NationStates Jolt Archive

A female voice came over the base’s speakers, interrupting a piece of music that had been playing.

“ALFA Team 1, report to the briefing room immediately.”

The voice seemed cold, even through the static-ridden speakers.

Talisman and Joker, clad in Multi-pat and tan, were waiting, along with a woman clad in black, head to toe. She didn’t wear standard tactical gear, but rather it looked as though her clothing was some sort of design-warfare ensemble, like a model in custom gear, not a special operations warrior.

Black shoulder-length hair protruded below a similarly colored watch cap. She wore a tactical vest, which was made of SELVEX (Shenyangi proprietary Spectra-Spider-Silk hybrid), over a slightly tight turtleneck sweater, which blended into her full-finger ‘flight’ gloves. A pair of black fatigue pants (obviously tailored) and a pair of combat boots finished out the ensemble. The only defining feature that wasn’t shrouded in black clothing was her shocking gold eyes, a common trait among many citizens with Native Shenyangi ancestry.

In a drop leg holster she carried a suppressed FN Five-seveN pistol. Slung across her chest was a P-90. It carried a laser sight, flashlight, and a suppressor. The integrated sight had been replaced by a reflex sight, and a brass catcher hung beneath the weapon.

The three Shenyangi waited rather impatiently for the team, as a map of the QZ appeared behind them.

Upon hearing the call-to-arms, Biggs clapped Rogers on the shoulder. Clearly they weren't going to be able to finish their sparring session. With a "Some other time," he was off, stopping only at the barracks to change into his tactical gear (Black kevlar over urban digitals) and pick up the rest of his weapons.

He walked into the briefing room, only to find it empty, save for the three Shenyangi up front. Damn, he thought, I hate being first. Makes me look like a better soldier. He sighed and took a seat, waiting for the Shenyangi to start speaking.

The S.T.F. team stood up, still clad in their armor. The blood stains were still there from the last operation. They walked in their depressing fashion to the breifing room.

OOC: Sorry for not being on, had a funeral I had to go to..

IC:

John and Steve walked into the room, John's M-15 was slung over his shoulder, and Steve carried his BAR. John silently prayed to God that he would survive this next mission.

OOC: Sorry for not being on, had a funeral I had to go to..

OOC: Sorry, man. That sucks. Condolences.

OOC: Apologies for not being to participate earlier, I've had finals

IC:

The two Skgorrians had disappeared after the debrief from the last one, and now they seemingly appeared out of nowhere. All traces of dirt and fatigue had gone from their faces, although some of their kit still carried dirt. Petersen had a new-looking AK-107 slung on his back, whilst Gorobets was carrying her PK with her usual ease. Petersen would nod in greeting to anyone who looked at him, whilst Gorobets would simply stare blankly ahead as the two Skgorrians took a seat as close to the front as possible.

Petersen cast his critical eye over the new Shenyangi soldier, tearing himself away from her unusual eyes to inspect her gear. Brass catcher, suppressors and black clothing, she must be SpecOps he mused, rubbing his cheek as he realised he'd forgotten to shave.

After rounding up Trosky, the three Marines filed into the briefing room. Gunny Strauss could see that there were quite a few already assembled. Taking their seats, Grant strapped his rifle over his shoulder and leaned against the wall instead. He brought out a power bar from a breast pocket and munched on it as they waited for the briefing to begin.

Edward wandered towards the barracks. "Got a feeling my package arrived, I'll meet up with everyone later." He walked through the empty barrack hallway and quickly slipped into his quarters. On his bed was a slate grey box with the Union special forces seal stamped into the front. He rubbed his hands together and grinned. Party time... he cracked open the top of the box, inside the gel molding was the prototype powered armor the Union had een developing. It only took a minute to gear up. "Lets see what ths baby can do." he said to himself. He slid the helmet on, the seal compressing the air in the helmet. The HUD winked into existence, displaying his HBPM current ammo status, the ammo status pulsed a bright red. He grabbed his colt, and immedietly the sensors sent a pulse through the weapon, the ammo display flashed once then faded to a blue, displaying the numbers 8/0. he clipped on his ammo belt, the display pulsed again, this time it read 8/10. Eight shots, ten clips on backup. Neat little gimmick He grabbed all his weapons, holstering his side arm and slining his M1 over his shoulder. Two minutes later he was outside the briefing room, and pushed his way through the doors. Lets hope they know who I am. He thought.
OOC: Kinda rushed, sorry for the spelling

Edward wandered towards the barracks. "Got a feeling my package arrived, I'll meet up with everyone later." He walked through the empty barrack hallway and quickly slipped into his quarters. On his bed was a slate grey box with the Union special forces seal stamped into the front. He rubbed his hands together and grinned. Party time... he cracked open the top of the box, inside the gel molding was the prototype powered armor the Union had een developing. It only took a minute to gear up. "Lets see what ths baby can do." he said to himself. He slid the helmet on, the seal compressing the air in the helmet. The HUD winked into existence, displaying his HBPM current ammo status, the ammo status pulsed a bright red. He grabbed his colt, and immedietly the sensors sent a pulse through the weapon, the ammo display flashed once then faded to a blue, displaying the numbers 8/0. he clipped on his ammo belt, the display pulsed again, this time it read 8/10. Eight shots, ten clips on backup. Neat little gimmick He grabbed all his weapons, holstering his side arm and slining his M1 over his shoulder. Two minutes later he was outside the briefing room, and pushed his way through the doors. Lets hope they know who I am. He thought.
OOC: Kinda rushed, sorry for the spelling

OOC: Okay, cool, we've got Master Chief on our side, but isn't this supposed to be a semi-realistic RP?

OOC: Okay, cool, we've got Master Chief on our side, but isn't this supposed to be a semi-realistic RP?

OOC: Its a prototype, based on modern tech.(The DARPA project for example) The ammo sensors are a bit more advanced then MT, but other then that, its pretty much based on MT, and its got its weaknesses. (No armor on the underside of the arms, throat, and its designed to break apart very quickly for breaking it down or putting it on, meaning it can be pulled off by anyone who grabs and pulls enough.)

As Grant stood there waiting, he began a series of wrist stretches, bending his hands inwards and outwards in unnatural positions. This was a series of aikido excercises that had become a nervous habit of his. He hoped the briefing would hurry up.

Rosenthal, Thompson, and Schwartz barely managed to lay down before a female voice came over the base’s speakers, interrupting a piece of music that had been playing.

“ALFA Team 1, report to the briefing room immediately.”

The voice seemed cold, even through the static-ridden speakers.

Thus, knowing that they'd have to get up or get left behind, they shuffled off to the briefing room, leaving their guns and gear behind*. They wanted to know what they'd be doing before selecting what to bring along, or more importantly, what NOT to bring along.

*Generally a prohibited action for the HMR unless on R+R.

Besides, hauling gear back and forth would have slowed them down, and they'd have to return for their weapons anyways.

They arrived for the briefing within 85 seconds, joined later by someone [UHC] who seemed overly-dressed for the occassion. They also noted other soldiers had come in with them, except fresh from some activity, still sweaty, and guns in hand. Others apeared to have not even bothered to take a rest during the lull.

There were also a pair of Skorgians, not tired or anything, though they appeared more like furnature than people, the Hurtians supposed that too much time on the parade grounds would do that.

But they didn't pay too much attention to the people who they may or may not have already met at the muzzle of a gun in some war, they were interested in the map, the mission, and getting the briefing over with.

Though the same could not be said about Schwartz, his thoughts... wandered...

Peter noded to Biggs and grabed his gear, his vials of acid, kamas, gas-mask, and chloine grenades where all on his belt so after the put that back on he only had to grab his M4. He then headed to the breffing room and found most of the rest of the team there.

IC:

John checked his M-14A1, and Steve loaded his M1918A2 BAR, and they were ready to head on out.

Edward popped his helmet off and fiddled with something inside. "Damn AC won't work..." he muttered. He finally placed it in a corner. "Can't get the AC to work, guess I'll just go in my regular head gear." OOC: Which is nothing

Talisman and the other Shenyangi looked at the team members assembled in the room. They had most of the team, and time wasn't on their side, like it ever was.

"Alright, we've got another rapid response come down the pipe to us. We're heading for the west coast of the QZ. More specifically, ALFA-1 is headed for the town of Gdansk, fishing community toward the north, but still well away from the tundra. Weather reports are showing that we'll be arriving shortly before a small tropical storm. Got to love summer in the southern hemisphere."

The map zoomed into the town, what appeared behind them was an aerial recon photo modified with street overlays.

"Now, the reason we're being sent into the face of a would-be hurricane, is that a group of undead, maybe 100 to 150 individuals, are headed straight for the ocean. We can't secure the coast, there are no chokepoints, and even with the catch nets out at sea, we can't guarantee that these things don't get out. In short, we're looking at the spread of this outbreak to an international level."

Joker piped up.

"So that means that we could be looking at the same thing happening all over the world, at once. A nice way to go extinct right?"

"Cut it Joker. Anyway, for this op we'll have the assistance of ALFA-2, they'll be using a pair of LAV-III assault vehicles to push the undead into a kill zone comprised of ALFA-1 and ALFA-2 members who aren't in the vehicles. Due to the distance from any support, we're gonna be on our own, just us, ALFA-2, and undead. We're out of the hop and pop range for any fighters or choppers, and we can't spare the naval assets, they're tied up elsewhere.

Insertion will be via a pair of VHT-77 VTOL heavy-lift tactical transports. The two birds will drop us on the beach, and then proceed to a nearby artificial island to wait for our calls for evac. If things get too hairy, then we can try to get them to provide some fire support, but the -77 isn't like the -117, not a lot in the way of weapons.

Bring as much ammo as you can, we're going to be holding a stationary position along the main road into town, so we'll have a lot of shooting to do. We can't confirm anything at this point about whether or not the town is clear, save the group we're bringing in; there isn't time for a sweep. Also, we have unconfirmed reports that there may be survivors in the area. Due to its remote nature and the hell we've had to deal with to the east and south, no teams have been up there in a few months. Last sweep showed it was completely deserted, but we all know that intel has a tendency to change when you least want it to."

The Shenyangi woman shifted slightly.

"Your ROE is a bit different from last mission, confirm your targets, and shoot to kill. Stay heads up for any survivors, and if you find any, check them out and get them to safety. We've had confirmed carriers try to come through the QZ checkpoints, and even though they don't turn, there's still a threat of infection. If they have any bites, confirm what did it before you take them in tow, we don't want anyone turning INSIDE our perimeter. Stick together; I don't want anyone running around without support, that's the best way to get dead out here."

"Excuse me."

The Shenyangi woman's voice was just barely above a whisper, still it carried the characteristic force that comes from speaking English (not the primary language of Shenyang, that would be Shenyangi) with a Shenyangi accent (which is similar to Russian and Japanese intermixed, heavy on the Russian, only hinting at the Japanese).

"I think you ought to introduce me, so they know who they're dealing with. Don't you agree Captain?"

"Fine. This is our latest member Shenyangi Central Intelligence, Directorate for Asymmetric Intervention, 1st Sergeant..."

"Rain, that's all they need to know, in case you've forgotten, the rest is classified. My tac-name is 'Rain'. I’ll be operating with ALFA-1 for the foreseeable future, though this posting isn’t permanent.”

“…That’s quite enough Sergeant,” Talisman did not take kindly to being interrupted by one of his subordinates, “if there are no questions, then you can head for the birds, you can’t miss them. Big, grey, with huge ducted fans, we’re on the one closest to the airstrip.”

IC:

John said "I thought of bringing my Trojan exo-skeleton suit, and I did, but I've decided to wait till the third mission, if we get back, to wear one!"

IC:

John raised his hand and he said "If I understand this correctly, if we do our job, we can stop the undead from spreading to other parts of the world correct?, if we intercept them in time. I hope we have real-time intel, otherwise we're gonna have to pray that they're not crossing the ocean blue already." He was cynical, and he had very good reason to be, for this situation seemed to demand cynicism at every step, for he knew better then to believe that the town was deserted.

"So, close combat with us out numbered ten to one, odds don't look very good, no chance of getting heavy fire support... So, who exactly are the members of Alfa-2 that we're hooking up with?"

IC:

John raised his hand and he said "If I understand this correctly, if we do our job, we can stop the undead from spreading to other parts of the world correct?, if we intercept them in time. I hope we have real-time intel, otherwise we're gonna have to pray that they're not crossing the ocean blue already." He was cynical, and he had very good reason to be, for this situation seemed to demand cynicism at every step, for he knew better then to believe that the town was deserted.

"If they are crossing the pond, we're screwed. It'll be first city magnified by a hundred, and even then with the justification for using the Arkheim satallite, I doubt the Union would."

OOC; This thread has horrible time warp.

"If they are crossing the pond, we're screwed. It'll be first city magnified by a hundred, and even then with the justification for using the Arkheim satallite, I doubt the Union would."

John said "That's why the Fifth Fleet is patrolling the coast of Calizorinstan, and is given orders to destroy any ships approaching on sight, if they do not contact the Fifth Fleet within 2 minutes. Then they'll be deemed hostile, and fired upon. We cannot risk having an infection outbreak within Calizorinstan."

"The Union is to big to patrol its shores, in fact, costal defense is usually regulated to maybe one destroyer and several SSM batteries, and if word managed to get to military command, every ship entering Union waters would be sunk on sight, for the greater good."

John nodded and he said "That's good. But, the fact that those infected are coming towards the ocean is a bad sign. If they get across the ocean, we may need to send the P-8 MMA's out, and destroy the infected's ships.."

John said "That's why the Fifth Fleet is patrolling the coast of Calizorinstan, and is given orders to destroy any ships approaching on sight, if they do not contact the Fifth Fleet within 2 minutes. Then they'll be deemed hostile, and fired upon. We cannot risk having an infection outbreak within Calizorinstan."

"The Union is to big to patrol its shores, in fact, costal defense is usually regulated to maybe one destroyer and several SSM batteries, and if word managed to get to military command, every ship entering Union waters would be sunk on sight, for the greater good."

"I very much doubt they will board a ship that is sailing for a populated area, most likely they'll wander the sea bad, although that does prove a great risk depending on which way the currents are going."

OOC: Thats it, I'm going to use the timewarp to go slap whichever Jolt mod designed this forum

John said "Then, we may, if they are far out enough, may decide to nuke the sea where they are crossing.."

John nodded and he said "That's good. But, the fact that those infected are coming towards the ocean is a bad sign. If they get across the ocean, we may need to send the P-8 MMA's out, and destroy the infected's ships.."

"I very much doubt they will board a ship that is sailing for a populated area, most likely they'll wander the sea bad, although that does prove a great risk depending on which way the currents are going."

OOC: Thats it, I'm going to use the timewarp to go slap whichever Jolt mod designed this forum

"Nuke the sea, you know how pointless that is? Depending on the depth, all it'll do it irradiate them, and that would make them even more effective in starting the extinction of humankind."

John said "Then, I suppose we'll somehow have to find a way to kill them if they cross the ocean, like mines or something?"

John said "Then, we may, if they are far out enough, may decide to nuke the sea where they are crossing.."

"Nuke the sea, you know how pointless that is? Depending on the depth, all it'll do it irradiate them, and that would make them even more effective in starting the extinction of humankind."

"A tropical storm?" Grant asked as he finished his power bar. "Don't they know Marines got gills too?"

"All right," the Gunny said. "Cut the horse-shate. Let's move 'em out."

"Oo-rah," Trosky answered.

They moved out, Grant clandestinely carrying along a portable CD player.

IC to Shenyang: "I'm going to assume we're on our own, then? No Spectres, nothing? And, perhaps more importantly, what do you want us to do with survivors, assuming we find any? How are we supposed to check them for infection while in combat, and where should we put them? Do we have a secure location?"

THe S.T.F. Sergeant made a quiet suggestion. "Couldn't we get some smaller boats, put some heavier weapons on, and make sure nothing spills from the operations area while we're busy? Even if it's as small as an inflatable boat, it'd still help.

"All we've got is a visual inspection, dogs can screen for infection, but only with training, and we've only got three on base. Basically, you're gonna have to do a quick visual check, then make a decision. We're not in the business of leaving people here, so if you think someone's gonna make it, then take them in tow.

As to support, we're completely screwed, to put it nicely. The best I can get is from those VTOLs, and they've got a pair of 7.62 miniguns for clearing an LZ in an emergency. If I could get any better support, but I had a helluva a time getting us the LAVs and ALFA-2. There's shit going down all along the perimeter, and I've already sent out every other ready team, and three of the inactive teams. The Shenyangi military's slammed, and that's why this op is on our plate, and not the ODST's."

Joker took the question on boats.

"No can do on the boats, if we do our jobs, they won't be getting through. A Shenyangi Coast Guard cutter is in the area, and they'll be conducting routine underwater checks on the net, but they're combat ineffective as far as we're concerned, biggest thing aboard's a 25mm chaingun, and they're well out of range."

Rain looked around, she leaned off the wall and headed for the VTOLs. Talisman responded to the question about ALFA-2.

"ALFA-2 is a full strength ALFA team, 40 members, Shenyangi Snow Guard, with a few SMC Airborne and Shenyangi Army mixed in. They'll have 6 members on the LAV-IIIs and the rest will be reinforcing our kill zone and providing rear guard. Most had some experience before the outbreak, but they were hit hard a week or so ago, and I had to bring in replacements, still good men though. They'll do their jobs, so we'd better keep our part of this deal."

IC:

John and Steve had heard the briefing, and were walking out to the VTOL's, there light suits, with gas masks in their hands, M-15 and BAR in their respective hands, they looked like men on a mission.

The Hurtians didn't need to be told twice, but instinctively, Rosenthal faced Thompson and ordered them to grab their gear and opt for a loaduot based initially around the 6.5x55 (LAR-655E2 [6.5x25] and pair of silenced HAP-625s) with heavier weapons in secondary carry for the kill-zone only (CM-38/HM-320, LAS-12).

Within seconds, they were back in the barracks, donning kevlar vests, getting their rucksacks loaded with 6.5x55 and 12 ga ammo, and their ammo pouches with 6.5x25, even though they were originally designed to hold three 30 rd mags of 6.5x55 rifle ammo per pouch, four pouches per web gear (or four 40 rd 6.5x25 mm mags each), draping hand grenades from their pouches, belts, and suspenders. Seeing as the rucks had some space left, they threw in some more loose 6.5x25 ammo and more hand grenades, lots of hand grenades.

