No Heroes (Closed RP)
"Let your plans be dark and as impenetratable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."-Sun Tzu
The classic hero of old was a noble, valiant warrior; gleaming armor, a pure heart, a powerful sword, and a chivalrous nature that would put even the famed Arthur to shame. However, times oft change, and now, our ideas of the hero have changed. He moves in the shadows, strikes had and fast, then disappears back to the shadows only to return on another side of the globe, bringing a swift and bloody justice to the enemies of peace. Their faces stay hidden, their identities unknown, and receive no medals or recognition of their operations. And that is the way they want it to stay. In the military community, the shadow warriors, operators of the special operations units, are revered as experts in the art of killing and most truly are. But they stay away from the spot light, out of sight of the cameras. In their world, there are no heroes.
The tight pull Robert felt in his biceps slowly disappeared as he lowered the weight bar. He held a curl bar with two forty five pound weights on each side, and slowly repped out the weight, grunting as he pulled the weight back up. Snoop Dogg played in the background, and the clinking of weights filled up the room. Fortier snapped the weight up once more, then lowered it slowly.
He was shirtless, wearing a pair of jeans and Adidas flip flops, and a set of weight lifting gloves. His body glistened with sweat, the mix of heavy lifting and heat in the room causing a light lair of perspiration to form over his near perfect frame. He was one of the older men in the room, but the age didn’t bother him, as he could out lift a good number of the squids in the room. He was lifting in the weight room of the prestigious Northampton Military Academy, where he had taken a job as a professor of Modern History and the head of the “Applications” department; the school’s mini boot camp.
His partner in crime, Thomas “Hoot” Gibson, was, for the first in a long time, not with him. He had finally set and committed to a final wedding date, and married his four year fiancé, and was now on his honeymoon. Fortier didn’t mind, he was glad Hoot had finally found someone, and he smiled inwardly as he moved towards the bench press. He was intercepted by two men, both wearing dark green polo shirts with the white lettering MLD, the Military Liaison Division, a lovely civilian agency whose only job was to work with foreign military units for cross training and other diplomatic reasons.
“Mr. Fortier,” the taller of the two said, reaching for his wallet, “I’m agent…” he was interrupted by Robert.
“I know who you guys are, what do you want?”
“Sir, I believe we have an opportunity that you would find interesting, and a nice change of scenery.”
“Mr. Fortier, have you ever been to Largent?
A short week later, Robert and his fiancé debarked a Imitoran 777 in Largent, where they were brought by a hired driver to a small, non descript military base. Fortier exited the car, grabbing a duffle bag holding his equipment. He kissed his fiancé, who was to be delivered to their temporary housing. He was lead by the base commander to a classroom style area and told that the others would be arriving shortly for a general briefing. He grabbed a chair, and slid down, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and waited.
Tanaara had recently undergone a small, almost unnoticed by the world community, change recently, but something that had not changed was the quality of her special ops community. And Her Royal Highness, heir primus to the throne, was determined to send the very best of the best to the new unit that had been proposed. Tanaara's snipers were just that and she slowly sifted among half a dozen dossiers. She took a sip of her jasmine tea and smiled as her chatoyant blue eyes alit on one unusual name. She'd hoped he'd have been included...now the task was finding him. It had taken HRH only four days to find him. She wasn't the head of Intellegence for nothing, and with all the assets of the Tanaaran goverment at her beck and call it was no problem to pull her choice off the dark side of the Moon.
A day after that Remmington D'Monix was watching as his automobiles were loaded upon one of Tanaara's many Antonov124's. The monsterous cargo plane was packed to the gills with assorted military cargo. His two vehicles, a drab military HMMWV, commonly called a Hummer, one he'd had customized, and new car (http://www.atddm.com/hc1a.jpg) a gift from HRH, were barely able to be fitted in. He was glad that his other equipment never left his side. What other gear he had packed filled the back of the Hummer.
He parked his Wiley X 50's in the ever popular bastard amber' on his nose and strode toward the stairs leading to the miniscule passenger section. He was the only passenger aboard. Belting himself in he closed his eyes and slept till touch down in a country named Largent
He had the load master follow him in the Hummer, while he drove the sports car. He'd only had a short drive in the one of a kind car before it had to be loaded, and he marveled at it's superb handling. He also knew exactly why he'd been given the car, and grinned evily for split second before his face resumed it's normal coolly remote expression.
He followed the map he'd been given to small non descript military base. A small duplex in Officers Country awaited him, as did a driver to return the load master to the Antonov124. Once that was done he headed to the next stop on his schedule.
He found the indicated building, parked and found his way to a class room that was empty save for one person. Remmington knew that person, courtesy of a very thick dossier, but he wasn't sure if Robert Fortier of Imitora knew him. And that suited him just fine.
Deep within an unamed Largentian forest a large German moved swiftly causing almost no noise as she glided over leaves and twigs. A normal person would have to carefully plan each step but Dieter Clark was far too experienced for that. It was the middle of the night and Dieter's night vision was just kicking in. An goggles would have given him away.
Finally, after an hour of duck-walking through the forest he saw the light up ahead he had been searching for. As he approached it a small clearing was visible, in the middle of it was a small fire with two men sitting around it. One was upright and facing away from Dieter while the other slept.
Now, making ever small move with extreme care Dieter positioned himself in a prone position behind a log and wrapped his first finger around his trigger. Having examined the situation he dicided it was safe to engadge. He squeezed the trigger, followed by a faint "thud". The man's body went rigid for a moment then he slumped over without a sound. The second man was shot before he woke up.
Dieter was about to go examine the scene when three men rushed out from behind the brush carrying AK-47s searching for their friends killer. However they were met by an erruption of fire as two SAW's bullets met their targets. Satisfied, Dieter and his two companions emerged from the trees, despite the fact the Dieter could have sworn there was something wrong.
The five deceased suddenly rose and rubbed the area where the Airsoft bullets had struck them. "Damn, you guys are good."
"Thanks," Dieter said. "Next time, patrol, don't sit." He winked.
