NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This will be a story for the first few pages, mostly to give some background on the fragile situation. Now that it is open, I don't want anything more than a ten-man team from any other nation, armed with modern-tech only equipment. No armored divisions & entire squadrons of aircraft bombing ymy cities & villages in retaliation. The nation must also have a viable reason for even being in-country as well. A covert squad that shows up unannounced & is discovered might wind up against an entire company of infantry supported by armored cavalry.

BACKGROUND

As the summer of the fifth year of the new millinium came to a close the nations surrounding the Black Marsh swelled to the very limits of the Argonian borders. The proximity of these supposedly friendly nations & their advanced ways and devices caused alarm within the Argonian Elder Council, which decreed a period of isolation for the next eighty
years...

The large, circular chamber which served as the meeting place for the Elder council was dimly lit from a single smoldering fire within the granite ring in the center of the room, struggling to stay lit in the humid air. Around the ring sat seven Argonian females of advanced age, each representing their Elder family. Males never served on the council, they where too hot-headed & brash to conduct political negotiations & the like. This evening's topic was extremely important: The surrounding peoples where pressing in closer than any of them felt was safe, let alone comfortable for the involved nations.

The Argonians by nature a primitive & primal people, unused to the comfort & convenience of the modern world. It was an entirely viable scenario that a hunter might venture apon a vacationing family from one of these neighboring countries & attack out of his purely territorial nature. This would surely be seen as an act of war by any civilized nation & retaliation would not be a question of 'if', but 'when'. After many hours of spirited debate lasting many hours into the night, a solution was reached: Isolation was the only answer any could agree on. The Argonian people had ignored the technologies of the present for too long, out of ignorant pride & antiquated tradition.

During the many years to follow, a great overhauling of the nation was done. Buildings of concrete & steel rose from the marshy soil in the capitol of Grayrock, streets & avenues of asphalt wound between them like black rivers. The scene was much the same in the other major cities, with huts of bamboo being replaced by vinyl-sided townhomes & other hallmarks of suburbia. Even with all these cosmetic changes, the most difficult where the Argonian warrior culture & religion. With these new ways & technologies came the faiths of Christianity, Buddisum, and Taoism. The ideas & teachings behind these faiths clashed soundly with the native Makaalism & the anchient culture. Those who would not tolerate the newer religions moved from the cities to the outlying villages where the modernistic overhaul had yet to reach. Soured by what they saw as a grave act of heresey on the part of their leaders, they rallied their strength & plotted to retake their beloved country from the heretics that had tainted it with strange religions & complicated machines.

The majority of the Argonian people embraced the new ways of the so-called 'West', with education & no shortages of food or well-paying work, Argonia was developing into quite the capitalistic nation. Prosperity was the order of the day. Driver's licenses where being issued at rates of thousands per day for a few weeks, with the updated economical practices from other prosperous nations in effect, nearly everyone was able to afford a personal vehicle.

As with all nations, a competent, well-trained, well-equipped military force is a must for any successful nation that wishes to remain as such for any extended period of time. As the period of isolation ended, the Argonian military sported a wide array of armored vehicles, high-tech aircraft, and expertly-trained infantrymen that where the pride of the Argonian Armed Forces. M16A4 assault rifles & M92FS semiautomatic pistols where the order of the day for the front-line infantry soldier.

It was around this time that the malcontent Makaalites began their first attacks against the new, democratic government. Yelta Derrinit, the first Argonian president, was killed by one of the 'Hands of Makaal', a now-disbanded order of warrior priests who stepped forth from the crowd with his double-bladed sword held high & slashed the female leader across the abdomen & throat. While the attacker was promptly gunned down by the president's bodyguards, there was little the doctors could do for a corpse. Derrinit had bled out in less than a minute. The angry outcry from the democratic-favoring, city-dwelling portion of the public called for retaliation, and troops where sent to the outlying villages to keep the peace & hunt down insurgents...

