NationStates Jolt Archive

Location: International Airspace, along a course approved by the WA.


A large transport plane, painted in neutral tans but bearing the logo of the Terkomai Arms Company, a state sponsored weapon manufacturing company based in the Separatist Nation of Gnufasur. The cargo plane was carrying supplies between mainland Gnufasur and a number of Gnufasurian Army bases throughout the world. Most of the supplies were the biological weapons known as Dogs of War, specially designed and armoured humans made into dog-like weapons of war.

The plane traveled along it's familiar route, having flown this path many times before. Within the cargo hold, a single neko sat, his task to keep an eye on the kennels which held the Dogs of War, especially the Alpha Unit Kennel, marked with a red stripe. This Alpha Unit kept all the other Dogs in the 'pack' under control, relaying orders from the controller to the pack. It was easier, and more importantly cheaper, this way then having each Dog of War receive the instructions or to have a controller assigned to each Dog.

Most of the day had passed uneventfully, the Neko having plenty of time to finish a number of Suduko puzzles so favored by the humans.

Unknown to the single Terkomai employee or the two pilots, disaster waited in the wings. Like all disasters, it started small. A single screw within one of the turbo props, only half-tightened by a rushed mechanic, had vibrated off its threads, and hung by just a single thread now. As the plane rustled and jostled along its way, the single screw finally flicked off its mooring. The single bit of metal turning into a deadly shrapnel, shredding the interiors of the turboprop. The turboprop caught fire.

Within th cockpit, a warning buzzer came to life, alerting the pilots to danger. The Co-pilot had already noticed the flaring engine, and was reaching to shut off the fuel to it, when the plane hit unexpected turbulence. The co-pilot's hand was slammed into the control panel as the plane jostled up and down, shaking visibly. By the time he steadied himself enough to flick the switch, the turboprop exploded.

Part of the plane's wing shredded, and the very tip of it tore itself free, tumbling back and towards the tail of the plane. A large section of the wing slammed into the rear of the plane, tearing into it.

The single employee was missed by just a fraction of a hair, and the wing, so logded that it formed a sort of wind-brake, slowed the plane considerably, before tearing off the rearmost tail of the plane, leaving a gaping hole where the tail and rear compartments should have been. The employee was torn from his seat, the safety straps which were supposed to hold him in tearing him in half. As his two halves tumbled out of the plane, the last thing he saw was a red striped kennel being wretched from its mooring, following him down into oblivion.

By now, the pilots were in full panic, a distress beacon being sent out to any receiving parties. The co-pilot grabbed a mic, switching the radio to the emergency channel, broadcasting on it. "Mayday mayday, this is Gnufasurian Flight Tango Whiskey Charlie Eight-Eight-Niner, carrying biological weapons and military supplies. We're going down. We have no flight control, repeat no flight control. We are at ten thousand and dropping rapidly." As the plane broke through cloud cover, he could make out a residential area below them. He quickly calculated where they would hit. "We are passing over a residential area. Prepping for crash landing... We have no flight control, repeat no flight control. Impact in..." He tried his best to guess how long until they hit the ground. "Four... Three! Two!... IMPACT!" Almost before he said impact, the plane plowed into the ground, crashing through several houses, before finally grinding to a halt.

The plane utterly ruined, the pilot stood clumsily to his feet. Somehow he had ended up outside the plane, laying in what he assumed was a kiddie pool. He turned, hearing burning behind him. All around him, fires burned, the fuel mixing with the flames and spreading to the houses which surrounded them. He quickly clambered up into the cockpit of the plane, pulling back the head of his co-pilot and checking for vitals. Nothing, the Neko was dead. Sighing, he moved back into the cargo compartment. Within were the many kennels, at least fifty had survived the crash. He tilted his head. Most were open.

Hearing a sound, he carefully crept deeper into the cargo holds, finding more open kennels. It saw him before he saw it: One of the Dogs of War was busy opening a kennel. The Neko's eyes went wide. It wasn't the Alpha Unit, only the Alpha Unit should be able to do something like this. The two stared at each other, neither moving. The pilot quickly considered what he knew about the Dogs of War. Without the Alpha Unit, they were programmed to go into Evade and Assassinate sub-rountine, until such a time that another Alpha Unit could be brought to bring them under control. But would they recogize him as a fellow countryman? He didn't think they were ever tested to see how they would act in this kind of situation.

The Neko never even heard the second Dog of War behind him, raising a jagged piece of metal and jamming it into his kidneys. The Neko screamed, as more Dogs of Wars pounced on him, beating him with chucks of metal and anything they could get their hands on.

Once satisfied that the only witness was dead, the Dogs of War finished freeing the rest of their pack, then fled into the surrounding residential area, killing anything that saw them...


((OOC: So what I'm asking for, is someone MT who wouldn't mind being the country where the plane crashed. What we have on our hands is a group of sixty Dogs of War, using Evade and Assassinate tactics. Likely, emergency responders would be killed as they near the plane, and anyone in the homes surrounding the plane would also be killed in a manner similar to the pilot. Stabbed and beaten with looted chucks of wreckage, until at least they replaced those with common kitchen knives.

First come first serve, please. :D))

ooc: I'll bite...LOL BITE get it they are DOGS

ooc: I'll bite...LOL BITE get it they are DOGS

((OOC: Oh God, the PUNS! I never thought about the puns! Here's (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=423101) some info on the Dogs of War.))

((OOC: Guess I'll make the first move then...))

Location: Alhealc, Gnufasur, Terkomai Arms Company HQ

A matter of minutes had passed since the plane first sent out its distress signal. Satellites had been requisitioned, and a large display panel showed it's flight path, a line colored yellow, and where it had diverged from the path, colored in blue, and where it started to go down, colored in red.

Looking at the map, Director Fusuka noted that the plane had diverged from its projected flight path well before the problems which brought about it's downfall. The landmass had been identified as The People's Empire of Ralkovia.

Stepping away from the panel, Director Fusuka turned to one of his sub-ordinates, "Tenacd drec saccyka du The People's Empire of Ralkovia." He spoke. The sub nodded, opening a program on his computer, then giving a thumbs up, signalling that he was ready to record the Director's message.

"Drec ec Tenaldun Anthony Fusuka, uv dra Terkomai Arms Company. Uha uv uin bmyhac lynnoehk bnubneadyno sydaneymc yht dalrhumuko frelr ec dra aqlmiceja bnubando uv dra Terkomai Arms Company, lnycr myhtat fedreh ouin danneduneac, yht fa fuimt pa suna drah rybbo du caht y cbaleym lmayh ib days. Fa nacbaldvimmo naxiacd bansecceuh du tecbydlr cyet days du ouin hydeuh. Drec days fuimt pa mayt po Ihed Maytan Anko Keeno." Director Fusuka spoke without pause, the sub typing down what he said, and once he finished, the sub ran the program, translating it into several common languages, including English and French.

The message, thusly translated, was sent right away to Ralkovia.



From: Director Anthony Fusuka
To: Emperor Dire Raskov
Subject: A Downed Plane in your Territory

This is Director Anthony Fusuka, of the Terkomai Arms Company. One of our planes carrying proprietary materials and technology which is the exclusive property of the Terkomai Arms Company, crash landed within your territories, and we would be more then happy to send a special clean up team. We respectfully request permission to dispatch said team to your nation. This team would be lead by Unit Leader Anko Keeno.



