NationStates Jolt Archive

(bc any recognition of my tanks rolling in or what?)

U65 was almost at the village, ready to pillage and plunder all the goods. However, he realized that he'd run out of ammo if he didn't make connections. So he dismantled his armor, carrying it with him until he could find a place to hide it. While a man walking through the streets with a mangled face and a black trench coat in the middle of a desert would be suspicious, it certainly wouldn't be as bad as wearing his whole uniform.

Common sense would place an arms dealer in the market place. So he went there. Of course, a small village wouldn't have a dealer with many wares, but someone had to have 12 gauge shotgun shells. U65 couldn't think of any collection of people who didn't. When he saw a man sitting behind a table with a few Kalashnikovs next to him, U65 simply said, "How much for 80 12 gauge shotgun shells, Herr?"

His thick GWO accent would be obvious to anyone who had ever heard a GWO citizen speaking English (They normally speak E.G.I. - A blend of English, German, and Italian), and the "Herr" instead of "mister" would be a dead giveaway. Hopefully, this man would be uneducated and care more about making money. The Agent paid the dealer in money he had taken from the militia officer's house before trotting off with two sacks of shotgun shells. When he found a couple of kids, one of them a soldier, kicking his helmet around, he unsheathed his Kampfmesser 2000 from the side of his boot...

As U65 unsheathed his weapon, a hand fell on his shoulder. "Excuse me," Jameson said to the man. "but I wish to know where you purchased that ammunition. Could you direct me to a nearby arms vendor?" He followed U65's gaze to the children. "Trust me sir, killing one of them would not be worth the result." He said, noticing the weapon and quietly slipping a hand into his own coat where a machette was concealed.

((OOC: I'm in the town that's complaining about commies raiding them.))

U65 turned around, almost thrusting his Kampfmesser 2000. However, he brought it to stop before realizing it wasn't confrontational.

"Market District, Herr."

Damn it, he thought. He had to stop addressing people as "Herr", but instinct mashed into his head during the 20 years of training made it hard.

The man's hand was noticed by U65's peripheral vision. U65 continued looking towards the man's face, secretly focusing on his hand. It had been a technique taught to him; Always look at the belligerent's eyes. For some, it would help you know where they would strike. For others, it would prevent them from knowing where you would strike.

"They're in the process of taking or damaging something very dear to me," U65 whispered. U65 slowly was stepping away from the man.

Two vehicals made their way down a mudy old road in the middle of the dessert. In the second vehical, Michele, Jordan, and the other civ were hopefully taking a much needed rest, while Rickson drove and Callaway kept a tight grip on his pistol as he peered out the windows. In the first Vehical, John and Carry pored over an old map while Jackson drove.

"What's this town up ahead, John?"

"Bishop's Bedshaft? We were stationed near here for a couple months, remember. Took a little trip out here to buy supplies, and again when some fanatics bombed the town."

"Yeh, I remember. You have a friend or two their right?"

"Yep. Yorgan and Kali. Nice folks. They know some people who can get us decent supplies. Besides, we should check in with the local garrison."

"Agreed. John, Im worried about those civs we're escorting."

"They wanted an escort, us giving it to them gets us authorization to enter the country, and carry weapons."

"Their in way over their heads, John."

"Tell me about it."

The cars rolled down the road towards Bishop's Bedshaft.

OOC: Is it morning now or what?

As the two werearguing, the small boy watching them fell through the shoddily made first floor fire escape. He hit the ground with a thud, before getting up, dusting himself off, and making a run for it.

Kitten turned away, following the boy as he ran away with her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders, as if to say 'What was that about?"

((OOC: I'm in the town that's complaining about commies raiding them.))

U65 turned around, almost thrusting his Kampfmesser 2000. However, he brought it to stop before realizing it wasn't confrontational.

"Market District, Herr."

Damn it, he thought. He had to stop addressing people as "Herr", but instinct mashed into his head during the 20 years of training made it hard.

The man's hand was noticed by U65's peripheral vision. U65 continued looking towards the man's face, secretly focusing on his hand. It had been a technique taught to him; Always look at the belligerent's eyes. For some, it would help you know where they would strike. For others, it would prevent them from knowing where you would strike.

"They're in the process of taking or damaging something very dear to me," U65 whispered. U65 slowly was stepping away from the man.

