Bronco
I pull levers
(now open)
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Futuristic Pathfinders: A Clone Wars Story (Main)
Bronco
I pull levers
One minute. Plunged into darkness, one could only hope that their gear was checked properly before entry. Now, as their hands were hardly visible in front of their visors, a squad of troopers sat in stillness. Their capsule clicked and beeped as varying systems were checked and prepped for activation, seeming louder than usual as they resonated through the enclosed shadows. A vent was the first constant noise to return, as it hummed away in an effort to cool the interior of their craft. Now there was shuffling among them, troopers scooting forward against their harnesses and gloved hands coming into laps. Just as the minute ended there was another wave of stillness, one more fierce and tense than before. Relief came with a cacophony of noise, almost as if making up for its brief absence.
Two minutes. An alarm blared once, signalling the arrival of red light that flooded the interior. The troopers could be seen, all facing away from each other and towards the craft's exterior. In four pairs they worked, with each team tapping away on their own shared data pad. The touchscreens were affixed to the craft's ceiling and held at eye level with the teams by jointed arms. They were shared by the two men, just as they share their benches. Scrunched next to each other, these pairs often bumped elbows or entangled their fingers manning their stations. Stressed grumbling steadily rose in the craft, until a commanding voice managed to cut it down like a wheat to a scythe. "Sequence coming through!" its trooper exclaimed from his bench. He then shot a pronounced murmur to his partner on the left, whose visor was glued to a scrolling set of text on his half of the screen. "give it to me."
Three minutes. The two worked much like any machine did, with one trooper reading and communicating an input while the other exclaimed an output to the others. "T-Con. Boost. 20." came the first instructions. "T-Con! Boost! 20!", went the first order to the crew. A select pair of troopers obeyed, designated as Thrust Control, they worked in tandem to fire a 20% powered thrust from their craft. "S-Con. Cycle." "S-Con! Cycle!" With this, the Shield Control pair worked on their screen to cycle shielding, adding a revving noise to the reemerging murmurings of the crew and a still blasting vent. "Sta-con. Adju-" "Can it!" The leading trooper found himself having to break the pattern in order to silence his men again. Without skipping a beat however, he readdressed his partner, "Repeat last." The input was given again, "Sta-con. Adjust. 12 degrees." The final pair, Stabilizer Control, was alerted and began their work behind schedule.
Four minutes. Beyond the hull, numerous other crafts carried out the same sequence. Some crews managed to keep with their scrolling instructions, while others trailed on the screen. One had manged to fall too far behind, opening prematurely as a result and flooding the occupants within in white light. The danger was simulated for today, as the failed crew quickly hurried forth from four agape sides of their craft and across a grid floor. They passed other crews, still enclosed within their machines in seemingly random places across the first half of the room, proceeding right into the clutches of an irate drill instructor. He stooped down to the faces of his men, coming intimately close as he screamed into their passing faces. They could do nothing but continue on in a roughly formed column, as the drill acted like a crazed Shepard in the rear.
Five Minutes. As the doomed squad received their motivation, those within their crafts prepared to join them. The squad from before had managed to hold steady, not falling any further behind the instructions they were being prompted to follow. As the last order was dispersed through the craft, "T-Con! Boost! 80!", there was a sudden mechanical groaning from outside the hull. This sound continued as the troopers within suddenly abandoned their screens and began unlatching blasters from slots squished between where their benches met. The groaning ceased with an echoing clang, one that caused the whole craft the shutter. Then there was light, sudden and blinding from all four sides of the vehicle. The doors were directly in front of each bench, shooting open as each team shoved their screen back up into the ceiling and dashed down unfolded ramps. This squad seemed to have emerged slightly later than a majority of the others, as circles of kneeling troopers in training armor were already surrounding their own crafts. The squad lead cursed slightly under his visor, "Damnit. Spread out guys. Get security."
Two minutes. An alarm blared once, signalling the arrival of red light that flooded the interior. The troopers could be seen, all facing away from each other and towards the craft's exterior. In four pairs they worked, with each team tapping away on their own shared data pad. The touchscreens were affixed to the craft's ceiling and held at eye level with the teams by jointed arms. They were shared by the two men, just as they share their benches. Scrunched next to each other, these pairs often bumped elbows or entangled their fingers manning their stations. Stressed grumbling steadily rose in the craft, until a commanding voice managed to cut it down like a wheat to a scythe. "Sequence coming through!" its trooper exclaimed from his bench. He then shot a pronounced murmur to his partner on the left, whose visor was glued to a scrolling set of text on his half of the screen. "give it to me."