They didn't consider food too important, but brought 1 MRE broken into individual loads just in case extraction didn't come. They also threw in a first aid kit as an afterthought to any unlikely survivors they'd happen run across.

Each man was also given a tube of lipstick to help keep track of these survivors.

As they shuffled to their ride to the QZ, Rosenthal made a point that he'd be keeping track of the zombie hordes and to pick off any that stray from the QZ, he also told Schwartz to shoot any soldier he saw fleeing.

Biggs stood up and headed for the armory. There, he loaded his M24 with .338 Lapua Magnum hollowpoints, for that extra bit of stopping power, then grabbed another handful, stuffing them into a bandoleer. That made... 40 shots for the M24, if his count was correct. He loaded his M4 with the standard 5.56 NATO FMJ, and the MK23 with the .45 ACP frangibles that HFIS sent him. He stuffed an NVD into his pack, followed by a full canteen, followed by his standard military PDA, his earbuds, and a couple of extra field dressing kits. That done, he donned his sunglasses, strode over to the dropships, boarded, and waited.

"Sounds like just your sort of mission Private, target-rich," grinned Petersen as he slapped Gorobets on the shoulder. Her lips quivered as she tried to formulate a response, but instead settled for her usual sheepish grin.

Petersen stood, yawning and stretching both of his arms.
"Once more unto the breech and all that," he spoke softly, before motioning for Gorobets to follow him. Both of them exited the briefing room and made their way out to the dropships, fully laden down with kit.

Edward sighed. "Somethings going to go wrong with this one, I can feel it in my bones." He walked over to his helmet and picked it. "Call it paranoia, but I've got that feeling soldiers get before a big battle. I'll fix my helmet on the way." He walked out of the briefing room, heading for the dropships.

Kirk walked out of the psychologit's 'office' in full gear, "Yeah Doc, we'll pick this up later. Duty calls."

He jogged up to the dropship, noting the the distant dark clouds and intermittent flashes on the horizon. He jumped into a seat and buckled in.

"Someone please get up to speed; I was...busy. Oh, and anyone else note the bad weather we're most likely flying into?"

Of course he hoped for someone's reassurance that they were heading away from the storm, but it was right over the QZ and he wasn't too hopeful.

Meditation...he thought briefly to himself The Zen of zombie killing...great...I might as well have taken the pills...

He started repeating his mantra in his head anyway, They're not human, they're a plague. They're not human, they're a plague. Nothing to worry over, they're a plague...

"Someone please get up to speed; I was...busy. Oh, and anyone else note the bad weather we're most likely flying into?"


"Bad weather? It's another beautiful day here in Shenyang."

Rogers put six clips of ammo for his M4 in his ammo satchel and got onto one of the dropships and sighed. "I guess all this talk about zombies must be real then, to be honest I thought 'zombie outbreak' was code for sectarian uprising, but no-one has said anything to indicate that this is nothing but the real deal."

"Someone please get up to speed; I was...busy. Oh, and anyone else note the bad weather we're most likely flying into?"
"Bad weather? It's another beautiful day here in Shenyang."
Rosenthal interupted: "Apparently you fell asleep in the briefing, boy, a storm came by and ripped up the QZ's barricades by the coast, and we're going to drop in its ground zero to make sure they don't get that far today..."

"I guess all this talk about zombies must be real then, to be honest I thought 'zombie outbreak' was code for sectarian uprising, but no-one has said anything to indicate that this is nothing but the real deal."

Nothing but stunned silence from the Hurtians, purely and utterly shocked to hear such a revelation...

It was Thompson who spoke first to relieve the tension caused by the grim silence and innocence

"No shiat..."

Rosenthal offered a cigarette for the last man standing on this mission.
He then promptly corrected himself that women were allowed into the contest as well.
He made sure to show an example to the people inside the dropship.

"Picked it off a Leafanstani from Operation Wired Mercenaries... The guys said they bring good luck at the cost of occasionally burning articles of clothing."

"Sounds like just your sort of mission Private, target-rich," grinned Petersen as he slapped Gorobets on the shoulder. Her lips quivered as she tried to formulate a response, but instead settled for her usual sheepish grin.

Petersen stood, yawning and stretching both of his arms.
"Once more unto the breech and all that," he spoke softly, before motioning for Gorobets to follow him. Both of them exited the briefing room and made their way out to the dropships, fully laden down with kit.

OOC: I hope I didn't miss too much..

IC:

John and Steve were already in the dropships, Steve had his BAR across his lap, and John had his M-14A1 between his legs, and he was reading a book. More specifically, a combat book, by himself that he had written as a guide to zombie fighting.

With the way the others were talking about the extent of the battle, the Marines decided a short prayer was due before taking off. So as they settled into their seats, they huddled together.

"...and if they lay us down to rest, tell our moms we did our best." the Gunny finished.

"Oo-rah," they responded in place of 'amen.'

"No shiat..."

"Hey, go easy. I think we'd all rather put down a few militants than hunt the undead. At least there you have an enemy that can feel fear."

"Depends what sort of militant we're talking about - personally I'm glad I'm here rather than in the Atopian wastes fighting the July Loyalists." Petersen's tone contained a great deal of relief, clearly glad to be out fighting zombies than fighting in Atopiana.

"They're die hard National Socialists from our previous regime. Now whilst the term "nazi" and "fascist" is thrown around a lot these days, well these guys are the real deal. Hell, they give me the shivers. You know what I'm talking about Private?" He looked over to Gorobets for confirmation, who tentatively nodded.

"R-right on sir," she smiled weakly. "And at least these z-z-eds don't shoot back."

"Depends what sort of militant we're talking about - personally I'm glad I'm here rather than in the Atopian wastes fighting the July Loyalists." Petersen's tone contained a great deal of relief, clearly glad to be out fighting zombies than fighting in Atopiana.

"They're die hard National Socialists from our previous regime. Now whilst the term "nazi" and "fascist" is thrown around a lot these days, well these guys are the real deal. Hell, they give me the shivers. You know what I'm talking about Private?" He looked over to Gorobets for confirmation, who tentatively nodded.

"R-right on sir," she smiled weakly. "And at least these z-z-eds don't shoot back."

"Seriously, is she the same person that was on that first mission?" Trosky asked.

"You ask us this just about everyday," Grant grumbled. "And every day I say the same thing, 'I dunno.' That's what I said last week, that's hwat I said yesterday, and that's what I said the last time you asked me. So in five minutes when you ask me again, my answer will be 'I dunno.'"

ooc: i'm just sorta doing this as a running gag. no offense to your char. also, can you tell i've been watching rvb?

"R-right on sir," she smiled weakly. "And at least these z-z-eds don't shoot back."

I guess that is one redeeming feature. Personally, I'd rather fight a few rebels... with air support. I'd kill for Spectre overwatch on this one."

"Depends what sort of militant we're talking about - personally I'm glad I'm here rather than in the Atopian wastes fighting the July Loyalists." Petersen's tone contained a great deal of relief, clearly glad to be out fighting zombies than fighting in Atopiana.

"They're die hard National Socialists from our previous regime. Now whilst the term "nazi" and "fascist" is thrown around a lot these days, well these guys are the real deal. Hell, they give me the shivers. You know what I'm talking about Private?" He looked over to Gorobets for confirmation, who tentatively nodded.

"R-right on sir," she smiled weakly. "And at least these z-z-eds don't shoot back."

Edward looked over at Grobets. "Huh, thats a bit of a departure from the last mission, not be offensve or anything, but you seemed a bit.. meek."

IC:

Steve polished his BAR a bit, and then said "If any zombies dare to attack me, they'll be shredded into pieces. I'm confident that if John and I held up in the last mission, we'll do okay this time."

ooc: i'm just sorta doing this as a running gag. no offense to your char. also, can you tell i've been watching rvb?

OOC: Sure, no problems. And no I can't, as I have no idea what 'rvb' is :P

Gorobets was about to reply to the Hurfdurfistani soldier when she heard Edward's statement. Her jaw dropped, and if anyone looked really closely they could see a tear welling in her eye, but rather than let it out she tugged Petersen's sleeve.

"Hmm?" He smiled genially, being woken from a brief daydream about home. Gorobets leant in and whispered something in his ear, and Petersen's face darkened in anger. He rested his hand on Gorobet's shoulder, nodded tersely and turned towards Edward.

"What in the Wolf's name is that supposed to mean, soldier?" He asked Edward, trying to keep a civil tone.

OOC: Sure, no problems. And no I can't, as I have no idea what 'rvb' is :P

Gorobets was about to reply to the Hurfdurfistani soldier when she heard Edward's statement. Her jaw dropped, and if anyone looked really closely they could see a tear welling in her eye, but rather than let it out she tugged Petersen's sleeve.

"Hmm?" He smiled genially, being woken from a brief daydream about home. Gorobets leant in and whispered something in his ear, and Petersen's face darkened in anger. He rested his hand on Gorobet's shoulder, nodded tersely and turned towards Edward.

"What in the Wolf's name is that supposed to mean, soldier?" He asked Edward, trying to keep a civil tone.

OOC: red vs. blue: http://youtube.com/watch?v=FsCLIWDKFBY the conversation @ 1:43

ic:

"Oh, Christ," the Gunny said, tilting his cap over his eyes and preparing to nap. "Always before a fraggin' mission."

OOC: Sure, no problems. And no I can't, as I have no idea what 'rvb' is :P

Gorobets was about to reply to the Hurfdurfistani soldier when she heard Edward's statement. Her jaw dropped, and if anyone looked really closely they could see a tear welling in her eye, but rather than let it out she tugged Petersen's sleeve.

"Hmm?" He smiled genially, being woken from a brief daydream about home. Gorobets leant in and whispered something in his ear, and Petersen's face darkened in anger. He rested his hand on Gorobet's shoulder, nodded tersely and turned towards Edward.

"What in the Wolf's name is that supposed to mean, soldier?" He asked Edward, trying to keep a civil tone.


"Well, uh... what I ment was that she didn't seem very outspoken when, uh, she first arrvied, uh, crap, I've got no excuse...." Edward shook his head.

"He's always been a bit rough on the new guys." Said someone from the boarding ramp. Edward looked over, and the first thing that caught his eye was the oldstyle bomber jacket. "Frank, you're not supposed to be here." Frank chuckled. "Actually, I was the one who dropped your new gear, I stuck around longer then I should've to see you off and pry you out of any sticky situations, which you've obviously gotten yourself into right here." Edward noded. "Well then, Miss Grobets, if you'll excuse Liuetenet Harrison here, he's got that knack to annoy people, but once you know him, he's pretty good." Edward shrugged. "Alright, later kid, keep your nose out of trouble." Frank stepped off the boarding ramp and headed back for the base.

OOC; I'll post Frank's bio before the next mission.

IC:
Pvt Schwartz silently thought to himself, that perhaps these weren't the 'expert zombie killers', rather the leftover cannon fodder each respective government didn't care for...

Unlike his Hurtian comrads, he had no idea what the others went through in basic, and in Hurtian basic training, you're taught that in comparision, all other countries' attempts at training are inherently flawed...

And he thought he could see the flaws... The Skorgians seemed unstable upon leaving basic, the Calizorinstani soldiers were farmers with ancient guns, and the people who decided to send Special Chemist Rogers seem to have their paperwork mixed up...

Meanwhile, Rosenthal looked through his 6.5x25 ammo more closely...
Most were full sized copper/lead JHP, but there was a smaller box with writing upon it...

Special Purpose APPD
"Armor Peircing-Poision Dart"
For HMR and CHIA approved agents only
Handle with care

Mishandling of projectile may resault in:
Paralysis
Blindness
Loss of bladder control
Asphixiation
Coma
Death

The single box carried 100 6.5x25 mm cartridges with round red plastic noses

OOC:
(How long does it take for ~20 mg of VX or Sarin to kill if injected straight into bloodstream, somewhere near heart/brain/lung? 5 to 15 seconds?)

Although a Batrachotoxin or Tetrodotoxin seems more fitting... And works in a way the exact opposite to most nerve gasses...
(Poision Arrow Frog and Puffer-fish respectively)

And yes, know such toxins are a bit slow for CQB, which the fight is over with in 5 seconds or less. It's just an anti-armor 'insurance policy' in case a type IV body armored zed shows up (/w/ similar grade helmet and an unbreakable neck)

OOC:
(How long does it take for ~20 mg of VX or Sarin to kill if injected straight into bloodstream, somewhere near heart/brain/lung? 5 to 15 seconds?)

Although a Batrachotoxin or Tetrodotoxin seems more fitting... And works in a way the exact opposite to most nerve gasses...
(Poision Arrow Frog and Puffer-fish respectively)

And yes, know such toxins are a bit slow for CQB, which the fight is over with in 5 seconds or less. It's just an anti-armor 'insurance policy' in case a type IV body armored zed shows up (/w/ similar grade helmet and an unbreakable neck)

OOC: Frankly, on a zombie, it wouldn't kill. At all. You've got to remember that the zombie's circulatory system has already shut down, and he doesn't require most of his organs. You have to damage the brain, as I understand it, so barring a direct shot to the head (Which would have to breach the skull), poisoned darts will be ineffective. In CQB, you'd be better off just loading regular FMJ rounds, which can penetrate most armors at close range, and shooting point-blank. Just hope the zombies aren't wearing Dragon Skin.

Words.

IC: Hoping to break the tension, Biggs amended his last statement, "Actually, I suppose I'll end up killing regardless. Moot point."

Roger noted Biggs last comment "true, I figured that I was sent because of my experence in roit control, so that we wouldn't need to use deadly force. But if so then why give me chlorine grenades instead of tear gas and a real M4 rather than my old tranq gun, and why take me off my curent project instead of sending an actvive roit control officer. Oh well not like it matters any way."

OOC: There are some special detials about Peter Rogers past that I'll be reveling over the corse of the mission that will make his being hear make more sence.

IC:

John figured he knew what the Hurtful Thoughts soldier was thinking about their guns and he said "Our guns may be old, but they've worked on undead before, I know, I've combat experience with these guns. I do have a Hali-53 though for when I need modern."

Roger noted Biggs last comment "true, I figured that I was sent because of my experence in roit control, so that we wouldn't need to use deadly force. But if so then why give me chlorine grenades instead of tear gas and a real M4 rather than my old tranq gun, and why take me off my curent project instead of sending an actvive roit control officer. Oh well not like it matters any way."


"No, I hear you. I'm not quite sure why my government didn't just send a squad of elite special forces, instead of me, alone*. Hell, I'm not really a soldier. I used to be. Special ops and everything. Then I got recruited for ForInt's Special Activities Division and I've been doing mostly wetwork ever since." He dropped his head, then looked back up. "And I probably ought not have told you that, but I figure the survival rate is looking pretty low, so I don't have anything to lose."

*Because I'm too lazy to RP more than one character at a time.

Gorobets briefly looked over to Petersen, who nodded once. A small smile appeared on Gorobets' face and she stuttered,
"a-apology accepted."

"You're lucky your superiors speak up for you," Petersen warned Edward. "A mouth like that must get you in a hell of a lot of trouble. He then turned to John and his eyes widened when he saw his weapon.

"A BAR? John you must be mad!" He exclaimed, unable to believe that the Calizorinistani had brought such an outdated weapon to the mission. "The last time I saw one of those weapons was in the hands of some historical re-enactors."

"A BAR? John you must be mad!" He exclaimed, unable to believe that the Calizorinistani had brought such an outdated weapon to the mission. "The last time I saw one of those weapons was in the hands of some historical re-enactors."

John shook his head and he said "Trust me, I know what Steve's doing. He's used it against zombies, alot of times, and it has worked. I personally prefer this M-14A1, the .308 works wonders."

Biggs realized suddenly that, in essence, the trend in thought among the others was that the more archaic one's weapon was, the better it would kill zombies. To him it seemed no more than technophobic reactions to the clearly superior weapons systems that had replaced the old guns. After all, if the newer model wasn't better, it wouldn't have replaced the older. He wondered what the others would do if he requisitioned a crossbow for the next mission. Or better yet, a sling.

Gorobets briefly looked over to Petersen, who nodded once. A small smile appeared on Gorobets' face and she stuttered,
"a-apology accepted."

"You're lucky your superiors speak up for you," Petersen warned Edward. "A mouth like that must get you in a hell of a lot of trouble. He then turned to John and his eyes widened when he saw his weapon.

"A BAR? John you must be mad!" He exclaimed, unable to believe that the Calizorinistani had brought such an outdated weapon to the mission. "The last time I saw one of those weapons was in the hands of some historical re-enactors."


Edward chuckled. "Thats where you're wrong, Franks not my superior, not even a soldier, he's a merc, one of the few the union actually trusts, now my mouth... thats a different story." Edward chuckled again. "I've found command to rigid, my moth being the only way to breakout of the constant parade of yessir, no-sir, anything-you-say-sir attitude the officers tend to have, in fact, I tend to relate the most with my soldiers, that way I know who to count on, and who not to." He ran his hands through his hair. "Unfortunatly, my mouth didn't save me from my swift drop to Liuetenet from General, but thats another story allthogether."

Biggs realized suddenly that, in essence, the trend in thought among the others was that the more archaic one's weapon was, the better it would kill zombies. To him it seemed no more than technophobic reactions to the clearly superior weapons systems that had replaced the old guns. After all, if the newer model wasn't better, it wouldn't have replaced the older. He wondered what the others would do if he requisitioned a crossbow for the next mission. Or better yet, a sling.

OOC: Epic lulz, sometimes I do feel like I'm going against the trend by just using a regular assault rifle and machine gun...I might break out a flintlock for the next one :P

IC:

Petersen could scarcely believe what he was hearing. John and Steve claimed to be veteran fighters, yet they scorned up-to-date weaponry in favour of pieces that belonged in museums. Only a fool gave the enemy an advantage, and taking equipment that had long since passed from widespread front-line use seemed an advantage indeed. On top of this, this Edward chap was so mouthy he'd got demoted from General to Lieutenant! What in His name did this prat do? He wondered, trying to keep the surprise off his face.

"Well," Petersen chuckled, pulling out a packet of gum from his pocket, "what a merry bunch we are. We've got a special chemist who seems to have no reason being here," he indicated Rogers, "professional zombie fighters who enjoy living in the past," he pointed at John and Steve before continuing. "There's a mouthy ex-General, a Spec-Ops trooper who can't keept a secret and then us two." He jerked his thumb out at Gorobets and then himself, "who guard the living incarnation of a God." He laughed out loud, slapping his thigh in mirth. "If we make it out alive, this will be one hell of a tale." Still laughing, he began to unwrap the packet and took out a piece of gum and began to chew. He handed a piece of Gorobets, who chewed it silently whilst staring out of the window.