Dieter took a seat on a stump near the edge of the clearing when he was tapped on the shoulder. Dieter jumped to his feet and searched for whoever it was who had touched him. He saw a man in all black, wearing night vision goggles. "I almost lost you a couple times and I'm cheating." He gestured to his equipment on his head. "I had to move slow or you would have caught me." Dieter had knew he was followed but had been unable to locate his persuer.
The others had left to return to base leaving Dieter and the man alone. "So, who are you?"
"I am General Smith. I have a proposition for you. Would you be so kind as to follow me?" General Smith, yeah, thats a real name. Dieter thought. Still, he was curious. He followed "Smith" down a path into the woods. However, they weren't headed to camp. They ended up at another clearing where a blackhawk sat.
"Didn't I mention my proposition was in Wincha, our lovely capital?"
"No, you forgot that part."
"Oh well. This way please." He boarded the craft.
"Wont my superiors wonder where the hell I went?"
"No. They were told that a government official would be picking you up for questioning. They didn't press the subject and rightly so. I am their superior after all."
Once in the air Dieter asked what the propostition was. "Well, you have performed exceptionally well with several different units. You have stamina, agility, speed, concentration, and most importantly, stealth. Largent is assembling an international team of specialists whose buisness will be mainly concerned with counterterror and peacekeeping. You are one of these so called "specialists" we need."
"Well at this point I suppose I have no choice..."
"No, not really." Smith answered with a smile.
An hour later Dieter was in a classroom with two others. Acknowledging them but not really engadging in a converstation with them he took a seat and waited for whoever else may arrive. It was only at this point he relized he was still combat ready, save a weapon. He had departed right after the drill and had had no time to change. I must look odd...or intimidating. He glanced back at the other two and relized they were not Largentian. This really is an international team isn't it.
As he turned around he noticed a man in a black suit had entered the room silently and stood at a podium at the front of the room. Next to him was "Smith". "We will begin in a moment," Smith started, "we have a couple more that need to arrive."
John Davic, a sergent, awoke. He was still tired, the time around 5:30. He goerned(sp) and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stretched his arms and went into the bathroom. He showered, taking his time. When he exited the shower, it was 5:58. He changed into regular clothes and ate silently in his kitchen. He went back upstairs and his fiance was changing. He kissed her, smiling. They talked and then he left.
He got in his GT3 and drove down the highway, headed to London. He recieved a call on his cellular and answered.
"Hello, John. Good to hear you're wide awake." It has Genral Wueit, John's 'boss'.
"Sir, you actually helped me. Thanks."
"Good, good. I have some instructions for you."
"Get off exit 132. Then, go to the parking lot of the mall. On the third level in an army humvee. Get in it."
"Yes, sir. John out."
John smiled, happy to hear he might have a mission. 'Bout time, he thought.
He arrived about ten minutes later, and got out. He looked around, then saw a humvee drive up and park in the middle of the driving area. He waved and walked to it. Soldiers opened the door, then got in and closed them.
"What's the mission?" asked John.
An officer responded, "Sir, you have been requeted to go to Largent(right?) Venzuala for a special mission."
"No, sir. Hostage situation, sir."
John smiled. "Good. When do I leave?"
The humvee stopped and the doors opened. "Right now." There was a plane, loaded. It looked like John was going to get on it. He got in, strapped himself in, and the plane took off.
Remmington had nodded slightly at the operator who arrived still in working kit. Then his eyes drooped closed again, doing a good imitation of sleep. But he wasn't, just resting like a leopard that had found the perfect limb above the game trail.
Like the unconscious lashing of a big cats tail, the rythmic circling of his right thumb over the main stone of the massive, blackened titainium signet ring that graced the middle finger of his left hand showed he was still awake. The center gem was an oval cut black diamond, the main facet deeply incised with a glyph that matched the patch on his jackets left shoulder and the weapons case that sat at his feet. Surrounding it were six blue diamonds, three top and three bottom with eight blood colored diamonds spaced between them. The ring marked him as one of those who earned the 'Monarch's Thanks', and the diamonds were life diamonds. Life diamonds (http://www.lifegem.com/secondary/whatisLG2006.aspx)...blue, signifying that he carried six of his commites, blood brothers and sisters, with him forever; and the eight crimson marking his kills in what ever incident had earned him the MT. Robert Fortier had played a part in that affair...
"We will begin in a moment," Smith started, "we have a couple more that need to arrive."
Remmington's hands stilled momentarily as one of the two men spoke. He matched the description of one General Smith, whom he'd been advised held an over sight postion for the new team being formed. Tanaara had done little international work, military wise, prior to this and Remmington has a very flexible set of orders. If he didn't like what he found, he was authorised to leave without consulting his chain of command. That had brought a small smile to his face when he'd been given such lattitude. Remmington was, rightfully,very selective about whom he worked with.
ooc: I know that one player hasn't posted (may never post) but I'm just gonna move along.
Smith watched as the last man took his seat and then began to speak. "Gentlemen, I am making the presumption that you all know why you are here. However, I'm going to just sum it up on the off chance that any of you are ill informed.
"You boys are about to begin training to become on of the elite, one of the shadow warriors. You all will become unsung heros, your feats kept secret, your existence unacknowledged. Say good-bye to fancy cars, Armanii suits, and Rolex watches because you will have to be discrete.
"Your collective governments have decided to send their best and their brightest, that being you, to join an international counterterrorism team. This team is so far considered top secret and will probably remain so. If caught, any affiliation to you collective governments could very well be denied entirely. You know how these international polotics work.
"However, it has become my duty to make sure you wont be caught. For this you will be shipped off to the far reaches of this fine nation to Fort Mckinley for your training. This will consist of team excersizes seeing as most of you have the individual training necissary to be a part of this team. Now, are there any questions?"
Dieter glaced around the room. Hell why not. "Gen. Smith was it?" The man nodded. "Why will our affiliation with our governments be denied. Its just counterterror, nothing that would cause any real international concern."