Sergeant First Class Jev Artek, 3rd Infantry, D Company, 2nd Platoon, walked slowly beside the Bradly Linebacker that had left with his patrol that afternoon. Dressed in tiger-striped BDU's, an IBA of the same pattern, and a kevlar helmet, he looked exactly the same as any of the other front-line troops in his unit, except for the three chevrons & two rockers that where obviously displayed on the front of his helmet. The jungle-patterned M4A1 carbine he carried hung loosely in his grip in a low-ready position, it was unlikely there was going to be any contact this evening, the past six hours had been quiet as hell. SFC Artek was a veteran of many skirmishes, the deviations from standard equipment made that perfectly clear. In addition to the hip-holstered 9mm, a second hung under his right shoulder. Extra grenades & ammunition pouches dotted his equipment. A Gerber MkII knife was taped to the outside of his right combat boot with black electrical tape.

SFC Artek was not one to be screwed with, especially after a long patrol. Through the green haze of his NODS equipment he saw no movement, there'd never been any in the first place, at least not in his sector. Brookfield had some major insurgent issues, but the 3rd's post near Raven's Rest was clean. Artek swore it time and again, unless the crafty bastards had some sort of underground lair they where hiding in...

Zektal Foehunter, former Hand of Makaal, overlooked the passing patrol from his treetop perch. The matte gray of his cloak hid him from view in the fading light, even from the NODS gear employed by the troops that where hunting him. Under light amplification he appeared to be the same color as the trees he hid within. Foehunter estimated the strength of the patrol at sixty men, a large platoon consisting mostly of privates & green sergeants. Easy prey for his expeirenced team of devoted warriors lying in wait a few miles ahead...

The patrol was now in range, and the trap was sprung. Four Claymore mines where detonated at the sides of the patrol. The soldiers not in front or behind the Bradleys where reduced to bloody pulp within composite-plated vests. SFC Artek, who'd moved in front of the lead Bradley to scout ahead, fared better than most. His left arm was shredded into a mass of shattered scales & raw muscle streaked with bloody tiger-stripe fabric. Ball bearings had peppered the flanks of the Linebackers & smeared them with the blood of those on flank security.

Zektal, following at a distance, chose this moment for the assault of his warriors. With a mighty warcry, he appeared amongst the confused soldiers that supported the heretic government. His blade flashed in the darkness, cleaving cleanly through the M16 of his target. The young soldier, unfazed by the destruction of his weapon, swung the buttstock into Zektal's stomach, but the warrior stepped back & swung across with his blade, catching the soldier in the throat. He had bled to death before he hit the ground.

Artek fired as best he could, one-handed with his M4 spraying automatic bursts of 3-5 rounds. He managed to off two of the oncoming attackers before they came within range. The first slapped him soundly across the face with a Blackwood quarterstaff, the return stroke tearing the M4 from his grasp. Quick as a flash, the sergeant was on his feet, tugging the hip 9mm from its holster. A quick lead-hand strike to the gut cracked the staff against his composite shockplate, allowing Artek to pistol-whip his attacker across the temple & finish hims with a pair of shots to the head. A three-round group thudded wetly into the upper chest of a fourth attacker, who convulsed violently as he expired in the dark marshland mud. A PFC behind Artek finished the last frontal attacker with a pair of rounds, one center-mass & the other slightly below the left eye.

Zektal, seeing his odds where slipping with each passing second, slipped off into the marshland, catching a corporal across the back of the knee as he departed. The M249 gunner hit the ground firing off after the warrior-priest, rounds zipping through Zektal's flowing robes.

Cries of 'Medic' echoed through the marshes, with SFC Artek being hauled into the Bradley by the PFC who'd helped him defend the front of the patrol. The tag on his uniform read 'KOLTO'...

"Shit, Sarge... They fucked you up bad..."

Kolto had come through the engagement without a scratch, he'd been at the rear of the patrol when the mines had gone off. All of twenty years of age & out of a small village east of Grayrock, his speech was rough with the backmarsh accent of a villager...

"Can it, Private... My ass is fine, go make sure the rest of them are AOK & make sure Staff Sergeant Malak gets a call back to the Alpha-Alpha for a relief team..."

Artek was never too harsh with his troops, but having one's arm mangled tends to sour one's mood. His M4 lay next to him, smeared with bloody mud & sporting a slightly cracked heatshield on the barrel. The medic smeared a liberal coating of disinfectant across the exposed tissues before wrapping the arm in gauze & medical tape. Artek gritted his teeth throughout the process, it stung like Hell...

It was three hours later when the relief patrol showed up. The minute Artek got back into the razor-wired confines of the base he promptly flopped down on his cot & was asleep before he hit the thin burlap...