OOC: meh, lets just have it be that Jameson went there already.

IC:
"Ah, that accent...you are from the Grand World Order." Jameson said, smiling, and looked at the helmet. "Why, I do beleive I recognize that style of helmet, you would be one of the STF Infantry, correct? I've heard some rather...unsettling things about your branch." Jameson tuned away fromt he amn, walking up to the children. He caught the helmet under his boot as one kicked it, and picked it up. "Now here is one such wicked man that must not be permitted to further taint this earth." he said to himself in Sumguian, before turning to walk back to U65. "There, that wasnt so hard." He said, handing the helmet to the man. "And with any luck these boys will think twice before attacking men as heavily armed as us." He smiled, and took otu his wallet, imperceptibly flipping the safety off of one of the mini-uzis that sat in a holster on his belt as he did so. "Did you perhaps see if the man who sold you that ammunition had any sort of explosives for sale?"

The town was as dusty a little craphole as any where, but at least their was no gunfire. Not yet, anyway. As they drove into town, John saw two obviously foreign men standing face to face, both looking like they'd seen some action. Two kids stood off to one side. He quickly motioned to Jackson to pull up, while telling Carry to alert the other vehical. Then, keeping a tight grip on his side arm, he rolled down the window.

"Good morning Gentlemen. Could you direct us to an inn or market?"

(OOC: I'm talking to Lord Sumguy and Grand World Order).

When Jeremy woke up, it was 10 O'clock in the morning. Quickly realizing that he had not packed an alarm clock, he grabbed his guns, put his Uzi in his duffle, along with the boxes of ammo, and slung the M16 over his shoulder. Running outside, he saw the streets deserted.

"Those bastards" he thought "they left without me!"

Running over to a nearby car, and smashing his elboy through the winshield, he gained entrance, and quickly hotwired the vehicle. Pulling away from the curb at a frightening speed, he drove out of the town and onto the main road. Turning south, he headed in the direction of the village that the Colonel had told them about yesterday.

OOC: im pretty sure it isnt morning yet...

OOC: im pretty sure it isnt morning yet...

OOC: Okay, all in favor of it being morning? It would really help to move the RP along, especially since Chernobl is saying that his guy woke up at 5 AM and it would fit in with Kitten doing rounds at the hospital until the break of dawn. If the general consensus is that if should be morning, I'll edit this into an IC post. If not, I'll delete it.

OOC:I vote for it

"Becuase I'm out to impress you. Right."

Kauller had found a ride to Bishop's Belschaft in at taxi of all things, and was currently in the back, stripping down and cleaning his VMAW, reassembling it, then cleaning it again. He checked his ammo forty times, and combed and retied his hair.

OOC: meh, lets just have it be that Jameson went there already.

IC:
"Ah, that accent...you are from the Grand World Order." Jameson said, smiling, and looked at the helmet. "Why, I do beleive I recognize that style of helmet, you would be one of the STF Infantry, correct? I've heard some rather...unsettling things about your branch." Jameson tuned away fromt he amn, walking up to the children. He caught the helmet under his boot as one kicked it, and picked it up. "Now here is one such wicked man that must not be permitted to further taint this earth." he said to himself in Sumguian, before turning to walk back to U65. "There, that wasnt so hard." He said, handing the helmet to the man. "And with any luck these boys will think twice before attacking men as heavily armed as us." He smiled, and took otu his wallet, imperceptibly flipping the safety off of one of the mini-uzis that sat in a holster on his belt as he did so. "Did you perhaps see if the man who sold you that ammunition had any sort of explosives for sale?"

"I am proud to be a son of the Grand Commander ((Metaphorically, of course)), and a little brother of Commander Slaag."

The Agent received the helmet without any special forms or anything. Anyone would notice a Swastika carved into the side, and the unmistakable S.T.F. logo: An Iron Cross with a swastika emblazoned on it, with the words "Le Tattiche speciali Forzano" (Since it was in Italian; Other helmets might say Spezial Taktik-Kraft or Special Tactics Force). 35 tally marks cut into the opposite side of the helmet (Away from the swastika) showed how many kills he had gotten, other than the ones from training.

"I saw only minor explosives, Herr. Things anyone worth their salt could make with the proper tools."