"Well Mr. Clark, this team was not designed to please anyone, just to keep nations safe. So, even if one country were a close friend to one participating in this program, we would still send the team in to deal with any terrorist harboring regardless of any relations. So, naturally, if you were caught, it would be in our best interests to say we had no knowledge of your existence. Its nothing personal. Now, if there is nothing else you will be getting ready to ship out by morning." The man paused waiting for any possible questions.
Fortier was sizing up the rest of the men in the room. He noticed one sporting a patch that was very reminiscent of a symbol he had seen durring a recent operation. He nodded at the other men as they entered, and then listened to the speech. It was the standard speech that one hears, a oral disclaimer and wiaver. He leaned back in his chair, having no questions, and looked around.
Satisfied, Smith finished up the presentation. "Very well. It is now time to introduce my associate, Seargent Louiselle, he will be the on doing most of your training. I think he has a little to say," glancing back he verified the fact and then stepped aside and allowed the man to speak. He was a bulky man, around six feet in height. His skin was very light making it easy to assume that he was of French heritage. However, when he spoke there was no hint of an accent.
"Good evening," he bagan smiling at the crowd. "Now I'm sure all of you are very tallented in each of your feilds, which unless I'm mistaken will inculde marksmanship, demolishions, among other things. However, you at this time would be unable to function as a unit, that is where I come in. When we run, we will do so as a group, when I want push-ups they will be in perfect unison and when it comes time for your MOUT training it had better be flawless. One thing you will learn about me gentlemen is that I demand perfection. As far as I am concerned there is no such thing as failure. However, these things don't come easy. There is no elevator to success, you boys will be taking the stairs. Now I suggest you spend a few minutes getting aquainted. You'll be seeing a hell of a lot more of each other in the coming weeks." With that he walked away, he certainly came off as a hard-ass but in truth he was only trying to keep his soldiers from dieing.
Then Smith got up once more. "After a few minutes of getting to know each other you can go to the rooms we have for you all tonight. As of now the sleeping arrangements are Clark and Remmington in room 23, just down the hall. The other two will be in room 24 next to the others. Get some rest, there will be no time for it tommorow."
After that he too left leaving the soldiers alone in the room. Yeah, this isn't as akward as hell though Dieter before turning around and smiling. "So, where you all from?"
Remmington stood and stretched slightly, then looked at Deiter
]"So, where you all from?"
"Tanaara. You know where the nearest decent bar is? And who else has a car, mine will only hold two. I want a brew, if they have any worth drinking here in Largent"
He'd snorted silently at the seargent's pep talk. He was a seasoned professional, not some raw recruit. Push ups in perfect unison indeed. There were better ways of bonding...particularly those involving plenty of alcohol. He scooped up his case and headed for the door, knowing the others'd be right behing him.
Robert stood, grabbing his duffle. "Man, want me to pushups in unison? Just tell me the pace I'll do it. I'm with shooter here."
He nodded at Dieter, chuckling at the so called speech. He turned and faced Dieter. "I'm from Imitora, by the way." He turned and began walking towards the door after Remington. "My car is comming up soon, gotta get some paper work and what not done. What was it with that Louiselle character anyways? Talking to us like we're a bunch of wet behind the ear raw recruits? You want perfection, you got it," he chered rowdily. He was going back to war, one of the few places he could be happy. The other place was a local pub or bar, and he was definately up for that.
He looked at the others in the room. "Ya'll comming, or do I have to get drunk with the sniper? No offense man, but you gus are just screwed in the head."
Dieter was hardly an outspoken individual so he took his time pondering Fortier's question. He assumed there was more to that guy than what the team knew. "I dunno whats up with that guy? But I'm guessing were gonna find out." He listened as Robert cheered and made his way for the door. He turned to Remmington and Divac and told motioned towards the door. "I've lived here a while, I'm sure we can find a place to grab a drink and catch a few minutes of some colledge football." Checking his watch he said, "Yup, its still technically Saturday night."
With that they left the facilities and got into Robert's car as Dieter directed him to a small Irish pub in the older part of the city. "I like this place, atmospheres right I guess." He turned and winked, "And ya can get smashed out of your mind without anyone caring." Getting out he led them in. As they passed the bar he nodded to the bartender, old friend, and motioned to a table near the back. They took their seats and minutes later they were brought drinks. "Its a local specialty."
The drinks came in two parts. Each person had a large class filled with a dark brown fluid and a small shot glass of a clear liquid. "Now, what you do is drop the small glass into the large one and wait a few seconds. And incase you're wondering, its called and Irish Car Bomb, and for good reason." The then prepared their drinks and started to chat. "Where have you all served?"
Offices of Gen. Santucci [aka Gen Smith]
Smith, or rather Santucci sat in his office finishing up some work discussing the team with Louiselle. "What do ya think of 'em" He started.
"Based on their cars and jewlery, I personally think their all hot shots. I have no time for such soldiers. If need be I'll straighten 'em out."
"They'll hate you for it."
"After next week they'll never see me again. So, firstly, I don't give a damn what they think of me and also, if I don't do my job, first mission they get and we could have a problem." Santucci only nodded, half listening. He knew his friends methods, they worked. Most of the time anyway. Also, he would rather loose the loving affection of his team than his job. It was certainly a necissary evil.
"I assume you'll be giving the standard First Day of Training speech?"
"Have I ever let you down?" Louiselle answered with a smile and then headed off to bed. The team would regret drinking tommorow. God. I love this job.
John Davic arrived and entered. "Sorry, I am late." He looked around, unsure of what to do.
Fortier dropped the smaller glass into the large pint glass of Guiness, and smiled, tossing it back. In one long, smooth draw, he pulled the entire drink down, the whiskey/Guiness/Bailey's mix sliding down his throat smoothly. He smiled as he slammed down the empty glass. "Yo, keep 'em commin'" he waved over to the bartender.
He looked over at Dieter, hearing the question. He watched the man for a short moment, and then nodded. "Lostsa places. Seen shots in Africa, Middle East, Asia, and the oh so lovely Eastern Europe. Also been in Larkinia and Iansisle with ops." He didn't mention the blacker ops in Tanara, Daezeman, Celeborne, and many others. He let his scars speak for those operations.