PFC Kolto was still pumped on adrenaline from the eariler attack. He'd seated himself at a mess-table with his M16/M203 resting against the table while he excitedly gestured as he spoke...

"It was fuckin' awesome... Explosions & these crazy-ass rebels swingin' down outta tha trees like fuckin' Tarzan or some otha shit like that. I got my first kill, too. Blasted that fucker just like at the range..."

The PFC seemed to have forgotten that he'd gunned down one of his countrymen, but to the young such things never seem to matter.

Hours later as the sun rose, SFC Artek rose to report to his platoon leader, 1LT Ulkeen. Ulkeen was a field officer, plain and simple. No nonsense, no bullshit, no fun whatsoever...

"Sargent, what the fuck happened out there, exactly? We're sending five soldiers home in body-bags, shredded beyond recognition. Why did you allow your troops to blunder into a textbook Claymore guantlet? Explain."

Artek was not in the mood, but Ulkeen outranked him in the extreme...

"Sir, it was my understanding that we where patrolling in a clear area, and that if contact was to occour, it would be with fanatics armed with swords. I didn't think they would lower themselves to use our own equipment against us..."

Ulkeen glared at his platoon sargeant. Clearly he wasn't amused by this. He'd provided the intel & hadn't issued any mine-detection equipment either. Artek had done fairly well, all things considered. He'd also come out qualified for a Purple Heart...

"I'm assigning some help instead of some replacements. They're from the private sector..."

Artek knew what that meant. Mercenaries. Honorless curs with more respect for money than the cause they fought for...

"Drill Sergeant Kerrich will also be joining you..."

Artek's jaw nearly fell open. Kerrich was something of a legend within the Infantry Corps. Assault Infantry, then Special Forces with some serious combat expeirence before being pushed into a Drill Sergeant position to train a hardcore group of badasses who could fight the rebels on their own terms...

"It'll be a pleasure working with him, Sir..."

The mercenaries, however, where something entirely different...

OOC: I'll open this to expeirenced roleplayers now.

Drill Sergeant Keyton Kerrich cut an intimidating figure as he moved slowly into 1LT Ulkeen's tent. He was dressed quite similarly to SFC Artek, but some of his equipment was slightly different. He didn't carry an M4, but rather a SOCOM II from Springfield's excellent M1A line. The short 7.62x51mm was powerful, accurate, and semi-automatic. The weapon also sported a 4X ACOG combat optic and a twenty-round magazine. A Combat Smatchet hung upside-down from his left shoulder, hooked to his IBA, and a Cold Steel tomahawk hung from his right hip. Both thigh holsters held Springfield Operator-model 1911A1 .45 automatics. Kerrich liked to blow big holes in his targets. He was something of a conservationist, in that he hated to waste more than one round on his opponents.

Kerrich lacked a helmet as well, instead wearing a green beret, modified to fit around the fin-ears on his head. His left eye was covered with an eyepatch, the eye having been destroyed by shrapnel. The socket was occupied by a piece of onyx, buffed and polished to a mirror sheen. This was clearly a dangerous individual, more so than anyone currently in the AA...

"You wanted to speak with me, sir..."

His greeting wasn't a question, but a statement. Ulkeen had no real control over him, other than the thin leash provided by rank & Kerrich's unwavering discipline...

"Yes, sergeant, I did. You'll be working with sergeant Artek from now on. Advise him as you see fit, and help him keep the hired help in line..."

Kerrich didn't mind additional help, it typically came with expeirence & decent firepower. The popguns these kids where toting around the marshes wheren't effective unless they could hit the right area. His .308 would knock whatever he hit flat on its ass, but it also helped that he was a damn good shot...

The HMMWV was battered, it's paint faded, but the engine hummed along in perfect tune. It's back end was loaded bottom to top, front to back with tightly packed equipment and supplies. In front a young adult cheetah lazed in the passenger seat. The drivers seat was filled by a tall, broad shouldered man of weathered appearance.

He slowed then stopped the truck at the sentry gate. Brilliant light blue eyes regarded the sentry for a moment then one scarred hand held out a packet of papers.

