Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
We're still open- apply here!
RULES
- Be polite!
- Treat your fellow troopers with respect!
- No meta-gaming
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This section is for roleplays only.
ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.
Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.
Futuristic Halo: Operation SHATTERED SKY (IC - CLOSED)
We're still open- apply here!
RULES
- Be polite!
- Treat your fellow troopers with respect!
- No meta-gaming
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
2534
Verent
Thirteen hours past initial Covenant assault.
The already limited space of the UNSC Tangible Excuse's briefing room- in reality a small space of the bridge Combat Information Center (or CIC for short)- was feeling even more cramped than usual. In addition to agents Black and Grey of ONI SRG were the captain of the ship and a mixed squad of eight ODSTs and ONI field agents with everyone currently standing around a state-of-the-art holographic display console.
Captain Joshua Gentry scratched his chin slowly while his eyes remained fixed on the holographic projection in front of him. A shade of blue with a dash of cyan illuminated the brass rank insignia and the nameplate on his chest, making them stand out even more against his black and grey ONI-jumper. His left eyebrow was slightly raised as the onboard AI- Karma- updated the holographic representation of Verent. At the bottom a small line of numbers showed passing hours while increasingly larger red zones represented Covenant advances on the surface.
While the initial briefing had been grim it was safe to say that nobody on the team (or at the very least very few) expected the situation below to be this bad. It wouldn't be difficult for Gentry to maneuver his ship into a good position above Verent nor would it be to deploy the special prototype D77-TC/c Pelicans but at this rate the team would have a very limited time window to make landfall, enter the ONI facility, secure the asset and exfiltrate.
"We could try and drop right on the facility. Would save us the walk," said Black with a hint of doubt. Gentry glanced at him but nobody said a word until Karma, now standing next to Verent's holographic image like some comically large woman, spoke up. "My calculations predict that the ground team will save some forty minutes from a direct insertion."
"But..." said Gentry.
"There's also a fifty percent chance that Covenant scouting parties or long-range sensors will detect our Pelicans- regardless of how much stealth coating we put on them."
Gentry nodded and sighed. "It's risky." He pointed at a valley near the dot that represented the ONI facility, located some six metric miles from Verent's capital of Verent City which was expected to get hit by a large-scale Covenant invasion force within the next hour. "If you deploy here you'll gain some additional time but with a lower risk of detection. Hogs should be able to traverse the dirt roads in that area with ease until you reach the facility up in the mountains."
Black nodded slowly and glanced at Grey whom nodded as well. He looked at the squad members around the table. In truth the odds were stacked against the mission regardless of what they did, though this way there was a significantly smaller chance of attracting a swarm of Banshees to their LZ. Still, the time on the ground was limited and the more time spent discussing the odds the more dangerous the mission would become.
"We'll insert in the valley and proceed from there with the hogs. Tactical spacing and moderate speed should let us push up fast enough to not get spotted but not too fast to miss any potential threats," stated Black.
"Comms?" Asked Grey.
Captain Gentry shook his head. "Limited to emergencies. Any outgoing databursts will be monitored and traced by the Covenant. Banshees are drawn to radio signals like moths to a flame.
That said my crew and I should be able to track you with a somewhat accurate precision via the old-school way."
Black raised an eyebrow. "Stills?"
"Mhm," muttered Gentry. "Every thirty minutes."
"That's it then," said Black. His focus turned towards the squad. "Gear up. You've got thirty minutes."
*
Slowly but carefully the two jet-black Pelicans bearing nothing but generic (and most likely false) UNSC tail-numbers made their way to the LZ.The initial insertion point from orbit had been far away from the ongoing fights near Verent City and other major population centers though now as the craft moved closer and closer civilization was starting to show in ill-maintained roads, power lines and isolated grain silos of which the latter wasn't really all that uncommon on a agricultural world such as Verent.
Ironically, despite the heavy fighting a mere one or two hours away there were still automated JOTUN harvesters working the vast fields of crops alongside the rare crop-duster spraying down pesticide.
Black sighed as he remained still in his seat. His hands were resting in his lap but his eyes were focused on the interior ceiling.
"One minute," reported the pilot via the internal communications.
Grey, who was seated next to Black, returned the rugged military datapad in her lap into its protective cover before placing all of that inside a concrete-grey backpack sitting on the floor between her legs.
She looked up at Black after zipping the backpack shut. Around them the squad readied themselves, doing whatever final preparations that were needed.
Despite her neutral expression Grey's eyes hinted at some concern.
"Ready?" Asked Black without moving his eyes away from the ceiling. It was a rhetorical question- nobody would ever be ready for a mission such as this, much less any covert military operation that involved the Covenant in some way.
Grey sighed. "We'll find out soon enough."
Black only grunted in response. Slowly, his eyes detached themselves from staring a hole into ceiling and instead moved between the others seated inside the troop compartment. "How about you folks? Ready?"
Worthlessplebian
ONI
AEONmeteorite
DrabberRogue
Calibutcher
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Calibutcher
Did you think me Defeated?!
The blue light of the hologram shone on Bret's face, between the light and the neutral expression on his face it was impossible to tell if he was actually listening. His helmet rested on his hip as he stood staring into the hologram of Verent, yet another planet succumbing to the will of the covenant. Yet another briefing as humankind tried to counter the push. He focused on some of the smaller dots of fleeing ships, simple transports trying to pull away from gravity and death as it chased them. They would do just the opposite. Rushing towards the destruction as they tried to stem the tide of war. However as he tuned in to the conversation he realized this was less about stopping the covenant and more about recovery. Something more important than saving civvies. He gritted his teeth for a moment but remained silent. This was a briefing he was here to perform a mission, not contest one.
He broke free of his stupor of thought as Ambur AKA Bunny was tapping the floor with her boot. He looked down to the source of the sound for a moment before using his elbow to nudge the girl from her nervous habit. Not long after the briefing ended, he and bunny started heading for the armory. “Chin up kid. Just a simple go in grab stuff blow up some covies and leave.” He entered the armory and tapped at his wrist monitor as he went through a checklist to make sure they would have all the gear they would need. It was hard to know what would be needed but his job was to bring what was necessary regardless. Before long he had two large backpacks filled with explosives and ordinance. He heaved one and handed it to Bunny. It was the lighter of the two packs. But not by much.
**
The pelican was cramped for him even with seats large enough to hold him and all his gear he always hated the flights. No external views meant he was clueless to what happened outside. His SPNKR wouldn’t help him in a pelican like it did on the ground. He simply stayed strapped in his seat staring straight ahead, occupied with his own thoughts. Black’s question prodded him to reply. “I wouldn’t have boarded the Pelican If I wasn’t ready… Sir.” He had meant for his comment to be a statement of fact solely but what came out was more sarcasm then he intended. He licked his teeth and shrugged, prepared to live with what he had said regardless.
He broke free of his stupor of thought as Ambur AKA Bunny was tapping the floor with her boot. He looked down to the source of the sound for a moment before using his elbow to nudge the girl from her nervous habit. Not long after the briefing ended, he and bunny started heading for the armory. “Chin up kid. Just a simple go in grab stuff blow up some covies and leave.” He entered the armory and tapped at his wrist monitor as he went through a checklist to make sure they would have all the gear they would need. It was hard to know what would be needed but his job was to bring what was necessary regardless. Before long he had two large backpacks filled with explosives and ordinance. He heaved one and handed it to Bunny. It was the lighter of the two packs. But not by much.
**
The pelican was cramped for him even with seats large enough to hold him and all his gear he always hated the flights. No external views meant he was clueless to what happened outside. His SPNKR wouldn’t help him in a pelican like it did on the ground. He simply stayed strapped in his seat staring straight ahead, occupied with his own thoughts. Black’s question prodded him to reply. “I wouldn’t have boarded the Pelican If I wasn’t ready… Sir.” He had meant for his comment to be a statement of fact solely but what came out was more sarcasm then he intended. He licked his teeth and shrugged, prepared to live with what he had said regardless.
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DrabberRogue
Flirty Fighty Prince Boi
Lance Corporal Jace Rose hadn't spoken much leading up to the mission. Not that he was a particularly silent type, he just didn't have a lot to say. Best to let the rest of the team do the talking while he soaked up the intel. He often got like this during operations, the normally outgoing trooper becoming quietly focused on his job. So he spent most of the briefing quiet, his arms crossed, while his scrutinizing gaze shifted between the hologram and whoever was talking. He was glad the spooks had decided on a quiet insertion. It meant they could approach on their own terms, keeping some initiative rather than risking an immediate Covenant response. Well, for the most part. As seemed to be the case with every op involving the aliens, everything other than surprise would be stacked against them.
Now the crimson marked ODST was similarly quiet as he sat across from two of the spooks in the pelican. He'd geared up the same way he did for most missions, picking his signature tool of the trade. A sniper rifle. It sat upright in his lap, resting against his shoulder with the barrel pointing skyward. Five magazines of 14.5mm ammunition sat distributed around his armor's available storage points. Enough, he hoped, to get him through the op without needing to scavenge for another weapon. Holstered at his hip was his trusty service pistol, an M6S, for which he also carried a few extra mags. Finally he'd also brought a couple of grenades, just in case.
While on the outside he may have exuded confident professionalism, internally Jace was feeling a little anxious. Both eager to get to work and apprehensive at the danger of what they were about to do. While one leg propped up his rifle, the other bounced restlessly, his heel just above the floor so as to avoid making noise. Jace had already checked and rechecked all his gear. There was no more busywork to keep him occupied, so instead he spent the ride idly observing the other members of his team. The visor of his helmet was already opaque, concealing his expression, which at the moment he was using to direct his curious gaze at the agents across from him. Black and Grey, though he suspected those weren't their actual names. It was the movement of Grey stowing her datapad that drew his attention, someone whose scars had already caught his eye. An interesting story he was sure he'd probably never hear.
It wasn't until Black addressed the rest of the team that his helmet turned fully in that direction, his body language snappily responding to the question. "Yes sir!" Jace answered in a chipper tone. It was almost reflex, outwardly projecting the overconfidence one might expect of a shock trooper. Was he ready though? Well, he figured he was as ready as he'd ever be. All that mattered was completing the mission and getting out alive. If he wasn't ready... that wasn't an idea he could afford to dwell on.
Now the crimson marked ODST was similarly quiet as he sat across from two of the spooks in the pelican. He'd geared up the same way he did for most missions, picking his signature tool of the trade. A sniper rifle. It sat upright in his lap, resting against his shoulder with the barrel pointing skyward. Five magazines of 14.5mm ammunition sat distributed around his armor's available storage points. Enough, he hoped, to get him through the op without needing to scavenge for another weapon. Holstered at his hip was his trusty service pistol, an M6S, for which he also carried a few extra mags. Finally he'd also brought a couple of grenades, just in case.
While on the outside he may have exuded confident professionalism, internally Jace was feeling a little anxious. Both eager to get to work and apprehensive at the danger of what they were about to do. While one leg propped up his rifle, the other bounced restlessly, his heel just above the floor so as to avoid making noise. Jace had already checked and rechecked all his gear. There was no more busywork to keep him occupied, so instead he spent the ride idly observing the other members of his team. The visor of his helmet was already opaque, concealing his expression, which at the moment he was using to direct his curious gaze at the agents across from him. Black and Grey, though he suspected those weren't their actual names. It was the movement of Grey stowing her datapad that drew his attention, someone whose scars had already caught his eye. An interesting story he was sure he'd probably never hear.