Three minutes. The two worked much like any machine did, with one trooper reading and communicating an input while the other exclaimed an output to the others. "T-Con. Boost. 20." came the first instructions. "T-Con! Boost! 20!", went the first order to the crew. A select pair of troopers obeyed, designated as Thrust Control, they worked in tandem to fire a 20% powered thrust from their craft. "S-Con. Cycle." "S-Con! Cycle!" With this, the Shield Control pair worked on their screen to cycle shielding, adding a revving noise to the reemerging murmurings of the crew and a still blasting vent. "Sta-con. Adju-" "Can it!" The leading trooper found himself having to break the pattern in order to silence his men again. Without skipping a beat however, he readdressed his partner, "Repeat last." The input was given again, "Sta-con. Adjust. 12 degrees." The final pair, Stabilizer Control, was alerted and began their work behind schedule.
Four minutes. Beyond the hull, numerous other crafts carried out the same sequence. Some crews managed to keep with their scrolling instructions, while others trailed on the screen. One had manged to fall too far behind, opening prematurely as a result and flooding the occupants within in white light. The danger was simulated for today, as the failed crew quickly hurried forth from four agape sides of their craft and across a grid floor. They passed other crews, still enclosed within their machines in seemingly random places across the first half of the room, proceeding right into the clutches of an irate drill instructor. He stooped down to the faces of his men, coming intimately close as he screamed into their passing faces. They could do nothing but continue on in a roughly formed column, as the drill acted like a crazed Shepard in the rear.
Five Minutes. As the doomed squad received their motivation, those within their crafts prepared to join them. The squad from before had managed to hold steady, not falling any further behind the instructions they were being prompted to follow. As the last order was dispersed through the craft, "T-Con! Boost! 80!", there was a sudden mechanical groaning from outside the hull. This sound continued as the troopers within suddenly abandoned their screens and began unlatching blasters from slots squished between where their benches met. The groaning ceased with an echoing clang, one that caused the whole craft the shutter. Then there was light, sudden and blinding from all four sides of the vehicle. The doors were directly in front of each bench, shooting open as each team shoved their screen back up into the ceiling and dashed down unfolded ramps. This squad seemed to have emerged slightly later than a majority of the others, as circles of kneeling troopers in training armor were already surrounding their own crafts. The squad lead cursed slightly under his visor, "Damnit. Spread out guys. Get security."
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Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Slingshot
Black synthweave-clad fingers fumbled along the edge of the seat and the harness latched onto it. After some grunting the harness unlocked, releasing the long black rifle previously held in an iron grip. Steady, the marksman took a couple of deep breaths as the voices of his squad turned into background noise.
Then came the clang.
As soon as the door opened up Slingshot swung himself out of his seat, sprinted forth and slid into cover behind a rock with grid texture encompassing it's unusually symmetrical shape. He shouldered his rifle and began to look for danger. All around him other squads were already taking point and Slingshot's eyes darted back and forth behind the safety of his visored helmet while a HUD fed him a steady stream of data.
Being the squad marksman and a scout Slingshot had a very specific set of duties to uphold. Special threats such as snipers and heavy weapons were his main focus alongside identifying and neutralizing key tactical assets such as officers (or their robotic counterparts) and strategic equipment. In this case he saw none of it.
Slingshot glanced over his shoulder, setting his eyes on his sergeant not too far away from his own position. "Charger, sir! We're clear to move!"
Killswitch
Unlike his brothers, Killswitch didn't bother with needless chatter or fancy tricks. He didn't care for standing out or for bragging. He didn't care about politics or any higher meaning. As his hands tightened their grip around his blaster he could only think of one thing:
War.
That was his purpose and only purpose. He, like his brothers, were all bred for war. If there was something that Killswitch did like it was doing a good job. That meant he needed to be one hell of a soldier. When the pod doors flew open Killswitch didn't hesitate- out of his squad he was one of the first to leave the pod and take some ground on the simulated battlefield. It wasn't because he was eager or trigger-happy, no, he was only intending to take the initiative from the enemy.
When all others sounded off to Charger Killswitch remained silent and as solid as a statue. Once all others had made their comments he reported nothing but two words;
"Killswitch. Ready."