"Anyone else?" He held out the pack for anyone to take a piece.

"I wouldn't mind a piece," Grant said, holding out his hand gratefully. Gotta do something while sitting around doing nothing."

"Yeah, me too," Trosky agreed, holding out his hand as well. "I mean, it's like we've been sitting around for a week."

OOC: Epic lulz, sometimes I do feel like I'm going against the trend by just using a regular assault rifle and machine gun...I might break out a flintlock for the next one :P

IC:

Petersen could scarcely believe what he was hearing. John and Steve claimed to be veteran fighters, yet they scorned up-to-date weaponry in favour of pieces that belonged in museums. Only a fool gave the enemy an advantage, and taking equipment that had long since passed from widespread front-line use seemed an advantage indeed. On top of this, this Edward chap was so mouthy he'd got demoted from General to Lieutenant! What in His name did this prat do? He wondered, trying to keep the surprise off his face.

"Well," Petersen chuckled, pulling out a packet of gum from his pocket, "what a merry bunch we are. We've got a special chemist who seems to have no reason being here," he indicated Rogers, "professional zombie fighters who enjoy living in the past," he pointed at John and Steve before continuing. "There's a mouthy ex-General, a Spec-Ops trooper who can't keept a secret and then us two." He jerked his thumb out at Gorobets and then himself, "who guard the living incarnation of a God." He laughed out loud, slapping his thigh in mirth. "If we make it out alive, this will be one hell of a tale." Still laughing, he began to unwrap the packet and took out a piece of gum and began to chew. He handed a piece of Gorobets, who chewed it silently whilst staring out of the window.

"Anyone else?" He held out the pack for anyone to take a piece.

John said "If you want the truth captain, here's this sad tale from headquarters, they don't have any more ammo for the Hali-53's anymore, and they're being replaced in favor of the DAC-97, and the DR-87 guns. I'm supposed to.." A man ran up to the VTOL, John had seen the CV-22 of CSOCOM land and he said "Here's your DR-87 that you ordered sir, and Steve, here's your DAC-97.."

Steve grinned, and John said "Now Captain Petersen...."

Rosenthal, slightly disgusted with the idea of being issued poisioned bullets loaded with nuerotoxin, stood up.

"I'll go see if I can find the pilot, you'd think he'd already have the engines running considering the importance of this mission... If I can't find him... who here knows how to fly this crate? And if nobody knows, who's up for hijacking that fancy looking CV-22?*"

*Of irony, such rapid deep vertical insertion of 24 solodiers and limited CAS was exactly what the V-22 was meant for...

"Anyone else?" He held out the pack for anyone to take a piece.

"Yeah, please." Biggs reached out to grab a piece.

"I'll go see if I can find the pilot, you'd think he'd already have the engines running considering the importance of this mission... If I can't find him... who here knows how to fly this crate?"

Biggs turned towards John. "The Hurtian's right... and you said you were a pilot, didn't you?"

OOC: Recognizing that it's been maybe an hour in character, it's been almost a week since Shenyang posted. Maybe we should hijack the Osprey and/or dropship. His people can catch up whenever he gets back.

ooc: that's the only thing i don't like 'bout this RP. shenyang shows up for, like, one post, and then disappears for a God-awful long time.

OOC: Epic lulz, sometimes I do feel like I'm going against the trend by just using a regular assault rifle and machine gun...I might break out a flintlock for the next one :P

IC:

Petersen could scarcely believe what he was hearing. John and Steve claimed to be veteran fighters, yet they scorned up-to-date weaponry in favour of pieces that belonged in museums. Only a fool gave the enemy an advantage, and taking equipment that had long since passed from widespread front-line use seemed an advantage indeed. On top of this, this Edward chap was so mouthy he'd got demoted from General to Lieutenant! What in His name did this prat do? He wondered, trying to keep the surprise off his face.

"Well," Petersen chuckled, pulling out a packet of gum from his pocket, "what a merry bunch we are. We've got a special chemist who seems to have no reason being here," he indicated Rogers, "professional zombie fighters who enjoy living in the past," he pointed at John and Steve before continuing. "There's a mouthy ex-General, a Spec-Ops trooper who can't keept a secret and then us two." He jerked his thumb out at Gorobets and then himself, "who guard the living incarnation of a God." He laughed out loud, slapping his thigh in mirth. "If we make it out alive, this will be one hell of a tale." Still laughing, he began to unwrap the packet and took out a piece of gum and began to chew. He handed a piece of Gorobets, who chewed it silently whilst staring out of the window.

"Anyone else?" He held out the pack for anyone to take a piece.

Edward shrugged. 'Who said living in the past is a bad thing, I'd rather send one cleanly aimed shot through a zeds cranium then a three round burst, plus, the Garand and colt I carry aren't just superb weapons they're legends." He shrugged again. 'And so far my mouth hasn't gotten me killed yet, just shot at."

OOC: Sorry I've been MIA, I had a post, but it got eaten by JOLT, then I got side-tracked with things like school, and Cloverfield. Mostly Cloverfield, I'll admit it.

IC:

Talisman and Joker boarded the transports. With a knock at the doors the engines roared to life and the two transports lifted into the skies, then vectored for Gdansk. With time the insessent sound of artillery gave way to the sound of distant, rolling thunder. Not entirely dissimilar sounds, but noticably so. Out the side windows one would have seen a world devoid of normal human activity. Any other time cars would have crowed the highways, people would have been going about their lives. Now, the Northwest Defensive Sector was dead. Save the occasional hold-out or special forces op, not a single confirmable group of live humans remained.

It would have been eerie, the lack of any normal sounds, except that the drone of the quadruple ducted fans effectively killed any sounds but the thunder.

Glancing at watches, the Shenyangi soldiers wordlessly began their time honored 'lock and load' procedures. Weapons were loaded, checked and secured, grenades were taped, and their pins secured.

Talisman went through a few moments of muttering, song lyrics, as always. He removed his enclosed helmet and pulled two pills from his vest, tossed them high into the air and caught the descending capsules in his open mouth. After reaffixing his helmet he sat back and rested his hands gently on his MSG-90.

Joker locked and loaded his weapons, with typical panache. He'd always enjoyed the dramatic, and was prone to weapon tricks. A few spins of his pistols and they were secured again. He looked down at his gloved hand. Over the nomex flight glove he wore a simple wedding band. He mouthed some words, not in English, and then looked away from the ring. He sent a text message from his cell to his wife.

"Going in again. Call when safe. -Alex"

He'd been told to stop doing that last time he'd gotten a hold of his wife, but it was hard-coded to who he was now.

The ALFA-2 troops checked weapons with military precision befitting their prestigious home units. They all carried XM-10A2 variants. The vehicle crews carried carbines, as did a few others, but most carried the XM-10A2 battle rifle. The pride of Shenyangi weaponry, the XM-10A2 was the go to rifle for one simple reason. It was damn near perfect. Making an example of several previous weapons, the best features were integrated into a rifle that shot 1 holes at 600 meters, while surviving being dropped from an aircraft, or so the legends went.

Few knew, that 'legend' was true, Talisman had dropped his XM-10A2 during a jump several years ago, and found it scratched but intact, mag cracked, at the drop-zone. Of course, his optics were beat to hell, but the weapon was still usable. Scratches to the weapon's finish showed that damage.

'Rain' quickly checked her weapons, then focused on her PDA. She brought up various secured data and catalouged it by mission importance. Her rather unique physical characteristics had precluded her from infiltration work, so she'd been put into direct action, but she was still a spook, and it was widely believed she had yet to be ID'ed by any foreign governments.

Content with the intel, for the moment, she checked her weapon once more.

Edward shrugged. 'Who said living in the past is a bad thing, I'd rather send one cleanly aimed shot through a zeds cranium then a three round burst, plus, the Garand and colt I carry aren't just superb weapons they're legends." He shrugged again. 'And so far my mouth hasn't gotten me killed yet, just shot at."

"Right, 'cept for the necessitated stripper clips and the 'PING'. I know you probably aren't so big on stealth as I am, that being the way I make my kills, but goddamn if that won't draw every enemy within a hundred yards." Biggs shrugged. "But you aren't running suppressors, either, so I don't suppose it'll make much difference." He grinned. "Now, the Colt... you've got me. Fantastic sidearm. Prefer my Mk23, but that's a matter of taste."

"Finally, I was gettin' tired of waiting," Grant said as they lifted off. He reache over and turned on the CD player he'd strapped overhead. Little Richard's soulful voice filled the cabin.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=F3oFFqXxTzk
Gonna tell Aunt Mary 'bout Uncle John,
He wrote us that he missed us,
But I know he's havin' fun.
Ye-e-ah baby. Wo-oh baby.
Havin' me some fun tonight.
...

He continued to sing along, tapping his foot to the beat.

"Right, 'cept for the necessitated stripper clips and the 'PING'. I know you probably aren't so big on stealth as I am, that being the way I make my kills, but goddamn if that won't draw every enemy within a hundred yards." Biggs shrugged. "But you aren't running suppressors, either, so I don't suppose it'll make much difference." He grinned. "Now, the Colt... you've got me. Fantastic sidearm. Prefer my Mk23, but that's a matter of taste."

"One we land we'll be in the thick of it, no reason for stealth." he shrugged. "Random flashes of lighting will draw them, but witht ehs torm raging around useverything will get drowned out. As for you SOCOM, the Mk23 is pretty much the modern 1911, if I haven't had this colt since my days in the QCS I would've taken the 23."

"One we land we'll be in the thick of it, no reason for stealth." he shrugged. "Random flashes of lighting will draw them, but witht ehs torm raging around useverything will get drowned out. As for you SOCOM, the Mk23 is pretty much the modern 1911, if I haven't had this colt since my days in the QCS I would've taken the 23."

Biggs drew the SOCOM from the thigh holster. "Yeah, it's great. Little big, though." He checked the mag before hostering it again.

Talisman picked up a large bag he'd brought on each mission, considered for a moment, then put it back onto the deck.

"Not yet."

The massive transports wheeled sharply, the LAVs strained against their shocks, bust stayed in place. As the aircraft descended vertically for the beach the LAV crews jumped into action. In a few mometns they were in their vehicles and had the engines growling. One modification to Shenyangi land vehicles in recent years was the introduction of hybrid electric technology. As the birds touched down and the ramps dropped the two LAV-IIIs pulled out and formed up. Talisman, Joker, and 'Rain' took positions outside 'Yellow Jacket', while the remainder of ALFA-2, some 34 men and women, did the same with 'Bird Eater'.

"Alright get those vehicles in postion, once everyone's off-loaded ALFA-1 and 2 will head for the town square and take positions there. Stay sharp people."

Biggs stood up from his seat and hustled off the dropship, chambering a round in his M24 as he went. He jogged over to where his Shenyangi hosts were waiting.

IC:

John grabbed his DR-87, and loaded it, and Steve loaded his DAC-97, and they got off the dropship.

As the dropship landed, Grant turned off the CD, his face suddenly flat and expressionless. The only hint that he was the same person from a minute ago was when he said, "Gonna have me some fun."

The Commonwealth Marines left the dropship, fanning out to cover the area in front of them. Trosky took the lead with his SAW as the Gunny joined up behind him, Grant and his sniper rifle providing rear security.

Rogers got off the drop ship, loaded his M4, and checked his belt, Kamas on his right him, three chlorine grenades on his left hip, gas-mask behind his rights, and five small vials of H2SO4 over the buckle. He threw his ammo satchel over his shoulder, took a moment to calm himself and said "well now, I guess this is it, into the mouth of hell that is combat, the eternal struggle of life and death, behold for yonder we shall meet our foe, so different and yet all the same, for we are them and them are we, never shall we meet an end for we are soldiers, and for us war is life and death is the only true peace." He quickly realised that he had started to rant and did not need to alienate him self more. "Erm, I mean lets show those freaks what we're made of, huu-raa."

OOC: Sorry I just had to make fun of the mucho, go-get-em attitude.

Out of sight, out of mind, and out of the rain...

The Hurtians waited, hanging themselves out the wide open rear hatch, scanning the surrounding dark landscape.

"Maintain noise discipline until we reach the objective!"

They didn't want wait for the dropship to hit land before jumping off...

They made a quick beelne to a nearby building, Thompson checked through a window and signalled an all clear.

Schwartz was next, as he went for the far corner of the block, and scanned all directions down the street, as well as inside the building, Rosenthal and Thompson covered the approach.

Rosenthal was next, as he went to the far corner, and kicked in a door...
Schwartz provided cover and advance warning for outside threats, while Thompson aproached to follow Rosenthal through the room clearing.

So far, not a shot had been fired, but they knew these 'zombies' already knew something was going on. It wouldn't be long.

The rain was pouring down on Schwartz... what a miserable time to be him...

An arm then grabbed him by the right shoulder from behind.

Schwartz turned to fire, noting it was only Thompson informing him that 1st story was secure and that he better find a good perch inside and out of the rain.

Rogers got off the drop ship, loaded his M4, and checked his belt, Kamas on his right him, three chlorine grenades on his left hip, gas-mask behind his rights, and five small vials of H2SO4 over the buckle. He threw his ammo satchel over his shoulder, took a moment to calm himself and said "well now, I guess this is it, into the mouth of hell that is combat, the eternal struggle of life and death, behold for yonder we shall meet our foe, so different and yet all the same, for we are them and them are we, never shall we meet an end for we are soldiers, and for us war is life and death is the only true peace." He quickly realised that he had started to rant and did not need to alienate him self more. "Erm, I mean lets show those freaks what we're made of, huu-raa."

OOC: Sorry I just had to make fun of the mucho, go-get-em attitude.

ooc: um, is that targetted @ me?

IC:

The Marines had moved up the street, as indifferent to the rain as if they were walking down a quiet street in Springtime. As members of an elite MEU Recon battalion, they had been trained for all sorts of weather contingancies. And Commonwealth weather was notoriously harsh. Their movements were fluid and precise, each member keenly aware of the other's presence. Trosky took a knee behind an abandoned car, and his two superiors followed suit, their rifles scanning the area. From an all-weather case strapped on his arm, Strauss removed a P-1101 Pathfinder, its LED screen locating them and their objective up ahead. Placing it back, he relieved Trosky as point and led his team forward.

IC:

John saw a zombie infront of him and fired one shot into the zombie's head, which was enough. Steve fired at a couple that jumped out from a door, and they were dead. They stuck together with the rest of the ALFA-1 group, as they went up the street.

"Contact," the Gunny hissed, dropping to a knee and popping off a couple of rounds into an approaching zombie. Another was felled as Grant opened up with his rifle, the suppressed shot barely a whisper over the wind.

They began leap-frogging through the street, providing cover for one another as they advanced towards the objective. To their side and slightly behind, Strauss noticed John and Steve in close pursuit. They had dropped two hostiles and were moving along with the team. Pausing to check his Pathfinder again, he waved them on.

Biggs, seeing the others go off in various directions, followed John and Steve to the town square. Once he got there, he broke off, moving for a three-story building to the right and in front of of the square, with one's back to the sea (Which is to say, a slightly more forward position). He crept silently through the rooms of the building, making his way to the roof.

He froze. Did he really hear a creak, as though someone else was in the building? He quietly slung the M24 onto his back, drawing the Mk23. He pushed open a door, ever so slightly, entering inch by inch. It looked clear. He must have been hearing things. The stress of combat, he supposed. Even so, it was unlike him.

And then the hands grabbed him from behind. Cold hands, hands with no life, no pulse.

Biggs, relying on instinct and KM, swept out the feet of his attacker with a quick kick behind him, then grabbed the offending wrists and threw the attached body over his shoulder. He leveled the Mk23 on the... thing's head, loosed a single suppressed shot, and then took a moment to breathe before continuing back onto the rooftop.

As with many buildings in areas that don't receive snow, the roof was flat. Perfect for Biggs' purposes. It also, conveniently, was a story taller than the buildings near it. Biggs holstered the SOCOM, set the bipod on the M24, adjusted for wind, and took up a prone position on the corner of the building. He then thought about his lack of a spotter, and decided that it might be prudent to make sure he wouldn't need one. He dug through his pack for a moment, finding what he needed.

He left the sniper rifle at the corner, walked back to the trap door that led to the ladder he'd taken to get to the roof, and set a claymore mine facing it. Then he took a few steps toward the rifle and laid down another, albeit at a different angle, so as not to detonate when the first went off. He did this once more, thus ensuring himself protection against at least a few zombies.

He laid down again at the rifle, sighted in, and waited for targets.

OOC: Actually he wanted out of the rain because Schwartz isn't an 'expert' rifleman, just the best marksman on the team sent, he doesn't need the added distraction of rain pattering his backside, plus, when firing from inside the rooms, it causes less noise/light from getting to the street.

All of which is very important...
Since he's in a building facing back to the LZ.

Are these guys issued radios?

IC:
Schwartz was setting up his stock and scope in the reletively dry safety of the first floor when he heard shots fired from an unsuppressed assault rifle (Rogers's M4).

Looking out a window, he saw that the situation was out of is view, on a side-road they had passed, and hoped that the second story or rooftop perches would allow for better shooting, since the fist story of any building can't remain secure for long.

He then remembered the secondary mission, noted a cellar door, but decided against drawing them out. They're hopefully safer down there until after this was over with. If there were any survivors of course.

He continued up the stairs as he heard a few muffled pops and thuds above.
------
Meanwhile:
Rosenthal and Thompson were busy clearing the second floor for their 'sniper', and being a low infestation, they dealt with the enemy in a quick flurry of melee. They had contacted a single zombie at first, they took awhile to actually kill it, mostly because they expected mortal wounds to kill, which didn't, eventually they learned to go for the brain-only as two more burst through a door, and were met with suppressed automatic weapons fire to the head.

Shortly after, they showed Schwartz to his 'sniper perch', a formers young girl's bedroom. They had pushed the bed up against a wall and to on its side, to be used as a barricade if need be. His 'shooting bench' consisted of a small table, tablecloth removed, and a pillow was offered for use as a sandbag, but was declined.

Schwartz was then let to figure out windage, range, and positioning on his own while the other two made a hole leading onto the roof.

Around this time the Hurtians switched over to the more powerful 6.5x55 rifle ammunition, extra pistol ammunition was given to Rosenthal, whose task was to gaurd the stairway with his shotgun.