The Agent made his way towards the container in which his uniform was hidden. He was positioned to see the man, as he naturally trusted nobody who wasn't an Agent or high-ranking soldier in other branches of the GWO military. He reached in and began pulling the heavy S.T.F. vest up. It was a beautiful piece of combat armor, depending on one's taste. The Agent's ESA-4 SMG was sitting safely inside of his trench coat, concealed, but easy to quick-draw.

OOC: is anybody in the little village, or is everybody still at BB?

((OOC: My guy and LS's guy are in the little village.))

Jameson stood int he street, his shotgun resting against his shoulder as he took out a cellphone and began dialing. It rang for a few seconds before an answer came ont he other line:

"Who calls upon the servants of God?" A voice asked on the other end.

"He who shines forth the holy light of the Lord." Jameson replied. "I have encountered a soldier of the Grand World Order S.T.F., and request permission to execute said subject."

There was a momentary pause. "Subject in question is deemed to be a significant threat to the commn good due to membership in aforementioned military organization, permission granted. Anything else to report?"

"Ralkovian mercenaries have engaged local militias. If they continue their aggressive actions, they may cause a hostile reaction from the populace to all foreigners within this area."

"Take whatever measures neccessary to ensure that such a situation does not become reality. Your primary objective remains to calm and resolve the conflict between local christians and muslims."

"Understood." Jameson said, and closed the phone. He had been watching U65 the entire time, a faint smile on his face.

OOC: in case you msised it in the other thread, you up for a small gunfight GWO?

((OOC: Sure))

U65 had finished putting on his vest. The vest was heavy indeed, comprising of kevlar, boron carbide, counterballistics gel, and even a titanium mail underneath to protect against shrapnel and blades. He also had put on his balaclava and was affixing his gas mask, placing the helmet on top of it. He put his hands on his F.S.I.A.A.S. in the box and was about to sling it...

Kauller got out of the cab half a mile from the outpost. Slinging his VMAW over his shoulder, he replaced his helmet and fell into the ground eating lope that was trained into all Steel Hands starting at fifteen, stopping when they retired. When he arrived, the day was gaining power quickly. He approached the guard post slowly, reslinging his weapon to the "off" position.

Jameson turned and began walking towards U65, an absent smile upon his face. Slowly he made his way along the sidewalk, reciting a psalm to himself as he did so. As he passed the man, his voice rose in volume slightly.

"Evil shall slay the wicked, and they that hate the righteous shall be desolate."

In a blur of motion he spun around, bringing the shotgun up and firing at where U65 was seated. His expression was calm and peaceful as he did so, a faint glint in his eyes the only sign of exitement in an otherwise passive face.

The moment Jameson began turn was when U65 would act. U65 tightened his grip on the F.S.I.A.A.S. shotgun and darted to his right. He felt a few pellets rip through his armor, lodging themselves in his GIPU underneath. He ducked around a corner, slammed a 32-round drum magazine into his F.S.I.A.A.S., backed up, and jumped into the fray again. He lined up the reflex scope with the aggressor and let off a three round burst before darting back to the right, using the building as a sort of cover.

((OOC: Have to go for the night.))

John saw the two men he had adressed walk away. He was about to drive on when he saw one of them talking into his phone. He paused watching the man, who turned and began walking toward the second individual, singing some sort of song. Suddenly, he whipped out a shotgun and began to fire.

John didn't wait to see the outcome of the fight. He yelled to Jackson to hit the gas, but Jackson was already tearing down the road, the other jeep close behind. As soon as they were out of the line of fire, however, Jackson slowed down. John smiled. One advantage about bringing along old soldeirs was that they could anticipate your orders, speeding up reaction time. Another second, and they might have been caught in the cross-fire. But now they slowed down. It would hardly do to be seen fleeing at top speed from the sight of a battle.

Thinking back, John remembered something else. The victim of that sudden assault bore the markings of the Grand World Order. This was troubling. Not the kind of guys he wanted to tangle with, at least not with three civillians under his wing.

OOC: This village is a collection of thatched huts in a tiny jungle clearing.

IC:

Villagers began running for their huts as the gunfire began, women and children were screaming as the men gathered what they could. They had no more than large sticks, a hoe, and a spear, but they were sick of the violence plaguing their village, and came out demanding to know what was happening.

