnt even need to look to know a fax was sitting in her machine, detailing the specifics of the mission. Philip eigerly peered up at them, soon crossing his arms. "Pretty dinky missions for great mercenarys like us, huh?" Leona shook her head as she began to collect the most useful weapons for the trip. "Zagoth wants something, he just isint telling us. For all effects, consider this the same as last time." Philip shuddered at the memory of the horrible creatures whom had taken him and his sister captive, they barely had escaped with their lives.

The LRR team drives towards the base in a Bedford truck, brought by a later C-130 flight. The team sits in back, in their desert DPM and green berets. One team member has a pair of headphones on and listens to a CD. Lieutenant Borges sits up front with the driver, and reads directions, although the going is mostly cross-desert since the roads are not too apparent. This was their first time in the badlands, and the troopers were having a tough time getting used to the heat.

Arriving at the military "base" in MS, Jack Furlan checks his supplies. 10 clips of hollowpoint ammo for his pistols, a pair of night vision goggles, and assorted other things, including one cuban cigar. Jack stands around waiting for a briefing of some sort.

Leona sheathed the large broadsword that lay gleaming on the rooms table, despite their lack of missions, she had kept it in perfect condition. She quickly tossed two pistols to Philip, and holstered her own, not bothering to check if they were loaded. Philip may come across as lazy at times as he was usually found asleep, but she knew that he took his job very seriously, and made sure all the teams equipment was loaded, and in perfect working shape. Twirling his staff a bit, Philip glanced at the mission briefing a last time. "So Sis, what are we taking this time? I just tuned up the Singing Wasp, but the target point doesnt seem to have a landing strip." Leona shook her head and pointed to the metalic door to her left. "We are currently over their airspace, we can drop down in the rover." Philip grinned and leaned on his staff. "Wow, I tune it up ever month or so, but we havent used that one before! I havent gotten around to naming it yet, how about, um.... I've got it! Lets call it Rover!" Leona laughed for the first time that day, such a sweet sound didnt seem to fit one in a career such as hers, but she knew that Zagoth wouldent allow her to change now. "Hey, are we going to work with other mercanerys, or should I ensure a little "accident" so we can get a better reward." Leona smilled once more "We'll see...". Loading a pair of rather simple assault rifles, and ammuniton into the back of the Rover, the two prepared for the immenant drop, as the rooms floor slid open, revealing the barren landscape far below. "Sis, I bet I can go longer without screaming!" Philip knew that Leona never screamed, but he still liked to lighten the mood in such ways before a job. As the Rover reached its maximum endurable drop speed, a parachute spread from the back, tugging on the stomachs of its occupants. Philip let out a little shriek as they landed with a thud, he was rather certain the wheels wouldent survive, but luckily they held, and everything became still. Philip leaned back in his seat and once again dozed off as his big sister navigated the harsh terrain and within thirty minutes, they came to the edge of the city. The Rover had a top-notch air conditioning system, but she could already sense the heat of the surrounding landscape as she prepared to exit. With a few playful pokes, she awoke Philip and the two prepared for the iminant rush of hot air as they opened the doors.

The helicopter touches down near the base. The three Agents hop out and walk a half a mile to the outskirts of the base and start to put up a few tents. They wait for other Mercanaries to arrive.

A short, black man that looks to be build like a small truck approaches the Ravea team.

"Who the f**k are ya'll?"

He asks, in a very impolite tone. The stripes on his unifrom identify him as an MST. He is short by most standards, around 5'3", but with shoulders as wide as a small buick. He is dressed like all RMDA personnel that operate within the basecamp's boundries: Desert-pattern BDU's, heavy combat boots, and a SOCOM in a hip holster. The man wears aviator sunglasses, offset by a black beret. As far as anyone can tell, he is bald beneath it.

Humming to herself, the woman known only as Silk drove through harsh, red ground on her way to a military base in Mercenary Soldiers. The going was tough, and she hoped that she was not getting herself lost as she checked the map often. The place seemed unpleasant, and she was not looking forward to having to get out of her terrain vehicle and into the Badlands environment. But there was a job here, and so here was where she would be.

After what seemed like an endless drive, she crested a hill and saw in the distance the large military encampment. Blowing out air in a sigh of relief, she headed into the city.

The Argonian hunter Whiptail arrived at the RDMA camp, heading straight to General Garand's office. Indeed, he was worried about his old friend. If Dekker couldn't fight his way out of something, then something was seriously wrong.

While his combat skills were incredible for a thirteen year old, Philip seemed quite unprepared for the heat of the terrain. A light sweat formed on his brow as he and his sister left the rover and headed towards the place in which the briefing had said the General's office should be. Leona was unsure which of the many people arriving where taking the same job as her, but she honestly didnt care, as soon as she met the General she and Philip would go their own way. Philip gave a cry of relief as they finally reached the location on their map, praying for some air conditioning, he ran inside at full speed, totally forgetting his usual perfessionalism.

Jack notices many other mercenaries arriving. He sees a local soldier yelling something at a team from Ravea. Having a sort of fondness for Ravea, he goes over and hangs out near the Ravea team just in case the soldier wants to start some trouble. He decides to strike up a conversation with them, acting as if the soldier is not there.

"You guys here to find that team too?"