Schwartz waved a pink tablecloth at John/Steve/Briggs in their building diagnally across from theirs.

Thompson searched around for this claimed horde of 150 zombies from the roof, though it was only taler than some of the buildings, with most matching the height and a few particular examples exceeding it. The small size allowed it to be adaquately defended by three people.

(How deep was it to town square anyways?)

ooc: the might have radios. at least squad-range. i would think the teams can at least talk to one another, if not to base/support/whatever

ic: Waving his team to the side, the Gunny kicked open the door of a nearby building. Inside it was pitch black, so he quickly clipped on his NOD scope over his eyes. He waved the others inside, and they made quick work of sweeping the building. Working their way up the stairs, the Marines broke through onto the roof. Grant rushed to the ledge, providing yet another sniper position for the team. Strauss and Trosky lingered, waiting for the rest of the Alpha Team to assemble.

OOC: I had assumed Biggs had a radio.

OOC: Yes, if your character didn't have one before arrival they were issued one.

IC: ALFA-2 headed for a two-story building on one side of the square. It was the tallest building around. This was a stark contrast to most Shenyangi communities, where tall buildings were a necessity. They secured the building, posting guards on the ground floor, but most of them on the second floor and rooftop.

"ALFA Leader, this is ALFA 2-6. We're in position."

Talisman and the other two Shenyangi were set up on the second floor of the building across the street.

"Roger that, ALFA Leader to all ALFA 1 and ALFA 2 units, we are a go."

Edward slowyl opened a door on a single story building, shining his light cautiously into the building. he could see no signs of life, not even of a strugle, everything sat exactly where it should be, only a borken window and a rain drenched carpet was out of place. He cautiously edged in,shutting the door behind him. "Harrison here, I'm in the single story building to your left Steve, close what looks like a small park." He cautiously stepped into the living room and checked the hallway. He gave a sigh of relief when a slight shuffling caught his attention. "Harrison again, possible contact." He stepped into the hallway and shone his light into one of the bedrooms. A scene from a horror movie awaited him, blod and gore were splattered across the walls, smeared on the torn sheets of the bed and oozing from the fresh bodies of the inhabitants. "Harrison, Confirmed contact or contacts, several corpses confirmed, unknown status." He turned around and came face to face with a zed, had he been a split second slower, he would've been dead. The afflicted lunged at him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in. "Hard Contact!" He shouted over his radio. He jammed his elbow against the zeds neck and pushed, his light clattering to the floor, illuminating the bedroom and silhouting several corpses, corpses that were standing up. The zombie pushed forward once more, knocking Edwards balance off. He managed to keep his arm against the afflicteds throat, preventing him from taking a bite out of him when he felt a tug on his boot. He whipped his foot up, breaking the nose of whatever had been tugging on his boot, when a shiny metallic object protruded from the zeds eye. He pushed the zed off and fired several shots into the freshly risen zeds, two missed but the rest found their mark. He whirled to face whoever had saved him pistol leveled. "N, R, S." He said. "Jennifer Frost, Captain, 3780" Edward noded. "Edward Tiberius Harrison, Liuetenet First Class, 1138." He picked up his radio and flicked it back on. "Contacts down, repeat contacts down."

"This is LAV-1, we have confirmed pursuit. The chase is on. ETA 10 minutes."

"LAV-2, we have pursuit. Forming up on LAV-1 and heading in. ETA 10 minutes."

"Roger that, feel free to thin them a little boys."

"Affirmative ALFA Leader."

In the distance, the tell-tale growl of Shenyangi hybrid turbo-diesels was punctuated by the sound of 25mm autocannons. The sound reverberated like the closing lightning. The wind was picking up. It seemed like the storm was the bigger threat, as a swirling mass of black roared toward the soldiers.

"Tangos... er... Zulus spotted. Inbound, on the street. Engaging." Biggs muttered into his radio as he pulled the trigger. His shot landed, the bullet tugging a zombie's chest. Biggs swore softly, adjusted his aim, shooting for the head this time. He fired again, as the wind picked up. Clean miss on his target, but it hit another. Biggs didn't complain.

He adjusted quickly for the increased wind, shook his head to clear the rain from his hair and eyes, and sighted back in on the inbound horde. He fired again. This time, he hit right where he meant to. "Zulu down," he reported. He fired again, knowing full well that it would hit, and not bothering to make sure. He reloaded, then took aim on another.

It was going to be a long day.

OOC: I am confused, where are we?

He shouted over his radio. He jammed his elbow against the zeds neck and pushed, his light clattering to the floor, illuminating the bedroom and silhouting several corpses, corpses that were standing up. The zombie pushed forward once more, knocking Edwards balance off. He managed to keep his arm against the afflicteds throat, preventing him from taking a bite out of him when he felt a tug on his boot. He whipped his foot up, breaking the nose of whatever had been tugging on his boot, when a shiny metallic object protruded from the zeds eye. He pushed the zed off and fired several shots into the freshly risen zeds, two missed but the rest found their mark. He whirled to face whoever had saved him pistol leveled. "N, R, S." He said. "Jennifer Frost, Captain, 3780" Edward noded. "Edward Tiberius Harrison, Liuetenet First Class, 1138." He picked up his radio and flicked it back on. "Contacts down, repeat contacts down."

John and Steve were with Edward, and they fired at the zombies that were trying to leap at them, and they caught them mid leap.

John broke down another door, and fired, just in time to catch another zombie, the bullets making the afflicted's face explode. Steve and John regrouped with Ed and Jennifer Frost.

Edward noded to John and Steve. "Thanks for the quick rescue, I owe you guys some drinks." He turned to jennifer. "And who the hell are you?" Jennifer gave him a chilling smile. "the question is, who am I the daughter of?" Edward silently muttered a stream of curses. "This isn't the best time for any critical thought other than survival, cut the crap and lets have it." He sliced his hand through the air to make his point. She gave him another chilling smile. "Forst." She said. Edward scratched his head. "Frost, the Ark knight? That doesn't make sense, the guy was only..." Jennifer shook her head, a single loose braid sawying with her movement. "My father is forty two, I'm only twenty." Edward frowned and rubbed his the sparse stubble on hsi chin. "Let me guess, daddy wants me to baby sit you." Jennifer raised her hand as if to slap him, then lowered it. "Your different from what my father said." She spun on her heel and left the room. Edward rubbed his cheek as if he had been slapped. "Some things change..." he muttered.

Edward noded to John and Steve. "Thanks for the quick rescue, I owe you guys some drinks." He turned to jennifer. "And who the hell are you?" Jennifer gave him a chilling smile. "the question is, who am I the daughter of?" Edward silently muttered a stream of curses. "This isn't the best time for any critical thought other than survival, cut the crap and lets have it." He sliced his hand through the air to make his point. She gave him another chilling smile. "Forst." She said. Edward scratched his head. "Frost, the Ark knight? That doesn't make sense, the guy was only..." Jennifer shook her head, a single loose braid sawying with her movement. "My father is forty two, I'm only twenty." Edward frowned and rubbed his the sparse stubble on hsi chin. "Let me guess, daddy wants me to baby sit you." Jennifer raised her hand as if to slap him, then lowered it. "Your different from what my father said." She spun on her heel and left the room. Edward rubbed his cheek as if he had been slapped. "Some things change..." he muttered.

Steve followed Jennifer, and he said "My apologies that my comrade was a bit ruder then we'd have like. I'm Steve Bjornnes, member of 5th Division, Falcon Ops." He held out his hand to Jennifer for her to shake.

Meanwhile, John said to Ed "Isn't that the guy you were telling me about at the Last QCS Party?" He fired his gun at a zombie that was trying to get through the open window, and after he killed it, closed the window. "There, now there's less chance of any unwelcome visitors coming in.."

Grant was firing a steady hail of well-placed shots, felling undead one after another. Meanwhile, the Gunny and Trosky had opened up with their own weapons, Trosky's SAW cutting through the crowds.

"You will not be afraid of the terror by night,
or of the arrow that flies by day."

Grant muttered as he fired off another round.

Edward noded. "Thats the one, best marksman I've ever seen, wonder if his daughter picked up his skill."

OOC: To make it simple, I'm splitting my posts into (x) number of paragraphs for my characters, currently its only two, Edward first, Jennifer second.

IC:

Jennifer shook Steve's hand. "Jennifer Frost, currently in transfer limbo." She glanced back at Edward. "Dad said he was different, he was supposed to act like a shining knight, and all I got was a rude jab at me and my father. what happened to him?"

Edward noded. "Thats the one, best marksman I've ever seen, wonder if his daughter picked up his skill."

OOC: To make it simple, I'm splitting my posts into (x) number of paragraphs for my characters, currently its only two, Edward first, Jennifer second.

IC:

Jennifer shook Steve's hand. "Jennifer Frost, currently in transfer limbo." She glanced back at Edward. "Dad said he was different, he was supposed to act like a shining knight, and all I got was a rude jab at me and my father. what happened to him?"

John replied "I'll bet she did. Steve is one of the best snipers I have ever scene, in fact with a .50 cal, he sniped a zombie a mile away once.."


Steve replied "It could be he is surprised that your father, well, you know had any kids. John said that Ed told him about your father, and well. I've only heard about you once, maybe twice." He heard a scraping sound at the door, and instinct told him what it was, quickly opening the door, he found a zombie attempting to claw at him.

Steve fired off five rounds into the head of the zombie, and he smiled weakly at Jennifer Frost saying "This is messy business.."

John replied "I'll bet she did. Steve is one of the best snipers I have ever scene, in fact with a .50 cal, he sniped a zombie a mile away once.."


Steve replied "It could be he is surprised that your father, well, you know had any kids. John said that Ed told him about your father, and well. I've only heard about you once, maybe twice." He heard a scraping sound at the door, and instinct told him what it was, quickly opening the door, he found a zombie attempting to claw at him.

Steve fired off five rounds into the head of the zombie, and he smiled weakly at Jennifer Frost saying "This is messy business.."

Edward chuckled and shot a zed through the forehead. "We'll have to see, eh?"

Jennifer sighed. "I guess it is true that famous people aren't the same in person..." She glanced at Edward. "I wish he was like dad said he was..." She shook her head. "Got to stay focused." She said to herself. Jennifer turned and sliced open a zeds skull with a razor sharp knife. "Not as messy as some missions I've been deployed to."

OOC: I am confused, where are we?

OOC: We landed and went our separate ways. If you'd like, to make it easy, I can assume that you've followed me. I'm currently sniping on a high rooftop, if you'd care to be there.

IC: Biggs was started to get frustrated. The storm was getting worse, and that meant working out wind adjustments before practically every shot. Granted, it wouldn't have made a difference, really, on human targets, but aiming only for heads made it necessity. And, true, he was still landing every one of his shots, but it was annoying. He swore loudly and fired again. He aimed again and pulled the trigger. Click.

He swore again, this time a bit more softly. He reached into the bandoleer where he kept the .338 rounds. Empty. He felt again. Still empty.

"Awesome," He said, setting the M24 aside. He pulled the M4 off his back and checked the mag. Full. That meant 180 more shots before he had to resort to his sidearm. Cue more swearing.

And the zombies just kept coming. He suspected that they knew where he was, as honestly it wasn't difficult to tell. He'd have to change position soon.

Edward chuckled and shot a zed through the forehead. "We'll have to see, eh?"

Jennifer sighed. "I guess it is true that famous people aren't the same in person..." She glanced at Edward. "I wish he was like dad said he was..." She shook her head. "Got to stay focused." She said to herself. Jennifer turned and sliced open a zeds skull with a razor sharp knife. "Not as messy as some missions I've been deployed to."

John chuckled as he threw a grenade out of the window to the mass of zombies gathered below, "Yep, but I'll hope that he is as good as he claimed.." He fired at a zombie trying to break through.

Steve said "Maybe he had a lack of sleep, and or he's just cranky for some reason today."

OOC: Sorry, not much really to do IC on from the looks of it besides RPing the effects of running low on ammo now...

IC:
We are cut-off, surrounded on all sides, and running out of ammo...
They aren't getting away this time...

Schwartz wasn't going to bother picking out zed-heads at anything greater than 600 meters away, past 300 meters the task of shooting the enemy in the head became difficult even with rifle ammunition, beyond that it the best he could do was hope they'd shamble closer. Ammunition supply wasn't too horrible, but he hoped they'd pull out soon...

Thompson, on the roof, was picking out large clumps of zombies and firing for effect, mostly in an effort to keep them from busting into any of the occupied buildings. One of his more 'odd' cartridges was a triple-shot load of buckshot intended to be fired from the underbarrel HM-320. A simple description of the round is as a full-auto only, precussion fired 3 shot metalstorm cartridge of 2 gauge buckshot ownage... The officially preffered method of use was to swing the barrel before-during-and after pulling the trigger for maximum effect at close range, giving an effect similar to a claymore mine, including the implied felt recoil, such rounds were only issued for suppressive fire purposes when changing belts.

He decided to check on Rosenthal, as his location was the least defensiable in the event the second floor was breached. Besides, he was down to his last belt, it was time to move on...

Rosenthal was swearing profusely. His HAP-625 has jammed for the nth thime and he's had to use his precious few 12 ga ammunition once again. There were quite a few corpses piling up by the stairs, most ended up sliding back down to the foot or became something of a slick red carpet of pulpy flesh, making it difficult for any zombies to climb the stairs. It also meant there was a pile of dead obstructing his view outside, so he was never fully certain how many zombies were going to appear. The lack of a bolt hold-open or cocking handle only added to his frustration...

Another zombie came up the steps, Rosenthal took aim and pulled the trigger...

*click*
"dang..."

Rosenthal then, in one swift movement, just like in the advertisements, pulled the empty mag, beamed the zombie in the head with it, pulled out a fesg one, snapped it in place, kicked another zed onto his back and sliding downstairs, cocked his gun with a spent shell rather than burn his fingers, leveled, and hammered a few more rounds 'downrange'. There must have been six zombies in that group trying to scramble up a 500 centimeter wide staircase...

Thank god he wasn't claustraphobic...

He also noted that the wooden construction of the staircase just wasn't built to withstand that much lead being shot into it and that many bodies being piled on top.

Biggs barely heard it, so involved was he in his shooting. Creaking, behind him, and below. He turned just as the first zombie came up to the roof. As the first claymore went off, shredding the zombie, he secured his M4 (Now down to 145 rounds) and grabbed his M24. He looked around. It was pretty obvious he couldn't go back down into the house, there were clearly zombies in it. And he was ill-equipped for close-quarters combat. He looked over the edge of the building.

Zombies. At least a dozen. He might be able to take them all out, but what then?

He heard the second claymore go off and knew he didn't really have time to analyze this so closely. He looked at the roof across the street. The building it covered was boarded up, so it didn't look like there'd be much of an undead presence inside. But, on the other hand, it was a one-story building, and that meant a sixteen foot drop, at least. Spraining an ankle here would be a death sentence.

The third claymore went off.

Biggs ran across the rooftop.

And jumped.

He landed on the rooftop across the street, coming down in a hard roll, his chest slamming into something harder than it was. He felt a rib snap. His vision wavered. Out of sheer willpower, he stood up and made his way to the trap door on the roof that would lead into the building below. He turned for an instant to take a couple potshots at the zombies on the roof he formerly occupied. (If Rogers decides to have accompanied Biggs, he also hopes that Rogers got off okay.) The pain in his chest, a byproduct of firing the rifle, made him want to vomit. He fell to a knee, retching, but held it together.

He opened the trap, gazing down into the darkness below, illuminated only by the shaft of light coming down from the door. He strapped his rifle to his back, drew his pistol, turned on the tactical light, and descended into the darkness. He slid down the last part of the ladder, trying to make as little noise as possible. He turned slowly, taking into account each and every feature of the building. There was a door about twelve feet from him with light seeping out from its base. Either it opened outside, or someone was in there.

He set up for a breach by instinct, but then opted instead for the simpler solution. He knocked. The lock on the door clicked, and it opened a crack. A dirty face peered out, then the door was flung open and the room's inhabitants emerged. There were three of them, all of them uninfected from the looks of them.

"Are you here to rescue us?" One of them asked in Shenyangi.

"... yeah." Replied Biggs, fluently, "First Lieutenant Biggs, Hurfdurfistani Foreign Intelligence Service, Special Activities Division." He held out a hand.

(OOC: Shenyang, I don't know your country's naming conventions, so I'm going to ask that you name the survivors. The good news is that they're all related, so you only need one last name. There's an elderly male, a teenaged female, and a male child.)

"[Name]," the girl replied, shaking the proferred hand, "And this is my brother, [Name2] and my grandfather [Name3]."

Biggs turned and spoke quietly into his radio, trying to keep it out of earshot from the group he'd stumbled across, "Talisman, Joker, Rain, anybody, this is Biggs. I've found three survivors. We're in the building across from the one I was originally shooting from. I've got a broken rib and am running low on ammo. None of these guys look combat-capable. At this point, I only barely am myself. Please advise. Biggs out."

He turned back to the group of survivors, flashing them his best, most optimistic smile. "Everything's going to be alright. We'll just sit tight here until they tell me what to do."

But all he could think was, We're fucked. Unless we get extracted real soon, we're fucked.

Biggs barely heard it, so involved was he in his shooting. Creaking, behind him, and below. He turned just as the first zombie came up to the roof. As the first claymore went off, shredding the zombie, he secured his M4 (Now down to 145 rounds) and grabbed his M24. He looked around. It was pretty obvious he couldn't go back down into the house, there were clearly zombies in it. And he was ill-equipped for close-quarters combat. He looked over the edge of the building.

Zombies. At least a dozen. He might be able to take them all out, but what then?

He heard the second claymore go off and knew he didn't really have time to analyze this so closely. He looked at the roof across the street. The building it covered was boarded up, so it didn't look like there'd be much of an undead presence inside. But, on the other hand, it was a one-story building, and that meant a sixteen foot drop, at least. Spraining an ankle here would be a death sentence.

The third claymore went off.

Biggs ran across the rooftop.

And jumped.

He landed on the rooftop across the street, coming down in a hard roll, his chest slamming into something harder than it was. He felt a rib snap. His vision wavered. Out of sheer willpower, he stood up and made his way to the trap door on the roof that would lead into the building below. He turned for an instant to take a couple potshots at the zombies on the roof he formerly occupied. (If Rogers decides to have accompanied Biggs, he also hopes that Rogers got off okay.) The pain in his chest, a byproduct of firing the rifle, made him want to vomit. He fell to a knee, retching, but held it together.