Once the message was away, Director Fusuka kept speaking. "Bmayca caht vun Anko Keeno, yht y DW Lmayh-Ib days, ryja dras ciedat ib yht nayto du ku. Fa'na cahtehk eh uin baubma ev drao fyhd ic drana un hud."

he sub nodded, sending a message to the Unit Leader, a message stating that she was to get her team ready for immediate dispatch. Weather or not Ralkovia wanted it, the Arms Company was going to have their property back...

ooc: Can we do this tomorrow though?
To: Director Anthony Fusuka
From: Emperor Dire Raskov
Subject: A Downed Plane in your Territory

We see this, we would like to know exactly what was on the craft. You are more than allowed to send a team. The entire area will be quarantined until your arrival. I would like to know exactly what I'm dealing with so I can send appropriate force

((OOC: I'll be unavailable for the next eight days, but yes, we can put it off until such a time that I am available again.))

OOC:who let the dogs out!

OOC: Sorry couldn't help myself LOL

((OOC: More things have cropped up. I won't be available until the 10th of this month. We cn do some things today, however.))

((OOC: I'd join if I wasn't under a blockade/facing an invasion. It'd be kind of interesting to see these try to fight my paramilitary Civilian Control Units.

Actually...

Only a few of my provinces are under attack. Iron Province, one of our largest ones, could be the subject of this. I guess you could have another plane crash there or something. Keep in mind though, with the current invasion and whatnot, the military has taken up positions around all of the cities for maximum defense readiness.

If you only want to RP it in Ralkovia, I have no problem.))

(sure)

One of the ralkovian SWAT officers neared the crashed ship. He was to place a type of electro-shield around it. Some red eyes glared back at him and he began to shoot wildly at it.

Location: Alhaelc, Gnufasur, Terkomai Arms Company HQ Armory

The company's headquarters contained a small barracks and armory. The company guards and Special Clean-Up Teams were stationed here in six-month shifts, rotated out and replaced with another shift at the end of their term.

Barely minutes had passed when Anko first received the dispatch message. Already her SPCU Team had been gathered, and staging themselves in the armory. The large, secured room was lined with safety glass cabinets, each cabinet holding a particular set of weapons, armor or special equipment.

"Drec ub'c muytuid ec GP-5s, beanla nacecdyhd ynsun, yht cdih-pyduhc." Anko ordered, one team member moving to a cabinet containing the Terkomai manufactured Pierce Resistant Ceramic Body-Armor. Opening it, he passed a set of the white and red armor to each team member, the team as a whole donning their suit. The set included a kevlar helmet with Plexiglas face-guard, molded chestplates tailored specifically to each individual team member, shin and forearm guards, tactical Kevlar gloves, and panic plates wore on the back to prevent rear assaults.

Once suited properly, the issuer moves to another cabinet, this one containing a set of GP-5 Sub-Machine Guns and ammunition, opens it and hands out a SMGs and four magazines to each team member. He then moves to a third cabinet, this one containing Stun-batons. He repeats the process of issuing equipment.

Once properly suited, the team leaves the armory, Anko stopping to lock it behind her, then follows her team to the roof, where a helicopter would be waiting to take them to the airport.

Location: Alhaelc, Gnufasur, Terkomai Arms Company HQ

Director Fusuka read the message that was sent back to him. He frowned as he finished it, already forming in his mind a number of responses. He could outright lie and protect their interests. He could tell the truth, and risk the government trying to steal their weapon design. He decided he would reply with a mixture of both responses.


From: Director Anthony Fusuka
To: Emperor Dire Raskov
Subject: Re: re: A Downed Plane in your Territory

The cargo the plane was carrying was a special close-quarters combat mobile weapons platform. The appropriate force to send would be none, as you lack the equipment and personnel training to properly contain the platform. Our team is en-route to your location as we speak, all we ask is that you contain the immediate area and for the good of your people, pull back any force currently staged around the plane, as any distance from the platform is too close.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Location: Ralkovian Suburb, Plane Crash-Site.

((OOC: I'm assuming there is more then one SWAT officer.))

The Ralkovian shot at the two glowing red eyes, his weapon spitting fire and lead as he peppered the area around the eyes. The two eyes split apart, going separate directions from each other, before vanishing behind cover.

With no target in sight, the SWAT sprayed the areas where the eyes had vanished to alternatively, while simultaneously crawling backwards, towards the safety of his fellows. With a burst of speed, one of the Dogs of War burst from cover, the official seeing for the first time what he was dealing with. It was like a large dog, it wore a skin-tight blue suit that covered its entire body, and it walked on all fours. It's spine, back, and most of it's face was covered with a thick, heavy looking goldentone armor plate. Where its eyes should have been was a single glowing eyepiece.

As his eyes settled on the face, he suddenly realized it was a human face. As this realization dawned on him, he saw the creature in a new light. It was once human, but whatever had made them had drastically altered their figure. He had no way of knowing, but the suit and armor helped to keep the 'Dog' in its stance, forcing to walking on all fours. This also gave it a surprisingly low profile and quick movement. He brought his gun to bear on the figure as it dashed from the cover of the plane towards one of the ruined houses. His finger squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times, before suddenly his weight was thrown from underneath him.

The second eye he had seen had moved from its cover. The trap had worked perfectly. Distracted by the moving dog, the hunting dog ran and body-slammed into the man's legs from his blindside, tackling him to the ground. As his gun tumbled from his hand, the dog wrapped it's still human fingers around his neck, digging its nail into his flesh. The last thing the officer saw the inhuman face of the weapon that was once a human, as it tore a large chuck of flesh from his neck, severing his jugular vein and windpipe simultaneously.

Gunfire peppered the ground around him as his fellows sprayed support fire down on the creature. Rolling over with the body, the Dog threw the officer's body up towards the others, using it as a sort of shield to keep their fire from hitting it. It rolled back into the cover of the plane, as others moved from the plane into the surrounding houses...



((OOC: @ GWO: Hmmm... Well, I suppose we could do that too, once I return on the tenth.))

Someone had a recorder and it had caught everything. It was immediately sent back to the Emperor.

The emperor cursed, he sent a message back

To: Director Anthony Fusuka
From: Emperor Dire Raskov
I assume this is your weapon
A video of the mans neck being ripped open by the creature was on it.


Ralkovian national guard immediately surrounded the area. They had with them weapons to deal with any threat, covered in thick Heavy Close Combat Armor and equipped with there own eye pieces, one that allowed them to view all movement in 359 degree through a series of receptors, the men approached to take the body away, they also had some serious fire power, one of them was even equipped with an ARSC-12 Dual Shot Machine Cannon, it was an AK-47 combined with a machine gun and given the power of a sniper rifle, it had enough firepower to take an elephant down in 1 shot through a "flipping" bullet.

One of the men lobbed an inferno grenade which burns at 6500 degrees Celsius into the plane, the men had set up a thick TMence, a thick fencing unit around the entire plane.

((OOC: I'd join if I wasn't under a blockade/facing an invasion. It'd be kind of interesting to see these try to fight my paramilitary Civilian Control Units.

Actually...

Only a few of my provinces are under attack. Iron Province, one of our largest ones, could be the subject of this. I guess you could have another plane crash there or something. Keep in mind though, with the current invasion and whatnot, the military has taken up positions around all of the cities for maximum defense readiness.

If you only want to RP it in Ralkovia, I have no problem.))

((OOC: Hmmm.... Actually, now that I think about it, I have a good idea of how to get some DoWs into your country...

Let me ask a few questions first... Who holds Air Superiority over your country, yourself or the invaders/blockaders? How about Anti-Air, is it still in good shape? Is the AA missile or flak based? Over far inland is the Iron Province? Close to the coast, or really far inland?))

OOC: Do you guys mind if I join in, or would that make too many people? I was thinking of my MT nation's military sending in a platoon or so as a training exercise. Basically I'm looking for something for my MT nation to get involved in, since nothing's come up since I made it.