Yuri woke with a start as gunshots echoed from the center of the village. He darted out of bed in an instant grabbed his AK-101. He clumsily pushed aside the mosquito netting and took cover on the balcony of his room. He had slept in his combat fatigues, which meant he was at least somewhat ready for action. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a strange jeep driving away with great speed, but he quickly shifted his attention to several more shots coming from the market place. Realizing that the fighting was occurring a good distance away from him, Yuri went back inside the filthy room to retrieve his worn, spiked combat helmet and attachments for his combat vest.

OOC: Don't let this thread die!

"Becuase I'm out to impress you. Right."

"I didn't say you were. But...uh! Never mind!" She snapped. She stepped back and yawned, showing just how tired making her rounds at the hospital had made her. She needed a cat nap.

"Little sleepy are we?" Husky asked, casting off his cig and taking a swig from a flask.

post post POSTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Fully suited up and ready for anything, Yuri trotted out into the open and oppressive air of the Backlands. Fire still echoed from the market which instantly put him on edge and made his blood pump with a fury in anticipation. Yuri quickly noticed Husky and Kitten arguing and approached them, "can't you hear that? Sounds like we've got another fight on our hands."

Jeremy woke up, starteled by the gunfire. Not remembering the events of the past few days, he yelled

"Where the hell am I?"

After that, he calmed down a little. Jumping out of bed and quickly dressing, he slung his M16 and his Uzi over his shoulders. Walking outside and drawing his pistol, he was startled by how early it still was. Hearing arguing voices coming from down the street, he jogged that way. He hadn't made it more then half way down the block before he had identified the voices. Turning a corner, he found Kitty, Huskey, and Yuri arguing. He asked them

"Where the hell is everybody? What were those shots?"

Hearing Jeremy's question, Yuri turned and motioned with his rifle toward the center of town "Sounds like there is a gunfight going on in the market."

The moment Jameson began turn was when U65 would act. U65 tightened his grip on the F.S.I.A.A.S. shotgun and darted to his right. He felt a few pellets rip through his armor, lodging themselves in his GIPU underneath. He ducked around a corner, slammed a 32-round drum magazine into his F.S.I.A.A.S., backed up, and jumped into the fray again. He lined up the reflex scope with the aggressor and let off a three round burst before darting back to the right, using the building as a sort of cover.

((OOC: Have to go for the night.))

The first of U65's shots missed, creating a number of holes in the left edge of Jameson's coat. When U65 revealed himself again, Jameson had dissapeared. There was silence for a moment, save for the scramble of civilians to get out of the way. After several seconeds, laughter came from an alleyway, echoing around the square.

"Your reflexes are to be admired." A voice came from the same direction. "Though I would expect no less of a someone in the STF." Footsteps echoed from the alley, their exact source unknowable as the sound bounced off of the walls of the buildings.

"And now what will you do?" The voice continued, apparently amused. "Are you going to run, as all the others have? Surely you have no reason to fight unless you think me not a challenge." It was not loud, but the sound carrie from out of the alley, so that U65 could hear it clearly.

U65 planted his FSIAAS in his left hand, holding it by the foregrip. He drew his ESA-4, as it was the best spray-and-pray weapon he had. He knelt while heading out into the area of fire before unleashing a spray of 5mm/35SMC (Which was admired because of its small size yet incredible velocity) bullets. He ducked behind cover again before setting the ESA-4 in its holster. He was once again armed with his FSIAAS.

He exposed himself again, holding his FSIAAS at eye-level. He had drawn his kukri, holding it upside down in his left hand. He was ambidextrous, like all of the other Agents. He was listening and watching for anything around him...

"Little sleepy are we?" Husky asked, casting off his cig and taking a swig from a flask.

Kitten nodded. "It's been a long day."

"So..." Jeremy asked Yuri "are we going to do anything?"

"So..." Jeremy asked Yuri "are we going to do anything?"

"I was thinking the same thing. We might as well check it out." responded Yuri. Suddenly, his mind struck something so insignificant yet so important at the same time. He raised his toward the shout of gunshots and said "I think that might be Jameson. I don't think any of us have seen him since last night."