Sean reached into his backpack. He sat on a curb and began pulling out items. First were two silver plated .50 AE Desert Eagles. Each had an extended clip that held 11 rounds. Next, he pulled out a harness. On the harness was two gun holsters, four extra regular DE clips, two small blocks of C4, and a Palm. Finally, he pulled out a breifcase. In it was an MP5 RIS. Getting it together, he slung the strap over his arm and head. With the harness and his MP5, he went over to a manhole. Looking around, he seen a metal crowbar. He lifted the manhole cover off. He turned on his MP5's light and jumped into the hole. He had no idea what was to come...

A short, black man that looks to be build like a small truck approaches the Ravea team.

"Who the f**k are ya'll?"

Morty frowns at the short man. For some reson he found him very annoying.

"We are the Agents from Ravea, sent to find a Mr. Dekker. And who might you be?" Morty, who was an intimidating 6 and a half feet tall, towered over the small guy. Ike and Cortez began to exit thier tents to see what the noise was about.

"You guys here to find that team too?"

Morty turns to see another Mercanarie walking in thier direction. He was glad that he would be working someone competent. Smiling, he answered the man in a more polite tone than to the other soldier.

"Yea, we landed a few hours ago." Morty said. He liked this guy. "Perhaps we can work together to find him."

The shorter man nods.

"The general wants to speak with your CO. I'm Tyrone Miller by the way."

Tyrone extends a massive hand to the Ravea operative.

OOC: If you don't want a future tech dude in the mix, just tell me so that I can change his equipment to something more down to earth. :)

IC:
Inside the CF Command bunker, a man waits in the shadows. Until another man walks in that is.

"Ahh, come in Zhukov. I have a job for you."

"What's the pay?"

"Ahh, straight to the point. Pay is 30 million facehuggers (roughly equivelent to 35 million USD.) Does that sound good?"

"Plenty, but that isn't pocket change, the job must be tough."

"Not too tough for you Zhukov. Here is the intel we have. Apparently there are 'creatures' living in the sewers of Mercenary Soldiers. Now, as you know, the Primier has a soft spot for rare and dangerous animals. I want you to go in and capture one. Alive. In addition, there are many other mercs that are going in to rescue some lost lamb, you are to assist them as much as you can without compromising your mission. Lastly, by digging through numerous secret files, we have uncovered evidence of an old research facility there, so be on your guard."

"When do I leave?"

"Your Skyranger leaves in two hours. Get your equpiment and meed the pilot at the helipad then.

Zhukov equipped himself in the latest CF powered armor, the X-3. In addition, he decided to equip a single Stun Launcher (CF Non lethal device which stuns everything in the blast radius with a powerful electric shock), a titanium vibroblade, and an XAC-110 Minigun (.50cal and can fire three rounds; AP,HE,and IC.) He was ready.

His skyranger lifted off towards Mercenary Soldiers.

The shorter man nods.

"The general wants to speak with your CO. I'm Tyrone Miller by the way."

Tyrone extends a massive hand to the Ravea operative.

Morty takes Tyrone's hand cautiously and shakes it.

"Nice to meet you, Tyrone. Lead the way to the general."

Morty waves goodbye to the Burning Hate operative, Jack, and turns to follow Tyrone to the General.

The LRR team drives towards the base in their bedford truck, but they are soon lost. A sudden gust of wind kicks up a cloud of dust, and the driver and Lieutenant Borges find visibility lacking. When the dust clears, they find themselves face to face with a chain-link fence, which the bedford quickly plows through.

"Ooops. Now, let's see......the main base should be this way."

He points out the window in the direction of the cluster of prefab buildings, and the truck lurches to the left.

Tyone leads the operatives to a large prefab building.

"If you've got any weapons, leave 'em at the checkpoint just before the General's office."

OOC:
Central Facehuggawhatever, a .50 minigun is going to be a bit too much for CQB in confined spaces, as are incindiary and explosive rounds. They'd be more of a hazard to you and the others than whatever's down there. Remember, it's a network of cramped hallways, offices, labs, and storerooms. There's a PMG in the MS armory, which might be more suitable. The weapon is chambered for a 9x19mm parabellum round, and has a cyclic ROF of 2000 RPM. An electric module keeps the barrel assembly in constant motion, reducing windup time.

Sean walked through the sewers, stopping often when he heard something behind him. It wasn't ever a real monster, but it could hae been. Across the walls, Sean seen blood. Something was down here. He gathered his breath and yelled "HELLO!!!" He hoped for an answer.

Tyone leads the operatives to a large prefab building.

"If you've got any weapons, leave 'em at the checkpoint just before the General's office."

Morty nods to his men, and they all take off thier black trench coats. Morty drops a tommy gun, two Uzis, dual pistols, a couple grenades, and a longsword. Cortez, the groups Heavy Operator, drops a 12. gauge shotgun, a heavy MG, a grenade launcher, and a Kabar knife. Ike puts down a Sniper Rifle, an assult rifle, weighted throwing knifes, and half a dozen pistols. Obviouly the team meant business.

The men leave thier weapons at the checkpoint and follow Tyrone to the general.