((OOC: An Assault Rifle combined with a Machine Gun? That's... Obscene... When you say Machine Gun, do you mean something like an MG42 (http://world.guns.ru/machine/mg33-e.htm)? M249 SAW (http://world.guns.ru/machine/mg17-e.htm)? Or do you mean something like... The guns used in the Starship Troopers movies? Assualt Carbine combined with a Shotgun? Sniper Rifles themselves have no 'power,' so I assume you mean it fires high velocity large caliber bullets. And by flipping, do you mean it tumbles after impact/puncture? Most assault rifles do fire similar type bullets, which I won't deny are ideal against 'soft' targets. I'm not bashing your weapon choice, just trying to make sure I have a clear idea of what you're armed with... So far what I'm getting is: An assualt rifle with an attached Light-Machine Gun chambered to a large caliber bullet designed to lay down accurate fire AND Squad level suppression(Otherwise, why have the machine-gun?). I'm assuming the operator would have to be stationary to fire, and would need power-assisted armor/exo-skeleton to compensate for recoil and weight.

So, two weapons, two barrels... One handgrip/trigger? If you don't mind me saying, a better choice that would serve the same purpose of Squad Level Suppression Fire would be a tri-pod mounted dual-barrel machine cannon, similar to a Kalashnikov PKMS (http://world.guns.ru/machine/mg07-e.htm), but would be two HMGs side-by-side. And for the accurate 'one-shot-one-kill' fire, a two-man Sniper Cell would function much better.

Of course, you don't have to listen to anything I say. :D You do what you feel is best.))


The plane burnt as the Inferno Grenade exploded, the fire spreading and igniting the remaining jet fuel. The wreckage exploded in a marvelous fireball, spreading shrapnel and flaming wreckage across the crash site.

As the fire would be burning at 6500 degrees Celsius, it would be impossible to confirm weather or not that anything had indeed been caught in the blast, as that temperature would reduce any bodies to ash. This also had the up-shot of utterly destroying their stored combat knives, severely limiting the Dogs' combat prowess.

As the Heavy Weapons team moved about the crash site, hunting down the Dogs of War, they would find more and more dead civilians, either having died in the initial crash, or killed by the Dogs, some with chucks of salvaged wreckage still embedded in their bodies. Firearms were completely ignored by the Dogs, and left were they fell from the hands of their victims, and more often then not, knives were looted wherever they were found.