It wasn't until Black addressed the rest of the team that his helmet turned fully in that direction, his body language snappily responding to the question. "Yes sir!" Jace answered in a chipper tone. It was almost reflex, outwardly projecting the overconfidence one might expect of a shock trooper. Was he ready though? Well, he figured he was as ready as he'd ever be. All that mattered was completing the mission and getting out alive. If he wasn't ready... that wasn't an idea he could afford to dwell on.
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Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
The briefing about their task had Joseph's full attention. The ONI agent had managed to procure a mug of coffee, that was in reality, artificially caffeinated. He'd prefer the real thing but time is a luxury, and that's something they cannot afford today. He is trying to remember as much of the digitized landscape in his head as he could—the act of staring into this holographic projection made Joseph temporarily reminisce about his father. The insurrection did not have these fancy-schmancy doodahs and hyper-advanced AIs, but that was a lifetime ago. This operation seemed rushed harder than a coked-up cheetah. But it wasn't the Captain's job to question, the Office points him in a direction and he does his job. Though the ordinarily cheerful ONI agent does seem distrustful of his fellow colleagues in the Office. Packing this many field agents never seemed like a good idea.
The briefing came to a close and they were told to gear up and meet up in the hangers. "Pelican time." The agent muttered as he handed an ensign his mug. Joseph never had any luck with those blasted birds.
The agent sat near the ramp door of the bird. Joseph stared at the door behind his visor, whilst gripping the requested BR55 Heavy Barrel Service Rifle—or as the grunts called it, the Battle Rifle. It is one of Joseph's favourite service weapons. The rifle with a slant pointed towards the ground, King holding it tightly by the grip with one hand while the other rested on the buttstock. King had a superstitious feeling like that door was about to be blasted open. Well, at least they'll live up to the names of Helljumpers. Literally. He hopes the ground ride to the ONI facility would be uninterrupted, but knowing their luck, they'd likely encounter patrols or something. The pilot announced they have one minute before landing, so King took this time to quickly run through a weapons inspection. The way he ran through his weapons was surprising, to say the least. For a comms specialist, he checks his weapons like an armourer. Quick, efficient, no wasted movements. Then it's peculiar about how his M7S Submachine gun had scratchings alongside pistol grip. Most likely decorations by him.
His attention was caught by Black asking if they were ready. He paused before whipping his head so fast, his tanned shemagh ruffled. "As always, tovarish!" He answered mirthfully. Beneath the uplifted exterior did hide an uneasy sense of dread. No need to get into that now, agents must stay focused. He compartmentalized the dread as he was taught by time on the field.
The briefing came to a close and they were told to gear up and meet up in the hangers. "Pelican time." The agent muttered as he handed an ensign his mug. Joseph never had any luck with those blasted birds.
The agent sat near the ramp door of the bird. Joseph stared at the door behind his visor, whilst gripping the requested BR55 Heavy Barrel Service Rifle—or as the grunts called it, the Battle Rifle. It is one of Joseph's favourite service weapons. The rifle with a slant pointed towards the ground, King holding it tightly by the grip with one hand while the other rested on the buttstock. King had a superstitious feeling like that door was about to be blasted open. Well, at least they'll live up to the names of Helljumpers. Literally. He hopes the ground ride to the ONI facility would be uninterrupted, but knowing their luck, they'd likely encounter patrols or something. The pilot announced they have one minute before landing, so King took this time to quickly run through a weapons inspection. The way he ran through his weapons was surprising, to say the least. For a comms specialist, he checks his weapons like an armourer. Quick, efficient, no wasted movements. Then it's peculiar about how his M7S Submachine gun had scratchings alongside pistol grip. Most likely decorations by him.
His attention was caught by Black asking if they were ready. He paused before whipping his head so fast, his tanned shemagh ruffled. "As always, tovarish!" He answered mirthfully. Beneath the uplifted exterior did hide an uneasy sense of dread. No need to get into that now, agents must stay focused. He compartmentalized the dread as he was taught by time on the field.
AEONmeteorite
Architect of Worlds
Bunny tugged strands of hair out of her face and behind her ears for the hundredth time. No matter how much she tried to pull it all back, the wavy locks always broke free. While the small nuisance took her attention, she didn't notice her boot taking up the beat of her nerves against the ground. A tapping that just about matched the speed of her heart. The restlessness only thwarted due to Bret's interference. Bunny pulled her hands away from her head, her foot fell flat and she hopped in her seat among those crowded in the briefing room. Much of what was said veered right over her head, not due to ignorance, rather she found paying attention far too difficult. A common trend she dealt with often. Bunny tended to figure out the missions eventually with a mix of observation and help from Bret.
She followed after Bret when she saw others standing and moving to gather their equipment. While she walked off, she peered over her shoulder and to the sides of her, eyeing the individuals who would be joining the mission. Bunny couldn't say whether or not she recognized any of them. Faces became oddly tough to recognize. If every smile looked the same in her eyes, then it wouldn't hurt as bad if she didn't know one was gone. There were some, such as Bret, that had managed to carve into her memories.
Bret spoke, and just as he instructed, she lifted her chin, but more so because he got her attention. "Uh... yup, Grab stuff, blow up covies... and leave," she mumbled and repeated after him. That was enough to help her comprehend what needed to be done.
She waited for Bret to pick out what they needed and took the time to check the equipment on her person. There wasn't much, though she took extra caution to be sure her shotgun was well kept and ready to shoot. Bunny pursed her lips and hummed to herself, always having a debate of whether or not she was armed well enough. "Hey, Bang, do you think...?" she began to ask and pointed at her gun, but stopped mid-sentence as she was handed a pack. She didn't continue with her question as this had given her an adjacent answer. Even if she wanted more, she never had much more room or strength to take on extra, that is if she wanted to be able to move fast.
Clinking chimes. Zippers. The scuff of weapon hitting armor. Stomping boots. All sound familiar and surfaced the memories of battle. Preparing was silent compared to what was to come. Once her helmet was put on, she'd not be taking it off until they left. She didn't need the smell of metal, dirt and blood attacking her nose.
Bunny moved in tandem with Bret, entering the pelican and keeping quiet as everyone else seemed to be lacking words to exchange. She kept her helmet off, using it as an arm rest until the call for one minute was given. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and placed it on. Her only confirmation of her readiness showing through her body. At attention and ready to stand when called to move out.
She followed after Bret when she saw others standing and moving to gather their equipment. While she walked off, she peered over her shoulder and to the sides of her, eyeing the individuals who would be joining the mission. Bunny couldn't say whether or not she recognized any of them. Faces became oddly tough to recognize. If every smile looked the same in her eyes, then it wouldn't hurt as bad if she didn't know one was gone. There were some, such as Bret, that had managed to carve into her memories.
Bret spoke, and just as he instructed, she lifted her chin, but more so because he got her attention. "Uh... yup, Grab stuff, blow up covies... and leave," she mumbled and repeated after him. That was enough to help her comprehend what needed to be done.
She waited for Bret to pick out what they needed and took the time to check the equipment on her person. There wasn't much, though she took extra caution to be sure her shotgun was well kept and ready to shoot. Bunny pursed her lips and hummed to herself, always having a debate of whether or not she was armed well enough. "Hey, Bang, do you think...?" she began to ask and pointed at her gun, but stopped mid-sentence as she was handed a pack. She didn't continue with her question as this had given her an adjacent answer. Even if she wanted more, she never had much more room or strength to take on extra, that is if she wanted to be able to move fast.
Clinking chimes. Zippers. The scuff of weapon hitting armor. Stomping boots. All sound familiar and surfaced the memories of battle. Preparing was silent compared to what was to come. Once her helmet was put on, she'd not be taking it off until they left. She didn't need the smell of metal, dirt and blood attacking her nose.
Bunny moved in tandem with Bret, entering the pelican and keeping quiet as everyone else seemed to be lacking words to exchange. She kept her helmet off, using it as an arm rest until the call for one minute was given. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and placed it on. Her only confirmation of her readiness showing through her body. At attention and ready to stand when called to move out.
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0stinato
In Bhaal's name.
What would a good ODST do in this situation? Arrival to destination and subsequent beginning of the mission could be interrupted at any moment by a cluster of Covenant scout vehicles, at which point it would do marvellously to know for sure what one had in one’s pack.
But Cow wasn’t doing that. He wasn’t checking his pack. He knew what was in it; he packed it. Everyone else seemed to be checking theirs though, with some going over their weapons and quadruple-checking their entire beings to be sure they had enough limbs. Or something. But, Cow recalled, there is at least one ONI agent in this Pelican with a prosthesis, right? So maybe he has to check he has enough limbs. It wouldn’t do for your prosthesis to drop off on the battlefield.
Ah, that was probably impossible, but it was amusing to imagine. Some poor agent, duel-wielding SMGs, suddenly loses their arm at the elbow and must recover their limb, which is still squeezing the trigger of the SMG and spitting out rounds. What a scene that would make amongst the plasmatic chaos of a ground-based Human-Covenant engagement.
So, maybe he wasn’t being a good ODST, given he was thinking about mid-battle pantomimes instead of polishing his mechanical breaching tools for the fifteenth time. Perhaps he could learn to juggle with his hinge explosives. Would that make him a good ODST? He’d surely be given a medal on the spot for such an impressive feat; after all, when does and ODST have time to learn anything new that isn’t about the missions?
Safe to say, if you meet a soldier with a hobby, he’s got too much free time.
When Black’s voice meandered through the silence, Cow became aware he was smiling, almost sneering at nothing but the scenes in his imagination. He forced a frown to overtake the smile. Better a neutral frown than a grin that made him even uglier than usual. But the smile threatened to show itself again as Corporal Donnell’s reply came. Snarky bastard. Said what he thought, clearly.
Excellent.
The others said their Yes sirs and whatnot, with King being especially jovial for some reason. Maybe he was one of those people who thought it better to die smiling, die optimistic.
People should put more thought into their deaths, Cow thought. He himself had dreamed up several potential deaths he could succumb to: perhaps it would be a sudden, sharp shot to a vital area that would kill him in under ten seconds; perhaps it would be a melee strike when he’s already wounded, resulting in him falling face-first into the dirt, tasting blood and slurry for his last fifteen minutes; perhaps he’d be medically discharged and die of lung cancer/throat cancer/heart disease?/kidney failure?/a blood clot? in some sterile bed, leaving behind a half-read book and a full ashtray.
Yeah, one of those. Had to be.
Or maybe that’s why King was jovial. Maybe he had opened his heart and accepted our lord and saviour Inevitable Death with a smile.
‘Ready, sir,” Cow said, switching gears in his head. Speculating and fantasising was all well and good, but not now. Get down to business, do your thing, blow shit up and worry about the consequences later. Kill the Covenant, kill the Covenant, kill the Covenant.
He gave a deep, quiet sigh as he donned his helmet, fully aware he would be stuck inside it with his own breath for this next portion of his life.