OOC: I knew that the minigun was too much! :wink:
So in that case I'll just use a standard laser rifle or if that is unacceptable, i'll use the SMG which you have so kindly provided.;

IC: Zhukov suddenly remembered that he was going into the sewers, where the minigun won't work too well. (He tends to forget what he is doing when there is a large gun in his hands.) Although it takes a great personal effort, he exchanges the minigun for a laser rifle, two standard grenades, about a pound of C9 and a single proximity grenade on his way out the transport's door.

Then, he moved out to the cluster of prefab buildings in the distance. He will make contact with the rest of the mercs heading into the sewers, then he will complete his mission.

Jack watches the Ravea team go into the base with the burly soldier. He hangs out by their tents, waiting for them to return. he very much liked the idea of working with that team. He had confidence in his own abilities, but not enough to go on alone. lighting his cigar and taking a puff, he re-checks the clips in his pistols.

Bump
Unless
Many
People have objections

Bump
Unless
Many
People have objections
OOC: LOL!

IC: Jack, still waiting near the Ravea team's tents, wondered why they were the only ones to have been sent in for briefing as of yet. He decided to take a little "nap". It always helped to tell who you could trust in a situation like this. Some mercs would do anything to get the reward for themselves. Better to draw the line between ally and enemy now, and not be unprepared later. So as Jack took his "nap", he kept one eye open and one hand inside his coat, always near the handle of one of his pistols.

Zhukov moved up to the the group of prefabricated buildings. No doubt the guard would be frightened to see his armor. It looked like some monster from another world.

Zhukov paused at the gate, waiting to be let in.

The bedford drives towards the cluster of prefab buildings in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust. They soon reach the gate, but the truck's brakes are not exactly up to scratch, and the truck hits the barrier before stopping. Inside the cab, the casette player blares In The Evening at full volume. Lieutenant borges sticks his dust-covered face out of the window.

"Hi! We're here for that sewer pipe thing."

The bedford drives towards the cluster of prefab buildings in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust. They soon reach the gate, but the truck's brakes are not exactly up to scratch, and the truck hits the barrier before stopping. Inside the cab, the casette player blares In The Evening at full volume. Lieutenant borges sticks his dust-covered face out of the window.

"Hi! We're here for that sewer pipe thing."

Tag: Still open?

Silk was a short distance behind the truck as it crashed into the barrier. She furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head.

Please don't tell me they're here for the same thing...

OOC: Well, here I am anyways... :wink:

IC:

Garret Hopkins, agent for the Valient Department of Extranormal Operations (DEO) waited by the open hatch of the Mark II Assualt Helicpoter as it hovered ever lower towards the base of MS. He noticed a number people enter a large prefab building, and knew that if he wanted to make his presence known, he'd have to go there.

The helicopter kicked up a small storm as Hopkins leapt out. He worried that his entrance may not have been as discreet as he wanted, but then right in front of his eyes, a truck with LRR markings demolished the front gate.

Hopkins smiled to himself. "Now thats how you make an entrance." The DEO agent then checked to see that his .50 Desert Storm was still in his shoulder holster. It was. With that, he started to walk over to the assembled group of buildings, and the LRR truck. A pity he was late, but DEO central intelligence wasn't always on the ball with assignments.

OOC: General Garand will take that out of your reward, LRR. :lol:
I assume you mean Desert Eagle, Valient.

I also appologise for not posting in the past few days, NS has been being a royal bitch when it comes to page loading.

IC:

Tyrone shows the crew to the General's office. Only the CO is let in, due to the size of the office. The office itself has a series of bullet holes in the back wall, above the head of an older man, who sits behind an immense desk. A large, faded bloodstain is opposite his large chair. The General is dressed like his troops, only he wears the SOCOM in a shoulder holster, opposite a steel flask bound with faded black leather. The general himself is an older fellow, the kind that looks like could beat the living hell out of people half his age. He reguards the Ravea CO with a scowl, like he did pretty much everyone else.

"So you're here to find Dekker... f**kin' great. I'll be here for the rest of my f**kin' life if they come in here one by one..."

Garand yells at Tyrone, asking him to do something along the lines of informing the dispatch officer to broadcast his orders over the base loudspeaker.

"Alright. You find Dekker and you get a hundred grand. Don't find him, you get jack shit. I'll be sending my own little search party down as well, if Dekker hasn't come out by now, it either means his crippled in some way, or he's dead. The latter isn't likely. My team will provide support, and make sure Dekker doesn't blow a hole in you because you're not RDMA. If you find him and my team isn't around, identify yourself. Otherwise you'll get to wear a nice black bag home, and I'll send the reward to your widow. Am I clear?"

Garand asks, his voice getting louder towards the end of his statement.

Out at the front gate...

Private Scotts looks on with a combination of anger and dismay as a flatbed truck plows through the perimeter fence. He runs over to investigate.

"What the f**k are you doing? There's a f**king entry checkpoint over there!"

He shouts angrily, knowing somehow he'll catch the blame for the new hole in the fence.

-Double-

-Triple-

OCC: The bedford is covered in this instance.

http://www.militaryvehiclespares.com/graphics/11170184.jpg

The Bedford MJ transport truck, used by LRR for multipurpose tasks, but not in large numbers.

IC:

Lieutenant Borges sees the angry private come running over in the direction of the truck.