He looked over at Remington. "What about you?"
Dieter watched as the Divac fella' arrived at the bar and came over to their table. He apologized for being late and appeared unsure of himself. Dieter nodded at him and gestured towards a seat with a drink in front of it. "So, hows it goin'. We're just kinda tellin' 'bout where we've served and all. I've been to the Middle East and Central America region along with a few other countries on occasion."
Dieter tilted his glass back finishing it off. He motioned to the bartender who added a second glass to be brought over along with Fortier's. As he started his second glass Remmington was sharing about where he'd served. Dieter glanced at the television and noticed his team was loosing so quickly returned to the conversation, he was finally starting to relax a little.
Remmington had just completed a list of places which was followed by a brief silence. Before it became akwardly lond Dieter stepped and asked what everyone was specialized in. "Personally, I'm an explosives kinda guy. I know you're a sniper," he motioned towards Remmington, "But I'm not sure about the rest of you."
[ooc: I relize that I kind of cut off Tanara but I left room for the response to be added. I hope it doesn't turn out too choppy]
OOC: Sorry for joining so late.
IC: Lt. Melissa Friedman was very upset. Due to "mechanical problems" her flight to Largent had been delayed TWELVE HOURS! Well, the mechanic in question would be investigated for incompetence - which was a capital crime in Mirkana.
She finally arrived, found her new comrades, and began talking.
"Well, my most recent action was Darvainia. I was wounded at the battle for Sky City, got sent home, and then became a candidate for the international special forces."
Remmington was glad to let himself be talked over. He had never been one for telling all about himself. He really prefered to say as little as possible...and drink steadily as he listened intently to the others. And there was much he could never speak of save to those who had also been there - and they wouldn't need words. Like Fortier he had is own scars, but most of them were internal.
"Shooter," Robert replied, slamming the drink down. He waved over the bartender, and asked for Cranberry Juice and Stoli, and the looked back at the men around him. "Front man of sorts, but we didn't do tons of hostage rescue in my previous units. Did plenty of training, but for the most part, we were more concerend about baddys, no innocents. But I'm always up for change."
Dieter listened to all the specialties and places they'd served. It seemed that the team was well qualified and had all its positions filled. The only thing Dieter found interesting was the fact that the team would have two snipers. It would be interesting to see how that turned out. Hopefully it would slow the team down.
Checking his watch he sighed. "Well guys, its been fun but I think I'm going to get some sleep. I've been up all day. See you all bright and early." With that he payed for his drinks and caught a cab to about a block away from the facilities and walked to his room. Some guys might have had hotel rooms and all but he had no time to make arrangements.
He then walked the rest of the way nodding to the guard who allowed him to pass without question. He then got to his room and got his things ready for morning and then went to sleep.
[ooc: apparently Dieters leaving was followed by a very long and akward silence...]
Four o' clock. Time to get up. Dieter spun around in a rather acrobatic manner essentially throwing himself out of bed. He had found it was generally the best way to wake yourself up. The plane was scheduled to leave in about an hour, just enough time to shower and get ready. Dieter preferred taking cold showers, they were less relaxing and he found himself less reluctant to get out. With or without his bizzar habits he still was able to get out on the runway with plently of time remaining. He had a duffle bag and a backpack, mainly for his gear. Certainly enough to make it through the next week.
He sat on his back just outside the airport with Louiselle standing next to him as the rest of the team arrived. Each carried as much or perhaps a little less than Dieter did. He nodded to each of them as they arrived. It seemed they hadn't spent enough time in the bar to feel the effects the next morning. They all seemed up and aware of their surroundings. They carried out short conversations, not really about anything, just to pass the time as they waited for the last person to arrive. However, Louiselle said nothing, he had a knack for distancing himself from people. As the last man arrived he checked his watch.
"Five minutes early. Five minutes early is on time, good work. However, I suppose since Five minutes is on time and on time is late, then five minutes early is really considered late." It was a little unclear as to whether or not he was joking but there were a few chuckles as he motioned towards the aircraft now starting up. "Hope you all brought asperine or at least used to high altitudes. If not, well, you sure as hell wont forget next time. They all borded the plane and took their seats. Dieter slipped on a pair of headphones and tried to catch a little more sleep. He was bearly concious as the plane took off.
Six hours and about a thousand miles later the plane touched down rather gracefully, but shook just enough to wake Dieter from his sleep. The door to the plane opened and he stepped out. He was met by a wall of freezing cold and terribly dry air. They must have been at around twelve thousand feet at least. Dieter was a little unsure, he had never trained this high up but he knew what the risks were and he was certainly not in the mood to risk his well being, especially for a guy like Louiselle.
The team then all piled into two government SUVs and began an hour long drive to Fort Mckinley. When they arrived they saw that it was hardly a fort. It sat atop a mountain and consisted of a handful of log buildings, a firing range, and path that ran down the wide top of the mountain. The entire thing was visible from where Dieter stood, it looked to be about two and a half miles, little did he know that at this altitude it would seem like a lot more.
"All right," Louiselle began, "Drop your stuff off put on a jacket if you want one and get ready to go for a run." They did as they were told. Dieter chose to go without a jacket. They then lined up and Louiselle gave further instruction. "I can see the enitre course from this spot, as I said, you will run as a team. The slowest person after the first half mile goes in front. It will probably be one of our dear snipers. If they ever slow down enough that you are able to speed walk, thing again, you will always be running. If you need to slow down just bring your knees up higher. If I don't like what I see, you'll do it again."
As they ran Dieter notice that the thinner air was going to be a definate pain in his ass. He became winded twice as easily as before and was working very hard. It took only one try to complete the two grouling laps around the course which was followed by going through the obstacle course while doing countless team exercises. As the sun was going down ever man began to feel the temperature drop below zero. "Now," said Louiselle, "that your hands are nice and cold and the light is slowly waning, it is time for some target practice. 35 out of 40 with an M16, when the target pops up shoot it. Snipers, M-82, hit a single target from 500 meters, you will have only one try." Dieter bearly made the thirty-five shots. After that they were dismissed and told to go get some dinner, if the meals could really be considered a dinner.