But Cow wasn’t doing that. He wasn’t checking his pack. He knew what was in it; he packed it. Everyone else seemed to be checking theirs though, with some going over their weapons and quadruple-checking their entire beings to be sure they had enough limbs. Or something. But, Cow recalled, there is at least one ONI agent in this Pelican with a prosthesis, right? So maybe he has to check he has enough limbs. It wouldn’t do for your prosthesis to drop off on the battlefield.
Ah, that was probably impossible, but it was amusing to imagine. Some poor agent, duel-wielding SMGs, suddenly loses their arm at the elbow and must recover their limb, which is still squeezing the trigger of the SMG and spitting out rounds. What a scene that would make amongst the plasmatic chaos of a ground-based Human-Covenant engagement.
So, maybe he wasn’t being a good ODST, given he was thinking about mid-battle pantomimes instead of polishing his mechanical breaching tools for the fifteenth time. Perhaps he could learn to juggle with his hinge explosives. Would that make him a good ODST? He’d surely be given a medal on the spot for such an impressive feat; after all, when does and ODST have time to learn anything new that isn’t about the missions?
Safe to say, if you meet a soldier with a hobby, he’s got too much free time.
When Black’s voice meandered through the silence, Cow became aware he was smiling, almost sneering at nothing but the scenes in his imagination. He forced a frown to overtake the smile. Better a neutral frown than a grin that made him even uglier than usual. But the smile threatened to show itself again as Corporal Donnell’s reply came. Snarky bastard. Said what he thought, clearly.
Excellent.
The others said their Yes sirs and whatnot, with King being especially jovial for some reason. Maybe he was one of those people who thought it better to die smiling, die optimistic.
People should put more thought into their deaths, Cow thought. He himself had dreamed up several potential deaths he could succumb to: perhaps it would be a sudden, sharp shot to a vital area that would kill him in under ten seconds; perhaps it would be a melee strike when he’s already wounded, resulting in him falling face-first into the dirt, tasting blood and slurry for his last fifteen minutes; perhaps he’d be medically discharged and die of lung cancer/throat cancer/heart disease?/kidney failure?/a blood clot? in some sterile bed, leaving behind a half-read book and a full ashtray.
Yeah, one of those. Had to be.
Or maybe that’s why King was jovial. Maybe he had opened his heart and accepted our lord and saviour Inevitable Death with a smile.
‘Ready, sir,” Cow said, switching gears in his head. Speculating and fantasising was all well and good, but not now. Get down to business, do your thing, blow shit up and worry about the consequences later. Kill the Covenant, kill the Covenant, kill the Covenant.
He gave a deep, quiet sigh as he donned his helmet, fully aware he would be stuck inside it with his own breath for this next portion of his life.
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Black glared at Donnel for at least three seconds before glancing at the rest of the team as all of them reported in. He silently hoped that the rest of them had as much pent up aggression as Bret's tone did- it'd make the initial firefight easier.
Whether we're ready or not there will be at least one firefight. No operation ever goes that smoothly.
Maybe Black was cynical. He thought of himself as a 'well-grounded realist' though that might as well just be a fancy way of being cynical.
The Pelican suddenly shuddered. It wouldn't be long now.
Getting up from his seat Black adjusted his gear with both of his hands; low-profile body armor alongside groin- and thigh-protection were the only ballistic protection he wore over his black ONI coverall. On his head he wore a tactical headset linked to a pair of state-of-the-art tactical shades.
He cleared his throat to speak;
"Pilot, open her up." Black's dark voice echoed over the team comms and the pilot offered only a brief "Yessir" as a reply to the order.
With a metallic pop! the troop bay door was unsealed and slowly split into two. Outside, a grey-colored and heavily modified M12 Warthog FAV dangled from a set of powerful magnetic couplings which kept it safely secured to the Pelican. Below the ground moved at lethal speeds with vast farmlands turning into a blur of gold broken up by the occassional patch of brown which represented maintenance roads.
Black took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. A sigh escaped him as he realized that this moment might be one of the last serene things he might see before his demise.
Snapping out of it he placed a firm hand on his MA5K carbine and spoke up;
"In less than thirty seconds we are about to set down on Verent. I'm sure the thought has crossed your minds but I prefer words over thoughts;
This will be a tough one, regardless if we succeed or not. I'm counting on all of you stay sharp and stay alert!"
With decisive and confident steps Black marched towards the troop hatch and stared at the farmlands below.
"Anyone who isn't ready now should stay on the Pelican- there's no room for doubt, uncertainty nor is there for mistakes."
Whether we're ready or not there will be at least one firefight. No operation ever goes that smoothly.
Maybe Black was cynical. He thought of himself as a 'well-grounded realist' though that might as well just be a fancy way of being cynical.
The Pelican suddenly shuddered. It wouldn't be long now.
Getting up from his seat Black adjusted his gear with both of his hands; low-profile body armor alongside groin- and thigh-protection were the only ballistic protection he wore over his black ONI coverall. On his head he wore a tactical headset linked to a pair of state-of-the-art tactical shades.
He cleared his throat to speak;
"Pilot, open her up." Black's dark voice echoed over the team comms and the pilot offered only a brief "Yessir" as a reply to the order.
With a metallic pop! the troop bay door was unsealed and slowly split into two. Outside, a grey-colored and heavily modified M12 Warthog FAV dangled from a set of powerful magnetic couplings which kept it safely secured to the Pelican. Below the ground moved at lethal speeds with vast farmlands turning into a blur of gold broken up by the occassional patch of brown which represented maintenance roads.
Black took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. A sigh escaped him as he realized that this moment might be one of the last serene things he might see before his demise.
Snapping out of it he placed a firm hand on his MA5K carbine and spoke up;
"In less than thirty seconds we are about to set down on Verent. I'm sure the thought has crossed your minds but I prefer words over thoughts;
This will be a tough one, regardless if we succeed or not. I'm counting on all of you stay sharp and stay alert!"
With decisive and confident steps Black marched towards the troop hatch and stared at the farmlands below.
"Anyone who isn't ready now should stay on the Pelican- there's no room for doubt, uncertainty nor is there for mistakes."
Calibutcher
Did you think me Defeated?!
Bret leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath. He held it for five long seconds and blew the air out again slowly. The call for one minute got him to sit upright and pop his helmet on. He did not darken his visor yet, he glanced at his magnum strapped on his thigh, the weapon was ready checking it again now wouldn't make a difference he glanced up to the SPNKR above him on the rack. The rest of his gear would be on the other pelican. Operations against covies didn't call for packing light. The last thing he checked was Ambur. The younger girl had put on her helmet and was sitting stock still now. He gave her a light tap with his knuckle on her knee followed by a brief thumbs up. A bit of ritual the pair had picked up, his signal to her that he would have her back or die trying.
His attention quickly diverted as the rear hatch popped open and there ONI spook addressed them again. He resisted rolling his eyes at the impromptu call to courage. He had already given his answer. He was here because he was ready. "Sorry, sir didn't leave any room for doubt in my pack, too full of explosives. If ya want some uncertainty I'm sure we can get some Marines here." Bret chuckled briefly at his own joke before he sat back in his chair again waiting for the green light that would tell them to exit once the pilots had landed.
His attention quickly diverted as the rear hatch popped open and there ONI spook addressed them again. He resisted rolling his eyes at the impromptu call to courage. He had already given his answer. He was here because he was ready. "Sorry, sir didn't leave any room for doubt in my pack, too full of explosives. If ya want some uncertainty I'm sure we can get some Marines here." Bret chuckled briefly at his own joke before he sat back in his chair again waiting for the green light that would tell them to exit once the pilots had landed.
Kenshin772
Strategist of the Three Kingdoms
Amelia Sat in the back of the briefing room looking through the mission detail she had access to on her own, she had gotten bored with the XO's debate with Captain Gentry and tuned them out as she scrolled through the text. "I get why ONI wants to recover what's in this facility but why grab me?" she thought as nothing mission critical seemed like something they needed her for. Turning her attention to the rest of the team she observed each one of them carefully, she had been given the bare minimum information on each team members Medical information and other than Uzi's Prosthesis none of the team required any special attention.
Halfway through her reading a call from Agent Black caught her attention and had her come to attention with the rest of the team.
"Gear up. You've got thirty minutes."
It was show time, time for Amelia to stop being Amelia Hunter and time for her to be Doc the Combat Medic that had made the decision to save lives on the battlefield. With a curt "Yes'sir" she spun on her heal and made for the Armory and then the Medical room. The Combat Medic had outfitted herself with: the standard ODST Medical Armor, complete with Gold Visor tint, a M7S Submachine gun with attached Reflex Sight, a Standard issue M6C/SOCOM with digital ghost ring linked with her helmet's Heads Up Display, Two Frags, Three White, Red, and Green Smoke Grenades, a Dozen and a half EMPs, Four tourniquets, a Biofoam injector with four refill bottles, Dozen Morphine injectors and a half Dozen Chorotazine Injectors, and finally her personal firearm, A M392 DMR carried over from her previous loadout complete with an EVOS-D sight. By the time Doc finished packing all her gear into her hard cases and her pack the others had already boarded the Pelican making her the last to arrive, making it all the more awkward when she squeezed down the middle to sit as far forward in the bird as possible.
The tension on the Pelican was tense both because of the danger of the mission they were about to carry out and the presence of not one but FOUR ONI Operatives when the radio in her helmet called out "One Minute" Doc had to fight against her nerves not to vomit. Only the call out of Black snapped her back to soldier mode.
"How about you folks? Ready?"
With a hard swallow Doc made a report over the short range net "Yes sir, No problems here" A few seconds later she found herself on her feet shuffling into line, right behind Lance Corporal Rose, with her trusty DMR switched to Auto ready to disembark the nice and safe Pelican back onto the warzone she had just left hours ago.
Halfway through her reading a call from Agent Black caught her attention and had her come to attention with the rest of the team.
"Gear up. You've got thirty minutes."
It was show time, time for Amelia to stop being Amelia Hunter and time for her to be Doc the Combat Medic that had made the decision to save lives on the battlefield. With a curt "Yes'sir" she spun on her heal and made for the Armory and then the Medical room. The Combat Medic had outfitted herself with: the standard ODST Medical Armor, complete with Gold Visor tint, a M7S Submachine gun with attached Reflex Sight, a Standard issue M6C/SOCOM with digital ghost ring linked with her helmet's Heads Up Display, Two Frags, Three White, Red, and Green Smoke Grenades, a Dozen and a half EMPs, Four tourniquets, a Biofoam injector with four refill bottles, Dozen Morphine injectors and a half Dozen Chorotazine Injectors, and finally her personal firearm, A M392 DMR carried over from her previous loadout complete with an EVOS-D sight. By the time Doc finished packing all her gear into her hard cases and her pack the others had already boarded the Pelican making her the last to arrive, making it all the more awkward when she squeezed down the middle to sit as far forward in the bird as possible.
The tension on the Pelican was tense both because of the danger of the mission they were about to carry out and the presence of not one but FOUR ONI Operatives when the radio in her helmet called out "One Minute" Doc had to fight against her nerves not to vomit. Only the call out of Black snapped her back to soldier mode.
"How about you folks? Ready?"
With a hard swallow Doc made a report over the short range net "Yes sir, No problems here" A few seconds later she found herself on her feet shuffling into line, right behind Lance Corporal Rose, with her trusty DMR switched to Auto ready to disembark the nice and safe Pelican back onto the warzone she had just left hours ago.