He opened the trap, gazing down into the darkness below, illuminated only by the shaft of light coming down from the door. He strapped his rifle to his back, drew his pistol, turned on the tactical light, and descended into the darkness. He slid down the last part of the ladder, trying to make as little noise as possible. He turned slowly, taking into account each and every feature of the building. There was a door about twelve feet from him with light seeping out from its base. Either it opened outside, or someone was in there.

He set up for a breach by instinct, but then opted instead for the simpler solution. He knocked. The lock on the door clicked, and it opened a crack. A dirty face peered out, then the door was flung open and the room's inhabitants emerged. There were three of them, all of them uninfected from the looks of them.

"Are you here to rescue us?" One of them asked in Shenyangi.

"... yeah." Replied Biggs, fluently, "First Lieutenant Biggs, Hurfdurfistani Foreign Intelligence Service, Special Activities Division." He held out a hand.

(OOC: Shenyang, I don't know your country's naming conventions, so I'm going to ask that you name the survivors. The good news is that they're all related, so you only need one last name. There's an elderly male, a teenaged female, and a male child.)

"[Name]," the girl replied, shaking the proferred hand, "And this is my brother, [Name2] and my grandfather [Name3]."

Biggs turned and spoke quietly into his radio, trying to keep it out of earshot from the group he'd stumbled across, "Talisman, Joker, Rain, anybody, this is Biggs. I've found three survivors. We're in the building across from the one I was originally shooting from. I've got a broken rib and am running low on ammo. None of these guys look combat-capable. At this point, I only barely am myself. Please advise. Biggs out."

He turned back to the group of survivors, flashing them his best, most optimistic smile. "Everything's going to be alright. We'll just sit tight here until they tell me what to do."

But all he could think was, We're fucked. Unless we get extracted real soon, we're fucked.

"All right, Marines, a fellow teammember has requested assistance and evac. Grant, you'll stay behind and continue to provide sniper cover. Trosky, you're with me. We'll go in, exfil and bring them back up top. All right, let's move out!" the Gunny ordered.

"Oo-rah!" his teammates answered.

The two Marines took out a line of rope and secured it to a pole on the roof. When they were sure it wa secure, the Gunny lobbed a flashbang over the edge, waiting for it to go off before rapelling down the side, Trosky in close pursuit. He cleared himself of the rope and took a knee, scanning the area carefully. Once the PFC had followed suit, the Gunny took off down the street to Biggs' position. Looking up at the distance between the buildings, Gunny Strauss was surprised the man hadn't broken his neck. Breeching a window with a charge, the Marines climbed inside the building, Strauss setting up a Claymore before leading Trosky into the darkened interior. Their light beams illuminated the deserted rooms as they advanced.

"Commonwealth Marines!" Strauss announced. "We're here to evac you to our site!"

In the chaos following the deployment, the two Skgorrians had dashed into a nearby house, popping off shots at the approaching zombie horde. Petersen knew that by entering a house, he'd be negating the one main advantage that he and Gorobets had over the zombies: range. A CQB environment meant that Petersen and Gorobets couldn't pick off enemies from far away, they'd have to get up close and personal.

"Let's get to the roof!" Petersen roared over the chaos of the battle, to which Gorobets nodded in response. She took point, not because Petersen was scared, but it made good sense to have the person carrying the biggest gun go first. He flicked the fire select on his AKEM up to 'Automatic' and followed her as she made her way through the house, covering the rear. It seemed to have been deserted for some time, and whoever was last here had left in a hurry judging by the fact there was still food on the table. Gorobets heard a roar and a zombie came shambling out of a room, its arms outstretched.

"Contact," she hissed as she depressed the trigger and sent six 7.62mm rounds into the zombie, shredding its torso and head utterly. "There's bound to be more of 'em sir."

"We've got to get up," Petersen replied, briefly glancing back. "From the roof we can put down fire and maybe even get out of here alive if we're lucky."

"Copy that sir," she affirmed and moved down the hall towards the stairs. The noises of the battle outside still filled the house, but now there was an ominous creaking.

"Sir?" Gorobets whispered, her voice beginning to show some signs of nervousness.

"We've got to get out of here," Petersen decided. "Follow me." He began to move back towards the entrance of the house, but then something began to pound at the door.

"Who's there?" He yelled, raising his weapon. The pounding continued. "Damnit answer!" Still no answer, if anything the pounding grew more intense and a zombie roared. Not waiting for confirmation, Petersen fired a full burst at the door, peppering it with holes. The pounding ceased for a second, but then it began again. A decayed arm punched through the weakened door and waved expectantly for food.

"Roof! NOW!" Petersen yelled, pushing Gorobets up the stairs. They ran up the stairs, the pounding of their boots on the stairs echoing the pounding of the zombies on the door. Petersen wished he'd brought some mines or something, but there was not time to worry about that now.

At the top of the stairs, Gorobets kicked down the door to what looked like a bedroom.
"This looks like as high as this building goes sir," she reported, striding over a window and smashing it with the butt of her PKM.

"Looks like we're climbing then," Petersen smirked quickly, but then the downstairs door crumbled apart and his smirk disappeared.
"Get climbing Private, I'll see you up there," he ordered, pulling a grenade out of his belt. Gorobets clambered out of the window, and after getting a good foothold on the window ledge, pulled herself up onto the roof. Petersen meanwhile threw his grenade down the stairs, followed shortly by another, and then began to climb out of the window. Gorobets pulled him up to the roof just as his radio crackled.

"Talisman, Joker, Rain, anybody, this is Biggs. I've found three survivors. We're in the building across from the one I was originally shooting from. I've got a broken rib and am running low on ammo. None of these guys look combat-capable. At this point, I only barely am myself. Please advise. Biggs out"

"Survivors?" They both blurted at the same time, then they looked at each other, barely able to supress a grin. First a small giggle escaped, then they then began to roar with laughter. Tests had proven that people found the strangest of things funny in stressful situations, and there certainly weren't many situations more stressful than this.

"Sounds like we'd better do something about this," Petersen decided, finally controlling himself. "But where in frag's name is he?" Both of them began to look around, until Gorobets saw someone throw a rope from one building to one just across the street.

"There sir!" She pointed, "it looks like those troops from the Commonwealth. They might be going in to help Biggs."

"We can only assume that, I just wish they'd tell us that sort of thing over the radio. You're going climbing Gorobets." Petersen pulled a rope and grappling hook out of his bergen and threw it, grinning with satisfaction as it caught a pole. "Off you go," he ordered, looking for something to tie it down onto but alas could not find anything. "I'll hold the rope, you go." Gorobets started to say something, but instead sketched a quick salute and took hold of the rope, then began to cross the gap, moving hand over hand.

Petersen activated his throat mike and spoke.

"Biggs, this is Petersen. I'm sending Gorobets to your location. Hold tight." He didn't actually know that Biggs was in that building, but he saw no reason to cast further doubt and worry onto the soldier's mind. Besides he thought as the first wafts of smoke drifted upwards, I have enough to worry about. The building had caught fire, and there was most probably no way off for him now.

Rogers fallowed Biggs on to the other roof, 'Finally' he thought when he saw the survivors 'now we are doign something.' He spent his time on the roof with biggs shooting down at the zombies, but it appeared like no-matter how many he downed more would just come along.

"So then, what's the situation, any of then bitten?" Rogers asked, after he got an answer he said "I'll look for any place where the zed's could get at us from."

"This is Gunnery Sergeant Strauss," Strauss radioed, cursing himself for not informing the rest of the team. "We've consolidated with Biggs and the survivors, but there is a large force advancing on our position. Request fire support!"

He turned to Trosky, who had been covering their position with his SAW, "Private, Gorobets is coming in. Let 'er in through the window."

"Aye, sir!" Trosky shouted, shuffling his way through the deserted building. He saw her approach, and rushed to undo the Claymore as he waved her in. "Over here!" he shouted.

It was then that he saw a zombie rushing towards her. Trosky shouted for her to get down as he opened up with his SAW, the rounds tearing the undead's body to shreds. He urged her to hurry up as he provided cover for her.

Meanwhile, Grant had noticed the force approaching their position, and was trying his best to thin the crowd. "Gunny," he radioed, "Large group inbound. ETA, five minutes."

The Gunny heard the transmission and turned towards the others. "Okay, people. We need to move it on out or we'll get pinned down. Once the other teams start providing fire support, we're gonna hit that street and we won't stop until we get back to our rooftop position."

ooc: idk what everyone else is doing, so that's my plan. if skgorria or hurf have a better plan, i'll go along w/ it. i'm leaving for work, so i won't be back until late.

"Commonwealth Marines!" Strauss announced. "We're here to evac you to our site!"

"Good to see you guys. Good timing, too." replied Biggs. "Listen, you guys deal with my rib, I can go back to shooting. Right now I'm not effective."

Someone dealt with the broken bone, Biggs thanked them, and checked weapons. Sadly, ammo was still low; the ammo fairy hadn't shown up. But with the added manpower, they might just make it out alive.

"Biggs, this is Petersen. I'm sending Gorobets to your location. Hold tight." His radio blared. Biggs reached over to it and replied, "Copy that, Petersen. I've got FUS Marines already here, we'll make sure Gorobets gets in alright."

He heard Trosky open up with the SAW, looked over, saw Gorobets jump through the breached window. "Petersen, Biggs. We've got Gorobets. We're moving to the FUS Marines' position, looks like. Meet us there, we hold that point until extraction." Biggs called through the radio.

Biggs turned to Strauss. "Alright, we move for your former position. Let's keep it tight, eh? You take point, you know where we're going. We keep the civilians in the middle, Gorobets, Rogers and I keep them off our backs. Let's go."

As the group stepped out into the light, the horde of undead already surrounding the building began to converge on them. Superior firepower, however, won the day, and they made it to Grant's position. As they took up defensive positions, Biggs sat down on a desk. He looked at his hands. They were shaking. Why were they still shaking? At the query of a teammate, he shook his head, "I'm fine." he said, taking up a shooting position at a window.

(OOC: Sorry for the godmod. I couldn't think of any way to efficiently get us moving without waiting for another three days or so. If anyone disagrees, just go ahead and RP from where I went wrong and I'll go with it.)

edit: HUNDREDTH POST!!! http://img120.imageshack.us/img120/212/emotdancenp1.gif

Schwartz saw a soldier, of all crazy, hair-brained ideas, to jump across the street, and land on a single story flat next to theirs...

Followed by another one...

He also noticed the building they had came from was overrun...
He drew his attention to making sure there was a safe escape route for himself...
As the only place he could jump to was into the infested streets...

Biggs turned and spoke quietly into his radio, trying to keep it out of earshot from the group he'd stumbled across, "Talisman, Joker, Rain, anybody, this is Biggs. I've found three survivors. We're in the building across from the one I was originally shooting from. I've got a broken rib and am running low on ammo. None of these guys look combat-capable. At this point, I only barely am myself. Please advise. Biggs out."

Rosenthal, upon hearing this message -and after a brief rest brought about by Thompson's covering fire- ordered everyone onto the roof to provide covering fire for any assisting forces, Rosenthal would cover the staircase until everyone was secure on the roof.

*brief intermission as osenthal pummels zombies at steps and Schwartz+Thompson provide(d) additional covering fire for the groups in the street.*

After the sprint up to the roof (due to tactically running out of ammo), Rosenthal tossed a frag grenade behind him and slammed the access door shut and propped a board against it, hoping it would slow them down for awhile. Just long enough for them to escape.

A zip-line was then tied off onto one of the many protrusions from the roof, in this case, a TV antenna...

There wasn't any time to go in an orderly fashion, as all three fast roped down at the same time.

Schwartz was certain he heard the door break as they went down...

Sadley, by the time they reached the roof that Briggs and Rogers had fallen onto, it was already evacuated, and they had to clear their own path. They still took a light breather between moving between buildings for a tactical reload, and clipping their magazines together. It was decided to re-convert the LAR-655 to fire pistol ammo again, and consolidate all rifle ammo to Thompson, who had essentially run all his ammo belts dry and was now using only the 30 round box magazines issued to Schwartz, and loose ammunition.

They found a fast way into the street, easy to clear, but heavily exposed. It consisted of jumping from the roof, sliding down an awning, and hitting ground running.

"Fix bayonets... Semi-auto only."

And on they charged.
The goal was to consolidate forces, and plan for a last stand.

"Where are those [Gosh-darned] LAVs!?"
He pulled up a tactical radio with his left hand as he hammered a HAP-625 with his right:
"Alpha Two, This is Alpha One, can you give us a status report on those LAVs?"

Schwartz saw a soldier, of all crazy, hair-brained ideas, to jump across the street, and land on a single story flat next to theirs...

Followed by another one...

He also noticed the building they had came from was overrun...
He drew his attention to making sure there was a safe escape route for himself...
As the only place he could jump to was into the infested streets...



Rosenthal, upon hearing this message -and after a brief rest brought about by Thompson's covering fire- ordered everyone onto the roof to provide covering fire for any assisting forces, Rosenthal would cover the staircase until everyone was secure on the roof.

*brief intermission as osenthal pummels zombies at steps and Schwartz+Thompson provide(d) additional covering fire for the groups in the street.*

After the sprint up to the roof (due to tactically running out of ammo), Rosenthal tossed a frag grenade behind him and slammed the access door shut and propped a board against it, hoping it would slow them down for awhile. Just long enough for them to escape.

A zip-line was then tied off onto one of the many protrusions from the roof, in this case, a TV antenna...

There wasn't any time to go in an orderly fashion, as all three fast roped down at the same time.

Schwartz was certain he heard the door break as they went down...

Sadley, by the time they reached the roof that Briggs and Rogers had fallen onto, it was already evacuated, and they had to clear their own path. They still took a light breather between moving between buildings for a tactical reload, and clipping their magazines together. It was decided to re-convert the LAR-655 to fire pistol ammo again, and consolidate all rifle ammo to Thompson, who had essentially run all his ammo belts dry and was now using only the 30 round box magazines issued to Schwartz, and loose ammunition.

They found a fast way into the street, easy to clear, but heavily exposed. It consisted of jumping from the roof, sliding down an awning, and hitting ground running.

"Fix bayonets... Semi-auto only."

And on they charged.
The goal was to consolidate forces, and plan for a last stand.

"Where are those [Gosh-darned] LAVs!?"
He pulled up a tactical radio with his left hand as he hammered a HAP-625 with his right:
"Alpha Two, This is Alpha One, can you give us a status report on those LAVs?"


ooc: just starting a little before-the-fact.

What the-bayonets? the Gunny thought as he saw them charge. After treating Biggs' rib, they decided on a Hail Mary-No Guts/No Glory dash back to their stronghold. He nodded assent at the Lieutenant's suggestion.

"Ok," he told the three survivors, "Me and Trosky are first, y'all stick to our sixes. Them three will stick to yer rear and provide cover. Oo-rah! Let's go!"

He kicked the door open, no longer caring for its protection, and fired a 40mm grenade into the ensuing horde. THe blast ripped several to shreds and knocked even more to the ground, giving them ample breathing room to escape. Moving at a quick pace, the Marines led the motley crew back to their position, dropping a knee as needed and firing off a few rounds. From above, they were back in Grant's line of sight, and his precision shots allowed them to focus more on running than shooting. The girl tripped, and Trosky was quick to grab her arm as she fell, righting her even as he fired a burst from the hip. Making it to the building, they reached the fire escape, running up the rickety metal steps. As a few zombies began shuffling their way up, the Gunny dropped a C4 charge onto the stairs, detonating it once they were all clear. The blast took out the resilient undead as well as cutting off the stairs from the building.

"Having fun, sir?" Grant asked as he trotted up, letting loose a round as he neared the edge.

"Oh, always," Strauss said sarcastically. Sometimes, the only way to survive combat was to have a sense of humor. He turned to Trosky and Gorobets, "Privates*, get those civilians under some cover. Biggs, if you're not too badly injured we could use your help-" he started, but he noticed that Biggs had already taken a firing position. He was called back from his thoughts by Grant.

"While you were gone, I connected to the A-SAT system," Grant explained. "Guess what I learned."

"You know, that's illegal," Struass said, referring to the Commonwealth's satellite information system. "What'd you learn?" he asked with a sigh.

"The Ymir beat the Bolsheviks 17-14."**

"Now that is good news," Strauss said, taking aim and popping a zombie's head from the rooftop.

*gorobets is a private, right?

**sorry, had to put in a superbowl reference.

ooc: skgorria, is it alright if i have trosky hit on gorobets?

Every shot was agony. The M4's kick was negligible, but Biggs felt every bit of it through his injured rib. He wiped sweat from his hair and forehead as he brought his eye back to the ACOG scope atop the rifle, sighting in on yet another zombie. And he was still shaking. He knew why, of course. Biggs wasn't afraid to die. Well, he was mildly averse to the idea, but it didn't terrify him. He knew that when his number was up, there'd be no stopping it. But he was afraid of becoming one of... them. The undead. He wondered idly, while shooting, if they were still sentient. Were the consciousnesses of the original humans still horribly aware of what was happening? How they tore apart their former friends, family, lovers...

Biggs roughly shoved the thought aside and kept shooting. He could not ascribe humanity to these pitiful creatures. That would only lead to mistakes. All the same, every zombie movie he'd ever seen rushed through his head, culminating in one idea: What if there's a cure? Was he justified in eliminating these undead if there was even the slightest chance they might be restored to normalcy? Again, he angrily shoved the thought aside. No mercy, no pity. He'd been trained as an assassin, and now was when he needed the emotional blocks that brought with it.

No mercy, no pity.

He was only taking shots on close targets, now. He hadn't missed yet, but he had to make every shot a kill, ammo being what it was. He couldn't allow any more body shots. He just hoped that the LAVs arrived soon. The teams couldn't last much longer before it came to hand-to-hand combat.

He was brought from his thoughts by Grant, talking about how the Ymir beat the Bolsheviks 17-14 in the final game of the season. He grinned. He'd had money down on that match, and the Ymir had 100:1 odds against beating the Bolsheviks. The two hundred credits he'd placed on the Ymir would become twenty thousand credits, three months salary. If he survived this, he was buying himself something nice.