"Stop the truck!"

The driver cuts the engine, and applies the breaks, although they don't exactly do much. Lieutenant Borges jumps out into the dust, and a few feet away the truck rolls to a stop.

He gets up out of the sand, and walks over to the private.

"Uh, hello! We're here for, er, we need to se your commanding officer right away!"

Silk drove past the scene and up to the entry, saying, when asked by the guard, that her business here had to do with the search and rescue - and in particular the reward that came with it.

As she drove along to the indicated spot to park her vehicle, she grimaced at how ugly a place this was. The orc lair she had to infiltrate seemed almost better in comparison to this wasteland. Upon parking her car, she saw a number of other people dressed in clothing and armor that did not resemble those of Mercenary Soldiers'.

Competition, I see. Ah well. Strength in numbers.

"To hell with this." Zhukov said. He walked right through the now destroyed (nice handiwork LRR) sentry post. He barged into the largest prefab building there, hoping it would be the command center. "Hey, I'm here for the mission, some sort of rescue op?" he paused, waiting for a response.

Seeing other mercs heading right in(with the path provided by LRR :D ), Jack also goes into the complex, following the way taken by the Ravea team as they went into the command office. He came to a door that appeared to be the generals office and knocked loudly twice. He hadn't put his weapons down or been stopped by guards anywhere. Jack had his way of just blending in and being inobtrusive. He knocked again at the general's door, then just turned the handle and went in.
Jack salutes the general, and says "Hello" to the Ravea team's CO.

I assume you mean Desert Eagle, Valient.

OOC: Oops. Yep. Damn Poli Sci class screwin with my head and my weapons.

IC:

Agent Hopkins looks around. Suddenly, it seems like everyone is entering a building. With a start, he runs towards and slips into the largest building there. Inside, he sees a man dressed in some bizarre armor.

"He must be here for the sewer thing as well" thought Hopkins to himself. He walked up to the man and said hello.

"Hello. My name is Garret Hopkins, and I work for the Valient DEO. Who do you represent?"

Zhukov replied to the Valient officer's question;
"My name is Boris Zhukov, and I work for myself. Although I am here today on behalf of the Central Facehuggerian government."

Then he turned and walked into the room where the general was giving the briefing.

"I'm here to help with the rescue operation" He said "As well as another, more... rewarding mission." he thought to himself.
He briskly nodded to the Ravean CO.

OOC: Is MS still around? I'td be nice to get underway soon.

IC:"So you're here to find Dekker... f**kin' great. I'll be here for the rest of my f**kin' life if they come in here one by one..."

"Alright. You find Dekker and you get a hundred grand. Don't find him, you get jack shit. I'll be sending my own little search party down as well, if Dekker hasn't come out by now, it either means his crippled in some way, or he's dead. The latter isn't likely. My team will provide support, and make sure Dekker doesn't blow a hole in you because you're not RDMA. If you find him and my team isn't around, identify yourself. Otherwise you'll get to wear a nice black bag home, and I'll send the reward to your widow. Am I clear?"

Garand asks, his voice getting louder towards the end of his statement

Morty frowns at the general, not impressed by his skill at swearing. He grits his teeth and says "Yes, a hundred thousand is....adaquete for me and my team. Shall we proceed to find Dekker now?

Jack had his way of just blending in and being inobtrusive. He knocked again at the general's door, then just turned the handle and went in.
Jack salutes the general, and says "Hello" to the Ravea team's CO.

Before Morty can turn and leave, Jack enters and greets Morty. Slightly suprised, Morty turns back to the general and says, "Oh yes, and this one will accompany us too." With that he exits the office, beckoning Jack to come with him. He makes Eye contact with another man who has just entered the office. The man called himself "Zhukov" and was clad in some strange armor. Morty thought that he might work together with him, but put the idea in the back of his mind as he walked out of the building and back to the tents and his team.

Silk made her way to the office, keeping quiet. She watched the others, face hidden behind her dark lenses, noticing their varied paraphernalia, but focused her attention on the general as well.

"I'm getting impatient here, I just want to go and kill something!" Zhukov thought to him self.

OOC: A not so cleverly disguised bump.

OCC:Where the heck is Mercenary Soldiers.......

IC:Morty arrived at his tents. "Start getting ready," he said. We're moving out in 30!" They would wait and prepare for thirty minutes, or sooner depending on how fast Jack was briefed.

THERE WAS NO DOUBLE POST! NONE AT ALL! :oops:

Zhukov listened intently to the general's briefing. Full of swears, but it also had bits of useful information about the situation.

OOC: I'm assuming the general has briefed Zhukov, because I am getting really impatient.

OOC: I don't really care what you're getting. I've actually got a life outside of NS, and my PC is a piece of shit. The AOL remote host also likes to reset my damn connection in the middle of a post. That and NS never wants to work when I log on, so chill the f**k out. Not all of us are blessed with a DSL connection.

Now that my ranting is done for the day, for future refrence, my RP's are almost totally free-form. I'll give you an objective, and you can pursue that objective or go off on your own with your own plot line, I'm don't care. The general had his briefing broadcast over the base loudspeaker for those of you who miss those important details. For more future refrence, Garand is a former USMC Major General. I'm keeping his comments tame so as not to offend those younger members of the RP crowd. If no one has any objections, I'll loosen the censorship collar a bit.