AEONmeteorite
Architect of Worlds
Bunny's teeth click together at the notion that they should stay in the pelican if they were not ready. Was she ready? Ready again? Time after time, over and over, that swaying risk of death swung like a pendulum. A clock where she never knew how far it had been wound to tick. Today could be the day the hands may stop. When it came to people. To humans. Well, as human as one can get in this line of work, Bunny could hold her own and feel comfortable doing it. Beings that they were about to confront was and had always been a different story.
Her lips twisted and she debated speaking out. Not a single sound slipped out of her before she felt Bret's tap on her knee and she saw his thumbs up. This ritual to him may just seem like a way to comfort and encourage her, but on her end, it was her desperate moment to return the thumbs up back to confirm that she would be confident enough to go. It took a few heartbeats until her hand quit shaking, She twisted her wrist and returned the gesture, tapping her knuckles against his. Her shoulders soon fell by his comment back and instead of encouraging his behavior, she properly used her elbow as a weapon at his side.
"And here I thought you were more adult than me," she said in a harsh whisper, though while her mouth couldn't be seen, Bunny grinned at her tease to bother him back.
Her lips twisted and she debated speaking out. Not a single sound slipped out of her before she felt Bret's tap on her knee and she saw his thumbs up. This ritual to him may just seem like a way to comfort and encourage her, but on her end, it was her desperate moment to return the thumbs up back to confirm that she would be confident enough to go. It took a few heartbeats until her hand quit shaking, She twisted her wrist and returned the gesture, tapping her knuckles against his. Her shoulders soon fell by his comment back and instead of encouraging his behavior, she properly used her elbow as a weapon at his side.
"And here I thought you were more adult than me," she said in a harsh whisper, though while her mouth couldn't be seen, Bunny grinned at her tease to bother him back.
Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
To Joey, there was no doubt in his mind. He's been trained for this, he expected this, there was no reason to run now. A mix of selfishness and altruism is what caused him to be on this prototype, racing to face a foe that is more advanced than them. As the hatch opened up, he watched Black walk over then turn to give them another chance to abort this mission. King stood up and was on Black's side since he sat closed to the hatch. While holding his battle rifle by the fore-end with his left hand. He gave Black a pat on the back. "Tovarish, I don't think our fellow helljumpers needed encouraging words," He nodded with his head at the others. "But I really liked it, ten out of ten." Then the ONI agent partially turned towards the others. "Comrades, whoever manages to kill more alien rats than me, gets treated to beers from my own, personal brewery!" He spoke up in a jubilated tone with his right fist in the air. To King, this is how you get the troops relied up. Promise them a nice carrot on a stick; at least for some of them. Others like the professionalism but for King, the jovial attitude gets dropped when the boots touched ground.
King did stifle a chuckle when the lance corporal elbowed their resident demolitions expert. King as a preparatory ritual before touching down initiated an internal silent hum while scanning across his fellow team members.
King did stifle a chuckle when the lance corporal elbowed their resident demolitions expert. King as a preparatory ritual before touching down initiated an internal silent hum while scanning across his fellow team members.
ONI
"Always Vigilant."
Prowlers were awful to an end, their concept and execution were commendable, crew capabilities nothing short of exceptional but it was in their compact structure that Uzi found fault, or more accurately loathing. If it wasn't the persistently overcrowded feel of a staffed prowler, it was how vocal a vessel of such petite construct could be once you were within it's confines. Even now he began to question whether the constant light throb and ring in his ears was good old tinnitus or the residual kineticism of overclocked stealth composites.
It passed. Dire subjects often had a way of re-engaging his mind. Right back to the topic of a contested ingress.
Drop into a hard place, give it your practiced all and possibly live to see the result? This was an old head's job and yet he saw more youth than years on deck, typical of the era to an extent but no less depressing.
Preparations were a necessity, an integral part of the brutal cycle of war. The individual serviceman made to prepare through months of rigorous combat training, applicable academics and scaled morality assessments. The UNSC at large through era of combat and evolution not long past. Trebuchet had moulded hard, hateful old men and women, so to one such warrant officer, young faces of today were all hate and no bearing, not to mention little training.
Uzi couldn't help but smirk at his own cynicism, old heads of the decade probably thought the same about his generation.
Gentry had held his attention through much of the briefing almost without contest, glances were spared left to right as others spoke but the boat's Captain had his deck centre stage. It wasn't until they concluded that his attention shifted to Black with a swift chin flick.
"Yeah, heard. Thirty mikes." the operative affirmed prior to departing.
• • • • •
Whilst some assessed their equipment and others lounged, musing in what might've been their last moments, Uzi stood apart reciting a quieter prayer in the relative solitude of a bay corner. An aged off-white shawl with blue and golden details draped methodically over man. Cords of dark leather fastening an ornate cube of onyx to his bicep, wound about the cold metal of a forearm tightly with its ends grasped lightly as they spoke barely above a whisper.
A prayer recited, not out of devotion but merely familiarity. Comfortingly mundane, it soothed the mind and to an extent, gave a feeling of power to an otherwise powerless person. No more than a few muttered sentences of Hebrew, no time for more than that but at least he'd spoken for them.
Confident strides carried them back to the Pelican's bloodtray as they packed the prayer shawl behind their chest plate and locked it in with a closed palm, aboard the shuttlecraft they finally took in their peers, nodding curtly as they took a seat.
• • • • •
"Couldn't have brought a heavier stick, ah my man?" he jabbed, amused by the SRS next to him, helmet cocked at Rose with eyebrow hitched quizzically.
Uzi retrieved his suppressed M7 from the in-seat maglock, polarising his visor. "Set, boss!" he barked, flatly without missing a beat, weapon canted and low, prepared to spring from his seat on a dime. A quick glance about the confines caused him to chime in "For you tagalongs, keep the momentum up. Slow down, get bogged down-- but use your heads, this is still standard and we've all been in the shit before." he assured.
Mere moments left until their ingress cycle was completed and they were on the dirt. There wasn't a thing left to do, thus he sat in silence, visor opaque as he stared straight ahead, drowning out idle chatter for the last stretch. The prospect of their insertion culminating in charred coffin midst a cacophony of fire might've been unnerving any other day but in his mind it seemed like a lot less work.
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Black seemingly ignored the first comment, once again dropped by Donnel, though in reality he made a mental note to keep an eye on the trooper and his witty comments. Morale-improving or not these types of comments could potentially disrupt the chain of command which in turn could have devastating consequences.
Breathe.
Taking a deep breath, Black closed his eyes momentarily. A hand patted him on the back followed by some sarcasm from King. Maybe the squad handled the mission better than he did? Or maybe they were just a little bit too optimistic. Black glanced at King and gave him a silent but otherwise curt nod before looking out the troop bay door. His tactical shades flashed and turned opaque, much like a ODST helmet-visor.
One by one everyone in the squad got ready and either stood up or remained seated in such a manner to allow for quickly getting up on their feet. Regardless, the final few seconds before landing the troop bay fell silent. Grey- currently standing near the back of the squad- raised her chin slightly while her hands tightened around the silenced M7S SMG in her hands.
Soon enough the hog was dropped as gently as a Pelican could drop any vehicle attached to it, the loud thud followed closely by a "Go!" from Black who disembarked and moved left, taking up a crouched position at the LZ.
The second Pelican wasn't too far behind and dropped off another Warthog- this one a transport variant- but in the same stale color as the first hog and also with some very visible modifications, including two large rolls of camouflage netting and canvas up top alongside a folded-up antenna.
As the squad spilled out and formed a circle around the first Pelican a trio of ODSTs jumped out of the second one, taking up a much smaller defensive perimeter. The tags HYW, WDL and JHN appeared on the squad HUD. Slowly, the dust kicked up by the pair of dropships was blown further away by the local winds to reveal the landing zone;
Currently the squad members were positioned on a large square of paved dirt with three smaller maintenance roads leading to it. In one corner rested some three or four detachable JOTUN tools (of which all appeared to be in working condition) whilst a small hut covered in junction boxes and antennas occupied one of the other corners. There were faint tracks from large farming vehicles all over the area though none appeared to be recent or fresh.
Beyond the sound of the Pelicans and distant gunfire far, far away the area was silent. Truly, they couldn't have dropped at a safer place.
Black slowly got up. "Donnel. With me," he said with a serious tone. Approaching the three ODSTs he nodded at all of them. "Decision?"
One of the ODSTs saluted. "I'll go, sir. Corporal Hayworth."
Black nodded. Just then a pair of airmen in nondescript black jumpsuits and matching black full-face visor helmets pushed a heavy military equipment crate out of the second Pelican. It fell flatly onto the dirt and was followed by several smaller ones alongside one that appeared to have legs tucked into its sides. Black glanced at Donnel and nodded at him before looking back to the trooper. "Alright corporal. Prepare to saddle up. Wendell. Johansen. Report back to the Tangible ASAP."
The two troopers nodded and jogged back to the Pelican. Black nodded towards the two airmen whom nodded silently before heading back in as well. A few seconds later the two covert Pelicans distanced themselves from the LZ and circled back the way they came. Black turned towards the squad. "Alright, listen up; This plot of land is our emergency fallback point. Contained within this big box is a whole heap of munitions, some limited rations and a direct link to the Tangible Excuse.
If you get separated this is the place to go and if you by chance get here and find a burnt out or destroyed beacon it means that the last ride out has already passed. That said, the beacon will be marked on our HUDs for seventy-two hours. After that it'll go into stand-by mode until someone activates it using the proper codes- which you all have been given."
Black paused and glanced at Hayworth. "Corporal Hayworth is keeping us company during the mission. Let's make sure we return him to the 65th in one-piece. Preferably that applies to all of us."
"Let's saddle up, people! I want Lyster and Uzi with me in the LRV- that's the one with the big gun on top- the rest of you will pile up with Grey in the somewhat cramped transport vehicle. It's going to be a somewhat bumpy ride up the mountains but based on Karma's calculations we run a non-existing chance of coming across Covenant forces this early into the operation. Rest assured though that once Verent City falls- which it will- the enemy is going to spill out into the countryside looking for survivors. That means staying sharp and calling out anything suspicious you set your eyes on, got it?"
"Lastly, stick together and don't wander off alone. We got the advantage now but one wrong move is bound to put us on the map of every Covenant hunter-killer unit on Verent."
Once finished Black turned towards Hayworth and pointed at him with his entire hand. "Hayworth. Stick with Rose and Doc. Do as they say. Roger?"
"Roger," replied Hayworth before sprinting off to his two new battle-buddies. "Good day to shoot & scoot, eh?" The trooper said while nodding towards Rose in particular. His face remained obscured by his visor though his voice indicated that he was very young or at the very least somewhat fresh and inexperienced.
Meanwhile Grey made her way over to the troop hog. She studied Donnel before gesturing towards the front passenger seat. "I reckon you'd want to be up front with that launcher of yours though I think you might be willing to do an exception for a lady," she half-stated, half-asked with a brief but sly smirk as she climbed into the hog. "Feel free to take the wheel," she said out loud to nobody in particular as she pulled out her datapad and placed it in her lap.