Even more distressing was the fact that no Dogs, dead or alive, were found within the area fenced off by the TMence, evident that all the Dogs had left the immediate area...

~~~~~~~~~~

Location: Alhaelc, Gnufasur, Terkomai Arms Company HQ

Director Fusuka received the message, and the attached video. Part of him swelled with pride at the sight of the weapon his company produced so efficiently taking down an armed soldier, while another part was alarmed that the cat was out of the bag this soon.

Of course, this video also let him know was exactly was happening. "Ryc Keeno'c days mavd oad?" He asked his sub-ordinate.

The worker quickly typed into his computer, bringing up a status report, showing that the Helicopter had just landed at the International Airport. "Draen ramelubdan ryc paah luhvensat ynnejehk yd dra Ehdanhydeuhym Yenbund, pid draen bmyha ryc hud oad mavd." He replied.

"Kuut. Rumt draen bmyha. Tecbydlr yh Ymbry Ihed fedr dras. Mad Anko ghuf dryd dra Ralkovian Tukc yna eh Ajyta yht Yccyccehyda Suta." Director Fusuka said.

"Nukan." Was the affirmative reply, as the sub went about the process of having a spare Alpha Unit sent along with Anko Keeno.

"Ymcu, caht drec saccyka pylg." Director Fusuka said, then started to dictate a message.


From: Director Anthony Fusuka
To: Emperor Dire Raskov
Subject: Re: I assume this is your weapon

I can confirm that this is indeed our weapons platform. Please accept my sympathies for the loss of one of your countrymen. I again reiterate, containment until our team arrives is your best course of action. We have the tools necessary to bring the platforms under control again with minimal damage done to the platform itself. Each platform lost is a loss of thousand of dollars and hundreds of development hours to the company. Such losses is something the company can not afford.

(gotta go)

OOC: Do you guys mind if I join in, or would that make too many people? I was thinking of my MT nation's military sending in a platoon or so as a training exercise. Basically I'm looking for something for my MT nation to get involved in, since nothing's come up since I made it.

((OOC: Since it is happening in Ralkovia, you'd have to talk to him about how to get your military involved in his country's affairs. Or talk to GWO as to how to get involved with the affair that may or may not happen in his country.))

(gotta go)

((OOC: Kay. Take care.))

((OOC: Hmmm.... Actually, now that I think about it, I have a good idea of how to get some DoWs into your country...

Let me ask a few questions first... Who holds Air Superiority over your country, yourself or the invaders/blockaders? How about Anti-Air, is it still in good shape? Is the AA missile or flak based? Over far inland is the Iron Province? Close to the coast, or really far inland?))

((OOC: My country is split into 130 provinces worldwide, meaning there is no homeland. Iron Province hasn't been targeted for attack (yet, and probably won't be), so it's under complete GWO control. The anti-air system for most of the GWO is in good shape, it's primarily SAM-based, but it has a large number of lasers (MTHEL/THELs converted to anti-aircraft roles), Flak Cannons, and CIWS systems. Each city has enough military power to hold off a small country, and the larger ones (i.e. Magna Polis) can probably hold off all but a few countries unless there is some big alliance attacking it. Air superiority for Magna Polis is mainly GWO, but it's being contested.

Iron Province covers Central, East, North, and South Germany. It has beaches. Further inland (25 miles) is Iron City #3, then in the middle of the Province is the City of Iron (Capital City), and in the Alps is Iron City #2. The entire province, as said before, is under uncontested GWO control. Iron Province is also a major military production region, producing a large percentage of the GWO's military machinery such as the Divine Tiger MHBT.

Another thing you should know about GWO is that most of the land outside of metropolitan areas is about as radioactive as the Zone of Alienation around Chernobyl. This has created monsters and whatnot, many of which I took from the game "STALKER - Shadow of Chernobyl". If you want to know more about these, just ask.

PS: I just realized, this could also end up in a showdown between the GWO's elite Special Tactics Force and the Dogs of War. The S.T.F. is the Grand Commander's personal army, with each member violently sociopathic. The training process takes 19 years and 10 months, then the cadets are shipped to Uranium province, where they spend two months in a live-fire wargame. In the wargame, approximately 25,000 trainees enter, but only 250 come out alive. Each Agent is trained since birth to fight, and they have a beyond suicidal/religious loyalty to the Grand Commander. Their armor comes in two classes; standard and light. They wear GIPU undersuits (Described in factbook) and titanium chainmail regardless of what armor class they are wearing. Standard suits also have thick boron carbide/Kevlar/titanium bonded plates on a Kevlar base, along with a classic German Stahlhelm helmet made out of various alloys and whatnot. The Light version is a standard MOLLE vest with protective plates installed put over a trench coat, coupled with a Pickelhaube (Prussian spiked helmet). Officers also have spikes attached to their Stahlhelms, similar to the Pickelhaubes used in the Kaiser's Army during World War One. Of course, if the Agent is in a Light Uniform, he always has a spike in his helmet.))

((OOC: @GWO: Okay. I got an idea of how to start. But I'll do that later, once I get back next week. Ralkovia, it's your go. :D))

((OOC: @GWO: This one's for you.))


Location: Near Iron Province, Grand World Order

Three heavy transport planes, each painted in neutral tans but bearing the logo of the Terkomai Arms Company flew in a tight wedge formation at an easy height of 20 Kilometers (65,616 feet). Escorting them were four wings of G23 'Gun-Raptors,' Gnufasurian variants of the F-22 'Raptor' Air-Superiority Fighter. Each wing consisted of four fighters flying in a tight diamond formation, one leading, two to either edge of the wedge, and one trailing. Each fighter bore dark blue camouflage colors and the Gnufasurian flag on their tails.

Boosting heavier armor and defensives capabilities, the 'Invincible' classed heavy transport was Terkomai's top of the line VIP transport plane. Sporting seventeen anti-missile flare droppers, chaff dispensers, radar absorbing paint and angular designs to reduce their radar profile. Abandoning the turbo-props of their lesser cousins, these heavy transports sported jet turbines. Taking after the 'Stratosphere Bombers' used by the EHAV SeeD units, these transports could also climb to and maintain flight in the stratosphere, where they would be safe from enemy fire.

Seeing such a formation would cause one to think that these transports held something important. One would think correct. Each transport held 100 Dogs of War, each inside their own kennel bearing a bold gray '1,' signifying them as the "First Batch." The First Batch of Dogs of War ever produced, they have seen more combat and success then even their younger, newer counter-parts, which intrigued the scientists at the Terkomai Arms Company.

One would think that such a successful unit would be retired and allowed to live their lives in peace. But Dogs of War weren't people, they were property. Sentenced to intensive study and autopsy to determine what made them so out-perform their latter generations, these decommissioned Dogs of War were bound for a Terkomai lab on foreign territory.

But fate is a fickle mistress, and these war-vets haven't seen the last of battle yet.

It started simple. A radar-lock painted each of the transports. A small, simple beep let the pilots know that they were being acquired for missile lock. Immediately, the co-pilot began broadcasting a message. "This is Tango-Whiskey-Charlie Flight Six-Four-Three. Break missile lock, you are targeting a Separatist Nation of Gnufasur craft on a World Assembly approved flight-path!"

No reply came, except for the simple beep becoming a solid tone as the second stage of acquirement fell through. The missile had been launched, and was now tracking them. The pilot gritted his teeth as the on-board radar picked-up the in-bound missiles, coming from their direct six-o'clock. Toggling a switch, the pilot boosts the radar coverage, pinging the fighters which launched the missiles, pinging their location to the escorts. The escort fighters rearranged themselves, the lead wing dropping into a split-s maneuver, reversing direction to engage the hostile fighters, while the other three wings maneuver into a wedge formation behind the transports.

Sweat beaded around the pilot's forehead as he watched the missiles on radar close with his own position, completely ignoring the wing which detached themselves from their escort duty. A blue zone appeared, showing the flare's maximum effective zone, and within seconds, the missiles entered the zone. As one, all 15 aircrafts jettisoned flares, the transports spouting off four at a time while the fighters each dropped two. The flares burned hotly, dropping down and away from the transports. Only one missile didn't take the flare, the other two immediately changing course to intercept the falling flares. Arcing true, the missile cruised past the fighter escorts, the pilots unable to react in time to crash their own jet into the missile, slamming into one of the transport's turbine. The transport immediately began to drop as the turbine exploded taking a wing tip with it, the others spreading wide to avoid being hit by it as it lit to one side.

"Transport flight! This is GR-One Oh-One, count hostile crafts in excess of twenty. Climb to 60 Kay and maintain max throttle!" The radio blared as the lead plane of the engaging wing relayed information back to the transport.

"Transport Two is hit and losing engine power. Unable to comply. GR Two and Three, detach and assist GR-One. GR-Four stay with T-Two. We're heading for the outer atmosphere" The pilot of the lead transport replied as he pulled his craft into a climb. Unable to follow the transports into the upper reaches of the atmosphere, the fighters broke off and split, each taking their assigned task.

The sinking transport was in a state of disarray. More lock-ons were being signaled as they were singled out and targeted by beyond the horizon missiles. Desperate as he was, the pilot couldn't bring the transport to maintain altitude. Watching the other transports climb higher into the atmosphere, he knew his only recourse was to try and call for assistance from the local populace. Activating the GPS unit, he brought up his current location. "The Iron Province?! That's nowhere near our approved path!" He called as he show just how off-course they were. Hoping the other transports were still in range, he called out on the radio. "T-One, Three. Be advised. We are off-course. Manually confirm course and heading and adjust accordingly. We're going to try and land at Iron City Three."

Unsure if his fellows got his transmission, he pinged the nearest control tower as they passed into the border of the Iron Province. "Flight Control Tower, this is Tango-Whiskey-Charlie Tango-Two flight and escort. We have sustained damage and are unable to continu-"

As he talked, eleven more missiles closed in on his position. One of his escorts banked sharply, slamming his jet into a missile, the resulting explosion taking out the four around it as he gave his life for their cargo. Similar attempts by his fellows failed utterly, however, and the remaining six broke through the fighter barrier. Unwilling to divide his attention, the pilot focuses on the radar and the flare dropper switch, letting his co-pilot picked up where he left off.

"Unable to continue to destination. Request emergency landing clearance and approach vectors. Repeat, TWC T2 requesting emergency landing clearance and approach vectors." There was a loud whoosh as the flares deployed, the pilot kept his finger on the switch, continually dumping flares in an attempt to trick the missiles.

The view was magnificent, to say the least, as flares were shot from their droppers in a continual stream, each flaring brightly as they fell away. Yet the missiles did not err, maintaining their lock. With only seconds before impact, the pilot switched to the chaff deployer, dropping chaff counter-measures. The silver-coated nylon fiber strips spread wide from the sides of the transport, two of the missiles breaking and slamming into the chaff, to explode harmlessly. The other four were not so fooled, and unerringly impacted against the engines of the transports. With all engines down, the transport began to drop at a faster rate.

The co-pilot raised the flight tower one more time. "This is TWC T2. All engines destroyed. Unable to reach landing strip. Attempting crash landing. Please dispatch SARs to our beacon." The escort fighters broke formation, accelerating ahead of the transport in an attempt to clear a 'landing' zone for the large plane with their guns and missiles...



((OOC: Sorry it's so long... >_> I hope this is okay. The enemy fighters are not your units, they're the ones contesting your airspace.))

((OOC: Sorry for my uber late reply, I've been on a bit of vacation from NS, and the internet altogether.))