Looking back at the street, he saw the Hurtians making a mad dash toward his building. He checked his mag (Only 122 shots left) and reloaded upon feeling how light it was. Over the radio he announced, "Rosenthal, Biggs. I've got your position, will keep 'em off your back. Fire escape's gone, I'll fix a rope. Do you copy?" He stopped shooting for an instant to attach a rope to the desk he was sitting on earlier, a remarkably heavy thing, knot it quickly to facilitate faster climbing, and toss it out the window. "Rope's fixed, hurry up," he spoke into the radio. He sighted in again, sighed at the ammo he was about to waste, and set the rifle for burst-fire. After all, now the stakes were higher. He stood to lose teammates. He couldn't afford not to kill when he fired. He pulled the trigger and pulped a zombie skull, then another, and another.

No mercy, no pity.

OOC: Just for kicks. http://img207.imageshack.us/img207/2266/sealct0.th.gif (http://img207.imageshack.us/img207/2266/sealct0.gif)

ooc: wow, idk that hurf paid attention to cfus sports teams, lol.

ic:

Trosky led Gorobets and the civilians down into what had been a storeroom. It was secluded from the main hallways and out of the way, proividing soem security if the building was overrun. He gave them the instructions the Gunny had told him and turned to leave.

"Wait!" cried the teenage girl, "Don't leave us."

Trosky shared a fertive glance with Gorobets before answering. "But we have to return to our posts to keep the enemy away," he tried to explain. "Don't worry, we'll be back."

"That's what the others said," the man replied.

"What others?" Gorobets asked.

"The ones who wore uniforms like you," the girl explained. "They said the same thing, but they left us anyway."

"Well, that's not what we're going to do," Trosky answered. "As a Marine, I give you my word."

ooc: sorry also for the godmodding and putting that spin on the survivor's story. it just seemed like a good narrative.

"Harrison, moving to provide cover for the civies." Edward took a quick glance out the window. A putrid mob was gather around the house, dozens were falling from the sustained gunfire, but even with the waves of lead pouring into the mob, more and more undead shambled in to replace them. Edward adjusted the strap on his watch. "Harrison here, I'm going to create a simple distraction, John, if this doesn't work, help yourself to my M-1. The rest of you, I hid a bottle of bourbon in my room, its in a copy of the odyssey." He pulled several flash bangs of his belt. "Bitte, lass mich leben." he said, then pulled the pins.

OOc: Its now up for speculation whether Edward survived his gamble, but Shen and cal might know where I'm taking this.

"Cut that talk," Strauss said over the comm, launching another grenade into the crowd. "For one, I don't drink, and another, if you go to the trouble of wasting such a good book, you better finish off the bottle." He said this even as he reloaded and fired another grenade. He didn't dare announce he only had two more left. And the last of his C-4 had been used on the fire escape. Less than two clips of ammo...though there was always his .45 MEU. An explosion on the other side let him know that Grant had used one of his own M-67 grenades. Trosky and Gorobets were on another side, the Marine's SAW cutting into the crowd, eating up precious ammo in the process.

"This is 234th Wyverns to Command," Strauss radioed, "Where the frak are those LAVs?!"

The two LAVs came rolling into the square, auto-cannons roaring with steady thunderous thuds. The sound of the high explosive rounds hitting the mob behind them intermingled with the thunder. The howling winds served to carry away the sounds of the incessant moaning of the undead. Through the driving rain and the persistent lightning flashes the mob came shambling into the square like a macabre parade.

ALFA-2 let loose with sustained weapons fire from the XMG-10A2 machine guns. The barrels began to brighten, slowly changing from matte black to red as more and more rounds poured down the barrels. The snipers began firing into the area, that’s all they could hope for in the 45 mile per hour winds. The rain pelted the soldiers and interfered with their vision, still they kept shooting into the mob.

Talisman, Joker, and Rain let loose from the second floor of a shop building. Tightly controlled bursts of automatic fire sliced into the mob, thinning their ranks with slow but lethal efficiency.

The tide of undead reached the building ALFA-2 where ALFA-2 was concealed. Their first floor sentries held them as long as possible, then retreated upward, blocking the path behind them.

“ALFA-2-6 to all available units, we need a sweep of the first floor over here, we’re trapped upstairs. We’ll hold.”

A wet thump came from behind Talisman. He turned to see a pair of ghouls, thoroughly disfigured slouching through the door. Upon seeing him they paused, bristled. It was then that he noticed the sinister claws, an anomaly found in some undead. He knew what was coming. The creatures dropped low and charged. He let loose with his XM-10A2. Scorching hot shell casings showered Rain as Talisman emptied his magazine into the charging beasts. They contorted beneath the sustained bursts, finally slumping.

He reloaded and pulled his pistol. He walked up to each corpse and planted a .45 ACP round into their skulls, for insurance. After securing their six and blocking the door he returned to the window.

“What the Frak!?”

“Would you have preferred I let those Talons rip us to shreds?”

She looked back and saw the corpses on the ground, the tell tale 8-inch bone claws where the fingers should have been. She nodded.

“Talisman to all units, we have confirmation on talon mutants, watch out for anything with big-ass claws, if you see it, shoot the shit out of it.”


OOC: sorry about being MIA.

OOC: Knew something like that was going to come about, seems like a popular alt for zeds in zombie RP's. Not going to post for a while, gonna be busy.

ooc: skgorria, since gorobets is w/ my team, i'm sorta borrowing her. i hope that's ok.

ic:

"What'd you think he meant by that?" Trosky turned to Gorobets. They had ended up staying with the civilians, using the nearby windows to continue to pour fire into the enemy.

As Gorobets was about to answer, a loud crash sounded from behind the barricaded door to their right. She turned just as a Talon ripped into the room.

"Look out!" Trosky shouted, kicking her feet out from under her. The Talon's claw missed as it sailed over her head. It caught Trosky's flak vest and tossed him across the room. He landed with a crash into a stack of crates. Gorobets unloaded into the Talon, her gun's* rounds tearing into it. Once it was down, she rushed over to Trosky, who was staring in awe at how closely the claw had been to cutting into him. The flak vest was ruined, but it had served its purpose.

"Let's get up top," he told Gorobets, motioning for the civilians to follow them. "Trosky to all units. Confirmed contact with a Talon."

*I don't know the specifics of the gun, so I left it vague.

OOC: I am goign to assume those mutant things have nerves and can feel pain, and sorry for not posting lately.

Rogers found himself seperated from everyone else, some sort of makeshift walkway lead him to another building. As Talisman's massage sounded through his radio two ghouls rounded a corner and came at him, he downed them without problem, by now he was starting to get good at this sorta thing. He took out one of his vails of sulferic acid, he poured a bit on each of their heads, he heard the infection can still spread from their corpse, half the vial was left.

Something looking vaugly like a human came charging at him from around the corner, not knowing what else to do he through the half vial of acid at the thing's face. I winced for long enough Rogers to grab his M4 from off the floor, he shot it three times but it was moving to fast for him to make his shots truly count. The thing got too close for him to shoot, so he droped his M4 and drew his kamas, the beast swung wide at his head, an easy block. The blade dug into it's wrist, as he moved the things hand away his kama cut down to the bone, it wouldn't be using that 'hand' much anymore. The other claw came in at his ribs, a much harder block, he shifted his stance and crosed his kamas, that got the thing in the upper forearm, he kicked it in the head, knocking it on the ground. Before it got a chance to get up he stabed it though the eyes.

"This is Rogers I just fought what I assume is one of those talon mutants, are they contagious?"

OOC: going to post from a different perspective


ALFA Team breakroom

Frank jolted from his semi-dozing state on the bar. "Hey, bars closed." The bartender loomed above him, polishing an already clean glass. Frank picked himself up, wiping the corner of his mouth. "Sorry." He managed to mumble. The bartender noded. "I can give you some coffee though, you look like you might need it." Frank noded wearily. "My first time back with an old friend, first thing I do is get slammed." He took a deep gulp of the coffee, ignoring the heat and forcing it down. "Ended up becoming a merc when my commision was up, and how did they repay me? They impounded my gunship, gave me a piece of crap and contracted me as an errand boy." He forced down another gulp of coffee. "Kinda screwed up, huh?" The bartender noded slowly. "Tell you what stranger." He rumbled. "This one's on me" His massive hand groped under the bar, then found what he wanted. He gently set a bottle down on the bar top. "Fifty year old vodka, I've heard that some people like it in their coffee." Frank's face lit up. "Sure do, nothing like a bit of vodka in the-" His phone pulsed in its pocket. 'I've got to take this, sorry." The bartender noded slowly again. "Yeah, this is Frank. jennifer? You sure- What? It.." He dropped the phone, it shattered into hundreds of platis and crystal shards. "Mein gott..." He muttered. He frantically funbled with his radio. "This is frank green, I need my gunship loaded up now. Thats right, .50. No its not to much. Shut up and do it!" He angrily flicked the radio off. 'Duty calls." He muttered.

OOC: Yeah, I'm brining Frank in, but only as gunship support for this mission, I'll have him go grunt next mission.

OOC: They have nerves, but they don't really have any real purpose, and it doesn't feel pain. Of course, slitting its wrists would disable the hand, atleast temporarilly, just remember, they don't heal, and they don't feel pain, so if you wound them, yes its permanent, but they don't care and will keep swinging as best they can until you cause enough trauma or put something into their brain, be it bullets, blades, rocks, etc.

OOC: Well cutting down to the bone would sever the mussels and tendents needed for any real control over the claws, the only part where I was taking pain liberties was with the acid. As for that we can call it a necrotic muscular chemical reaction, sounds scientific.

ooc: 'muscles' and 'tendons.' sorry, my mom's an English teacher.

ic:

"Trosky, you got more lives than a cat," Grant acknowledged as the Private explained his near death experience.

"Thanks, sir," Trosky answered back.

"Trosky, glad your ok," the Gunny said. He motioned to a part of the building currently not covered. "You an' Gorobets take over security on the south end, oo-rah?"

"Oo-rah!" Trosky replied.

OOC
I'm covering everything between posts 108 and 121, so I'm covering an awful lot, so I may as well make this a recap post from Rosenthal's POV...

IC:


Looking back at the street, he saw the Hurtians making a mad dash toward his building. He checked his mag (Only 122 shots left) and reloaded upon feeling how light it was. Over the radio he announced, "Rosenthal, Biggs. I've got your position, will keep 'em off your back. Fire escape's gone, I'll fix a rope. Do you copy?" He stopped shooting for an instant to attach a rope to the desk he was sitting on earlier, a remarkably heavy thing, knot it quickly to facilitate faster climbing, and toss it out the window. "Rope's fixed, hurry up," he spoke into the radio.

Rosenthal's Raiders made a hasty retreat towards the fire escape, having everyone climb at once wouldn't do to well, so it was decided to send Rosenthal first, then Thompson, then finally Schwartz.

As fast as one could climb, and as fast as they could kill, the zombies just kept getting closer and closer.

The two LAVs came rolling into the square, auto-cannons roaring with steady thunderous thuds. The sound of the high explosive rounds hitting the mob behind them intermingled with the thunder. The howling winds served to carry away the sounds of the incessant moaning of the undead. Through the driving rain and the persistent lightning flashes the mob came shambling into the square like a macabre parade.

Then a steady, stuccato of thunder came rolling through the streets, the sound of autocannons...

There was much chearing, as Schwartz pulled up the rope, kicked a zed in the head, and breathed a sigh of relief, it would take them awhile to cimb over themselves enough to reach the fire-escape. Allowing a much needed breather for everyone to reload their guns and top off their magazines.

Trosky led Gorobets and the civilians down into what had been a storeroom. It was secluded from the main hallways and out of the way, proividing soem security if the building was overrun. He gave them the instructions the Gunny had told him and turned to leave.
Rosenthal went down to the cellar, passing Gorobets, to console the new survivors with remmenants of their MREs, mostly chocolate K-rations, cigrarettes, energy bars, coffee, water, hot cocoa, and fruit drink mix.

"So you're the survivors from next door? well, you've lasted this long, chances are you'll all make it out fine."

He also went through the basic precaution of checking for any injuries, until he was interupted by the radio.

“ALFA-2-6 to all available units, we need a sweep of the first floor over here, we’re trapped upstairs. We’ll hold.”

"Roger, this is Alfa One, Rosenthal's Raiders, we'll be there shortly with an LAV..."
He then gave a sad glance towards one of the children...
"I'm sorry that I'll have to go, but there are still people in harm's way, and if we don't go now, mor people will be hurt, so I'll have to leave you here, we'll come back when we can, till then, take this..."

Rosenthal gave the elderly man his HAP-625 PDW with a spare magazine...
(80 rounds)

"It's standard issue, can penetrate level III body armor like butter, it'll d plenty of damage to their skulls, light tap on the trigger pulls off a single shot, a full squeeze sets it into full auto. When this door closes, keep quiet and don't open it no matter what, if we want in, we'll blast a hole in it ourselves, if we can't and there are still zombies outside, what are the chances we'll be doing you any favors?"

He then left, and gently closed the door, briefly, as the door was open, eveyone inside the pantry could hear the hail of gunfire mixing with the moaning of the zombies and the screaming of the storm.

The high pitched whine of a jet aircraft could be heard above...

As he went to his men, his personality seemed to change completely, yet again, into a cold, gruff, unfeeling taskmaster...

"Alright raiders, Alfa two is pinned down hard, our job is to unpin them so they stop their whining and get back to patroling for any zeds looking for a swim to another country, alright?"

"Sir yes sir."

"Oh, and Thompson, give me your sidearm..."

"Harrison, moving to provide cover for the civies." Edward took a quick glance out the window. A putrid mob was gather around the house, dozens were falling from the sustained gunfire, but even with the waves of lead pouring into the mob, more and more undead shambled in to replace them. Edward adjusted the strap on his watch. "Harrison here, I'm going to create a simple distraction, John, if this doesn't work, help yourself to my M-1. The rest of you, I hid a bottle of bourbon in my room, its in a copy of the odyssey." He pulled several flash bangs of his belt. "Bitte, lass mich leben." he said, then pulled the pins.

OOc: Its now up for speculation whether Edward survived his gamble, but Shen and cal might know where I'm taking this.


John said "I'll give you covering fire!" He picked up his DR-87 and he and Steve gave a burst of covering fire, the zombies dropping like flies, but more replaced them.

Steve yelled to Jennifer "Ed may have been a jerk to you, but you cannot deny bravery!" He said "We need to stick together now.."

OOC: Sorry for being gone, I was sick, and then school, so I'm sort of back now.

A staticy transmission washed over the radio. "...back... more then.... drew them away..... running low... ten... es ist zurück! Es ist zurück!" The trnasmission ended in a long burst of gunfire before falling silent.

A staticy transmission washed over the radio. "...back... more then.... drew them away..... running low... ten... es ist zurück! Es ist zurück!" The trnasmission ended in a long burst of gunfire before falling silent.

John hung his head low, and he said raising it "If they got Ed, if they.." He felt himself tremble in anger, and he said "It's time for payback!" He threw down a couple of grenades to the street level, and as the undead scattered, he gave a wicked grin!

He took off his DR-87, and picked up Ed's M-1 Garand and started firing at the undead below, saying "That's for Ed!"

Jennifer grabbed John. "This is no time for reckless decisions, keep your head together, we'll mourn when this is over."



2 miles from the combat zone


Frank had a difficult time battling the high winds from the tropical storm, and an even harder time keeping on course. Everysingle weapon was full of ammo, but as it was a scaled down model he had been given for his contract, it lacked everything except for twin chin mounted .50 chain guns. Frank flipped through the radio channels and enetered the encryption code for the ALFA temas combat channel. "This is Frank Green, looks like you guys could use-" His words froze in his throat as Edwards transmission came through. His mouth hung open, jaw frozen in shock. He let out a scream of rage and anguish over the radio, blotting out all other voices.


OOC: Frank is like a father to Edward, just to explain it.

Jennifer grabbed John. "This is no time for reckless decisions, keep your head together, we'll mourn when this is over."



2 miles from the combat zone


Frank had a difficult time battling the high winds from the tropical storm, and an even harder time keeping on course. Everysingle weapon was full of ammo, but as it was a scaled down model he had been given for his contract, it lacked everything except for twin chin mounted .50 chain guns. Frank flipped through the radio channels and enetered the encryption code for the ALFA temas combat channel. "This is Frank Green, looks like you guys could use-" His words froze in his throat as Edwards transmission came through. His mouth hung open, jaw frozen in shock. He let out a scream of rage and anguish over the radio, blotting out all other voices.


OOC: Frank is like a father to Edward, just to explain it.


John replied "All right, then we must move.." He followed Jennifer, and motioned for Steve to follow him. John reflected back on all the years he had served with Ed, and that only steeled his resolve to complete the mission at hand. He kept aware, firing at a zombie that leapt out of the doorway, with Ed's M-1. He had slung the DR-87 over his shoulder.

Frank screamed himself hoarse. A shudder ran through his body, jerking the stick to the left and starting the gunship in a wild spin. "Dammit..." He croaked. "This is Frank, the second I regain control of my gunship, I'm making a run, stay clear of the streets." He jerked the stick to the right to compensate for the spin, then to the left to straighten the chopper out. "This one's for you, kid." He depressed the firing stud and twin seas of lead swept over the undead.

He reached the back of the building without incident. A truck, an old one probably just used to move food, most likely fish, sat empty not far from the blown-out back door. He crept silently into the truck's cabin, cracked open the steering column, and looked for wires leading from the ignition to the starter solenoid. As he searched, he spoke softly into his radio. "Biggs here. I've commandeered a civilian vehicle to the north of the building I last radioed from. Any ALFA members volunteering to retrieve Harrison, rendezvous at the truck. I need at least a driver. I'll keep them off of it until you arrive. But do hurry." He checked his ammo. Down to 104 rounds. Things were about to get interesting.

Steve said on the radio "Bjornnes to Biggs, I'll come. I know how to drive the truck. I'm down to 200 rounds, but I'll do it." He made his way towards Biggs, and he said, after downing a undead in the head "I hope there's a chance Ed's still alive. It'd be a miracle if he was, and uninfected too."

John looked back as Steve went to join the rescue team and he said to Jennifer "Now, I'd guess it's you and me." He sighed and he said as he shot a zombie "I feel privileged to serve with such a fine man as Edward Harrison."

Biggs yanked off his radio as a scream erupted over it and rubbed his temples. As soon as the screaming stopped, he replied, calmly, "Green, Biggs. Keep it together, please. We'll find him. We won't leave him behind. In the meantime, think of how you can best serve his memory, if he is... well, if he's gone. I think he'd want you to keep up the fight. Think about that." He took a deep breath, then spoke slowly into the radio. "This is Biggs. I need volunteers to rendezvous at my position. We're going to retrieve Harrison. I think I know how we can do it, but we've got to move quickly."