Kenshin772
Strategist of the Three Kingdoms
It all happened in a blink of an eye. The squad exchanged some final banter before the Go order was given then, with the sound boots on metal everyone piled out of the Pelican taking up a semi-circle at the back side of the Pelican. Doc took up the position covering the 10-11 o'clock and after a few back and forth scans she called out her clear signal. Seconds later she caught the XO breaking formation and moving toward the other Pelican just before he gave an order for another trooper to follow him. Before the Other trooper even began to jog after the XO Doc shifter herself and began covering the angle just past the armed Warthog using it to cover her right flank.
A few seconds after setting up her new sightlines Doc heard the XO begin to address the Unit "Alright, listen up; This plot of land is our emergency fallback point. Contained within this big box is a whole heap of munitions, some limited rations and a direct link to the Tangible Excuse."
At the pause Doc turned her attention to the XO and observed the Crate that the other Pelican had brought in briefly and then the Trooper who had elected to stay with the team
"If you get separated this is the place to go and if you by chance get here and find a burnt out or destroyed beacon it means that the last ride out has already passed. That said, the beacon will be marked on our HUDs for seventy-two hours. After that it'll go into stand-by mode until someone activates it using the proper codes- which you all have been given." In a very sudden moment Doc began to go over the data she was given during the briefing on her tac pad double checking her code before the XO began to speak again.
"Corporal Hayworth is keeping us company during the mission. Let's make sure we return him to the 65th in one-piece. Preferably that applies to all of us." A brief alarm went off in Doc's mind as a new thought came to her, distracting her from the rest of the speech. Doc was not in possession of Hayworth's medical information she'd have to get in from him. Just before Doc could voice her issue she caught Black's orders to Hayworth: "Hayworth. Stick with Rose and Doc."
Doc came to her feet as Hayworth moved over and joined Her and Rose.
"Good day to shoot & scoot, eh?"
"Yeah shoot and scoot, just don't get hit" Doc smirked under her helmet and reached her out and fist bumped Hayworth "Good to have you Corporal, send me you medical data while we're in the Vics would'ja"
With introductions done with Hayworth Doc turned her attention to the Transport Hog and began making her way over to it just in time to hear Grey's open suggestion for anyone to take the wheel "I think not" Doc thought as she climbed up into the back of the Hog getting right up against the back of the passenger seat.
A few seconds after setting up her new sightlines Doc heard the XO begin to address the Unit "Alright, listen up; This plot of land is our emergency fallback point. Contained within this big box is a whole heap of munitions, some limited rations and a direct link to the Tangible Excuse."
At the pause Doc turned her attention to the XO and observed the Crate that the other Pelican had brought in briefly and then the Trooper who had elected to stay with the team
"If you get separated this is the place to go and if you by chance get here and find a burnt out or destroyed beacon it means that the last ride out has already passed. That said, the beacon will be marked on our HUDs for seventy-two hours. After that it'll go into stand-by mode until someone activates it using the proper codes- which you all have been given." In a very sudden moment Doc began to go over the data she was given during the briefing on her tac pad double checking her code before the XO began to speak again.
"Corporal Hayworth is keeping us company during the mission. Let's make sure we return him to the 65th in one-piece. Preferably that applies to all of us." A brief alarm went off in Doc's mind as a new thought came to her, distracting her from the rest of the speech. Doc was not in possession of Hayworth's medical information she'd have to get in from him. Just before Doc could voice her issue she caught Black's orders to Hayworth: "Hayworth. Stick with Rose and Doc."
Doc came to her feet as Hayworth moved over and joined Her and Rose.
"Good day to shoot & scoot, eh?"
"Yeah shoot and scoot, just don't get hit" Doc smirked under her helmet and reached her out and fist bumped Hayworth "Good to have you Corporal, send me you medical data while we're in the Vics would'ja"
With introductions done with Hayworth Doc turned her attention to the Transport Hog and began making her way over to it just in time to hear Grey's open suggestion for anyone to take the wheel "I think not" Doc thought as she climbed up into the back of the Hog getting right up against the back of the passenger seat.
Calibutcher
Did you think me Defeated?!
"Oof" A swift elbow to his side was enough to make him grunt but he did not retaliate. He looked at Ambur for a moment before laying his head back against the seat again. If they weren't about to set down he would have teased the girl more but now he processed what had to be done as they were about to land. Even as the Pelican set down he remained still waiting for others to exit. Carrying large gear and being a demo man usually lead to him being the last out of the craft. As the others exited ahead of him he stood and reached up to grab his launcher. The double barrel system was huge and trying to wrestle it free with others onboard normally lead to someone getting hit in the head. All the same it was a practiced action now and he did it with a steady smoothness and was out of the Pelican with the launcher propped on his shoulder.
Solid ground felt good beneath his boots, even better was that he heard no incoming fire. The LZ was quiet and already a rough perimeter was secured by the others. Not that they needed to secure anything here. He looked to the second Pelican which would have more of his gear and something rather important to him. Black called out to him and he shifted his gaze from the crate to Black. He moved towards him at a fast walk and tilted his head waiting for more orders. "Prepare to Saddle up" was all he need to hear he moved over to the past the piles of gear to the only pile of gear that happened to have 4 legs. "All-right Strider you heard the man, time to load up." Bret tapped at his wrist computer and the four legs extended and the pile of gear stood up. Big Dawg or as he liked to call it Strider was a four legged semi-autonomous gear hauler. It looked like a large metal dog except that it had no head. Instead several sensors and cameras protruded from various angles along its body. Metal tubing made up its body and it had hardpoints to add gear too. This was already loaded though and Bret only had to make a few minor adjustments to straps that shifted during transit. The primary reason he brought Strider along, carrying launcher tubes and explosives to heavy for himself to haul.
"All-right Strider." The machine faced him and awaited orders. "load on the Hog." He pointed at the transport hog and it obediently marched to the transport. With it's powerful legs it attached itself on the rear of the warthog weighing down the suspension as a creak form the Hog could be heard. While he supervised the loading of Strider he listened in as Black declared this the safe zone and there retreat. He recited his code again in his head being sure he still had it ready. For good measure he added a couple straps to the Big Dawg and as he finished clapped his hands together in satisfaction.
He turned to Grey "Yes I Woul-" he started he stopped however and motioned for her to go ahead. "Guess I can drive though." He walked over to Ambur and handed her the launcher. "Don't drop it." With that he turned and headed for the driver seat. He clambered into the truck and started the engine adjusting himself and getting ready for everyone else to say they were loaded.
Solid ground felt good beneath his boots, even better was that he heard no incoming fire. The LZ was quiet and already a rough perimeter was secured by the others. Not that they needed to secure anything here. He looked to the second Pelican which would have more of his gear and something rather important to him. Black called out to him and he shifted his gaze from the crate to Black. He moved towards him at a fast walk and tilted his head waiting for more orders. "Prepare to Saddle up" was all he need to hear he moved over to the past the piles of gear to the only pile of gear that happened to have 4 legs. "All-right Strider you heard the man, time to load up." Bret tapped at his wrist computer and the four legs extended and the pile of gear stood up. Big Dawg or as he liked to call it Strider was a four legged semi-autonomous gear hauler. It looked like a large metal dog except that it had no head. Instead several sensors and cameras protruded from various angles along its body. Metal tubing made up its body and it had hardpoints to add gear too. This was already loaded though and Bret only had to make a few minor adjustments to straps that shifted during transit. The primary reason he brought Strider along, carrying launcher tubes and explosives to heavy for himself to haul.
"All-right Strider." The machine faced him and awaited orders. "load on the Hog." He pointed at the transport hog and it obediently marched to the transport. With it's powerful legs it attached itself on the rear of the warthog weighing down the suspension as a creak form the Hog could be heard. While he supervised the loading of Strider he listened in as Black declared this the safe zone and there retreat. He recited his code again in his head being sure he still had it ready. For good measure he added a couple straps to the Big Dawg and as he finished clapped his hands together in satisfaction.
He turned to Grey "Yes I Woul-" he started he stopped however and motioned for her to go ahead. "Guess I can drive though." He walked over to Ambur and handed her the launcher. "Don't drop it." With that he turned and headed for the driver seat. He clambered into the truck and started the engine adjusting himself and getting ready for everyone else to say they were loaded.
AEONmeteorite
Architect of Worlds
Bunny didn't follow Bret all the way to Strider. She waited midway between the hog and him. Tapping her foot once more. Stillness made her anxious. She wanted to move and head out. Moving targets were tougher to aim at after all. She adjusted the strap of her pack. Her tapping gradually evolved into a perpetual small hop. Her heels popped off the dirt and onto the balls of her feet then dropped back down, over and over. She watched the Big Dawg approach and as it passed her, she stopped on her toes and said, "He could have at least said please and thank you." Of course, Strider paid her no mind and went to the hog. She moved behind it, being sure it properly placed itself to the hog.
Bret went the extra mile and added straps to aid Strider. "Don't add too many," Bunny muttered, "It needs to be able to move at a moment's notice." The hog rocked as different people boarded. Bunny straightened her back once Strider was fully placed and moved to get in the hog as well, though stopped midway when she heard Bret would be driving. "What? But..." Before she could conjure any more words, the behemoth of a launcher cradled in her arms. It just about toppled her over, but she tugged on her muscles to keep it from slipping out of her grasp and glowered at Bret. Her helmet following him as he walked to the front and got in. "That happened once, Bang!" Bunny huffed and shoulders lifted. "You don't gotta make me remember. Everyone came out fine." She got into the hog, now being extra careful with the weapon. Mere mumbles that even she could hardly make out poured out her mouth. "What about you, huh? I'm not gonna drop it. I'm older now. You were a kid once. You've forgotten to load a gun once before handing it to me. Or there was that one time ---" Her spouting continued until the vehicle began to move.
Bret went the extra mile and added straps to aid Strider. "Don't add too many," Bunny muttered, "It needs to be able to move at a moment's notice." The hog rocked as different people boarded. Bunny straightened her back once Strider was fully placed and moved to get in the hog as well, though stopped midway when she heard Bret would be driving. "What? But..." Before she could conjure any more words, the behemoth of a launcher cradled in her arms. It just about toppled her over, but she tugged on her muscles to keep it from slipping out of her grasp and glowered at Bret. Her helmet following him as he walked to the front and got in. "That happened once, Bang!" Bunny huffed and shoulders lifted. "You don't gotta make me remember. Everyone came out fine." She got into the hog, now being extra careful with the weapon. Mere mumbles that even she could hardly make out poured out her mouth. "What about you, huh? I'm not gonna drop it. I'm older now. You were a kid once. You've forgotten to load a gun once before handing it to me. Or there was that one time ---" Her spouting continued until the vehicle began to move.
Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
King was taken aback by Black's rapid nod. It seems King had managed to offend him in some way. An error that he will correct with his service during this mission. At the drop of the hat, or in this case: the hog, King followed his peer's order and jumped off the prototype pelican. Landing, King's body instinctively moved forward and swept the area in front of him while minding the position of his allies. There would be no covenant this far out, but training told him to be better safe than sorry. The few short steps that he took after landing, resulted in him taking a knee and completing his sweep. Satisfied, King lowered his weapon and rose from his kneeling position.