For several moments there was silence. After nearly half a minute, a timer on a device several yards away from U65 reached zero, and a small light blinked before a large portion of the abandoned building it was resting by was destroyed by a large explosion, a large fireball rising into the air. Smoke and dust filled the square, nearly completely obscuring vision while debris rained all around. There was a muzzle flash to U65's left as an automatic shotgun discharged, it's owner running through the smoke and emptying the magazine of his weapon in U65's direction.

The shotgun had missed; the Uzi, however, had not. Three rounds made their way across U65's armor. However, the 9mm was notorious for its lack of penetration ability. The Agent backed up to cover before pulling out one of his Hydrogen Cyanide grenades. "Festmahl your lungen auf questo, schiuma," he said. He pulled the pin and threw it out into the square. Now it was time to cheat, he thought. He turned on the ATV (Advanced Thermal Imaging) from his S.T.F.-Edition AGMOED (Gas mask described in my factbook).

As Kauller approached the guard station, three men in blue helmets ran out, two with assault rifles aimed at his chest, the other with a pistol, held likewise. Very slowly, Kauller raised his hands to the back of his head and kneeled, the stance of surrender. The officer holding the pistol came closer, speaking a language Far didn't understand. "Do you speak English?" The officer asked. Far replied to the affirmative. "What are you doing here?" Kauller saw no reason to lie to a WA Peacekeeper. "My government sent me here to ascertain whether or not the situation was viable for a task force to be dispatched. It is not, so I need a phone to contact my plane." The officer nodded, holstering his pistol. "You are not a rebel, I can see, but I will still need your papers. You may stand." Kauller did so, carefully unslinging his VMAW and handing it to the Peacekeeper. He then removed his pack and set it on the ground before him, saying, "Orders are in the side pocket, leather tube."

The shotgun had missed; the Uzi, however, had not. Three rounds made their way across U65's armor. However, the 9mm was notorious for its lack of penetration ability. The Agent backed up to cover before pulling out one of his Hydrogen Cyanide grenades. "Festmahl your lungen auf questo, schiuma," he said. He pulled the pin and threw it out into the square. Now it was time to cheat, he thought. He turned on the ATV (Advanced Thermal Imaging) from his S.T.F.-Edition AGMOED (Gas mask described in my factbook).

OOC: Jameson was only using an AAR-12 automatic shotgun at the moment, strafing the area where U65 was

"Oh god, you're right" Jeremy said. He began sprinting in the direction of the market when a huge explosion ripped through the early morning sky. A plume of fire stormed into the air a few block away, the tempest raining down chunks of concrete and dust upon everyone's heads. The shock threw him to his feet, where he lay for a few seconds dazed. Slowley, he got up, wincing as he put pressure on his right arm.

"Damnit" he said "I've messed up this arm pretty good. I think it might be broken. Kitty, can you...do that...medical stuff, and...fix this?"

Confederate soldiers began swarming the area, expecting the scene to be an attack by rebels. The one hundred and twnty man all black Bishop's Bedshaft Volunteers division quickly set up a perimeter on the area, while the forty five man all white Bishop's Bedshaft Light Horse began marching towards the violence, demanding an end and preparing to bring that about by whatever means necessary.

"Well at least you aren't hungover."

The shotgun had missed; the Uzi, however, had not. Three rounds made their way across U65's armor. However, the 9mm was notorious for its lack of penetration ability. The Agent backed up to cover before pulling out one of his Hydrogen Cyanide grenades. "Festmahl your lungen auf questo, schiuma," he said. He pulled the pin and threw it out into the square. Now it was time to cheat, he thought. He turned on the ATV (Advanced Thermal Imaging) from his S.T.F.-Edition AGMOED (Gas mask described in my factbook).

Jameson was nowhere in sight. He was in fact on the other side of one of the nearby buildings, and was preparing to show himself again when he heard people approaching. "Well that is inconvenient." he said, turning and walking away, looking for an opening in the perimiter that had been set up, keeping to the shadows as he did so.

No sooner had the two vehicals pulled to a stop when the thunderous roar of an explosive blast ripped down the street, shattering the jeep's windows. His ears ringing, John shouted frantically for Jackson to stop. Up ahead, the local garrison was advancing into the area, clearly drawn by the sound of gunfire. At least they weren't rebel millitia, so a bribe would probably get them out of here if worst came to worst.

"Get out. I'll try to talk our way out of this." John just hoped the civs would keep cool and not do anything stupid.