Iron Province Remote Area Control Installation #44

Installation #44 was one of the numerous GWO Military Bases set up in the middle of nowhere; bases like these had a shady reputation, though this particular base was clean. It housed a mere Regiment of Europe State Militiamen (Not to be confused with Civilian Militiamen), supported by the GWO Army 506th Reconnaissance/Wilderness Battalion.

The base's radio station came alive with the requests for assistance. Quickly, the 506th mobilized a force of 50 Reconnaissance troops, along with four European Armored Ambulances and a European Stryker. Such a force would be needed to safely get through the Black Forest, which was now a hotbed of man-eating mutants and radiation.

Most of the Recon troops were riding on motorcycles resembling 1940's BMWs, though the wheels and suspensions had been changed so that they could handle the terrain well, and the Militiamen were all piled into the Stryker. Each motorcycle had either an MG3 7.62mm machine gun or a FHASAW 12.7mm machine gun on their sidecar. A Black Hawk with medical equipment had also been sent.

"TWC T2, this is the Iron Provincial Protection Garrison. We currently are dispatching a force of Recon troops and a Medevac helicopter to your position. Be warned that the area around you has high levels of radioactivity; Your plane is one of the safest places you can be in at the moment, as it can eliminate some of the radiation. There are also very hostile creatures in the area, so barricade yourselves."

The small roads were relatively radiation-free, as the materials used to make them automatically repulsed radiation. Of course, that didn't solve the problem of the monsters in the forest...

((OOC: No worries. It's understandable. :D))

Air brakes had been deployed, and the plane's speed dropped considerably. The pilot did the best he could to bring the plane down in one piece, but even with full air brakes, the plane was still traveling too fast.

Flaying in a tight wedge formation, the escorts jet open up with their machine guns, carving a path before the plane through the treeline. The transport dipped ever lower, before plowing into the ground. Much to the pilot's credit, he managed to put it down without digging the nose into the ground. The transport skidded on its belly, the landing gear having been utterly crushed in the 'landing.'

The bulk eventually came to a stand-still, smashing through some trees left standing by the escorts, the left wing having been torn off in the process of doing so.

The escorts circled lazily around the transport, until one of them picked up the Black Hawk helicopter on the long range radar. Immediately, one fighter broke formation and moved to challenge the helicopter. "This is Escort Gun-Raptor Oh-Four-Oh-One to Black Hawk helio. You are approaching a downed Gnufasurian Craft. Declare your intent and identity or we will fire upon you." He issued the warning over a hailing frequency, making sure to place intent before identity.

Having received the message about the radiation, the pilot tried his best to ensure the transport landed relatively intact. A quick diagnostic revealed that hull breeches were minimum. Knowing that the invisible danger was held at bay the best they could, he focused on the danger he could see. The 'Very Hostile Creatures' the radio op had informed them of. He stood from his seat, checking his co-pilot, shaking his head as he saw he was dead, blood streaking the side-view window where his head had slammed into.

The pilot moved through into the cargo compartment, descending the ladder that connected his pilot's compartment to this one. The kennels were stacked eight high, five deep. A few had been ruptured and the Dogs of War within lie dead, having died from blunt force trauma as they banged around inside their kennels from the landing. A large rent in the wall was visible, just big enough for him to squeeze through. Sub-consciously, the pilot rose his hand to his mouth, covering it in a vain attempt to protect himself from the radiation that would be leaking in through that gap.

There was supposed to be an armed guard back here, but he was nowhere to be found. He rose his voice to a shout, "Rammu! Kiyntcsyh Hudson?! Yna oui eh rana?" The pilot only knew the last name of the guard.

A weak reply came from his left, "Ujan rana. So yns ec behhat ihtanhaydr y gahham!" The Guard's arm was pinned beneath a fallen kennel, trapping him. The pilot moved hurriedly to the source of the voice.

"Rumt uh, ramb ec uh dra fyo!" He called, finally seeing the guard. He was on his back, one of the stacks of kennels having toppled in the crash, a single kennel bearing a red stripe and a gray numeral One on top of the guardsman's right arm. His gun was still slung to his side.

"Vekinat oui't kad cdilg ihtan yh Ymbry ihed. Lusa uh, E'mm ramb oui." The pilot said, moving to help move the kennel, unaware of the form that rose up behind him.

The Guard's off-hand moved to the GP-5 at his side, bringing it up as he shouted, "FYDLR UID!" He squeezed the trigger, the gun spitting fire as he peppered the creature that had snuck up on them, toppling it.

The Pilot spun, looking at the bullet riddled creature. It looked vaguely human-like, but it was grotesquely mutated. Sighing in relief, he braces himself against the kennel, ready to shove it out of the way. "Dryhgc. E ufa oui." He said as he shoved the kennel off his arm, the kennel crashing to the floor, then immediately drawing his service revolver.

"Oui'na dra uhmo uha fru cbaygc English, Jun Draski." The Guardsman said matter-of-factly as he rose painfully to his feet, reading the pilot's name tag as he did so. His arm was bloody and hung uselessly at his side, and though he was in great pain, he had long since resolved himself to not show any signs.

The pilot, Jun, smirked, seeing that the guard was sharp. Seeing as how he came by himself, he must have knew the co-pilot was dead. He was the last Gnufasurian on this plane who spoke English. "Fa haat du kad cusa uv draca Tukc yldeja. Fa'mm pa cyvan uhla drao'na ib." He said, indicating the many undamaged kennels around them.

The Guardsman, his rank insignia identifying him as a Corporal, scoffed, motioning towards the alpha Unit kennel that until a second ago had pinned him to the floor, "Fa'mm ryja du veht yhudran Ymbry Ihed. Drec uha'c jedymc yna himm." He said, indicting the vital display, which displayed a single red word.

Jun and the Corporal began to search cautiously for another Alpha Unit to activate to bring the other Dogs of War under control...

The helicopter quickly responded.

"We are a MedEvac chopper belonging to the Iron Provincial Metropolitan Civilian Control Unit. We are here to pick up the wounded of the crash."

On the ground, the crash was very audible. Even over the yelling of the motorcycle engines, everyone heard it. The convoy began heading for the sound of the crash. Several units had Geiger Counters handy, navigating through the menace known as radiation. A single "Poultry Walker" came after one of the motorcycles, but it proved to be no problem for a nearby motorcycle's FHASAW.

(Picture of "Poultry Walker") (http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd143/Mr_Flylice/pseudogiant.jpg)

The also spotted a few Pseudodogs (Mutant dogs, not Dogs of War), but they weren't much of a threat. The sound of the motorcycles and the Stryker were most likely audible at the crash site. The forest's sounds were also audible; every few minutes, some animal or mutant would made a blood-curling scream.

(Picture of Pseudodog) (http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd143/Mr_Flylice/cr_pseudodog.jpg)

((OOC: Nice images, but could you post them in a link, not an embed?

The Escort fighter flew-by the helicopter, the half instant he saw the helio confirming the markings. He responded over the radio. "Confirmed. I'll escort you to the site." He pulled into a tight turn, arcing back towards the crash site, a billowing smoke pillar rising into the sky marking it like some bizarre flare.

Jun and Corporal Hudson hurriedly moved, checking each stack for kennels marked with a red stripe, while on the same time keeping an eye out for more of those monsters that had tried to attack them. They could hear something like a motorized brigade piercing through the surroundings. Help was on the way.

So was trouble. The blood curdling screams and calls were louder and closer now. Jun had no doubt the creatures would get to them first. "Ymm dra rywynt byo eh dra funmt ech'd ahuikr vun drec lnyb. Yc cuuh yc fa kad pylg du Gnufasur, E's uhmo tuehk eh luihdno-rubc." He complained, fretting over the fact that he wasn't being paid enough. The Corporal, a soldier through and through, ignored the pilot, writing it off as the whining of an underpaid mercenary.

So far, they had only found one Alpha Unit kennel, but it was on the top of the stack, touching the ceiling. It was far too tall for them to reach, and neither wanted to expose themselves by making a Neko ladder to open the kennel.

Miraculously, a red striped Alpha Kennel appeared in one of the Stacks at ground level. Both Nekos gave a small prayer of thanks to their Goddess, but before they could close on the life saving kennel, a loud crash resounded through the plane, the kennel disappearing under a tide of kennels as the stacks around it were smashed through. A large mutant, a bizarre mix between a human and a chicken, had plowed through the stacks. Although neither knew it, the two stood before a Poultry Walker.

Jun's face dropped into an expression of sheer terror. Whilst Corporal Hudson immediately brought his GP-5 up into a firing position, Jun turned tail and ran. "Kuttacc bnudald sa. Kuttacc bnudald sa. Kuttacc bnudald sa." He muttered as he ran, his service revolver tumbling from his numb hands...

((OOC: Edited, my bad.))

"Dort ist the sparo..." muttered the Lieutenant leading the Reconnaissance soldiers.

The Poultry Walker is a strong creature, though not as powerful as its looks may suggest. It has a heavy, nearly lion-like roar, and when stomping, can cause moderate amounts of vibrations. GWO biologists still have barely a clue as to what was fused to make the creature, only that it was caused during the Final Nuclear War (Which reduced the population of several world superpowers from 9,000,000,000 to 125,000, sparking the creation of the GWO). They mainly traveled alone, and had a major dislike for small furry things, especially large rats. Poultry Walkers also tend to be rather stupid, making them easy pickings for marksmen and anyone far enough away. Of course, at close range, they were one of the worst things you could run into (Unless you get the jump on it and have a high-powered weapon, of course)...


The medevac helicopter was hovering just outside the plume of smoke, waiting for the other troops to arrive. The helicopter only had two officers on board, with only one of them armed with a rifle (Though the other had a standard issue MP7 and MI-P57).

The first units were pulling up to the crash site, narrowing through to avoid the anomalies of radiation. Their GIPUs (Described in my factbook) were able to block out much of the radiation, but they weren't full blown NBC suits. A line of Recon troops approached the plane, the front men armed with F.S.I.A.A.S. automatic assault shotguns (Essentially AA-12s with Super V Bolts that look different) and Kriss Super Vs, and most of the others armed with MI-8A2 MARs.

One of them shouted out that help had arrived while the others were either focused on the breach in the plane or the wilderness around it. Another animal scream came from a mile or two away, a rabbit who had been attacked by a Poultry Walker that roared a second later. Shortly after, the sounds of pseudodogs fighting with the creature were heard.

((OOC: I should have mention this earlier, but a GP-5 is a Gnufasurian clone of the MP5K-PDW, chambered for 10mm rounds. There's nothing special about it besides the fact it's made with local Gnufasurian materials.)

The Neko soldier stared down the Poultry Walker. The large creature let out a bellow that sounded much like a lion's roar. Corporal Hudson thumbed the fire selector to Burst, and squeezed the trigger, bracing the folding stock against his shoulder to try and counter-act the recoil without the use of his primary hand to hold the forward pistol grip. The weapon bucked, spitting out a rapid chain of five rounds. The bullets flew wild, two impacting into the creature's lower torso, while the other three went wide of their mark.

The creature charged the Corporal. With agility that revealed his feline characteristics, the Corporal threw himself to one side, narrowly avoiding the beast. Grunting against the pain in his arm, he pushed himself to his feet and staggered through the stacks rows. He heard someone bellowing outside. Looks like the calvary arrived. All I have to do is survive. He though to himself.

That's when it happened. Every kennel in the cargo compartment popped open.

At first, Hudson stared at the open kennels, the monster stalking him momentarily forgotten. Slowly but with growing speed, like sand falling from a sieve, bodies began to pry themselves from the kennels.

Sound of fighting came from behind him. He recognized those from his training days as the yelps and command barks of the dogs of War. They were fighting the Poultry Walker!