As the headed to the dining hall Dieter turned to his companions. "How'd you all like it?"
OOC: Sorry, didn't have a bunch of time over the weekend.
Fortier arrived moments after Dietier, carrying all the nessacery equipment. He relaxed on the tarmac, sitting on the cold concrette not letting the temperatures get to him. He was fully awake, hangover free, and ready to start what ever it was that Louiselle thought would take him, and the rest of the team, out. His own morning run, a light three mile romp, had snapped him awake, and he sat, shower free, waiting.
The flight was long, but he stayed awake the entire journey, tossing around Loiselles words in his head. The whole five minutes is early, but early is on time, and on time is late, was an old trick his football coaches had tried to use to screw with player's heads on the first few days of practice. He had contemplated throwing up some other random riddle in Loiselles' direction, reagarding a malard with a cough and his mother, but decided against it.
The landing was gentle, and Fortier took a deep breath as he walked off the plane, dropping his gear. The air was marginally thinner than he was used to at normal altitudes, but the mountanous combat training of the 22nd SOTF quickly kicked in, and within minutes of starting the run, his blood cells had already begun expanded properly, and were taking in enough oxygen to compensate for the altitude. The first quarter mile of the first lap tugged him down, but soon he was up to speed on where he should be, and kept pace just fine the full five miles. He had no problem with the switching of positions while runing, a tactic seemed more to make sure the candidates were able to think clearly at the extreme altitude under stress, and he moved quickly and easily through the obstacle course, keeping pace and staying just ahead of where he should be with the times. The group exercises were no big kick to him, keeping him warm inside the jacket. He had tossed of any calls of being less worthy becuase he wore a jacket, looking back at those who didn't saying that they may be tough, but he was warm, and you should always take advantage of any opportunity offered.
During the short waiting periods, he kept his hands firmly inside the jacket, making sure they were warm and still functional. He was glad that he remebered the stay warm key for high altitude training, letting his body naturaly adjust to the temperatures of the mountain. The range was a bit more difficult as the sun set, bring the temperatures lower, but he forced himself to focus, and took just enough time to let his pupils widen and take in more light, keeping the rounds fairly on target, finishing with 37 out of the 40, letting the first three shots help determine range.
He was glad that the training was over as they were led to a dinning hall, but at the same time enjoyed the familiar burn in his musscles and tendons, letting the light sting keep him moving. He looked away from the distance, a force of habbit to watch for enemy shooters, as Dieter spoke.
"Well," he started off, stretching out his neck, "I've had easier, but I've also had worse. Just remeber, dont sit down anytime soon."
Remmington slept the entire flight. He completely believed that one slept when ever possible, against the time when one might not be able to sleep for days. He had no trouble with the thinner atmosphere at their destination, he'd become acclimated to lesser atmospheric pressure during his latest set of training. He did choose to take a jacket. He prefered to keep his hands warm and flexible.
"Louiselle is an ass" He muttered to himself as he began the run. He hadn't had a good run in days and enjoyed the internal warmth it generated. The obstacle course and team exercises were no great inconvience, nor was the shooting. If they'd wanted to challenge him they should have asked for far more the 500 meters.
Dieter turned to his companions. "How'd you all like it?"
Remmington shrugged. "I've done it before, tossed the tee shirt, and don't need to prove myself to any one, least of all Louiselle."
[ooc: I have advanced the plot somewhat significantly, mainly so we can do something reasonably fun at a reasonable point in the training...]
Dieter nodded and chuckled a little at Fortiers remark then nodded at Remmington. "Yeah, I agree, he's an ass but for all we know he could have some sort of reason. Its only a week, best thing to do is grin and bear it. Besides, I have confidence its not going to get any easier." It was a long enough walk to dinner that they could sit down at a table without any worries of cramping or anything. Dinner was a mangled chilli but Dieter could really care less. He just wanted to eat and hit the sack. He would only be making hard on himself if he didn't.
The rest of the evening was pretty routine. The team sat around, chatted a little, and one by one began clearing out and heading to bed. Louiselle had been kind enough not to enforce a curfew. Dieter slept well, which could most likely be attributed to the thin air taking its toll. By morning it certainly had.
Louiselle walked into the barracks long before scheduelled hoping to catch them while they all were asleep. "Good Morning Soldiers!" he said in a loud voice, though not quite a shout. Dieter shot up, reflexes mainly, and immediately regretted it. He was overcome with dizziness and was forced to sit down and rub his temples due to a searing headache. The usual symptoms of altitude sickness.. he though remembering the one other time he had had it. Lousielle walked over to him with an odd sort of smile. "'S gonna be a hard day for you." Dieter nodded slowly. "Unfortunately I don't care. Get dressed, its runnin' time!" He jogged out of the barracks. Dieter only rolled his eyes, not really wishing to move incase he got dizzy again. However, the team got dressed. Most of them seemed okay but one or two seemed to be in about the same state as Dieter.
The day was pretty much the same, a run, the obstacle course, push-ups, the usual. The only thing that was different was that the firing range had been made slightly more difficult. "Gentlement," Louiselle began, "The top score with the M16s was 37. You all must score at least a thrity seven now. As for the snipers, you will now have to detonate an exploive from 1200m with an M-82. One shot. Once finished you'll be done for the day. Also, this will happen every day, I will be raising the bar, I expect nothing but perfection from an all-star team."
The routine was almost identical, the day ending the exact same way. The next morning went the same as well, only the altitude was not bothering Dieter nearly as much. However, today, they were informed they were not running. Louiselle had led them to a maze. On a table next to him were five suits outfitted with what looked like laser-tag sensors and four M16s and two M-82s with little lasers instead of an actual muzzle. "Preparation for your preliminary MOUT training has begun boys. There are thirty-five tangos armed with who knows what in that maze. Look for traps, ambushes, bombs, anything. You are to assume your usual roles. There is a red flag in the center of the maze. You have one hour to bring it to me. Squad leader," he looked at Fortier, "lead your team." He then walked away.