(Any chance of joining up with you guys now I'm in the same town? I don't mind writing novels, but I'd like to do some real rping;)).

Gustav had woken with a start two hours ago, hearing the sounds of distant gunfire (OOC: despite what everyone's saying, isn't LS's and GWO's battle in the next village over?) even from his room in Bishop's Bedford. He grabbed his gear and kept off the beaten path, trekking through the jungle in search of the origin of the gunfire. As he grew closer and closer he realized by the increasing volume of fire that this was no ordinary skirmish, and he moved to the top of a fairly large and forested hill to investigate.

Peering down from his shield of underbrush into the village below he saw a number of foreigners (no doubt the same ones he was supposed to be working with, the ones which had been nowhere in sight that morning), a battalion of Confederate troops, and a very out of place man in a gas mask. The man with the mask appeared to be the one causing the disturbance, and Gustav flicked the cover off the top of his rifle (SSG164 (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13798037&postcount=533)), taking aim at the rapidly moving man. He bided his time, waiting for the Confederate troops to make a move.

(I thought it was still the same village? My posts will be rather screwed up otherwise).

((OOC: I thought it said Uzi as well, my bad.))

U65 clearly heard the Confederate troops closing in. He picked up the rest of his gear and made a full run in the opposite direction of the advancing troops. He climbed over a small stone wall and ran further out, ignoring the people staring at him. The bottom of his trench coat flew behind him, similar to a cape. He stopped behind a house and knelt down to collect his surroundings. Then, he continued to put the rest of his equipment on.

OOC: To make it easier, lets just agree that everyone os currantly in Bishop's Bedshaft.

(OOC: bump)

Holding his injured arm close against his chest, Jeremy drew his M16, half running, half limping, toward the source of the explosion. As he ran, he turned his head beck toward the others, yelling "C'mon damnit! Too many lives have been lost already due to this pointless infighting! We're supposed to be peace keepers!"

"Agreed, we move now and find out what the hell is going on. If necessary, eliminate the hostile." shouted Yuri as the followed Jeremy down the street with his rifle loaded and on full-auto.

John was surprised but releived when the soldiers went right by them, obviously more concerned with the fire fight they had left behind. He was about to head back to the vehical when he saw a group of obvious foreigners heading his way. Peacekeepers, with any luck. Deciding he should find out what was going on, he stepped towards them and blocked their path, holding up his hands to show he wasn't carrying any weapons.

"Hello their. Don't worry, I'm not looking for a fight."

((OOC: Where is Kitten?))

((OOC: Where is Kitten?))

(OOC: No idea. Another question is why is everyone ignoring me?:()

OOC:We are still talkin in another town.

OOC:We are still talkin in another town.

(OOC: didn't someone say we were all still in the same town?)

OOC:Well that doesn't make sense.

OOC:We are still talkin in another town.

((OOC: Ah. So where did we leave off?))

OOC:That kid ran off and you asked what it was about.

OOC: Ok, for ease of RPing, we're all in the same town. Kitten and Husky are just a goodly distance away from the center of town, and haven't heard the gunfire yet (I expect they will soon).

(bump)

come on dont die!!!

come on dont die!!!

OOC: kinda waiting on you..., GWO's and my character are both trying to escape from your troops.

OOC: Right, sorry

IC:

The two groups of Confederate soldiers had set up a tight perimeter. The black soldiers of the Volunteers were all standing steadily by, guns pointed to the village, as the white soldiers began interrogating the locals. Slowly, the Volunteers were tightening up the noose on the village as the white soldiers continued their interrogation. In a small village of thatched huts such as this, a pair of white men with guns would not be difficult to find.

U65 was "boned" if he tried to blend in; his appearance with or without his armor would be eye-grabbing even in the GWO. His armor was black; so he could easily hide in dark places. He hid himself inside of a truck parked in the courtyard contaminated with Hydrogen Cyanide. He pulled his MI-8A2 out, screwed a silencer on, and waited for anyone to approach the vehicle. He could hotwire it; but that would cause suspicion.

Yuri was now panting as he reached the center of the town where the gunshots had come from. He stopped running next to a low clay wall and rested for a few moments. The oppressive heat was almost unbearable in his heavy combat gear. Thankfully, it appeared the Confederate soldiers had already locked the area down.