Sorry, no IC this time, just letting ya'll know I'm still here.

OOC: Sorry for getting you so angry.

IC: Zhukov moved out of the building, and met with the rest of the mercs heading into the sewers. "My name is Zhukov and I am here to assist you. When are we leaving?"

OOC: MS is an angry individual, don't feel bad.
He also doesn't like future tech nations, even though he will not admit it.

IC:

The Dark Argonian hunter moved into the sewer system, carrying little more than his old friends; his twin katanas, his .45, and his knife. The slit pupils of his golden eyes widened, providing him with excellent night-vision, an advantage of being nearly primal in nature. The smell of blood wafted to his nostrils, stirring thoughts of hunger in his reptillian brain. The scent led him to several bodies, slashed and bitten to the point of overkill. Whiptail selected one of the PDW's from the floor, and filled his pockets with spare 9mm clips. Hopefully the weapon would serve him better than the ill-fated search team...

The bedford approaches the base, and prepares to stop.

"Weigh anchor!" Shouts Lieutenant borges as the driver cuts the engine.

The troops in the back throw out an anchor, which drags through the sand before finally causing the truck to stop. The roaring of the engine is replaced by Down Under played at maximum volume.

Lieutenant Borges tries to open the door, but the latch is clogged with dust. He pulls out his colt .45 M1911 and shoots it. The door flies open, and Lieutenant Borges hops out into the sand.

OOC: Just out of curiousity, what kind of creatures are we fighting here? Or can we make them up and say that they are 'failed expirements'?

OOC: MS usually has a crature in mind. From what he has told me about them, they resemble Species 1179 from Star-Trek. I do not believe that I got the number right, but I'll provide a brief description:

"Tall, quardrapedal creatues, walking on four articulated legs ending in a sharp point. They posses humanoid torsos, with powerful arms that end in large hands with claws. Their faces are blocky, with a short beak-like mouth. The creatures move quickly and quietly. They are able to navigate because of some unknown kind of night-vison adaptation. They have no visible eyes."

(OOC: The quadripedal thing reminds me of Species 8472, but the rest only vaguely resemble those)

OOC: So they are essientially a 4 legged version of the aliens from ST:V? (Species 8472 I think). Alright. Do they have the regeneration abilities of Species 8472? (Those lil buggers could grow a new arm in seconds!)
Also, do they have any spitting, or other ranged attack?

IC: Zhukov calmly walked over to the LLR team and introduced himself. "Greetings. I am Boris Zhukov, and I assume you are hear for the same reason the rest of us are? The rescue operation?"

OOC: So they are essientially a 4 legged version of the aliens from ST:V? (Species 8472 I think). Alright. Do they have the regeneration abilities of Species 8472? (Those lil buggers could grow a new arm in seconds!)
Also, do they have any spitting, or other ranged attack?

IC: Zhukov calmly walked over to the LLR team and introduced himself. "Greetings. I am Boris Zhukov, and I assume you are hear for the same reason the rest of us are? The rescue operation?"

"We are. Now, where is the briefing?"

The driver climbs out of the cab with a roll of duct tape in hand. He tapes the door shut, and the spec-ops team disembarks.

"He just announced it over loudspeaker" Zhukov replied. "However, I did make a recording, just in case I forget anything important. Here."
Zhukov handes Lt. Borges a CD, with the briefing on it. "Get up to speed, I don't think we will be waiting too much longer."

"He just announced it over loudspeaker" Zhukov replied. "However, I did make a recording, just in case I forget anything important. Here."
Zhukov handes Lt. Borges a CD, with the briefing on it. "Get up to speed, I don't think we will be waiting too much longer."

"Er.....do you have a casette? I don't think we have one of those new-fangled CD players."
"Here, sir."
"Oh, thankyou. I guess we do have one."

Bump.

Hurrying back out to the tents of the Ravea team, Jack shakes his head at the further antics of the LRR group. Arriving at the tents, he introduced himself to the two others on the Ravea team.
"Hey, I'm Jack. Glad to be working with you guys."
Jack checked his .357s one last time. He also adjusted the short sword on his belt, which he always had in case of a situation where his pistols were useless. He prepared to leave whenever the Ravea team was ready.

Morty nods at Jack as he indroducies himself to Cortez and Ike.

"Well, now that we all know at each other, lets get into those sewers!" He motioned to the entrence to the pipes. The four men make thier way to the entrance and begin a dark desent into the tunnles.

For a while it seemed that nothing was amiss. They heard nor saw anything suspcious. They began to get a little on edge whene they passed some blood-spattered walls. The team continued until they spotted a figure propped up against the walls. Cortez cautiously moved towards it, shotgun ready. When he got close enough to touch it, he shined a light on it. The figure was a mangled body, with 1 arm and half a head missing. a pistol was still in the dead man's good hand. Morty yanked it out and checked its clip. There was only a single bullet left. This man had obviouly fought to the death against a powerful foe.

He dropped the gun as he heard hissing and scratching behind him. The entire team turned around and opened fire. Morty drained a clip of his Tommy Gun, while Ike suppported him with dual pistols. Cortez opened up with his Shotgun. The firing procceded until they were all out of bullets. They each pulled out an additional weapon as they went to inspect thier kill. The only problem was that, even with all that firepower, they hadnt killed anything. The only evidince of an enemy was some sickly-colored blood on the walls.