Listening to Black's explanation of the exfil point, King took the time to commit this place to memory. He saw the Senior Agent take Lull and Uzi with him, which made Joseph a bit sad as he could not ride the minigun. Oh, well. The agent thought as he shrugged his arms. Somebody had to keep the demos on a short leash, might as well be him. Along the way, King followed alongside Bret's "pooch." It certainly was an interesting looking drone. "What kind of funny implements, does this thing have, Donnell?" Joseph inquired while climbing aboard the back of the transporter hog. Joseph sat across Doc while overhearing her say "shoot and scoot."
"Just aim centre mass, and everything will be fine. If worst comes to worst, I don't let my medics down." Joseph affirmed with a confident tone and an extended fist pump to the doc. His arm then swung over the separator that split the front and back of the M831 transport. His ears managed to pick up tidbits of what Bunny mumbled about the many times that Bret supposedly screwed up. "Ayeh, ayeh, Bunny. You have enough stories to make a collage."
Listening to Black's explanation of the exfil point, King took the time to commit this place to memory. He saw the Senior Agent take Lull and Uzi with him, which made Joseph a bit sad as he could not ride the minigun. Oh, well. The agent thought as he shrugged his arms. Somebody had to keep the demos on a short leash, might as well be him. Along the way, King followed alongside Bret's "pooch." It certainly was an interesting looking drone. "What kind of funny implements, does this thing have, Donnell?" Joseph inquired while climbing aboard the back of the transporter hog. Joseph sat across Doc while overhearing her say "shoot and scoot."
"Just aim centre mass, and everything will be fine. If worst comes to worst, I don't let my medics down." Joseph affirmed with a confident tone and an extended fist pump to the doc. His arm then swung over the separator that split the front and back of the M831 transport. His ears managed to pick up tidbits of what Bunny mumbled about the many times that Bret supposedly screwed up. "Ayeh, ayeh, Bunny. You have enough stories to make a collage."
0stinato
In Bhaal's name.
‘Go!’
And go they did. It was a swift three seconds of disembarkment, the thud of the hog followed by the smattering of heavy landings as everyone exited the Pelican, strapping on their packs and readying their weapons. King even did a sweep of the area. Usually hearing the command of go in that tone meant running and physical exertion was on the menu for the next three hours. How he hated those commands. He wasn’t exactly a man who could run for a long way when on the battlefield due to his armour, so why was practicing it at all necessary? No, he much preferred the exercises that allowed him to remain stationary, since he was more likely to come across those sorts of obstacles in his missions.
At least there was no need to sprint right now. He simply joined the squad, memorising their most visually identifiable parts of armour: Rose, splashes of red on the helm and pauldrons; Hunter, strands of blond beneath the base of her helm, and a golden tint to her visor; Uzi, a white shawl over his shoulders, offset with other colours.
With every faint crack of a gunshot far off, Lyster wondered if a life had been extinguished each time. Spark of light, flash of lead, leaves 'em dead. But yet, here they all were, the Fixers, the Stop-The-War-ers, the Start-The-War-ers, stood to attention and listening to orders, living and breathing, whereas…
Though, in his experience, only certain Covenant weapons had noises round and loud enough to carry as far as the sharp clinical snap of UNSC or military-grade weapons, so perhaps each shot they could hear was the end of a Covenant life. That thought used to fill him with some distant, cleansing feeling but these days...
Though, it didn’t really matter.
Black was informing them of the fallback position and arrival of Corporal Hayworth, both things that demanded Lyster’s full attention but received only a portion of it. He wasn’t distracted, not really; he memorised the information, glanced at the Corporal’s tag as it slid into view on his HUD, and listened to everything Black was saying, but his mind wanted to be elsewhere. He didn’t greet Hayworth though, didn’t see the need to.
Only when Black commanded him and Uzi into the LRV – that’s the one with the big gun on top – did he begin caring at all about the people he was surrounded by more than just identifying their armour.
He was going to be in a vehicle with Black and Uzi, and that’s all that counted. Their wellbeing, as well as his own, was the top priority. Not to say he didn’t care about the other hog but…
One more distraction caught Lyster’s eye as he approached the LRV. Some oblongular shape moving with purpose across the dirt. One of those things eh, seemingly under Donnell’s command. He pulled his mind away from it and grabbed onto the LRV.
‘I’ll drive. My weapons won't be so good shooting out of a moving vehicle, so I'll leave that to the heroes,’ he said, pulling himself up and into the driver’s side. Doing so required a quick readjustment of some of his weaponry, but that wasn’t a difficult job. ‘I’m so good at driving, they keep demanding I take tests to get some sort of license, but it sounds like a waste of time to me. Hey, Donnell? If that strange leggy thing is still standing by the end of this, I’ll buy you something nice.’
He fired up the hog, eager to feel the spin and bite of the tyres when he was in control. He was similarly eager to see what would happen to the mechanical golf caddy if he gave it a swift leg-sweep or a kick to the backside (whatever counted as its backside), but that wouldn’t be playing fair, now would it?
And go they did. It was a swift three seconds of disembarkment, the thud of the hog followed by the smattering of heavy landings as everyone exited the Pelican, strapping on their packs and readying their weapons. King even did a sweep of the area. Usually hearing the command of go in that tone meant running and physical exertion was on the menu for the next three hours. How he hated those commands. He wasn’t exactly a man who could run for a long way when on the battlefield due to his armour, so why was practicing it at all necessary? No, he much preferred the exercises that allowed him to remain stationary, since he was more likely to come across those sorts of obstacles in his missions.
At least there was no need to sprint right now. He simply joined the squad, memorising their most visually identifiable parts of armour: Rose, splashes of red on the helm and pauldrons; Hunter, strands of blond beneath the base of her helm, and a golden tint to her visor; Uzi, a white shawl over his shoulders, offset with other colours.
With every faint crack of a gunshot far off, Lyster wondered if a life had been extinguished each time. Spark of light, flash of lead, leaves 'em dead. But yet, here they all were, the Fixers, the Stop-The-War-ers, the Start-The-War-ers, stood to attention and listening to orders, living and breathing, whereas…
Though, in his experience, only certain Covenant weapons had noises round and loud enough to carry as far as the sharp clinical snap of UNSC or military-grade weapons, so perhaps each shot they could hear was the end of a Covenant life. That thought used to fill him with some distant, cleansing feeling but these days...
Though, it didn’t really matter.
Black was informing them of the fallback position and arrival of Corporal Hayworth, both things that demanded Lyster’s full attention but received only a portion of it. He wasn’t distracted, not really; he memorised the information, glanced at the Corporal’s tag as it slid into view on his HUD, and listened to everything Black was saying, but his mind wanted to be elsewhere. He didn’t greet Hayworth though, didn’t see the need to.
Only when Black commanded him and Uzi into the LRV – that’s the one with the big gun on top – did he begin caring at all about the people he was surrounded by more than just identifying their armour.
He was going to be in a vehicle with Black and Uzi, and that’s all that counted. Their wellbeing, as well as his own, was the top priority. Not to say he didn’t care about the other hog but…
One more distraction caught Lyster’s eye as he approached the LRV. Some oblongular shape moving with purpose across the dirt. One of those things eh, seemingly under Donnell’s command. He pulled his mind away from it and grabbed onto the LRV.
‘I’ll drive. My weapons won't be so good shooting out of a moving vehicle, so I'll leave that to the heroes,’ he said, pulling himself up and into the driver’s side. Doing so required a quick readjustment of some of his weaponry, but that wasn’t a difficult job. ‘I’m so good at driving, they keep demanding I take tests to get some sort of license, but it sounds like a waste of time to me. Hey, Donnell? If that strange leggy thing is still standing by the end of this, I’ll buy you something nice.’
He fired up the hog, eager to feel the spin and bite of the tyres when he was in control. He was similarly eager to see what would happen to the mechanical golf caddy if he gave it a swift leg-sweep or a kick to the backside (whatever counted as its backside), but that wouldn’t be playing fair, now would it?
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Hayworth returned the fist-bump and chuckled. "Hoorah, Doc. Will do." When Joseph approached and followed them over to the transport Hog Hayworth remained silent as if slightly intimidated by the presence of a spook which wasn't entirely unusual for partner-UNSC forces working alongside agents and operatives. Funnily enough the backbone of the UNSC seemed more comfortable fighting alongside the mysterious SPARTANs- despite the exact origin of these super-soldiers being clouded in mystery and covered in black ink.
Climbing onboard in the back to watch the rear of the vehicle Hayworth accidentally struck a black military hard case under the seats which made Grey look up from her datapad and glance over her shoulder. "Careful corporal, the contents of that hard case costs more than everyone in this vehicle."
Hayworth muttered a quick apology and nodded before adjusting himself in his seat.
"Cut the chatter, trooper. Stay alert and on-target," said Black without even looking at Lyster. Behind them Uzi climbed up and manned the turret. Once both hogs were fully loaded Black silently held up two fingers pointed forward as a signal for Lyster to drive.
Elsewhere...
Prior to the Covenants ruthless surprise-invasion of Verent the local UNSC forces scattered about the surface had carried our security drill after security drill and exercise after exercise.
ODSTs with Uniform and X-ray companies of the 7th Shock Troops Battalion, 99th Shock Troops Division had been no exception.
When the first alarms sounded the two companies and a medium-sized OpFor ("Opposing Force") contingent comprised of mostly UNSC reservists had been deep within the local Jigsaw Mountains where they had been practicing several different asymmetrical warfare tactics which had been proven effective against the insurrectionists- or 'Innies' as they were more commonly referred to by the rank and file of the UNSC's military forces.
Commanding officer Cpt. Yasir, a highly decorated ODST, initially began to mobilize his forces towards Verent City but after encountering several smaller groups of civilian survivors their plans changed rapidly and even more so as the colors and smell of burning plasma grew more intense with each passing hour.
In a bid to gain the upper hand Yasir had deployed several fireteams to set up defensive postures in an improvised attempt to form a perimeter around a mine shaft where he, his command staff and the civilians were currently holed up.
Secondary teams had also been deployed to scout for more survivors and supplies, though based on just how few people actually dwelling in the mountains the odds were not looking great.
One such squad- a team of two troopers- found themselves in the vicinity of Mountaineer's Rest. Lance-Corporal Tremell- an ODST with the 7th Shock Troops Battalion, Uniform 2-4- leaned over the M274 Mongoose's steering handles in front of him and sighed. He was tempted to remove his helmet just to get some fresh air but instead looked over to Bassett and nodded towards him.
"Well, I don't know about you but I see a lot of nothing." He tapped his gloved palms on the front fenders before sitting up and cracking his neck. The BR55 on his back moved slightly "It's been five hours since the last group of evacuees. Think they all made it to the mine?"
Tremell was referring to the people native to these mountains- mostly settlers, second-generation settlers or solitary individuals that wished to be left alone and who wanted nothing with the UEG's bureaucracy- whom had been warned by the UNSC forces exercising in the mountains prior to the Covenant's invasion of the planet. Bassett and Tremell had been posted a small outlook overlooking the intersection of three main routes of the Jigsaw Mountains with two leading to settlements in the area and the third to the mine used as a shelter for the fleeing civilians.
Currently the road and all nearby mountain passes and paths were quiet, with the surrounding mountains blocking out or partially silencing the sound of distant gunfire.
Suddenly the platoon communications came to life. "Bassett. Tremell. Status?"