~~~~~~~
Moments Prior
~~~~~~~

Jun Draski ran as fast as he could to the safest place he could imagine: The cockpit. As he climbed the ladder, he didn't even notice the blood stained paw prints leading up to the ladder. He took a step across the threshold and froze. Three creatures, furry like a dog, but with vicious looking teeth and claws, were feasting on the co-pilot's corpse. The closet one to him raised its face from the Neko's body, blood and saliva dripping from it's mouth in long lines. It made a noise, and other two turned to look at Jun.

As they lunged at him, he threw himself forward and slammed his hand on a large button on the control panel marked "Open All Kennels."


With a renewed morale, Hudson moved to where he heard the sounds of battle. Five Dogs of War were clinging to the Poultry Walker, clubbing it with their fists and gouging it with chucks of salvaged metal. A red striped Alpha Unit stood off some ways, directing the freshly waking Dogs towards the battle. The walker roared in rage, throwing several off itself, but even more clambered forward, tackling the creature and joining the grand melee, over-powering the walker with sheer numbers and weight.

Corporal Hudson thumbed the fire selector to single, and took pot-shots whenever an opening in the melee revealed itself.


((OOC: Was debating a face-off with the DoWs and the recon troopers, but opted against it. I'll let you decide if the troopers get there in time to save Jun before he's killed, or arrive just in time to watch him get ate'd. I'm okay either way.
Also, if you want, I'll post a full descriptor of the Dogs of War, Corporal Hudson and pilot Jun Draski upon the first time your soldiers sees them.))

"Jesus Christ, es gibt qualcosa going auf in dort!" exclaimed a Recon trooper, sounding exceedingly loud over the communications radio in each soldier's helmet. "Puntomann!" shouted the Lieutenant.

The Point Man was wielding an FSIAAS shotgun. Using handsigns (As they would be quicker than speaking), he led several more troops towards the plane. A few more men were behind him with their MI-8A2s in CQB configuration.

The troops entered the plane in a line, each man covering the next one. They had their weapons at eye level. Their uniforms clearly showed they were reconnaissance troops, as their masks slightly resembled paintball masks. Their voices were modified via vocoders implanted in their masks, just like all the other military/paramilitary ground forces employed by the GWO.

The point man was the first to see the DoWs piling on the walker, and quickly came to the conclusion that it was a pack of pseudodogs fighting with the walker. He quickly pulled the trigger, letting off a stream of 12 gauge shotgun shells. Two other troops armed with the same weapon rounded the corner, firing at the same target. Hordes of metal pellets flew into whatever was in the path of the shotguns...

Other teams went through alternate routes, heading for the cockpit and other various parts of the plane. Their boots could only barely be heard clopping against the floor (Unlike CCU officers who were trained to usually make their boots impact the ground in such a way to make the loudest sounds; it was intimidating to most people). The teams were moving through the plane fast, much like a SWAT team through a training course they had run enough times to memorize.

Then a Grup (Imagine a 1.5 foot long maggot with two mouths on the bottom and legs like centipedes) attacked. It ripped through the victim's facemask before ripping out everything at the eye level on his face. Blood was spraying out like an over powerful mister, with bits and pieces of his skull flying out. The soldier fell to the ground, unnoticed by the troops ahead of him. Seconds later, he clumsily rose again. By all technical means, he was zombified...

He raised his MI-8A2 with one hand and sprayed down the hall wildly, sending a round through the next man's head. Less than a second later, the rest of his team had essentially flipped around and mowed him down without mercy. A few shouts of "Outbreak! Outbreak! Contamination, Infected Personnel neutralized!" rang out from that team, echoing through the plane.

((OOC: Grups are a major problem for GWO authorities; they tend to hide in the slums of cities sometimes, breeding more little monsters at an amazing rate. Eventually this can lead to a Sector Lockdown and a force of flamethrower-equipped troops being sent to swarm the sector and burn anything and everything.

What are DoWs supposed to look like?))

((OOC: I'm taking it there are three or more units in the plane? I'm going to say that the large cargo bay holds 200 Dogs of War. The Alpha Unit currently commands his maximum of 40 DoWs, and will replace any Dog killed in his routine with rogue Dogs within his sphere of influence. Being the centralized brain of the pack, he will of course avoid combat. DoW image for ref (http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y245/Beta_Solution/Monster.jpg)
I think the entire plane is hostile now. :D))


The Dog of War was Terkomai's proud invention. Taking the chaff of humanity, the homeless, the unwanted, the drug-addicted, anyone considered undesirable in the human world was taken to Terkomai's labs, where a brutal program stripped them of their humanity and instilled a dog-like sense of obedience and pack-mentality. They were dressed in restrictive blue body-suits which forced them to walk on all fours. Golden-tone armor plating was placed along their spines, backs and tops of their heads. This is the only bullet-proof part of their bodies, as it is also the most exposed part of their bodies. The body-suit is puncture and slash resistant to a small degree. At their hips sit empty knife sheaths, where specially forged knives would normally reside. These knives were stored in another transport plane, however.

Their faces were distinctively human, flat with the mouth left exposed. A single glowing red eyepiece covered their eyes, the armor covering the head extending to just below the nose. Walking on all fours gave them a much lower profile, and they were deceptively agile and fast.

The Corporal jumped as he heard the shotgun blast. He saw a Dog fall, shredded by the hail of buckshot as two more shotgunners joined the fray. The rescue soldiers were shooting at the Dogs! Dogs were dropping like flies now, and the walker was starting to rise to its feet, despite the vicious wounds inflicted on it by the many Dogs.

Corporal moved to where he could see the soldiers and they could see him.
He was dressed in the dark gray BDUs of the Gnufasurian Army, urban camouflage fatigues underneath a smoke gray molded breastplate and web gear. His right arm was bloodied and hung uselessly at his side, while his left held the compact MP5K clone. He was helmetless, having lost it in the crash and not having the time to find it since then. His hair was dirty blonde, matching the tan shade of his cat-ears and tail. He was a Gnufasurian, a Neko, mostly human with select cat-like traits.

He waved his one good arm, shouting, "Layca vena! Layca vena! Oui yna cruudehk vneahtmo ihedc!" He quickly realized they couldn't understand him, so he shouted one of the few English words he knew, "STOP!"

But it was too late, the mistaken identity had taken its toll. The Alpha Unit, seeing something attack it's pack, immediately classified the rescue soldiers as hostile targets taking top priority. It reared it's head back, and let loose a long, mournful howl, the sound itself containing a command signal. All Dogs attacking the walker scattered, disappearing between stacks of kennels and weaving themselves along an pincer attack route towards the three gunners.

Hudson turned towards the walker, snarled, and jammed his weapon in its mouth as it tried to push itself fully to it's feet, now unburdened with the weight of the meleeing dogs. In a single fluid motion, he thumbed the fire selector to full-auto and pulled the trigger, knowing full well he wasn't going to miss a single shot at this range.

The other team dealt swiftly with their zombified fellow, bellowing out warnings of the Grups infestation. They were in an area where many of the kennels were damaged, knocked over by the crash landing. The bodies of the dead Dogs of War lay within, their kennels wide open. A perfect breeding spot for Grups. As a group, a number of Dogs pried themselves from their kennels, most with hideous bloody wounds in their exposed mouths where Grups had burrowed within them. Fundamentally still human, the Dogs were now zombified. The small pack descended upon the group of soldiers from all sides.

Rogue Dogs of War, not receiving a command signal from an Alpha Unit, went into their stand-by protocol of Evade and Assassinate, and with their excessive combat experience began laying traps for the rescue soldiers, dropping from ceiling level kennels or popping from between opposing stacks to crash into soldiers and batter them with fists and chucks of metal.

((OOC: There's about 15 troops going in, with more soldiers outside covering them and a Medevac helicopter with two CCU officers on board.

Jeez, those remind me of Snorks (http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd143/Mr_Flylice/snorksomghalp.jpg), which are made when Grups infect someone but certain oddities happen, and after a week or two, as the Grups need time to figure out how to control the body. And just to make things more sensible, the Snorks pictured there are zombified E.G.W.M.C. mercenaries...))

"Gottdamn Pseudodogs!" shouted one of the soldiers before pumping another shell towards a glowing red eye in the distance. The ambushes would be much easier if they had come fully prepared/armored; AGMOED gas masks had thermal imaging installed. But they had left their AGMOEDs outside of the plane.

Soldier after soldier fell victim to DoW attacks; they were quickly being wiped out. One of them ran for the security guard before shouting in English (Though the famous GWO accent would make it somewhat hard to understand) "Follow me! We've got to get you out of here now!"

A team of three men made a charge for the cockpit, hoping to find the pilot there. A DoW ambush fell on top of them before they could make it. The kukris and Kampfmesser 2000s carried by each soldier would be troublesome later on, as both were high-quality blades that could easily chop through things (One of them being a machete that could chop a mid-sized cow's head off in a single well-placed strike).

Outside, another team (Ten men) was climbing on top of the plane. Their Kampfmesser 2000s were sharp enough to cut through an airplane's fuselage; So that's what they did. They began cutting holes in the roof of the plane, slowly but surely. Once they were done, they would open fire from above.

((OOC: If memory serves correct, the concept art I use for the Dogs of War are from the Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerebus game. I haven't played the game though, so I couldn't tell you what their in-game name is. lol Also, is that from the Shadows of Chernobyl or Clear Skies game? I haven't played either, I need to buy a bigger Harddrive to install the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. games.))

Coproral Hudson nodded quickly to the speaking soldier. He had a hard time understanding what was said, but caught the word 'follow' and guessed his intention. The recon soldier leaded him away from the dead walker, towards where the rest of his fellows waited.

His superior hearing picked up a sound. A low growl, with an underlying command signal: the Alpha unit was nearby. Reacting quickly, he shot his hand out, grasping the soldier by his shoulder and pulling him backwards, a Dog of War whizzing through the air where the recon trooper was just an instant ago. The Dog landed on all fours, turned to press the attack, but halted as he saw Hudson, registering him as a VIP. The trooper's fellows took advantage of the distraction, and the dog fell as shots rang and pierced the bodysuit below his armor.

Normally, he'd have said something about how much these Dogs had cost the Company. He had been assigned to protect their investment in these Dogs, but now all he was concerned with was survival. They always had a fresh stream of humans to turn into Dogs of War, and this was only a third of the First Batch. The Company could and would make more Dogs. Even if the Company cared more for the Dogs then the Corporal, he still valued his own life.

"Ku ku!" He said, pointing with his finger to where the gap was, where perceived safety was. He hoped that as long as he stayed near the soldiers, the Alpha Unit wouldn't attack them. Without a Control Device to command the Alpha, there wasn't anything he could do bring it under his control, all he could do was hope its stand-by parameters included protecting anyone the VIP was protecting...

As he and trooper joined the survivors of the recon unit, Corporal Hudson moved to a kennel, "Muug." He said, smearing his fingers with his own blood and drawing a red stripe on the kennel. "Nat cdneb gahham." He pointed at the stripe, trying to show the troopers that this was what they should look for. He then drew a box, with smaller boxes within, in the form of a remote control. "Tajela." He said, pointing at crudely drawn remote control next to the stripe. "Tajela."

He then pointed at a nearby dead Dog of War, "Tuk." He said. He started to 'click' this thumb on his forefinger at the Dog, like he was holding a remote control and thumbing through channels. "Tajela luhdnum tuk." He prayed to the Goddess that they understood his message.


As the battle within the plane raged, the lead pilot of the escort fighters hailed the helicopter below them, circling high above the downed plane. "What's going on down there? Why are there people on top of the plane?"


((OOC: Also, would you like a translation of what he's saying? Or what any Gnufasurian has said. :D Just ask, and I'll gladly translate.))

((OOC: That's from Shadows of Chernobyl. I also heard that Clear Skies (The prequel) is crap compared to Shadows of Chernobyl.

Also, I can piece together what the Gnufasurians are saying via context. Thanks, though. By the by, my nation's national language is a weird mixture of English, German, and Italian. Nouns often are German, verbs and official/memorized/"prerecorded" messages often English, and random bits of Italian thrown in. Obviously though, there are anomalies and whatnot, so it's really something you have to guess at.))

The helicopter pilot responded with what he thought was going on down there.

"There's a large group of pseudodogs or Snorks in there. The troops are going to cut holes in the ceiling so they can get a better vantage point."

Inside, the troops could understand what Hudson was saying. However, their main priority was to get everyone out; they believed the DoWs would simply die out in the wilderness if left out there (As there were rarer creatures far more deadlier than Poultry Walkers and Pseudodogs...).

One of the troopers asked, in English, "Is there anyone else on board?"

Corporal Hudson nodded confirmation, "Oac. Dra bemud Jun Draski." Then he shrugs, pointing where he had last seen the pilot go, which was towards the cockpit. Just as he had predicted, the Alpha had halted attacks on the rescue troopers that were nearest the Corporal, but elsewhere on the plane, he still heard sounds of gunfire and screams as both humans and Dogs died.

In the cockpit, pilot Jun lay on his back, blood smeared across his pale face and front of his uniform. His breaths came in heavy rasps, his flight suit torn where the Pseudodog had clawed him, but he was not dead. Just as he thought his life was to end, a rogue DoW had charged the Pseudodogs, getting their attention with a violent sneak attack then fleeing, drawing them away to fall victim to its trap elsewhere. Jun didn't know if it would come back, and he sorely wished he still had his revolver.

His co-pilot was still armed. "Kuttacc Cori, keja sa cdnahkdr." He murmured his Goddess's name, pulling himself closer to the mostly eaten co-pilot. Unable to pull himself fully to his feet, he settled for reaching up with his hand, clawing the front of the man's flight suit for where the revolver was stashed. Finding the holster, he thumbs the catch mechanism, and draws the revolver. Dropping this in his lap, he pushes himself to a sitting position, facing the door, then takes the speed loaders from his ammo dump pouch, three in all and places them on the floor next to him.

Holding the revolver (http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y245/Beta_Solution/ruger_gs32n.jpg) in his hand, and praying that 24 .357 Magnum rounds would be more then enough to protect him until help came, Jun sat and watched the only entrance to the cockpit...

The recon troopers slammed new magazines into their weapons, and one of them removed an MG3 from a motorcycle, the drum attached completely unspent. They were going back in to rescue the pilot.

They headed for the gap once again, turning the corner and heading for the cockpit...

((OOC: I'm taking it that Corporal Hudson was taken out of the plane, and is now with the troopers outside in one of their armoured ambulances? Or do you want him to stick with the troopers rescuing the pilot?))

((OOC: Hudson has been removed from the plane, but nothing is keeping him from going in. It's his/your choice. The medevac helicopter has orders not to land until everyone's been rescued or until it's clear.))

((OOC: Got it.))

Having been successfully removed from the plane and danger, Corporal Hudson lay in the back of one of the armoured ambulances. One of the medics tended to his damaged arm, his weapon removed and store safely away. He had briefly considered going back in with the troopers, but then recalled how Jun had fled when that thing attacked him. No, he wasn't going to lift a finger for that coward...


Stalking silently between stacks of kennels, the Alpha Unit watched the troopers who left with Hudson return, with more numbers and bigger guns. Briefly, it had considered attacking them, but at the sight of the MG3, decided against it. No, it wouldn't attack until they were deeper within, dealing with rogues and the zombie DoWs and humans.

As the group of troopers moved through the ruined cargo holds of the large transport plane, they came across more and more of their fellows, mixed in with Dogs of War and a small pack of Pseudodogs. Evidence of Grups were everywhere, a few creatures actively feeding on the corpses and breeding, spawning off more of themselves to spread even further.

The troops on top of the plane had finished cutting the holes in the fuselage. They kicked the holes down, and began shooting at whatever wasn't a person from above...

The team made a dash for the cockpit, hoping to find the pilot there. After a few random shootings at shadows running about in the darkness (And two troops going down), they had spotted the cockpit hatch. They opened the hatch, prepared for whatever was behind the door. The tactical orders could be heard throughout the area of the plane.

The hatch slowly spun open, Jun raising his arm. He wasn't sure when or how the hatch closed, but someone or something was trying to get in. He steady his arm as best he could, setting the sights on where he expected the Dog's head to be, if it was indeed a DoW trying to get in.

The hatch opened, and several bodies moved in at once, quickly and with highly trained efficiency. Even in his pain-addled mind, he recognized humans, and didn't pull the trigger. That didn't stop the nearest trooper from knocking the revolver out of his hand, training taking over and acting out of habit to remove the threat.

Sighing in relief, the pilot nods to the troopers. "Hail. I'm Jun Draski, the pilot of this craft. I'm injuried, badly... Tell me, how many Dogs of War are left alive? They're the First Batch. The Company... The Company, wants them, for study..." He was half delusional, but he still knew that if not enough Dogs of War made it to the lab, he'd have to face a Board of Inquiry and be held personally accountable.