Morty, unnerved, ordered his team to reload. They then continued to go down into the sewer system, ears and eyes open.

Zhukov waited until the Ravean team was throughly into the sewers before going in himself. It was dark, and strangely quiet. Too quiet...
Suddenly he heard a sick slurping noise behind him, but when he turned around, there was nothing there. He continued on. But something putting him on edge. Why am I so jumpy? I've been in sewers before, I've hunted animals across the planet, so what is different about this mission?

Suddenly an alarm went on inside his armor. "Proximity alarm!?" He turned around again, half expecting to see some hideous monster behind him, but instead, he merely saw a sewer rat. "Heh. Just a rat, just a lousy, stinking rat!" He walked on. Until he reached an area littered with shell casings, shell casings that matched the Ravean team's weapons. He heard a splash behind him, and when he turned around, there was a hideous creature there. "Uh-Oh Reacting quickly, he took aim with his laser rifle and fired. Several beams of azure fire leapt from his weapon, but he couldn't tell if the creature was killed immediately. When he stopped firing and looked for it, it was gone. "Obviously not. That is one tough bugger!

He continued in the dark...Until...

The LRR team follows Zukhov into the sewers. They carry hge 90-round bananna clips for their Ak-74s and drum magazines for their G-36s.

They quickly catch up with Zukhov and the Raveans.

The LRR team has one advantage over these creatures. The LRR spec ops troops carry thermal imaging systems.

"What'ya see, sarge?"
"Nothing yet. Wait, wait!"
"There!"

The LRR troops open fire, and cause the creature to retreat, leaving splatters of oddly colored blood on the sewer walls.

OOC: It's based off of some odd-lookin' critter I got of off the Hazard Team game I played a while back. Figured it'd be more original than those Alien things, which are a helluva lot more creepier. As WA said, there's little form to this damn thing, just explore, shoot stuff, whatever. Bullets etc. should work against these things, Dekker blew a hole in one's chest a page or two back. That was close range with a 12 gague slug shell.

IC:

Gunshots echoed outside of the room, and Dekker swung his weapon around in that direction. In his tired state it was more of a reflex than a concious decision.

'Great. Garand finally sent someone...'

Dekker heaved the desk away from the door, and crept silently down the hallway, heading deeper into the facility...


On the Surface

Three of the RDMA's best decend into the sewers. Equipped with more potent UMP 45's and nightvision gear, this team would be able to identify their targets in the inky darkness of the sewer's depths. The names where familiar around the RDMA base: Miller, Underwood, and Torres...

"Shit, ese... that's what this place smells like..."

Echoed the accented voice of Greco "Greg" Torres.

"Ignore it lad... I'm in no mood to listen to your bitchin'..."

Came the Irish-accented voice of Lewis Underwood.

Tyrone Miller simply shook his head in disgust, as a rat skittered across the concrete floor in front of him.

While firing at the creature they had encountered, Jack had not wasted as much ammo as his Ravean counterparts. He still had half a clip of bullets in each of his pistols. He had seen the creature in his night vision goggles long enough to hit it with at least one bullet. He had seen multiple hits by the Raveans, but the creature seemed to just take the hits. These things were tough. Jack quickly put the bullets from one half-empty clip into the other, and reloaded the other pistol. He then holstered it and drew his short sword, keeping a pistol in his other hand.

"Damn, those things don't take too much damage," he muttered under his breath.

He had hit it with a solid shot, and considering the type of bullet and gun he was using, it should have been hurt bad. Add in the firepower of the Ravea team, and it should have been dead.

Whiptail moved quicky, firing a long burst from the PDW. 9mm rounds ripped into the creature's head, but did not kill it.

'Odd'

Was Whiptail's singular thought. The warrior let the small SMG fall, instead he wrapped his muscular arms around the creature's bony neck. Whiptail rotated his torso with bone-shattering force, pulling upward with his arms as he did so. The creature's neck neatly sperated. The warrior let it fall to the steel floor of the laboratory-like facility, and retrieved his PDW. Whiptail liked how the weapon fired, and resolved to keep it for future hunts.

OOC: Is that a fatal wound to one of these resiliant beasts?

Silk moved as silently as possible through the hallways, matching the darkness with her black outfit. Not even nightvision technology worked without at least some light, and so a light was attached to her rifle. Her lenses were tuned into the nightvision mode, but also had an infrared layer that allowed her to more readily spot anyone and anything giving off heat. Her filter mask saved her from having to breathe in the stench of the sewers she had to pass through.

Numerous gunshots went off, making her glance behind as the echoes rebounded off the walls. Nothing was in view, and so she continued on. She had heard talks about strange creatures in here, but her mission objective was to find a man named Dekker Bray. If she never had to encounter any creatures, then all the better.

There was a door, slightly ajar. She cautiously approached it and nudged it open with the tip of her rifle. As it swung slowly open, the beam of light swept through the room, but revealed little other than a pile of bones. She walked up to the bones, keeping a constant scan of the room to make sure nothing was hiding, and crouched down to inspect the remains. Setting the lenses to normal view, she took a closer look at the bones. Small bits of flesh still clung to it, and the blood, though dried, seemed fairly fresh.