Even as he finished talking, Biggs was leaving his firing position, moving downstairs through the building, remaining hidden, staying quiet. A talon mutation stood in front of him. Biggs froze. The talon looked directly at him, seemingly smelling the air. As slowly as he could, trying to remain in control, Biggs reached for the SOCOM at his hip. The talon walked towards him, slowly. Did it see him? Smell him? He didn't take the time to find out, instead opting to quickly swing the SOCOM's barrel up and pull the trigger. The talon slumped backwards as gray matter and bits of bone sprayed from the back of his head. Biggs, although unnerved, holstered the SOCOM and kept moving down the stairs.

He reached the back of the building without incident. A truck, an old one probably just used to move food, most likely fish, sat empty not far from the blown-out back door. He crept silently into the truck's cabin, cracked open the steering column, and looked for wires leading from the ignition to the starter solenoid. As he searched, he spoke softly into his radio. "Biggs here. I've commandeered a civilian vehicle to the north of the building I last radioed from. Any ALFA members volunteering to retrieve Harrison, rendezvous at the truck. I need at least a driver. I'll keep them off of it until you arrive. But do hurry." He checked his ammo. Down to 104 rounds. Things were about to get interesting.

"Copy that, you drive, I'll shoot." He crossed the right wires, shocked himself, and shook his now-numb hand as Steve's second transmission came over the radio. "Even if he isn't alive, we dishonor his memory by leaving him here. We'll retrieve him regardless. I'll work on a triangulation to get his location."

Steve nodded, as he got into the civilian truck, and awaited Biggs to climb in. Steve fired his DAC-97 at a zombie who got too close.

A Calizorinstanian Air Force CV-22 gunship came to give some support from the air, with it's .50 cals blazing, the pilot said over the radio "Alfa Team-1 this is Talon Four, a gunship, I'm here to give you support over."

Steve said on the radio "Bjornnes to Biggs, I'll come. I know how to drive the truck. I'm down to 200 rounds, but I'll do it." He made his way towards Biggs, and he said, after downing a undead in the head "I hope there's a chance Ed's still alive. It'd be a miracle if he was, and uninfected too."

"Copy that, you drive, I'll shoot." He crossed the right wires, shocked himself, and shook his now-numb hand as Steve's second transmission came over the radio. "Even if he isn't alive, we dishonor his memory by leaving him here. We'll retrieve him regardless. I'll work on a triangulation to get his location."

OOC: Ah hell, time warp.

Biggs got into the bed of the truck and tapped on the glass, signaling that Steve should drive. Biggs began lining up close-range targets, shooting behind him. Steve, he hoped, would realize that he was going to have to simply run over any undead in front of him.

Steve realized this fact right away, and he locked the doors, and he raised the windows. He started driving right away, running over the undead that didn't scramble out of his way.

It felt to him like the car chase out of Call of Duty, but it seemed more risky then that. He kept his eye out, and if any zombie's tried to get in, he'd bang the truck against the side of the road, and then knocking the zombie off, zooming back to the middle of the road.

Steve nodded, as he got into the civilian truck, and awaited Biggs to climb in. Steve fired his DAC-97 at a zombie who got too close.

A Calizorinstanian Air Force CV-22 gunship came to give some support from the air, with it's .50 cals blazing, the pilot said over the radio "Alfa Team-1 this is Talon Four, a gunship, I'm here to give you support over."

Biggs got into the bed of the truck and tapped on the glass, signaling that Steve should drive. Biggs began lining up close-range targets, shooting behind him. Steve, he hoped, would realize that he was going to have to simply run over any undead in front of him.

In between shots, Biggs used his PDA to triangulate Steve's position, give or take a few meters. He opened the back window, shouting "Left here, then right in one block. Twenty meters down that road!" He stowed the PDA away in one of the many pockets on his tactical vest, then went back to shooting.

In between shots, Biggs used his PDA to triangulate Steve's position, give or take a few meters. He opened the back window, shouting "Left here, then right in one block. Twenty meters down that road!" He stowed the PDA away in one of the many pockets on his tactical vest, then went back to shooting.

Steve turned the truck left, and then went right in a black, and he ran over many undead that did not get out of the way in time.

John was still with Jennifer, firing at undead, and he said "I think Steve must like you, after all I heard him say that Ed, well, I'll tell you later. We're fighting for our lives.." He shot a hole in the head of a zombie that tried to grab him, but failed.

Biggs was out of the truck and shooting before it even stopped. He stalwartly ignored the pain in his torso, knowing there were more important things on the line. Harrison's life, for instance, if he wasn't already dead. He followed the trail of fallen undead back, in myriad stages of dismemberment and decomposition. He felt the cold grasp of fear around his stomach, and, for the first time since he arrived, was truly afraid.

He looked around the alley he stood in, strangely quiet and free of the walking dead, and suddenly felt smothered. This is the kind of place where people die. He shook his head and whispered into his mic, "Harrison, Biggs. If you can hear me, give me a sign. My triangulation has me only meters away from your position, and Bjornnes has a truck ready to extract us back to our strongpoint. Do you copy?"

Biggs was out of the truck and shooting before it even stopped. He stalwartly ignored the pain in his torso, knowing there were more important things on the line. Harrison's life, for instance, if he wasn't already dead. He followed the trail of fallen undead back, in myriad stages of dismemberment and decomposition. He felt the cold grasp of fear around his stomach, and, for the first time since he arrived, was truly afraid.

He looked around the alley he stood in, strangely quiet and free of the walking dead, and suddenly felt smothered. This is the kind of place where people die. He shook his head and whispered into his mic, "Harrison, Biggs. If you can hear me, give me a sign. My triangulation has me only meters away from your position, and Bjornnes has a truck ready to extract us back to our strongpoint. Do you copy?"



Steve fired at an undead that was sticking it's head out of the window, on closer examination, it was not Ed to his relief. But he still kept on guard, even though it was deserted anything could happen.


John said to Jennifer "Steve and Biggs must be the two bravest men I've known. To go back, into a hostile zone, which has almost overran us, to find a buddy. I know I'd have volunteered, but no sense losing both of us."

OOC: Well, UHC? What's it going to be? Did Ed survive? Do we find his mangled corpse? Has he joined the walking dead?

OOC: Well, UHC? What's it going to be? Did Steve survive? Do we find his mangled corpse? Has he joined the walking dead?

OOC: You mean Ed right? Because, I can control if Steve survives or not.

OOC: Anyone mind giving me a quick sketch of whats happened so far? I'd like to participate in at least one mission.

OOC: Anyone mind giving me a quick sketch of whats happened so far? I'd like to participate in at least one mission.

Short form:

Coastal city, heavy storm brewing, screwing with the nets, mission is to make sure the zeds don't make it to the sea, or to attract them away, plus recover survivors.

The Shens don't seem to trust us, so they attach one of their SFs, 'Rain', to boss us around.

Everyone lands.
Jack becomes a derilict and shoots a polar bear... and then gets eaten by Kate's baby... oops, wrong summary...
They somehow end up advancing ahead of the LAVs and Alfa-2, more on them later
They each hunker in seprate buildings in small groups, Hurtians think they found a civvy bunker, but chose not to break in, thinking they are safer inside.
Some groups are overrun, they retreat to the strongpoints, Briggs breaks his ribs and stumbles upon survivors
Others meet up with old flaming hotties... Ed makes a pass at one of the Skorgians
Strongpoints consolidate, more retreating, To take pressure off these points, Ed gets suicidal and acts as decoy

People are wondering WTF hapened to the LAVs and A2
The LAVs arrive and everyone rejoices
People get a little bit sentimental about the 3 survivors, Rosenthal shows his softer side off-camera
A2 calls in saying they are pinned, everyone is sad, Hurtians say they're going to try a link-up
Gunship support is called in, it arrives a bit later.*

Steve and Briggs go off in search of Ed because the LAVs pretty much have the zeds hosed

*A good place to jump-in on... Mr stowaway in the co-pilot's seat... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13434005&postcount=126)

OOC: Hmm... Stowaway huh? Give me time to think how to jump in like this.

OOC: You mean Ed right? Because, I can control if Steve survives or not.

OOC: Yes, sorry about that. I'm going to start taking notes to keep track of all the characters soon. It's like Gravity's Rainbow all over again.

OOC; has it ever occured to you people that some people take the weekend off?

IC:


A single staticy transmission came through. "Still alive, location unknown. Looks like... metal?" The transmission cut in and out. "One of those reavers got me, across the face. Hope thats not an entry for infection." The transmission cut again, when it cleared up it was slowly fading into static. "Where ever I am is moving, think I know whats going on, do not pursue."


OOC: I'll explain later, I need to get Edward out the thread before I go all god complex with him in later missions. (He won't be in other missions)

Short form:


Others meet up with old flaming hotties... Ed makes a pass at one of the Skorgians



OOC: What the...?

OOC; has it ever occured to you people that some people take the weekend off?

OOC: No, that's fine, I just didn't want to godmod your character.

"Still alive, location unknown. Looks like... metal?" ... "One of those reavers got me, across the face. Hope thats not an entry for infection." ... "Where ever I am is moving, think I know whats going on, do not pursue."

"Copy that, Harrison. Will not pursue. Godspeed, Ed." Biggs slumped against a wall, breathed heavily for a moment or two, then rose to his feet and got back in the truck. "He's gone, Steve. We weren't fast enough." He sighed. "Let's get back to the strongpoint before we get overwhelmed," he said, taking a shot at an encroaching zombie.

OOC: What the...?
OOC:
So I had a lil mix-up between Ed/Trosky and Jennifer/Gorobets...

I also took quite a few liberties with the definition of a 'pass'.

But I'm going to keep the summary as-is for the double take lulz of it...
I'm suprised you didn't bold the earlier statement...

It should have been apparent by line 2 that the summary wasn't overly serious with the details...

Darnit, you forced me to post, now I need to think od something witty for the IC...
Oh, right, I've got nothing from Sheny to work with...

"Copy that, Harrison. Will not pursue. Godspeed, Ed." Biggs slumped against a wall, breathed heavily for a moment or two, then rose to his feet and got back in the truck. "He's gone, Steve. We weren't fast enough." He sighed. "Let's get back to the strongpoint before we get overwhelmed," he said, taking a shot at an encroaching zombie.

Steve groaned, and as they drove off he said on the radio "Godspeed Ed.." He said "I hope I don't have to kill him. But, John got the M-1 at least.."

John heard this transmission, and he almost broke down, but steeled himself. He picked up the M-1 and started firing at the zombies in revenge, figuring that these were good shots for Ed.

Steve groaned, and as they drove off he said on the radio "Godspeed Ed.." He said "I hope I don't have to kill him. But, John got the M-1 at least.."

John heard this transmission, and he almost broke down, but steeled himself. He picked up the M-1 and started firing at the zombies in revenge, figuring that these were good shots for Ed.

Jennifer shook her head. "I hope he's okay, my father would never forgive me for letting something happen to him." She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Jennifer shook her head. "I hope he's okay, my father would never forgive me for letting something happen to him." She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

John replied "I served twenty two plus zombie hunting missions with Ed, and that makes this hurt all the more. Why should I survive and he didn't? I feel survivor's guilt." He sighed, as he dropped another zombie, and he smiled wryly and he said to Jennifer "Don't listen to me, I'm just another old colonel reminiscing about the old days, and my friend Ed.." He dropped another one and he said "I hope Biggs and Bjornnes are safe.."

John replied "I served twenty two plus zombie hunting missions with Ed, and that makes this hurt all the more. Why should I survive and he didn't? I feel survivor's guilt." He sighed, as he dropped another zombie, and he smiled wryly and he said to Jennifer "Don't listen to me, I'm just another old colonel reminiscing about the old days, and my friend Ed.." He dropped another one and he said "I hope Biggs and Bjornnes are safe.."

OOC: Are we? You're driving the truck, man. I'm just shooting.

OOC: Are we? You're driving the truck, man. I'm just shooting.

OOC: Whoops, sorry 'bout that.

IC:

Steve drove the truck like a maniac, running over many undead. He swerved a talon mutant, missing it by inches. He noticed the strongpoint ahead, and slowed down a bit, but still enough to run over the undead.

Upon passing the talon mutant, Biggs opened the door and kicked it outward as hard as he could, knocking the zombie against the side of a building with enough force to kill a human (Accounting for the velocity of the truck, too.). Might kill a zombie, too. He closed the door and looked up ahead, viewing the strongpoint and the LAVs. He got on the radio, "Biggs to all ALFA assets in the area. Bjornnes and myself are inbound, request all LAVs check their fire. Over."

Biggs looked over at Steve and said, simply, "Punch it."

Frank had to practically chisel his finger off the firing stud. "Roger, Gunship Pandora holding fire."


Jennifer dashed into the truck bed and clipped her self in with a rappel cord. "ready when you are." She said.

OOC: I'm confused, is Jennifer tagging along with Steve and Biggs?

OOC2: Dammit time warp.

Frank had to practically chisel his finger off the firing stud. "Roger, Gunship Pandora holding fire."


Jennifer dashed into the truck bed and clipped her self in with a rappel cord. "ready when you are." She said.

OOC: I'm confused, is Jennifer tagging along with Steve and Biggs?

OOC2: Dammit time warp.

OOC: Yes to ooc one, someone should use this timewarp to kick one of the jolt bots in the past. Or better yet, Chuck norris.

OOC: Yes to ooc one, someone should use this timewarp to kick one of the jolt bots in the past. Or better yet, Chuck norris.

OOC: I like how you think, sir. Sadly, this one looks like it propels you into the future... perhaps... Back to the Future...

IC: Frank had to practically chisel his finger off the firing stud. "Roger, Gunship Pandora holding fire.""Copy that, Pandora, much obliged." Biggs called back across the radio. "Steve, we've got another shooter. Keep us moving and out of the LAVs line of sight, would you kindly?" Biggs opened the door again and got back into the bed of the truck. He could shoot better from there. As the truck lurched back into motion, he leaned in towards Jennifer so she could hear him over the gunfire and zombie moans, "I'll cover the front, you get the back?"

OOC: I like how you think, sir. Sadly, this one looks like it propels you into the future... perhaps... Back to the Future...

IC: "Copy that, Pandora, much obliged." Biggs called back across the radio. "Steve, we've got another shooter. Keep us moving and out of the LAVs line of sight, would you kindly?" Biggs opened the door again and got back into the bed of the truck. He could shoot better from there. As the truck lurched back into motion, he leaned in towards Jennifer so she could hear him over the gunfire and zombie moans, "I'll cover the front, you get the back?"

Jennifer noded. "Just yell when you go over a 'speed bump'."

Jennifer noded. "Just yell when you go over a 'speed bump'."

"Got it. Will do." Biggs replied. He spoke quickly into the radio, trying to get back to shooting as quickly as possible, "Pandora, you're cleared to fire. Just watch for us, alright mate?"

OOC: I like how you think, sir. Sadly, this one looks like it propels you into the future... perhaps... Back to the Future...

IC: "Copy that, Pandora, much obliged." Biggs called back across the radio. "Steve, we've got another shooter. Keep us moving and out of the LAVs line of sight, would you kindly?" Biggs opened the door again and got back into the bed of the truck. He could shoot better from there. As the truck lurched back into motion, he leaned in towards Jennifer so she could hear him over the gunfire and zombie moans, "I'll cover the front, you get the back?"


Steve nodded, and he drove out of the LAV's line of sight, running over more undead, and John also hopped in the back of the truck, and he said to Jennifer "If we make it back alive to our homeplaces, we'll have some crazy stories to tell." He fired the M-1, having put the DR-87 down, at a zombie, and shot it in the head.

Steve avoided yet another talon mutant, and he pulled out his M1911 and shot a zombie that was trying to open a door, and he did this while driving.

"This is Gunship Pandora, I can drop some flares if you need some room. At least, I think it'll work." Frank smiled, he may not be able to shoot because of the escaping ALFA team members, but he could still wreak havoc.


Jennifer put a .50 round through a zombine, snapping its spine and nearly severing the torso. "To take a quote from my father, die mother fraker, die!"

ooc: so, are the other teams evacing, or what? are we supposed to do something else?

ooc: so, are the other teams evacing, or what? are we supposed to do something else?

OOC: As far as I know, I've simply teamed up with Calizorinstan and the UHC to drive around in a truck and kill zombies. That being the case, you're still free to do whatever you want, I think.

OOC2: Damn, content-free post. Then again, there's really nothing to do until Shenyang arrives to advance the plot.

OOC; yeah, kinda hard to keep a thread up an running when the thread starter doesn't post.

ooc: it'd be nice if he left a message to a couple of us about what we should be doing... i know i'll probably get in trouble, but this may take a while, an' my guys were already running low.

ic:

The LAV planted the fresh supplies on the rooftop, ensuring the Marines and the rest of the Alpha team could continue the fight. Strauss handed out fresh magazines to the others. Trosky clipped a fresh 100-round drum into his SAW and opened up from his position, momentarily forgetting to conserve ammo. Grant also clipped a fresh mag into his rifle, but the steady shots of a sharpshooter still echoed over the din of the storm. The Gunny himself took his position again, firing into the crowd below. I don't have a clue what those Shenyangi are screwing around for, he thought, but I'll be damned if I see my Marines die.

OOC: Or just leave a post for everyone as to which way the thread should go. This kind of reminds me of the TCBS threads, except without the month long wait and eventual death of the thread alltogether.

OOC: Sorry, I've been, busy... any recap on events since my recap?
(with corrections to my recap)

OOC: Apologies all, a combination of family circumstances and a last-ditch attempt to salvage my degree after a rather poor showing at the exams has kept me away from this for a while. If people want to continue this thread then I am still game. If Shenyang has gone, then perhaps we should relocate this team to another country?

OOC: Shenyang has been on, he just hasn't posted. Wonder if this threads been abandoned.

OOC: In that case, it's extraction time..

IC:

Three Calizorinstanian MV-22's swooped down at the strongpoint, and John heard the lead pilot crackle on the radio, over the .50 cal's blazing from the back of the MV-22's "Alfa-1, we have orders to start the extraction now.." John said to Steve "Go back to the strong point, we're getting out of here.." Steve nodded, and hit the accelerator, running over more undead.

Soon, they were getting out of the truck, and into the lead MV-22 Osprey, and John ran backwards, firing his DR-87 as cover fire, as Steve went first into the MV-22.