Robert looked at the two story kill house. It was the standard design of kill houses world wide. Large, made of wood, simply constructed but looked like any other random house. Inside, he knew there would be plenty of walls, doors, and stairs. Everything that would make life hell for a operator. He let his eyes gaze over it, and nodded.
He checked his equipment set up, and nodded to himself. A few flashbangs and smoke grenades, enough ammo to get them through the house, and two snipers. The key was the snipers. He looked at Remington and Friedman, and then at the small hill and tree line in the distance. "What looks good for you out there? Get a good set up for you, we need you to be able to cover the windows. You see anyone, check then pop 'em. As soon as you get set up, its weapons free."
He then turned to the three men he would be leading in. "Dieter, we're gonna blow the door in, nothng to flashy, just enough to scare whoevers on the other side. We're doin' a standard stack formation. Clear a room, then move on, same as the way we've all been tought to clear since day one. I'll go in first, move left, second one in left, third and fourth right. And remeber to cover you're quadrants. Thats the key. No cross fire, everyone put your rounds into your target. We're also gonna move slow. Watch your steps, and dont push any buttons, especially the ones that say don't touch."
He paused, then grabbed his rifle, clicking the assualt vest shut. "We're also gonna bang every room. We all got some flash bangs and smokers, so we can speed up the pace a touch. When I say slow, I dont mean walk. We gotta stay quick. I was thinking we should just level the place, I'm sure Dieter can bring it down, but with a flag being upstairs, it might not be the best idea. That work for everyone?"
Fortier looked around the group, waiting for thier input.
Remmington looked over the lazered weapons he and Friedman'd be using for sniping and frowned. Their accuracy over any real distance was far short of what he considered respectable. He looked back at the hill, then grinned at Friedman, twitching an eyebrow.
"The hill or the angle?" He asked. At least they'd give them coverage on two sides. He looked at the large case that went every where with him- everywhere - strapped across his back and his grin turned evil. Nothing had been said about what lay within and he'd use it, he'd take every advantage he could get for his team. He was just sad that they only had an hour - too short a time to get a highscan fly over to get a lay out of the interior.
Dieter nodded, "Simple enough." He walked up to the door, it was thin plywood, probably to prevent shards from hitting people if they were ever to actually breach the door. Today however it was a little toy that would electronically swing the door open and make a really big crack. Hardly what he looked forward to doing, but it was close enough. He walked up to the door, attatching the charge and stepping back a few feet. It was a little unecissary but he would just do it by the book. He signalled for everyone to cover their ears if they wanted as the fell into formation. Then he blew the charge.
It was rather unimpressive but did make a noticable noise that caused the two guards inside the door to stagger just long enough to be engadged and eliminated. Textbook play. The team then cleared the small room quickly and began moving. There was only one way out of the room and it was a narrow hallway. A nice funnel, hopefully no one had heard them come in...
As they got to the first turn Dieter heard a few voices. As the team stopped Fortier tossed the flashbang and three more were down. As they turned one more tango popped out but was too slow and was shot quickly. As the team looked ahead they saw a doorway at the end of the hallway. It was dark and they couldn't see if anyone was inside so they moved a little slower and crouched a little lower. Dieter's nightvision was just starting to kick in and he could have sworn he saw the outline of a staircase which he signalled to the team.
Once they reached the doorway they found themselves in total darkness. They paused momentarily waiting for their lead man to evaluate the situation and give their commands.
Friedman set herself up next to a small boulder. Mirkanan snipers were trained to find at least some cover when setting up a position - a tree, a boulder, anything. Snipers don't move much, and an uncovered sniper is an easy target for enemy snipers.
Friedman pulled out a scope from her backpack and mounted it on her rifle. She set out a bipod to make it easier to keep the weapon steady.
As she scanned the windows, she noticed a guard. Instinctively, she shot him in the head. Unfortunately, there were no detectors on the back of the man's head.
She cursed herself for forgetting that, and aimed this time at the man's body. One shot, and he was eliminated.
OOC: Hate to hit up the IC thread with OOC clutter, but I wont be able to post till tommorow at the earliest, home for turkey day, and I gotta hop of the comp here in a few minutes.
The team moved quickly through the first floor of the kill house, eliminating targets that reeked of an amature nature. Most likely new recruits for the Largentinan base level SF. He dropped to a knee, covering the staircase to his right, while running the possible options through his head. They weren't trying to get hostages out, it was a simple retrival op. With no need to hurry to pick up a live retrival, he decided to think out every scenario. He clicked on a pair of NVGs, making sure the filter was active. With the active filter, a flash or sudden light wouldn't flare out the lense and blind Fortier. He checked over his shoulder, and noticed two more rooms.
"Alright," he said, speaking into the throat mic, the vibrations in his vocal cords activating the voice reciever. "You three," he said, pointing to three other men in hte six man entry team, "cover those two rooms, clear them out. You," he said, pointing to Dieter and another operator, "are gonna work with me upstairs, same stack movement. Clear out any rooms we come across, and get the flag."
He removed the "magazine" currently in the rifle, and replaced it with a "fresh" one, and continued giving out orders. "Rifle one," he said, meaning Remmington, "we're moving upstairs, I need you to cover all windows you can. Just work them over, take out everyone you see. Rifle two, watch outside, and lower level windows. We all clear?"
"Rifle one," he said, meaning Remmington, "we're moving upstairs, I need you to cover all windows you can. Just work them over, take out everyone you see.
Remmington had taken the hill, and was well screen from view by the long grass that crowned the rise. He'd taken the lazered weapon and set it up with a tripod and scope, then pulled his own case open, and pulled out what appeared ot be a laptop and video camera. Setting the system up took but moments, and while the resolution was not what he wanted it to be, soon the camera and computer were giving him the locations of every living body in the outer areas of the kill house.
And he began passing them to Fortier, as he settled in beside the rifle and began taking down any tango that appeared in the the kill house's windows.