A sound made her look toward the door, her rifle moving smoothly with the rest of her body into a position to point at the opening. No one and no thing was there. She stood up from her crouched position and moved slowly to the door to the office.

Zhukov moved quickly to meet up with his Ravean counterparts. But he was stopped dead in his tracks, right infront of him was one of those large creatures, but this one was injured. Zhukov put away his rifle and unsheathed his vibroblade. As he turned it on, the blade began to hum with ultrasonic vibrations. He leapt at the creature and brought his blade down into what appeared to be its torso. The blade cut neatly through, and sliced the creature in two. "How do you like that!"

Zhukov then moved up to meet with the Ravean team, unaware of what was waiting for all of them...

Jack noticed a noise coming from behind them that didn't sound like one of the creatures. He kept his gun and sword ready, just in case. The man in the strange armor, named Zhukov, came out of the shadows. Jack relaxed and nodded to Zhukov.
"Nice to see you. I don't believe we've met. I'm Jack." he said quietly.

"Nice to see you too, I'm Zhukov. Where is the rest of the team?"

"Right here," Said Morty, walking around a corner. "Zhukov, is it? Nice to meet you. I thought i heard something behind us. You got one of those creatures then, did you?" He had noticed that Zhukov was covered in blood. "Well, we had better get moving. You can go along with us if you want."

With that the team proceeded cautiously through the sewers.

"The one I killed was injured though, it was riddled with bullets. Your handiwork?"

Bumpdity Bump Bump!

Whiptail continues forward, a familiar scent filling his nostrils... RDMA synthetic gun oil... Dekker was close. The hunter carefully opened a slightly ajar door with his tail, and found three burned-out glowsticks.

'I am close...'

He thought to himself as he continued forward.

"The one I killed was injured though, it was riddled with bullets. Your handiwork?"
"Probably," Jack responded. "There are others down here, but I haven't heard many other gunshots."
Well, one down, Jack thought to himself. He wondered how many of these creatures were down here in the sewers. It seemed improbable that this man, Dekker, had survived, despite the general's optimism. Jack went on, slightly ahead of the rest of the group. Deciding that this was probably a bad idea, he turned back. To his surprise, one of the creatures was right behind him. "Shit!" He yelled, as he emptied 9 bullets into the creature's head and torso, and took a slash at it with his sword. It fell to the ground, but he fired the last bullet from his clip at its head just to be sure. After this, Jack waited for the rest of the group to catch up to him.

The booming report of a shotgun echoed through the narrow hallways.
Dekker was indeed alive and well, one of the creature things lay at his feet, minus its head. He had switched from slug ammo to 00 buckshot, which packed more of a punch in close quarters.

A pattering of feet. A creaking of a door hinge. Silk's beam of light flashed in the direction of the sounds, just barely catching something moving past a door and into a room.

"Dekker Bray?" she asked. "I have been sent by General Garand to rescue you. Please come out."

When all that came in response was silence, she moved up to the wall next to the door, swiftly swung around and into the room, and scanned it for any occupants. What met her was a grotesque creature, glaring at her and tensing to strike.

What in the world?

It made the first move, closing the distance between the two with a fast speed. Silk got out a couple of three-round bursts from her rifle before she had to quickly backstep to avoid from being run over by the charging beast. The creature staggered as the bullets sank into its flesh, but regained its balance and continued forth again.

This doesn't look good...

She fired again, this time aiming for the head. A dark liquid splattered everywhere as the rounds riddled its head and the creature dropped to the floor.

Bump until I can think of something to add to the RP.

Dekker wandered into a large, lab-like area. Towards the back, he found several holding cells. Near one of the doors, a decomposed body lay, its hand outstretched. Above it something was scrawled in blood. Due to the dry climate of the lab, the blood hadn't decomposed...

'And by came and angel with a bright key, and he opened the coffins and set us all free...'

Dekker felt a slight chill as he read the bloody message, the words carried a disturbing tone with them... then he noticed the right hand of the corpse, it was slightly mutated, similar to the hands of the creatures he had been blasting as he moved through the facility. Upon closer inspection, he found that the corpse had several gunshot wounds to its torso area, delivered from behind. The rounds looked like 9mm's, and several brass casings from such rounds where scattered along the dirty steel floor, hundreds of them. This poor bastard hadn't fully changed, scrawling a cryptic message on the wall in front of him, in his own blood...

-Double-

In the commotion, Silk did not notice the second creature closing in on her. The first creature had just fallen at her feet when she turned because of a sound behind her and the light hooked onto her rifle flashed onto another of the creatures standing right next to her. Before she could even respond, one of the creature's hands lanced out and swatted with great force the rifle from her grip. Rifle and light went skittering down the corridor, and the same hand jerked back to smack at Silk, sending her flying through the air.

Pain wracked her body as she hit a wall and slumped to the floor. Stifling her groan, she heard the feet of the creature moving toward her and peeked out at it from her prostrate position. It stood not far from her, no doubt about to deliver the fatal blow.

No more time to spare.