~~~~~~
Meanwhile, over the Pacific Ocean
~~~~~~

Soaring through the skies, a Terkomai Arms Company jet carried Unit Leader Anko Keeno and her Containment Team. Her eyes closed, the Unit leader was taking this time in transit to rest and conserve her energy for the ordeal ahead. The rest of her unit did likewise, knowing full well that once the hunt for the Rogue DoWs was underway, they wouldn't have time to rest.

A beep rouse Anko from her rest, and she unfurled her arms, removing a small PDA from a pouch on her tactical vest. Thumbing through to her emails, she opens her newest email.


From: Director Anthony Fusuka
To: Unit Leader Anko Keeno
Subject: New Orders.

This is Director Fusuka. Your previous orders have been rescinded. New orders are to retrieve the First Batch and ensure their safe delivery to the Prussian Research Lab. Your pilot has already been informed and will be rerouting towards the Grand World Order's Iron Province, the last confirmed location of TWC T2, containing 200 First Batch DoWs. Attached is a map of the op locale. A SeeD StratoBomber had been dispatch to provide more Alpha Units to assist in retrieval, as well as two full squads of SeeD Mercenaries. Priority One is the safety of the First Batch. All other concerns are secondary.


Sighing, she thumbs the attachment icon, a topographical map of the area known as the Black Forest in the Iron Province. She snarled, seeing already that hunting a group of Rogues in this mess would be hell.