The Argonian sentry took them hesitantly. Even seated and mostly hidden by the HMMWV's door, he was massive, and more over ... human. The Cheetah was another eyeblink. However once he'd looked them over he turned to his partner and signaled the other to raise the barricade. Handing the papers back, and giving directions as to where the mercinary was to report, he waved the HMMMWV though. David smiled and put the heavily laden vehicle in gear.

The HMMWV was battered, it's paint faded, but the engine hummed along in perfect tune. It's back end was loaded bottom to top, front to back with tightly packed equipment and supplies. In front a young adult cheetah lazed in the passenger seat. The drivers seat was filled by a tall, broad shouldered man of weathered appearance.

He slowed then stopped the truck at the sentry gate. Brilliant light blue eyes regarded the sentry for a moment then one scarred hand held out a packet of papers.

The Argonian sentry took them hesitantly. Even seated and mostly hidden by the HMMWV's door, he was massive, and more over ... human. The Cheetah was another eyeblink. However once he'd looked them over he turned to his partner and signaled the other to raise the barricade. Handing the papers back, and giving directions as to where the mercinary was to report, he waved the HMMMWV though. David smiled and put the heavily laden vehicle in gear.

Kerrich's eye drifted towards the main gate, but his head didn't turn. There where no humvees deployed in this area, at least not by the Argonian Army, and a Bradley's engine didn't make that noise...

"I think the 'help' is here sir..."

Ulkeen reguarded the SF sergeant with a confused look...

"Very well, they'll report here shortly if you're right..."

Daveed (http://www.atddm.com/daveed.jpg) pulled the HMMWV as close to his destination as the roadway would allow, and klilled the engine. He left the windows rolled down, so DB, the cheetah, wouldn't get over heated. The HMMWV had been specially modified to handle his height, but the drive had been a long one. Daveed stretched widely as he stepped out the the vehicle. His nearly seven foot frame had him head and shoulders above most. His was uniform was well worn, but clean, - and worn casually, A boonie hat shaded his face but Wiley X 50's in the ever popular 'bastard amber' came out of his shirt pocket and slid over his bright azure eyes. One of his matched pair of Desert Eagles rode in a thigh rig, the other was at his waist in a cross draw set up.

Long even strides carried him to 1LT Ulkeen's tent, papers in hand. He surveyed the pair within thoroughly, observant eyes taking in every aspect of the two Argonians appearance and cataloging it in memory. His bearing was erect and disciplined but he in no way came to attention.

"I am supposed to report to Lieutenant Ulkeen." Daveed did not raise his voice, but it carried well.

The rumbling stopped somewhere outside the tent. The two doorguards nodded as they each inspected the papers, then motioned for Daveed to enter. The interior held three Argonians, one seated behind a field desk, the others standing casually in front of him. The one on the left had his left arm heavily bandaged & in a sling, but carried a green and brown patterened M4A1 slung over his right shoulder. The one on the right was slightly taller, and carried a SOCOM II in the low-ready position. The Green Beret on his head distinguished him from the rest as someone of expeirence & skill.

The one behind the desk was somewhat fidgety & nervous-looking. He had a 9mm holstered on his left thigh...

"Ah yes... You're Mr....."

Daveed cataloged the trio within just as he had the door guards, and nodded to himself. He wondered just how much interaction the fidgety louie behind the desk had with humans. Not much he guessed. The other two...the injured one caught the physcian's eye in him, while the beret on the other, taller one, warrented a head tip of respect.

"Daveed Arial Roth. Physician and sniper." He handed over his papers to the lieutenant, then slid the Wiley's off his face. He didn't really need to, his vision was quite good enough even in the gloom of the tent, but it was more respectful. He'd give the officer a basic modicum of that as an initial 'gift' but it'd be rescinded quickly if Fubar was the norm. David didn't put up with 'shit'.

Daveed cataloged the trio within just as he had the door guards, and nodded to himself. He wondered just how much interaction the fidgety louie behind the desk had with humans. Not much he guessed. The other two...the injured one caught the physcian's eye in him, while the beret on the other, taller one, warrented a head tip of respect.

"Daveed Arial Roth. Physician and sniper." He handed over his papers to the lieutenant, then slid the Wiley's off his face. He didn't really need to, his vision was quite good enough even in the gloom of the tent, but it was more respectful. He'd give the officer a basic modicum of that as an initial 'gift' but it'd be rescinded quickly if Fubar was the norm. David didn't put up with 'shit'.

Ulkeen nodded...