It was Devereaux, their platoon radioman. Tremell looked over to his battle-buddy and rolled his eyes at him with the gesture being clearly visible through the currently transparent visor. "Nothing to report, Devereaux."
"Roger," sounded the response. "Command's got new orders for us. Entire platoon is shifting to defense. The Captain doesn't seem to think there's any more civilians coming in. That said, we got orders to go look for more supplies. LT is sending you boys and at least one other team to Mountaineer's Rest to see what you can find. How copy?"
Tremell nodded. "We read you loud and clear. Heading to Mountaineer's Rest, ASAP. Out." He looked at Bassett and continued; "Good thing we brought backpacks."
Solar Daddy
Looking down, Black's eyes scanned the flat farmlands yellow-beige texture and the black dots that were automated farming equipment.
He grunted and looked back down on his map before speaking up. "Once we reach the top the facility should be within visual range. We're dropping a early-warning beacon before we push on through;
There's a small town within less than a kilometer of the facility and I wouldn't be surprised if the Covies decide to loot it- if not the facility itself. Heard?"
"Heard," replied Grey who was in the secondary Warthog. She glanced over her shoulder to the squad members seated on the transport benches behind her. "Black hard case with a red eye symbol on. The one corporal Hayworth used as a footrest. Pop the two seals and kick it off the bed once we reach the top. I'll activate it remotely." She turned back to look forward just as her datapad pinged, signaling a encrypted transmission from the Tangible Excuse still in orbit.
It was a low-resolution still taken by one the Prowler's external cameras showing, through small icons, symbols and colors, Covenant forces well past defenses set in place by UNSC forces garrisoned at Verent City. It also showed a large force of Covenant circling around the city through its outskirts. UNSC forces appeared to have withdrawn back to the city center and had also entrenched themselves inside and around the Verent City Spaceport and its lone space elevator.
Grey mumbled something and looked away into the distance as if masking her reaction. If anything the still showed just how crucial it was that the mission succeeded- and that they complete it within the next two hours.
Worthlessplebian
ONI
AEONmeteorite
DrabberRogue
Calibutcher
0stinato
Kenshin772
Climbing onboard in the back to watch the rear of the vehicle Hayworth accidentally struck a black military hard case under the seats which made Grey look up from her datapad and glance over her shoulder. "Careful corporal, the contents of that hard case costs more than everyone in this vehicle."
Hayworth muttered a quick apology and nodded before adjusting himself in his seat.
"Cut the chatter, trooper. Stay alert and on-target," said Black without even looking at Lyster. Behind them Uzi climbed up and manned the turret. Once both hogs were fully loaded Black silently held up two fingers pointed forward as a signal for Lyster to drive.
*
Elsewhere...
Prior to the Covenants ruthless surprise-invasion of Verent the local UNSC forces scattered about the surface had carried our security drill after security drill and exercise after exercise.
ODSTs with Uniform and X-ray companies of the 7th Shock Troops Battalion, 99th Shock Troops Division had been no exception.
When the first alarms sounded the two companies and a medium-sized OpFor ("Opposing Force") contingent comprised of mostly UNSC reservists had been deep within the local Jigsaw Mountains where they had been practicing several different asymmetrical warfare tactics which had been proven effective against the insurrectionists- or 'Innies' as they were more commonly referred to by the rank and file of the UNSC's military forces.
Commanding officer Cpt. Yasir, a highly decorated ODST, initially began to mobilize his forces towards Verent City but after encountering several smaller groups of civilian survivors their plans changed rapidly and even more so as the colors and smell of burning plasma grew more intense with each passing hour.
In a bid to gain the upper hand Yasir had deployed several fireteams to set up defensive postures in an improvised attempt to form a perimeter around a mine shaft where he, his command staff and the civilians were currently holed up.
Secondary teams had also been deployed to scout for more survivors and supplies, though based on just how few people actually dwelling in the mountains the odds were not looking great.
One such squad- a team of two troopers- found themselves in the vicinity of Mountaineer's Rest. Lance-Corporal Tremell- an ODST with the 7th Shock Troops Battalion, Uniform 2-4- leaned over the M274 Mongoose's steering handles in front of him and sighed. He was tempted to remove his helmet just to get some fresh air but instead looked over to Bassett and nodded towards him.
"Well, I don't know about you but I see a lot of nothing." He tapped his gloved palms on the front fenders before sitting up and cracking his neck. The BR55 on his back moved slightly "It's been five hours since the last group of evacuees. Think they all made it to the mine?"
Tremell was referring to the people native to these mountains- mostly settlers, second-generation settlers or solitary individuals that wished to be left alone and who wanted nothing with the UEG's bureaucracy- whom had been warned by the UNSC forces exercising in the mountains prior to the Covenant's invasion of the planet. Bassett and Tremell had been posted a small outlook overlooking the intersection of three main routes of the Jigsaw Mountains with two leading to settlements in the area and the third to the mine used as a shelter for the fleeing civilians.
Currently the road and all nearby mountain passes and paths were quiet, with the surrounding mountains blocking out or partially silencing the sound of distant gunfire.
Suddenly the platoon communications came to life. "Bassett. Tremell. Status?"
It was Devereaux, their platoon radioman. Tremell looked over to his battle-buddy and rolled his eyes at him with the gesture being clearly visible through the currently transparent visor. "Nothing to report, Devereaux."
"Roger," sounded the response. "Command's got new orders for us. Entire platoon is shifting to defense. The Captain doesn't seem to think there's any more civilians coming in. That said, we got orders to go look for more supplies. LT is sending you boys and at least one other team to Mountaineer's Rest to see what you can find. How copy?"
Tremell nodded. "We read you loud and clear. Heading to Mountaineer's Rest, ASAP. Out." He looked at Bassett and continued; "Good thing we brought backpacks."
Solar Daddy
*
By now the pair of warthogs had covered a significant distance. The valley that had served as the team's insertion point felt more like a pit as the team ascended up the mountain on a thin stretch of road.
Looking down, Black's eyes scanned the flat farmlands yellow-beige texture and the black dots that were automated farming equipment.
He grunted and looked back down on his map before speaking up. "Once we reach the top the facility should be within visual range. We're dropping a early-warning beacon before we push on through;
There's a small town within less than a kilometer of the facility and I wouldn't be surprised if the Covies decide to loot it- if not the facility itself. Heard?"
"Heard," replied Grey who was in the secondary Warthog. She glanced over her shoulder to the squad members seated on the transport benches behind her. "Black hard case with a red eye symbol on. The one corporal Hayworth used as a footrest. Pop the two seals and kick it off the bed once we reach the top. I'll activate it remotely." She turned back to look forward just as her datapad pinged, signaling a encrypted transmission from the Tangible Excuse still in orbit.
It was a low-resolution still taken by one the Prowler's external cameras showing, through small icons, symbols and colors, Covenant forces well past defenses set in place by UNSC forces garrisoned at Verent City. It also showed a large force of Covenant circling around the city through its outskirts. UNSC forces appeared to have withdrawn back to the city center and had also entrenched themselves inside and around the Verent City Spaceport and its lone space elevator.
Grey mumbled something and looked away into the distance as if masking her reaction. If anything the still showed just how crucial it was that the mission succeeded- and that they complete it within the next two hours.
Worthlessplebian
ONI
AEONmeteorite
DrabberRogue
Calibutcher
0stinato
Kenshin772
Last edited:
Solar Daddy
Synthetic Nightmare
Owen Bassett rested his boot against a rock, his MA37 assault rifle in a relaxed hold with one hand on top of the receiver and the other on the stock. Hearing the radio crackle to life to his left brought Bassett out of his thoughts, while keeping his eyes scanning the horizon around them. Tremell, who he'd known for a short amount of time, answered the call. He listened in to what he could despite not getting a clear ear on what the Devereaux was saying. Owen perked up when he heard Tremell repeat the orders back to Devereaux. New orders were always something new to think about, and honestly, anything other than what he was currently assigned to do would've been better. Bassett had a hard time sitting still, he was built for action. Turning his visor transparent as he faced Tremell, Owen spoke. "Let's get moving. Faster we get there, faster we can subtract from the Covvies' forces. Hopefully." Owen positioned himself on the back of the Mongoose, rifle gripped tight to his chest to give Tremell more space. "Doubt we'll find much in these mountains, though. Wish we were chasing after the Covenant, not letting them be, blasting Verent City into dust."
"Hoorah to that," replied Tremell as he turned on the Mongoose's ignition. The small but sturdy all-terrain vehicle kicked into overdrive as Tremell steered the vehicle down the slope and onto the road, pointing it towards one of the intersecting roads which would take them to Mountaineer's Rest. It was a relatively short path but the troopers needed to exercise caution in case the Covenant had sent out scouts ahead of their main force.
"I'm just hoping we'll see a swarm of frigates and cruisers show up to beat the living shit out of the Covies," said Tremell while still keeping his eyes on the road. "Those split-lip bastards deserve a beating and I sure as hell wouldn't shed a tear watching a SHIVA tear their ship in half."
Tremell shook his head lightly. "Hell, I'd do anything just for some reinforcements at this point. Sitting in the mountains just isn't right, y'know?"
Bassett didn't respond for a moment, instead focusing on their surroundings as they rode through the hills. "Agreed. Might as well light up the sky with bombs, if they're planning on glassing the planet anyway. Rather keep some alive than none at all. Last thing the UNSC needs right now is Verent falling to the Covenant." Owen flicked his visor opaque as they crested a hill, turning on his VISR to scan for any easily identifiable forces hidden amongst the brush.
"Can't quite explain it, but I've got a bad feeling about this assignment. Seems... off, to me. Hope we're not frontrunning an ONI op. Those bastards give me the creeps."
Tremell grunted. "You're not alone." His head bobbed slightly as the Mongoose traversed over a rough patch on the road. "I heard rumors from one of the reservists that there's a supposed spook site near Mountaineer's Rest. I sure as hell hope they're just rumors though- otherwise the Covies might think it'll be a good idea to check it out." The Mongoose passed a rusty car wreck stuck in a ditch beside the road. A hand-painted sign nailed to it told the troopers that they were one and a half kilometer away from the settlement. "You think we're gonna find any civvies lingering? There's always some that prefer to take care of themselves rather than let us do it for them." "Honestly I can't blame them."
"Agreed. There'll always be someone that didn't get the memo. That thought, 'The rumors can't be real, I'm staying here.' there's always someone left behind. Will we find them? I doubt it. They'll probably lose themselves in the mountains and starve, or get unlucky enough to run into a Covvie scouting party. Even out of the ones who evacuated, how many hundreds more died in their stead? Or how many more are holed up in their bathroom with a dresser in front of the door, praying they miss a glassing beam." Bassett paused for a bit. "I prefer not to dwell on it too much. I'd like to think we somehow send the Covenant running back to whoever made them tomorrow, or just burn them all to ash on their way out."
"Doesn't quite seem we're on the winning side, if I say so myself."
Tremell nodded silently before responding. "You're right, better to focus on what know. I'm sure the brass has some plan- they always do- if not, well, then I suppose the captain has one. Winning or not we're getting out of here."
Leaning in, Tremell accelerated further. "Stay sharp. We're almost there."