OOC: In that case, it's extraction time..

IC:

Three Calizorinstanian MV-22's swooped down at the strongpoint, and John heard the lead pilot crackle on the radio, over the .50 cal's blazing from the back of the MV-22's "Alfa-1, we have orders to start the extraction now.." John said to Steve "Go back to the strong point, we're getting out of here.." Steve nodded, and hit the accelerator, running over more undead.

Soon, they were getting out of the truck, and into the lead MV-22 Osprey, and John ran backwards, firing his DR-87 as cover fire, as Steve went first into the MV-22.

OOC: Are we sure this is such a good idea? It is technically still Shenyang's thread...

With that said,
IC: Biggs cut the rope holding him to the truck in one quick slash, then hustled back inside the strongpoint building. He knocked on the door to the room containing the non-combatants, then shouldered his way in. After a quick explanation, the civilians were on their way out, moving quickly. Biggs followed, M4 at the ready. He covered the civilians as they loaded into the Osprey, then asked John, "What about the Shenyangi troops? We can't just leave them here."

Jennifer uncliped the rappel line and rolled out of the truck bed and followed Biggs. "The Shenyangi forces will have their own extraction, but I am willing to hold for a bit longer. Haven't been able to test my new rifle on a line of zeds."

OOC: Frank's gunship can carry a full squad of marines. Its a modified Osprey, fittied with twin chin mounted .50 cals.

Jennifer uncliped the rappel line and rolled out of the truck bed and followed Biggs. "The Shenyangi forces will have their own extraction, but I am willing to hold for a bit longer. Haven't been able to test my new rifle on a line of zeds."

OOC: Frank's gunship can carry a full squad of marines. Its a modified Osprey, fittied with twin chin mounted .50 cals.

Biggs shifted uneasily. On the one hand, he was already in the extraction Osprey, ready to go. He was tired, hurt, and low on ammo. On the other hand... the Shenyangi troops probably needed help, and he really didn't want to have yet another squad member go off on her own. He checked the ship for ammo, then nodded to Jennifer. "Lead the way."

Frank turned in his seat. "You sure you want to go back? Theres a whole army of them decending on this place, I'd estimate a good couple hundred." He sighed as Jennifer got up and headed towards the ramp. "Allright, if you must, call if you need air support."

Frank turned in his seat. "You sure you want to go back? Theres a whole army of them decending on this place, I'd estimate a good couple hundred." He sighed as Jennifer got up and headed towards the ramp. "Allright, if you must, call if you need air support."

"We're staying too," the Gunny shouted as the Marines followed her off the ramp. "Marines never leave their comrades behind!"

With that said, the the other two fell in with Strauss and followed after Jennifer and Biggs. Strauss had his reasons for going with them; Biggs was still injured, and he couldn't be in top form for quite a while until his ribs (?) healed up. He didn't have to ask his squad if they were willing to stay behind, they were Recon Marines, and an unerrant rule was that no man was left behind. Reaching into a pocket of his LBE and pulled out a satellite phone.

"This is 234 Wyverns to 5th MEU. Come in."

"Acknowledged Wyverns," came a voice over the radio, a calm and detatched TAO aboard the Valkyrie Blade. "Read your traffic."

"We're sending coordinates for a possible air strike, over." Strauss continued. "Will send for pounders if needed."

"Roger that," the TAO answered. "Happy hunting."

Yeah, Strauss thought sarcastically as he followed the two Alpha members in close pursuit to the Shenyangi position.

Frank turned in his seat. "You sure you want to go back? Theres a whole army of them decending on this place, I'd estimate a good couple hundred." He sighed as Jennifer got up and headed towards the ramp. "Allright, if you must, call if you need air support."

Biggs rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, gesturing out the back of the gunship. "After you."

IC:

John said "I'll give support from up here with my .50 cal, I'm out of ammo for my DR-87.." Steve piped up "Same here, out of ammo for my DAC-97, and Ed's M-1. I'd bet the farm that the rest of the ammo is with Ed, wherever he fell.."

John manned the .50 cal on the MV-22 as it hovered off the ground, and he fired at the undead below, shredding several, and Steve hollered "Nice shots Colonel!" John smirked, and he said "Won't this make a good novel after I'm Commandant of the Marine Corps?" Steve just muttered "Oooh-rah sir!"

IC:

John said "I'll give support from up here with my .50 cal, I'm out of ammo for my DR-87.." Steve piped up "Same here, out of ammo for my DAC-97, and Ed's M-1. I'd bet the farm that the rest of the ammo is with Ed, wherever he fell.."

John manned the .50 cal on the MV-22 as it hovered off the ground, and he fired at the undead below, shredding several, and Steve hollered "Nice shots Colonel!" John smirked, and he said "Won't this make a good novel after I'm Commandant of the Marine Corps?" Steve just muttered "Oooh-rah sir!"

Frank laughed over the radio, a sound that sounding like tinfoil being crushed. "A novel? You really think anyone would want to read about something that might annhilate humanity?" He laughed again. "Hope it sells well, kid." Jennifer took up a position next to Steve. "Try to aim at the zeds threatining Biggs, then pick off the other ones." She smiled at him. "And try to come out of this alive."

IC:

John said "I'll give support from up here with my .50 cal, I'm out of ammo for my DR-87.." Steve piped up "Same here, out of ammo for my DAC-97, and Ed's M-1. I'd bet the farm that the rest of the ammo is with Ed, wherever he fell.."

John manned the .50 cal on the MV-22 as it hovered off the ground, and he fired at the undead below, shredding several, and Steve hollered "Nice shots Colonel!" John smirked, and he said "Won't this make a good novel after I'm Commandant of the Marine Corps?" Steve just muttered "Oooh-rah sir!"

ooc: wait, he's a Marine? when'd that happen? did my brain stroke out or something?

ic:

Trosky fired a burst from his hip, the SAWs 5.56 NATO rounds cutting into an approaching gaggle of undead that had rounded a corner. Meanwhile, three bursts from Grants rifle droped three more, the marksman barely slowing down as he aimed his rifle. The Gunny was going strong too, firing in controlled bursts as they consolidated their position. He thanked the guys above manning the .50 cals, they sure let them breathe a little easier.

ooc: wait, he's a Marine? when'd that happen? did my brain stroke out or something?

ic:

Trosky fired a burst from his hip, the SAWs 5.56 NATO rounds cutting into an approaching gaggle of undead that had rounded a corner. Meanwhile, three bursts from Grants rifle droped three more, the marksman barely slowing down as he aimed his rifle. The Gunny was going strong too, firing in controlled bursts as they consolidated their position. He thanked the guys above manning the .50 cals, they sure let them breathe a little easier.

OOC: Yes, he is.*He is certainly well decorated too with 3 Navy Crosses, 4 DSC, and one Medal of Honor. After he gets back from the Alfa Team, he's slated to be promoted to Lieutenant General.

IC:

Colonel Macked said to Steve as he fired his .50 cal "This is like the Battle of the Traverse River in Washington, where we were surrounded by Khilstanis.." Steve nodded as he fired his .50 cal, and several zombies fell, and more fell in to replace them.

Colonel Macked said "Let it be known that this was ALFA Team's finest hour, in fifty years from now, men will say that the ALFA Team saved Shenyang, and that the men in it were the bravest men, and they were quality men."

"Hungry?!" the Gunny demanded of the teeming mob, "Then eat this!" he shouted, firing off a grenade. He fired a three round burst, felling one zombie that had staggered through the explosion. He heard the Colonel's words and silently filed away the compliment for future reference. It wasn't that he was trigger happy-far from it- but Strauss couldn't stand by knowing he was safe while others still fought for their lives.

IC:

Steve directed his .50 cal fire to the zombies threatening Biggs, like Jennifer suggested. John said "You zombies want a piece of me, well take this!" He reached in back for a M-1 model bazooka, and loaded a rocket into it, and he pointed it at a group of zombies far off, and he fired the rocket. When it hit, it blew up the zombies, to the point of where there was nothing left.

The Colonel went back to firing his .50 cal, though he assisted by firing at the zombies that were headed towards Gunny and Strauss.

IC:

Steve directed his .50 cal fire to the zombies threatening Biggs, like Jennifer suggested. John said "You zombies want a piece of me, well take this!" He reached in back for a M-1 model bazooka, and loaded a rocket into it, and he pointed it at a group of zombies far off, and he fired the rocket. When it hit, it blew up the zombies, to the point of where there was nothing left.

The Colonel went back to firing his .50 cal, though he assisted by firing at the zombies that were headed towards Gunny and Strauss.

ooc: Gunny Sgt. Strauss is one guy. There's the Gunny (Strauss) Corporal Grant and PFC Trosky.

ic:

"Thanks," the Gunny called out to the Colonel. He brought his rifle up and fired off a few rounds, popping a zed that was heading towards the Colonel. "Now we're even!" he explained, turning back to the fight.

IC:

Steve directed his .50 cal fire to the zombies threatening Biggs, like Jennifer suggested. John said "You zombies want a piece of me, well take this!" He reached in back for a M-1 model bazooka, and loaded a rocket into it, and he pointed it at a group of zombies far off, and he fired the rocket. When it hit, it blew up the zombies, to the point of where there was nothing left.

The Colonel went back to firing his .50 cal, though he assisted by firing at the zombies that were headed towards Gunny and Strauss.

OOC: :confused: Okay? You're welcome to cover him, but really he's just fine on his own, injuries, fatigue, and all.

OOC: Sorry, I've been way busy for the past few weeks. As an example, yesterday I was trapped in an archive room filing paperwork from the mid-1920's all day. I should be able to post to finish this out though.

IC:

ALFA-2 was finally out of the bulding where they'd been trapped. Along with Talisman, Joker, and Rain they headed for the building where the rest of ALFA-1 was holed up.

"Sorry we're late."

He examined the situation, the LAVs would need pick-up, and that meant heading to the beach, but he sure as hell wasn't taking a guns dry squad all that way.

"Talisman to dropships, pick up the LAVs at the beach, we're taking the Calizorinstani birds back."

"Roger that."

The Shenyangi vehicles moved off and the Shenyangi soldiers ran for the birds.

OOC: Sorry, I've been way busy for the past few weeks. As an example, yesterday I was trapped in an archive room filing paperwork from the mid-1920's all day. I should be able to post to finish this out though.

IC:

ALFA-2 was finally out of the bulding where they'd been trapped. Along with Talisman, Joker, and Rain they headed for the building where the rest of ALFA-1 was holed up.

"Sorry we're late."

He examined the situation, the LAVs would need pick-up, and that meant heading to the beach, but he sure as hell wasn't taking a guns dry squad all that way.

"Talisman to dropships, pick up the LAVs at the beach, we're taking the Calizorinstani birds back."

"Roger that."

The Shenyangi vehicles moved off and the Shenyangi soldiers ran for the birds.


The Calizorinstanian MV-22's lowered their rear ramps to let the soldiers into the Ospreys, and the Colonel was the self assigned loadmaster for his Osprey, though taking a minute to pop shots at the undead.

Steve was giving covering fire with the .50 cal to the soldiers that were headed towards the bird, getting any undead that might threaten their safe passage to the Ospreys.

Biggs tapped Jennifer's shoulder and headed back to the Ospreys, taking a seat near the back of the bird to provide cover for soldiers still boarding.

jennifer noded, put one last slug into a zed and waited until it stopped twitching before turning towards the Evac chopper. "This mission.. was a disastor..." Frank said over the radio. "We may have held the line but we lost Harrison."

It was nearly inaudible, Biggs' whisper over the radio, but for those who heard, it went something to the effect of "If only we'd been faster... if only."

IC:

The Colonel's voice came over the radio, also soft "Godspeed Ed, whereever you have landed, and from all of us, see you when we also get to those green pastures across the bank." He popped another zombie, and he said, "Do we have everybody?, we shall be leaving soon."

Steve said sadly to Jennifer as she boarded "If only we hadn't lost Ed. I've met him more then once, but I've never served with him, but the Colonel.." He jerked his thumb, "He served with Ed in three different zombie fighting teams, the QCS, TCBS, and this.. He's taking it hard I think, but I think he will come bouncing back, he's strong of character, he's tough."

Colonel Macked manned the .50 cal as they prepared to take off, firing at zombies to give the soldiers covering fire.

'Edward was a soldier, its how he would've wanted to go." Frank intoned grimly over the radio. "I can't shake the thought that somehow he'll make it back to base before us, worse for wear, but other wise okay... thats how it happened every time, but without UH...." Frank bit his bottem lip. "Wherever he is know, I hope its away from this hell. But knowing what was after him... he got delivered from one hell into another."

"Almighty Father," Gunny Sgt. Strauss began, "Whose command is over all and whose love never fails, make me aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will. Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose and deed and helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones, and Thee without shame or fear. Protect my family.

Give me the will to do the work of a Marine and to accept my share of responsibilities with vigor and enthusiasm. Grant me the courage to be proficient in my daily performance. Keep me loyal and faithful to my superiors and to the duties my Country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to me. Help me to wear my uniform with dignity, and let it remind me daily of the traditions which I must uphold.

If I am inclined to doubt, steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again.

Guide me with the light of truth and grant me wisdom by which I may understand the answer to my prayer."

The three Marines responded, "Oo-rah," a final time for their fallen comrade.

IC:

John lifted Ed's M-1 solemnly, and loaded it, and gave a twenty one gun salute out the back of the Osprey as it lifted off, and then he put it down. He said choking "Ed wanted me to have his M-1, that's the last thing he said "If I don't make it John, you can have my Garand." The Colonel raised the lift, and he sat down next to Jennifer. He said "I've lost many a comrade, but this one hurts me the most, not to say that the others were not significant, they were, but he was my best friend."

Steve sighed, and he said "It's amazing, we pretty much made the mission intact, except for Ed, he's been our only real loss." John replied "But that does not make it hurt less, though." He sat down, and started to clean the M-1, that was now his. John looked around at the Osprey and he said "Well, I just hope in history books that Ed's name will be listed as those that gave their lives for saving Shenyang from the undead menace." He stood up and he took a flask of brandy out of his back, and he said "I propose a toast, to Edward Harrison, the finest fighting man that I've met, to him may he be in a happier place!"

Steve said "To Ed!", raising his own flask, and John said "Now, I've served with Ed in now three zombie fighting squads, first the QCS, the TCBS, and now the ALFA Team, and in all we served together a total of 15 plus missions together, which is a lot. We got to know each other really well, and he and I were soon very good friends. We laughed and cried in the breakrooms, and we watched his other backs. He was always alert, steady, and not prone to do anything rash. We once landed in water, in one of the TCBS missions, and it was he who first detected the vampires. We were then surrounded by vamps, and oh man, I was all shaking inside. But, I looked at him, cool, calm and collected. Then, I was determined to follow his example."

He continued, choking a bit, "He and I were almost always paired together on all of these missions. We were once surrounded by zombies, in this little town, and we had to hold for twenty four hours, until the extraction came. He and I were sitting by each other, firing at the zeds, until extraction came. He was a good man, just, and knew what was right, he led by example. This concludes my eulogy." He sat down, and he whispered to Jennifer "How was my eulogy for Ed?"

"From what I heard from my father, utterly true." She whispered back. She shook her head. "You must be taking it pretty hard, its like losing a brother, isn't it?" Jennifer sighed and closed her eyes. "I wish I could've done something to save him though.."

"From what I heard from my father, utterly true." She whispered back. She shook her head. "You must be taking it pretty hard, its like losing a brother, isn't it?" Jennifer sighed and closed her eyes. "I wish I could've done something to save him though.."

John nodded and he said "It's just like that, and more. When I thought one of the original QCS members, named Dag-4, or that was his real codename, was dead, I took it hard. But I had to keep going, and I just killed alot more zombies in anger though." He sighed and he said "There was nothing we could've done, he did a very bold, and sacrificial act. I believe that he deserves a Medal of Honor for what he did. It's sad that we lost him, but we must think of what he contributed here on Earth."

He clasped his hands, and rubbed them, it was starting to get chilly in there. Steve said to Jennifer "I can't think of how you must be feeling, first you meet Ed, for the first time, then you lose him. It's probably far worse then what you're feeling John." The Colonel turned, having instructed the pilot to turn up the heat, and he said somberly "Far worse, then I. I have the luxury of having known him long, which she didn't have. Her grieving is far worse then I, make no mistake about it. I mean, I have a right to be sad, but she, more so then I. I feel like I'm selfish, when I knew the man for fifteen years, and you've only heard stories about him."

Steve opened his bag and to relieve the atmosphere he said "Would anyone like some chocolate, it'll make us feel better."

Jennifer sighed again. "Yeah... I guess it was harder..." She looked at Steve as he rubbed his hands. "You need to be warmed up?" She asked.

Jennifer sighed again. "Yeah... I guess it was harder..." She looked at Steve as he rubbed his hands. "You need to be warmed up?" She asked.

Steve grinned and he said "I do, it's kind of chilly in here. You know, this is one of the newest Ospreys in the C.A.F Inventory, delivered last year?"

OOC: Can we just go ahead and say, back to the Breakroom (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=547292)?

ooc: that sounds good...

OOC: Do it, I am so freaking lost on this it's not funny

OOC: Sorry, I've been way busy for the past few weeks. As an example, yesterday I was trapped in an archive room filing paperwork from the mid-1920's all day. I should be able to post to finish this out though.

IC:

ALFA-2 was finally out of the bulding where they'd been trapped. Along with Talisman, Joker, and Rain they headed for the building where the rest of ALFA-1 was holed up.

"Sorry we're late."

He examined the situation, the LAVs would need pick-up, and that meant heading to the beach, but he sure as hell wasn't taking a guns dry squad all that way.

"Talisman to dropships, pick up the LAVs at the beach, we're taking the Calizorinstani birds back."

"Roger that."

The Shenyangi vehicles moved off and the Shenyangi soldiers ran for the birds.
An OOC of my unposted IC.
Yay! Mention of the Hurtian rescue party!

I think both me and shen weren't posting...
So I'd agree to chalk up that such actions were somewhere in 'the background' to explain their lack of participation. And that the second LAV was sort of camping in the intersection providing covering fire...

I suppose the Hurtians would somwhow get around to clearing out the cellar door they saw earlier, and picking up the other survivors after blowing down the door.

Followed by escorting the LAVs, Alpha-2, and survivors out.

Sort of a milk-run had it not been for the fact that they had to conserve ammo.

Schwartz cried a bit when he heard that Ed was officially gone.