"We're pleased to have you Mr. Da-Veed Ari-Al Roth... I am First Lieutenant Yavas Ulkeen. The sergeant to your left is Sergeant First Class Jev Artek & the one on the right is Drill Sergeant Keyton Kerrich. Sergeant Artek leads the platoon you'll be working with, and Sergeant Kerrich will be your 'handler', if you'll pardon the term..."

The look in Artek's eyes was none-too-happy. As a hatchling he remembered RDPMC troops causing trouble around his home village during training exercises the old government had permitted them to do. They didn't really need the permission, since an assault rifle beat a spear anyday, but their commander felt that it was courteous to ask.

Sometimes they'd flash-bang the chicken coup or detonate Claymores in the ponds. No-one was ever killed, but several where still injured. The families were given useless paper notes the troops called 'reperations'. Artek did acknowledge the fact that several of those same troopers had trained the original drill sergeants that had trained & shaped him into what he was today. Kerrich himself had trained recently on counter-insurgency tactics with the PMC, and several PMC troops where deployed in the marshes as advisors...

Kerrich returned the nod. The man was a sniper, which was handy. He was also a medic, which was a godsend. He also had a big-ass cat, which was just plain weird. No matter, he'd prove his worth in the field. Kerrich didn't doubt his effectiveness. They already had one thing in common: They both liked to put big holes in their targets, really, really big ones in Daveed's case...

[ Sergeant Artek leads the platoon you'll be working with, and Sergeant Kerrich will be your 'handler', if you'll pardon the term..."

Daveed nodded to Sgt. Artek and his eyes lingered on his injured arm. He'd want to take a look at that soon. Then he turned slightly to the DI and grinned at the choice of weapons.

"It's alright by me. They weren't so polite to my liason at Grayrock General, where I've been getting a grasp on the finer points of Argonina physiology. And please it's just Daveed, nothing fancy. I've got a Tanaaran manufactured state of the art field MASH unit out in the Hummer and a lot of meds that need better cooling than an icechest. Where can I find a fridge and space to set up the base unit?"

[ Sergeant Artek leads the platoon you'll be working with, and Sergeant Kerrich will be your 'handler', if you'll pardon the term..."

Daveed nodded to Sgt. Artek and his eyes lingered on his injured arm. He'd want to take a look at that soon. Then he turned slightly to the DI and grinned at the choice of weapons.

"It's alright by me. They weren't so polite to my liason at Grayrock General, where I've been getting a grasp on the finer points of Argonina physiology. And please it's just Daveed, nothing fancy. I've got a Tanaaran manufactured state of the art field MASH unit out in the Hummer and a lot of meds that need better cooling than an icechest. Where can I find a fridge and space to set up the base unit?"

Ulkeen motioned to Kerrich with an overdone gesture of dismissal. Artek took this as a sign he was no-longer needed & departed for his tent, where his pain meds where stashed.

Kerrich slung the short .308 & exited the tent sharply, motioning for Daveed to follow...

"We move..."

Even when chewing out a private, Kerrich was never one to mince words...

"Saregnt Artek, as soon as I get shop set up, I'm going to want to take a look at that arm." Daveed called after the young Argonian, as he followed Kerrich out of the tent.

"Once I set up that Seargeant Kerrich, I need to see about zeroing in my Tac. "

The Canadian made sniper rifle was a fine weapon and the superb optics sendom went out of true, but one never assumed.

The Argonian Drill Sergeant pointed towards a large tent with the universal red cross with white background with all five fingers...

"Store your supplies there. For shooting, follow your ears. Speak with Sergeant Terro, one of my former trainees. He should be on the longrifle range..."

Having said all he wished to say, the grizzled Argonian set off towards the gunshots, thinking it best to confirm the optics on his own weapon as well. This 'Daveed' human didn't seem like a bad sort, for a human. He would prove his ability at the range, no doubt. Artek was content with such displays. Kerrich respected coolness under combat conditions & still performing with the same abilities one demonstrates on the target range...

"Store your supplies there. For shooting, follow your ears. Speak with Sergeant Terro, one of my former trainees. He should be on the longrifle range..."

Daveed nodded and headed back to the HMMWV, pulling it over to the Medical Tent, and striding inside to find some one to report to and to get his meds under proper refridgeration.