"Hoorah to that," replied Tremell as he turned on the Mongoose's ignition. The small but sturdy all-terrain vehicle kicked into overdrive as Tremell steered the vehicle down the slope and onto the road, pointing it towards one of the intersecting roads which would take them to Mountaineer's Rest. It was a relatively short path but the troopers needed to exercise caution in case the Covenant had sent out scouts ahead of their main force.
"I'm just hoping we'll see a swarm of frigates and cruisers show up to beat the living shit out of the Covies," said Tremell while still keeping his eyes on the road. "Those split-lip bastards deserve a beating and I sure as hell wouldn't shed a tear watching a SHIVA tear their ship in half."
Tremell shook his head lightly. "Hell, I'd do anything just for some reinforcements at this point. Sitting in the mountains just isn't right, y'know?"
Bassett didn't respond for a moment, instead focusing on their surroundings as they rode through the hills. "Agreed. Might as well light up the sky with bombs, if they're planning on glassing the planet anyway. Rather keep some alive than none at all. Last thing the UNSC needs right now is Verent falling to the Covenant." Owen flicked his visor opaque as they crested a hill, turning on his VISR to scan for any easily identifiable forces hidden amongst the brush.
"Can't quite explain it, but I've got a bad feeling about this assignment. Seems... off, to me. Hope we're not frontrunning an ONI op. Those bastards give me the creeps."
Tremell grunted. "You're not alone." His head bobbed slightly as the Mongoose traversed over a rough patch on the road. "I heard rumors from one of the reservists that there's a supposed spook site near Mountaineer's Rest. I sure as hell hope they're just rumors though- otherwise the Covies might think it'll be a good idea to check it out." The Mongoose passed a rusty car wreck stuck in a ditch beside the road. A hand-painted sign nailed to it told the troopers that they were one and a half kilometer away from the settlement. "You think we're gonna find any civvies lingering? There's always some that prefer to take care of themselves rather than let us do it for them." "Honestly I can't blame them."
"Agreed. There'll always be someone that didn't get the memo. That thought, 'The rumors can't be real, I'm staying here.' there's always someone left behind. Will we find them? I doubt it. They'll probably lose themselves in the mountains and starve, or get unlucky enough to run into a Covvie scouting party. Even out of the ones who evacuated, how many hundreds more died in their stead? Or how many more are holed up in their bathroom with a dresser in front of the door, praying they miss a glassing beam." Bassett paused for a bit. "I prefer not to dwell on it too much. I'd like to think we somehow send the Covenant running back to whoever made them tomorrow, or just burn them all to ash on their way out."
"Doesn't quite seem we're on the winning side, if I say so myself."
Tremell nodded silently before responding. "You're right, better to focus on what know. I'm sure the brass has some plan- they always do- if not, well, then I suppose the captain has one. Winning or not we're getting out of here."
Leaning in, Tremell accelerated further. "Stay sharp. We're almost there."
Calibutcher
Did you think me Defeated?!
The rumble of the engine under his seat had Donnell ready to apply Throttle. But he wasn't so hasty as to disembark without an order, after all, people were still getting settled and finding comfortable positions. He adjusted his own seat sliding the chair back and up slightly. he muttered to himself a moment. "seats are never high enough." While he could see over the dash and could use the instruments to help him drive even without the visuals he complained all the same. What caught his attention was the people talking about Big Dawg.
"Nothing serious, a fundamental program in Dawg exoskeleton with cameras and sensors to help identify friend and foe and to navigate the terrain. All in all, it just carries stuff." He had heard that there were some trials that sported weapons platforms as well but not many of those actually were used in the field. After all, the spartan Program seemed to be the focus anyway. Big Dawg was still a precious commodity to him. They were able to carry obscene amounts of ordinance thanks to the walker. It was a simple purpose but its existence was part of the reason he was still here today.
Bret was about to respond over short-range when he was interrupted by Black giving the command to more or less shut up and go. He followed the lead Hog and punched his throttle to catch up. Gravel slid under the tires and the vehicle began to lurch forward. He kept the vehicle on the road and about 30 yards behind the lead Hog. It didn't take long for the silence to be annoying to him. He tried to pick up the conversation with Lyster. "Something nice? For me or for big Dawg? He likes Oil and I like beer so there's a sizable difference.
Kenshin772
Strategist of the Three Kingdoms
Doc sat in the back of the Hog going over Hayworth's medical data, like the others he had no outstanding issues to watch out for and his blood was compatible with the Polymerized Hemoglobin she brought. With every thing in order she slides over a bit and slides her data pad into one of her thigh mounted Hard cases. As she clicked the case shut she pulled her head up and looked around The hillside the Hog was climbing was rather bumpy so it was hard to focus on anything further than a few dozen meters. With a slight crackle from her helmet the squad short range began to light up.
"Once we reach the top the facility should be within visual range. We're dropping a early-warning beacon before push on through;
There's a small town within less than a kilometer of the facility and I wouldn't be surprised if the Covies decide to loot it- if not the facility itself. Heard?"
With a case of instinctive curiosity Doc poked her head over the the frame of the Hog to peak at Agent Grey's Data Pad expecting to see a still of the AO, instead she caught a glimpse of what she recognized as Verent City. With a sharp inhale Doc leaned a little further as she read the markings on the screen "Our guys in the city have collapsed that far?" she asked over the short range. A second later Doc froze, she really should not have said that over the short range for everyone to hear. She'd pay for that later if she lived but she was in it now. "Lieutenant, do we have stills of the facility yet? If not when we hit the top, Rose, Hayworth and I can dismount and do some scouting with the SRS." It was a longshot that the XO would go for the suggestion since he wanted to move quick with the Warthogs, but it was the best use of Rose's expertise and weapon so it might be Doc's chance to not get yelled at by the Spooks.
"Once we reach the top the facility should be within visual range. We're dropping a early-warning beacon before push on through;
There's a small town within less than a kilometer of the facility and I wouldn't be surprised if the Covies decide to loot it- if not the facility itself. Heard?"
With a case of instinctive curiosity Doc poked her head over the the frame of the Hog to peak at Agent Grey's Data Pad expecting to see a still of the AO, instead she caught a glimpse of what she recognized as Verent City. With a sharp inhale Doc leaned a little further as she read the markings on the screen "Our guys in the city have collapsed that far?" she asked over the short range. A second later Doc froze, she really should not have said that over the short range for everyone to hear. She'd pay for that later if she lived but she was in it now. "Lieutenant, do we have stills of the facility yet? If not when we hit the top, Rose, Hayworth and I can dismount and do some scouting with the SRS." It was a longshot that the XO would go for the suggestion since he wanted to move quick with the Warthogs, but it was the best use of Rose's expertise and weapon so it might be Doc's chance to not get yelled at by the Spooks.
Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
As the hogs raced towards their location, King sat with one leg over another carefully inspecting the surrounding area. Yes, even though the quickest of the hogs made everything almost a blur, King could still discern a little of their terrain. If nothing else, he can at least memorise a vague path. The agent's shemagh formed rhythmic waves because of the rushing air, it made a minuscule but present flapping noise. Black chimed in over the short-range burst informing them that they will drop an early warning beacon once they establish a visual. Then Donnell had delivered an answer to King's question. "Roger that." A glance was shot towards the dog that sat at the edge of the troop hog, a devilish idea sprouted in King's mind but he'll have to belay that thought until necessary.
Doc said something over the short-range, she would immediately regret. "Doktor, with what we've seen, I expected them to fall sooner." Though, unlike his medical compatriot, King had the foresight to snuff his communication device before speaking. While they conversed, King had decided to pull the early warning beacon from beneath Hayworth's feet. He'd want it to be within his reach, being a communications specialist and all.
Suddenly, King thought back to the small town that was mentioned. His past as an insurrectionist meant he had to move from similar places frequently... Disgruntled, the ONI agent could only sigh. At least, he'll take down as many of these rat aliens as he could.
Doc said something over the short-range, she would immediately regret. "Doktor, with what we've seen, I expected them to fall sooner." Though, unlike his medical compatriot, King had the foresight to snuff his communication device before speaking. While they conversed, King had decided to pull the early warning beacon from beneath Hayworth's feet. He'd want it to be within his reach, being a communications specialist and all.
Suddenly, King thought back to the small town that was mentioned. His past as an insurrectionist meant he had to move from similar places frequently... Disgruntled, the ONI agent could only sigh. At least, he'll take down as many of these rat aliens as he could.
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Grey sighed. "Yes, they have. It's not looking good but they're still putting up a fight." She glanced at Donnel before refocusing her gaze elsewhere in front of the Warthog. There was no point in lying though despite the odds ONI and by extent the UNSC expected this team to deliver.
"Negative," replied Black over the comms before Grey could even say anything. "There's no time. It's not optimal but we'll just have to trust the stills taken prior to landfall. We cannot afford to lose our momentum currently."
Meanwhile, in the back, Hayworth looked at King and moved his legs to the side to allow the ONI agent to properly grab one of the hard-case handles more easily. "Sorry, sir," muttered the trooper before continuing to watch over the rear of the vehicle.
Kenshin772
Worthlessplebian
*
Elsewhere...
Rocks and pebbles covering parts of the ill-maintained dirt road made driving slightly more difficult whereas the ravine to the left of the unarmed Warthog made the route significantly much more dangerous. With its canopy and flatbed covered in a scrim net painted green, tan and brown the two troopers inside were barely visible. Aside from the two troopers seated in the two front seats there were some smaller civilian and military crates strapped down in the back though the flatbed still had plenty of room to spare.
Sergeant Davis of the 7th Shock Troops Battalion, Uniform 2-4, watched the road with steely eyes behind his transparent visor. Several extra ammunition, grenade and equipment pouches adorned his ODST armor and his surname had been painted onto the top of the helmet right above the visor. However, unlike the trooper sitting in the driver seat next to him his armor exhibited far more wear and tear;
Having been a career soldier long before the Covenant arrived, Davis was one of the oldest troopers in the battalion and the oldest within Uniform Company. Throughout the Insurrection his rank had gone up and down, commendations had been given and stripped and wives had come and gone.
Beneath his helmet was the face of a grizzled but tired veteran and the face of a man whom should've retired to a much more "relaxed" posting long ago.
Yet, here he was: Stranded on Verent with an encroaching enemy.
Davis shook his head slightly and sighed before looking over to Private Camila Prieto. "Go easy on the throttle, private." He said, chuckling briefly. "I'd rather not test the strength of our roll-cage."
The two troopers had been assigned to scout and retrieve supplies to bring back to the mine. So far they had recovered some canned food and a tank of water from a small hunter's stash but aside from that any structures they had come across showed signs of having been emptied long before. Now they were under orders to head to Mountaineer's Rest- a small town at the summit of the Jigsaw Mountains- to link up with two fellow troopers and scavenge for more supplies.
Hopefully the flatbed wouldn't be as empty as it currently was when the squad returned from their assignment. Davis glanced briefly at Pvt. Prieto. Most of the ODSTs in their company had met her with distrust as there were some very serious rumors floating about regarding her past, pre-enlistment, life. Then again most soldiers had rough pasts and Davis wasn't one to judge;
Between being admitted into the highly-classified Project Orion and numerous off the book-missions for ONI counter-insurgency divisions he had his fair share of skeletons himself.
Davis decided to break the silent inside the canopy; "How are you holding up, private?"
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