Dieter nodded, crouching close to the doorway. He took the time to reload and then he pulled out a frag grenade. Looking around briefly he rolled it into the room and waited a few moments. There was a small flash and a distinct "bang" followed immediately by the team entering the room. A few bodies lay on the floor. It was obvious the room was clear.
Then came the stairs. It would be dumb to use another frag (he could only carry so many) and a flash or a smoke would make Remmington's job harder than need be. So it would seem the team would be relying on the snipers for a few moments as they moved up the stairs. It took only a few looks and a nod of the head before they were moving again. The front men walked backwords checking behind the teams backs killing two. The rest of the team was responsible for the remainer of the area. A few moments and the room was clear.
They soon found that this floor was quite different. It was little more than a maze of seemingly random walls and windows. They would have to continue to rely on their snipers for the remainder of the assignment. As Fortier received messages from Remmington they slowly progressed towards the opposite side of the house in search of their objective. It was a laborious process of moving slowly and waiting for the go-ahead from outside but it was certainly working.
Finally they came to the last location. Two walls extended out with a third in the middle, set back a few feet. This gave the room two entrances. It was at the very corner of the house and their were four bodies inside and one window for Remmington. The team waited momentarily planning their assault out before Fortier led them in once again.
Remmington relayed the information to Fortier concerning the last room. He gave the locations, with in the room, of their last four opponents. His portable unit wasn't powerful enough, at range to see more than the bio signatures, but every bit of information helped.
He had a shot through the window and took it, leaving three for those 'stacked' in the kill house hallway
*There Fortier, left you three*
OOC: It's Friedman, not Fortier
OOC, was speaking over the radio to Fortier. The one window is useable by me, according to Largent's post.
Fortier nodded, even though he doubt'ed Remmington would be able to see. There were three in the room, and the flag at the end. He looked, watching the two, mentally confimring his belief that they waited on the sides of the flag, expecting Fortier and his team to move forward to pounce and ambush. He looked back at Dieter, and stepped back so he was beside him, allowing him to look forward, and still talk to Dieter. "Lets long flash it, hug the walls, and move down fast. Break the corner, and fire. Gotta move fast though, so flash them out as we are movin'".
He grabbed his last flash bang, pulled the pin, and began to move quickly down the hall. He had slung his rifle, and was holding his sidearm up in the weaver position. Keeping it close to his chest for stability, he leveled it towards the angle he would take. Dieter was moving down the opposite wall when Fortier tossed the flash bang. He banked it, sending it around the corner, and seeing it go off, he moved faster. He hoped that Dieter had kept up and was moving at the same time, as he didn't want to turn his back towards the other possible entry point.
He round the corner, weapon up, and came face to face with a single target. He put four "rounds" into him, then turned in time to move out of the line of sight of the two remaining targets that Dieter was after. He ducked to a wall, as a number of "rounds" zinged past him, and turned to fire a single shot, catching one in the chest. He ducked back, and let Dieter take care of the rest.
[ooc: term papers, bahg!]
Dieter had just thrown his flash as Fortier ducked back. He held his rifle up and turned the corner to see one man swinging his arms blindly for a moment before he was eliminated and lay next to his comrad. That left one. Dieter had only one flashbang left. Nonetheless, he pulled the pin and tossed it around one final corner and waited.
As he entered the room it at first appeared empty before there was a sudden noise of seemingly random shooting. He turned to see the last target shooting at a wall and was quickly taken care of. Telling his teammates the room was clear he grabbed the small red hankercheif and checked his watch. 48:23.09. Not enough time to check each room on the way out since there were plenty of enemies left if he was still able to do basic addition. He told Fortier to send the snipers a message to cover them the whole way, they'd have to move fast.
*Fortier, take the window, it's only a two storey drop*
Remmington radioed the team leader. Yeah, some one might break an ankle but it would get them out of the kill house quickly. He began sweeping his eyes over the scans of the building, getting ready to pass the current location of surviving tangos to Fortier just in case the Imitoran decided to be conventional
Fortier chuckled. "Was 'bout to say the same thing. Rifle one and two, give cover to ground team, first floor exfil, keep your eyes open. We'll see ya on the ground," he said, waving Deiter over. He covered the hallway as Deiter moved over to his position, and then over to the window. He poked his head out, watching for any outside tango's, and noted the fall wasn't that far. He had fallen farther on accident.
He checked the hall one more time, and decided it was the best way out. "There's a gutter outside, we'll use it to slide down, no biggy. Teh team on the first floor is on their way out, I got the sniper's covering them."
He nodded back towards the window, and climbed out, one leg at a time, holding on to the ledge, letting his feet find holds in the pitted wood. He shimmied over to the gutter, grabbed on, and used it to control his fall, slowing significantly enough to break his fall from being painfull. He held the rifle up, and began to move away from the gutter, covering the distance. He turned, and began to cover the house. "Alright, hop on down."
Dieter watched Fortier's descent and figured he was up next. Attempting to mimick him he stradled the windowsill and braced himself against the gutter. Pausing a moment to catch his breath he braced himself and then went. The fall, a mere second, seemed like far longer before, much to his relief, his feet met the ground and he opened his eyes, flag in hand.
It was a quick process and soon the entire team was out and, still under sniper cover, they proceeded to Louiselle. They handed him the flag with eight minutes remaining. Noding, and for the first time, seemingly impressed he told them they were done for the day and he would review the footage of the training.
The next day Louiselle woke them up at the regular time but once the team had dressed he simply smiled and said, "Well, based on yesterday's performance I think it is safe to assume you are all ready and fully capable to do your jobs. You will be shipped out for briefing on your first mission. I'm sorry for the lack of R and R." he added with a sarcastic tone. "The plane is right where you arrived and be there in two hours."
post holidays bump...if no replies, I'll just advance the plot to our next little gathering...
for all intensive purposes lets say that this first mission is in Largent and the terrorist cell is operating out of Largent. Just to avoid the whole jumping between NS and RL
The flight was relatively brief and when they landed they were hurriedly rushed into a small building and, in turn, to an even smaller room. It only had enough room to seat each member of the team and no more. As soon as they were settled in an ariel picture of an oil plant showed up on the screen.