Once that was done he was routed to the tents he'd be sharing with the other mercinaries. Luckily he'd been assigned a two man tent, and his tent mate hadn't arrived yet. He chose the left hand side, letting Demonbane curl up on the after giving the cheetah some water and a small meal. "I'll take you out for a run later chum. Right now go to sero in the eyes." He ruffled the cheetahs fur and stode out to the range, rifle cases in hand.

Kerrich was in the kneeling position, his single good eye staring down the barrel of his weapon & through the combat optic, triggering a single, well-aimed shot at every target that presented itself. Each dropped a second or two after entering Kerrich's LOS. As the target cycle ended, Terro called out his score...

"39 outta 40 Sarge... Damn good. Ya knicked that third one... He'd be missing an ear..."

Terro was seated behind the control station for the pop-up range, watching the readout displays. Kerrich's shots had hit either center-mass, or center-head, minus the one he'd missed altogether. An M24 sniper system sat next to him on a shabby wooden table, rechambered for the powerful .300 WinMag instead of the typical .308 the weapon fired standard-issue. Under his right arm he carried a Glock 18C, with the selector on semi-automatic & loaded with a seventeen round magazine. Four thirty-round mags where situated on his left thigh, encircling it...

Kerrich ejected the magazine from his SOCOM II, setting both it and the weapon on the table next to Terro's M24...

"A merc will be stopping by shortly. Treat him with respect & make sure he recieves whatever he needs to properly configure his weapons."

The former Drill Sergeant scanned the area, looking for Daveed's giant frame...

Daveed stopped and observed the long rifle range for a moment, then nodded to himself. The Argoinian DI was still there though it looked like he'd finished his 'polishing'. He strode over to Sargent Terro who was at the control station.

"Sergeant Terro, I'm Daveed. I need to zero in my Tac, and my Remington." (http://www.snipercentral.com/bravo51.htm)

He'd picked up the Bravo 51 out of curiosity and fell in love with the weapon for sniping humans, or their equivallents, in the field. It had been a tight toss up of which to bring, for back home he had a Tango 51 (http://www.snipercentral.com/tango51.htm) that he liked just as much. The Tac, the superb Canadian fifty calibur, was for solid things - vehicles, electrical generators, buildings.

He looked over at Kerrich and smiled at the sight of the venerable army sniper rifle on the table. He strode over and sat his cases next to the others.

"Sergeant Kerrich, can you tell me what the terrain will be like?" Daveed inquired as he began opening cases and laying out his weapons and optical systems

Daveed stopped and observed the long rifle range for a moment, then nodded to himself. The Argoinian DI was still there though it looked like he'd finished his 'polishing'. He strode over to Sargent Terro who was at the control station.

"Sergeant Terro, I'm Daveed. I need to zero in my Tac, and my Remington." (http://www.snipercentral.com/bravo51.htm)

He'd picked up the Bravo 51 out of curiosity and fell in love with the weapon for sniping humans, or their equivallents, in the field. It had been a tight toss up of which to bring, for back home he had a Tango 51 (http://www.snipercentral.com/tango51.htm) that he liked just as much. The Tac, the superb Canadian fifty calibur, was for solid things - vehicles, electrical generators, buildings.

He looked over at Kerrich and smiled at the sight of the venerable army sniper rifle on the table. He strode over and sat his cases next to the others.

"Sergeant Kerrich, can you tell me what the terrain will be like?" Daveed inquired as he began opening cases and laying out his weapons and optical systems

The Argonian's eye brightened a bit...

"You're familiar with the film 'Apocalypse Now'? It's quite similar to Vietnam in most aspects. The jungles are thick, lush, and very wet. Visibility is low in most cases, except when you cross the occasional open plain in the southern grasslands & the cleared areas around the villages. Our unit is situated outside of Raven's Rest, a developing city surrounded by several nameless villages, which we've designated Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. The terrain in this area is tight, barely big enough to get a Bradley or Hummer through the narrow roads. Something in a bullpup or short-barreled variant would be most suitable..."

Terro simply cracked the Argonian equivalent of a smile, which happens to be a partially opened mouth at a smile-like angle, as Kerrich went through his overly-precise explanation. The fact that he carried a short .308 in the jungles should have been enough of an explanation. Shortness for manuverability & the .308 for that extra long-range punch if needed...