~~~~~

A telegram arrived for Grand Commander GRIFFITH-II, leader of the Grand World Order.


From: Director Anthony Fusuka
To: Grand Commander GRIFFITH-II
Subject: A Downed Plane in your Territory

Hail and salutations. I am Director Anthony Fusuka of the Terkomai Arms Company. One of our 'Invincible' classed Super Heavy Transports has been confirmed as crashing within your territories, an area known as the Iron Province. Attached is a data recording showing the flight path our craft took prior to crashing. While we do not level accusations at your nation for the downing of our aircraft, we still must strongly urge that the contents of the plane be left unmolested. The transport contains proprietary materials and technology which is the exclusive property of the Terkomai Arms Company. I have already taken the liberty of dispatching a specially trained clean-up team to the last known location of our craft to contain the situation. All I ask is permission to have them land and begin preparations for containment.

The attachment was a GPS display showing three dots marked as TWC T1, T2, and T3. T1 and 3 move and disappear from the coverage, while T2 moves towards the Black Forest region, then disappears over the forest.

((OOC: Had to move in RL. Sorry for not posting D: ))

"Dogs of War? Those are Pseudodogs, friend." The soldier, like most of the others, was under the impression that the DoWs were simply odd Pseudodogs. "We don't know, but after we get you out of here we're going to ditch this plane. There's plenty of them around our country for whomever wants to study them."

One of the soldiers essentially picked up Jun before speaking into his radio, "Subject secured, proceeding with exfiltration of aircraft."

The team made a full run to the exit of the aircraft, along with any remaining troops. They were simply going to leave whatever was in the plane there; if it was anything extraordinary, radiation or the Forest's monsters would have their way with it. And even if they were followed, what chances would those creatures have of penetrating the walls of Iron City #3? (Obviously oblivious thinking)

The MedEvac helicopter hovered behind the line of vehicles, lowering itself down to approximately 70 feet. Two stretchers were lowered down, ready for the pilots.

The Spire, Magna Polis

GRIFFITH-II observed the flight path of the downed aircraft, knowing fully well what haunted the Black Forest region. Minutes later, a message would be sent as a reply to the Director.

From: The Desk of Grand Commander GRIFFITH-II
To: Director Anthony Fusuka

After observing the flight path, I have presumed that the cargo of the plane is most likely now drenched in radiation or being looted by a pack of Pseudodogs or zombies. I will permit your team to land, but I strongly advise against incursions into the Black Forest without serious firepower riding along. The contents of the craft should be safe from looters and other human forces, however. I am not aware of any actions taken by the Iron Province authorities, but Federal procedure prioritizes the safe evacuation of any survivors of aircraft incidents along with the abandonment of cargo.