One of her arms swiftly went to her back and pulled out a katana as she flipped onto her back and swung the blade. It caught one of the creature's hands that was unfortunate enough to be within range, slicing it off and making the creature scream loudly in pain. Silk rolled away before the creature could strike her in her disadvantaged position, got to her feet, and faced the now one-handed beast.

Dekker rifled through the various dispatches and lab notes, seeking an answer. The cone of light from the barrel of his shotgun caught another creature, and the frontal ghost-ring sight landed in the middle of its chest. Dekker fired, the booming report vibrating his very being. His ears rang, but his opponent was missing several of its vital organs.

The lab dispatches told of a secret project to create some sort of biochemical weapon, which was not surprising. The results, however, where not those that caused the lab staff to mutate into these bloodthirsty critters that had been so intent on taking his head off at this point...

Gunshots echoed further up the hall, and Dekker moved to investigate. What he found startled him: A young woman was squaring off with a one-handed beast. Acting on reflex, Dekker aimed and fired... the wet thump of impacting buckshot sounded as the creature's head vanished in a fine black mist...

Morty and his team proceeded to a run as they heard several loud gunshots near them. They turned into a long hall with a large door at the end. He thought he could hear a soft voice......

Before he could reach the door, two creatures popped out of no where and simultaneously tried to gut Morty. He dodged by an inch. Cortez and Ike were firing madly as the two creatures circled them. Cortez finally winged one with his shotgun, then stuck it in its mouth and blasted its head off.

"I hate bugs," He said.

The second creature skittered up begind him, swung a bladed arm, and nearly severed Cortez's top from his bottem. The two halves fell to the ground with a sickly thud. The creature turned and charged towards Ike, who was too shocked to respond.

But the creature wasnt moving anywhere.

The top half of Cortez leapt onto the creatures back, his machine gun in his hand. With a pained roar, he unloaded his clip-about 60 bullets-into its head. The thing screamed and flung Cortez off, trying to make a run for it. Ike was ready this time, and put an explosive shell through its middle with his Sniper Rifle, causing it to blow up in a spectacual shower of blood and guts.

Morty walked up to the creatures head-the only part of it still moving-and put both of his Uzis in its mouth and fired. He fired until he was out of bullets. He then flung the bloody piece of meat down the hall where it thwaked into the wall and slid down.

"Gather his weapons and ammo," Morty said gruffly, motioning towards Cortez, who was now dead. "Lets keep going."

The sudden loss of the creature's head startled Silk, and she whirled around to see what had caused it. Her defensive stance loosened up a bit when she saw that is was a human, and the tip of the katana lowered to the floor.

"Thank you," she offered before arching one eyebrow and asking the unfamiliar-looking man, "Dekker Bray?"

OOC: Oh, poopy, someone already found him.

IC: Jack heard many shots and a scream from the Ravea team behind him. He went back to meet up with them, and noticed that only two of the original three remained. He guessed what had happened, and offered his condolences.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I shouldn't have gone off by myself like that. i might have been able to help."

---Post deleted by NationStates Moderators---

Whiptail followed the scent of the gun oil through the laboratory area, passing through some sort of hidden scanner in the process.

"Species: Unknown. Skeletal scans indicate extreme calcification on knuckles, elbows, knees, skull, tail and feet. Minor calcification also present on rib, leg, and arm areas. Metabloic scans suggest lifeform is reptillian. Lifeform is deemed dangerous. Elimination in progress..."

Whiptail dove away from the scanner, rolling and bringing his SMG to bear, the round sight on the end tracing the movement of nothing. A faint clanking sound echoed further up the hallway...

The sudden loss of the creature's head startled Silk, and she whirled around to see what had caused it. Her defensive stance loosened up a bit when she saw that is was a human, and the tip of the katana lowered to the floor.

"Thank you," she offered before arching one eyebrow and asking the unfamiliar-looking man, "Dekker Bray?"

"That's right." Dekker rested the shotgun on his right shoulder. "Garand send you? I ain't comin' back just yet. There's some weird-ass shit down here..."

The faint clanking heard by Whiptail marked the entry of a new factor into the survival of the rescuers in the tunnels. A large, heavy steel blast door slowly closed at the entrance to the facility. Slowly, several small, robotic creatures attacked from all angles. They stood at roughly four feet tall, and moved with startling speed. The Devilish had returned...

"He did," the woman confirmed, sheathing her sword on her back and going to retrieve her rifle. "I assume you're referring to these..." she looked at the headless corpse in the middle of the darkened hall, "creatures? What are they?"

A ghostly, metallic noise in the distant blackness caused Silk to tighten her grip on the her firearm and look down the corridor, her lenses whirring quietly as she adjusted the settings on them.

Dekker shook his head.

"Don't bother. I've fought these little f**kers before. Smack 'em with the stock of your gun... To answer your question about these claw-critters, I don't know what the f**k they are, but I've found a few documents suggesting that they're some kind of mutated humans."

Dekker gripped his shotgun by the barrel instead of the stock, switching the safety to the 'on' position to prevent himself from accidentally blowing a hole in his own chest.

OOC: This ain't over folks. I've been busy lately, and there's still a lab complex to clear out. Finding Dekker wasn't the whole point of this RP, the man can obviously handle himself. Garand will pay well if you can clear this complex out so he can move his command post down here.