The man at the front of the room had spoken to the team before. They all knew him as General Smith. He nodded to them and began. "I'm sorry we are so pressed for time but, as it turns out, terrorists don't take vacations." He shrugged, "I'm not sure why but thats just the way things go." Much more light-hearted that Louiselle, Dieter observed. "Anyway, we seem to have a hostage situation in an oil compound in eastern Largent. So far, no one knows about it and we'd like to keep it that way. The location is remote and there seems to be no way for terrorists to contact news teams, or at least the news hasn't been able to reach the location yet. You all will be flown in via helicopter.
"There are suspected to be bombs, traps, the works. That means go in quite, strike, and get the hell out. We have four known hostages. The oil companies owner, his wife, and his two ten year olds. Keep that in mind before you go in guns blazing. I'm sure these psychos wouldn't mind a body sheild. For some reason they don't seem interested in negotiating. This is probably more of a statement than anything else, so don't think your job with this cell is done after this mission. We'll just have to continue down the rabbit hole. Thats my two cents. Good luck."
The team was then ushered onto a small military helicopter that had them on the scene in a little under an hour. They were battle-ready by the time they landed and they were shown to a man coordinating the SWAT team barricade. He smiled and nodded to each of them. "Well, all I was told was that we'd be getting a special team for this special job. I don't know who you are or whom your working for and were gonna keep it that way.
"Here's the deal. We attempted two entries under sniper cover. Both failed. The place is totally infested. There's and underground entry that leads to the main facility. Thats where the hostages and the bombs are located according to inteligence, which is shaky at best. The facility in one main facility connected to three smaller buildings. The entire thing is fenced in so don't count on our help. Also, keep in mind your over a massive oil feild. Find those bombs first. You go straight for the hostages we all die. Good luck." the team looked to Fortier lead them in.
Guys, lets make this whole operation 1-2 posts so it flows nicely. there will be other oppourtunities for others to RP the mission so hows about Imitora does this one (I am told he had the most experience with CQC RPs out of us all anyway.)
re bump will be trying to post shortly...
ooc: okay, this whole thing has been moving slow but its time for me to start to reveal the conspiracy going on here. Firstly, the team will not know of any of this as they will be off on their mission. Secondly, if for any reason you would like to know where I am going with this, I'll tell you, one of your nations may be targeted by a person who plans to do something, but don't worry, I wont like nuke you without clearing it with you first. Still, for now it will be something of a secret to keep things interesting.
After The Mission At The Refinery
They were all dead. Every last one. Still, these things happened and they were no more than mere pawns on a larger chess board. On simply had to minimize losses by making sacrifices. Running this operation was much like performing a majic trick, keep the audience looking at one hand while the other, rather discritely, tricks those who are watching. The terrorists in the refinery were those pawns and that hand everyone was supposed to watch. Not a soul expected a thing. The family was saved and the Rainbow team had done just what it was supposed to do, keep the eyes off the master mind.
It was well after midnight and a man dressed in loafers; Armani sungless, which were rather unecessary but part of an overall effect; and a fine suite, hand made and from some poor country with more sweatshops than people over the poverty line. He stared at a computer screen as a smile slowly crept across his lips. The woman standing behind him glanced at him then back at the screen. They had shared a bed dozens of times yet she still feared him, as did most. Just being in a room with him and you got the feeling that he was in charge, that he was calling the shots. The man shut off the screen and got up. He glanced at the woman and gave her a quick, authoratative nod and she left the room. She knew full well what here instructions were and she would tend to them diligently, because she knew he was not afraid to kill impulsively. Her name was Diane Bourne and she had been a psychiatrist for over a decade and was one of the most praised doctors in her feild. Thats why there was no concern that she would be fully capable of getting the psych files on all the members of the Rainbow team.
While she went off to retrive the files the man ran a hand through his blond hair as he walked, no, glided off to meet with his men. He had lost plenty only moments ago but he knew it was for a reason. They would be remebered but hardly missed. As he entered in a code onto the key pad there was a hiss as the bolts swung in and the door opened for him. Closing it behind him he looked at the men in the room. Each was little more than a pawn in this game of chess, but for the time being they would have to play the role of, say, a bishop. Then they too would have to be sacrificed. There could never be any connection from what was about to be done to the culprits or there very well could be a serious international problem. However, that was several moves ahead and they were already playing five moves ahead of the Rainbow team.
There was no glorious speech to be given, no prayers said, nothing. There was only an erie silence before a garage door opened at the back of, what was essentially, a barracks and two vans pulled up. Each man climbed in and took a seat on either of two benches along each side before the doors were sealed and the men concealed. The vans pulled out and headed for their destination. It took them down a long, dark dirt road befor they came to a halt. The blond man got out and walked up to the chain-link fence. Two soldiers unlocked it and he showed them his ID. They hesitated a moment but waved him and the two vans through. They pulled around to the back of the bunker where they parked and got out. Sitting there, waiting for them was an eighteen-wheeler. The blond man went up, opened the door, smiled, and closed it again. The soldiers knew better than to ask what was inside. People who did ask tended to disappear. The blond man took the keys and followed the two vans back out. He drew his cell phone and held down a speed dial number.
"Is this a secure line?"
"Yes. I'm not moving, they wont triangulate me."
"Good. Everything go well?"
"Sucessful pick-up. Same drop-off."
"Yes. My men will be waiting." The receiver then clicked as the man hung up the phone. He radioed the vans and conveyed the message. Forty minutes later they arrived in the middle of a feild with signs at the road reading Secure Area - Do Not Enter. However, that did not concern them as they drove down a one-way road for at least twenty minutes until they were good and far from civilization. They parked and waited. Soon men emerged from the darkness and opened the back of the truck. They carefully unloaded and stored the cargo. The blond man then went up to the others and requested his money, which he was told had been wired to the requested account. He nodded before turning to his own men before looking back at the others. "Kill them." There was an erruption of fire as each of his men was systematically killed.
They were once again just pawns.