Bronco
I pull levers
Throwing a glance over both his shoulders, the team's squad lead could see that a loose circle of troopers had assembled around the pod. He listened as they signed in, mentally counting down from seven as they did so. The last report was a tad delayed coming in, Slingshot's in his zone again then, went his thoughts. He continued to scan ahead of them, seeing roughly two pods and their assembled occupants to the left and a third to the right. After the first minute it would have been clear if they were taking any kind of fire. It appeared the squad lead that today exercise would not be beginning with a hot insertion. He spoke into his helmet's mike, which was currently tuned into his squad's net, and issued a word of warning. "Eye's up, watch those towers." He then took a moment to recoil his left arm from his rifle, press a button on his gauntlet, and return it to its original position holding the barrel of his weapon. He spoke now through the company net, "Bravo-Blue-2, 4-1-Actual. All boots on ground, standing by for rally."
There was once again silence amongst the squad, as heads swiveled from one side of the room to the other. After another minute, it seemed that something might have been amiss. No acknowledgments came back through the company network and it didn't seem like any members of leadership were moving between the squads. The exercise had come to a standstill.
"What's up, Charger?" came the squad lead's bench mate to his right. "Another cluster fuck's what." he answered with a grumble. "Well it'd be unusual if it wasn't." There were a few chuckles over the squad's comms before Charger began trying to spot company leadership. He rose slightly from his kneel, taking a prolonged survey of the field before plopping back down with defeat. " *sigh* Sling, get me a bead on leadership would ya?"
There was once again silence amongst the squad, as heads swiveled from one side of the room to the other. After another minute, it seemed that something might have been amiss. No acknowledgments came back through the company network and it didn't seem like any members of leadership were moving between the squads. The exercise had come to a standstill.
"What's up, Charger?" came the squad lead's bench mate to his right. "Another cluster fuck's what." he answered with a grumble. "Well it'd be unusual if it wasn't." There were a few chuckles over the squad's comms before Charger began trying to spot company leadership. He rose slightly from his kneel, taking a prolonged survey of the field before plopping back down with defeat. " *sigh* Sling, get me a bead on leadership would ya?"
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The Fluffiest Floof
Floof, truly the fluffiest
With the light flooding the small confinement, for a brief moment all had to be done in blindness. Though that was nothing to stop troopers from getting ready, at the very least not Crackdown, who had his blaster rifle leaded and ready. Jumping out, the clone rolled off the landing and immediatly got to cover, before slightly raising the head and aiming down the line of sight he had. "Crackdown, ready to create some electro-junk!"
He chuckled at the conversation between squad command, before getting back into cover. "There´s nothing to be seen...", he said, the towers just as inactive as the entire practice seems to be. "I´ve got a bad feeling about this... Wasn´t this meant to be something of a hotdrop?", he muttered, to nobody in particular. "Either this is an unnotified alternative test... or somebody messed up. And we´re sitting it out." Looking over, Crackdown quickly switched his cover, heading over to kneel down next to Slingshot. "You see anything? I don´t like how quiet it is."
He chuckled at the conversation between squad command, before getting back into cover. "There´s nothing to be seen...", he said, the towers just as inactive as the entire practice seems to be. "I´ve got a bad feeling about this... Wasn´t this meant to be something of a hotdrop?", he muttered, to nobody in particular. "Either this is an unnotified alternative test... or somebody messed up. And we´re sitting it out." Looking over, Crackdown quickly switched his cover, heading over to kneel down next to Slingshot. "You see anything? I don´t like how quiet it is."
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Slingshot
The towers were empty and void of activity as far as Slingshot could tell. He didn't even need a rangefinder to make that assessment. When Crackdown muttered to himself and followed up with a question Slingshot shrugged and continued to swivel his head to the right in search for potential targets. "I got nothing on my end. Nothing but shinies as far as the eye can see."
He glanced over at Charger when the new order came. "Yes sir, on it," he said, nodding.
Slingshot elbowed Crackdown and nodded towards another piece of artificial cover not too far from where they were sitting. Moving, Slingshot pressed his rifle tight against his body while transitioning to his new cover only this time he climbed up atop of it. Once again he flipped down his rangefinder in the search of...there!
Flipping them up and pointing somewhere afar Slingshot looked back at Charger and the rest of the squad. "Platoon Command spotted! Fifty meters north. Low terrain, mixed cover. No hostiles spotted, sir."
Killswitch
All this chatting back and forth made Killswitch restless. Either someone up top really did misplace something- like a company of troopers- or there would be some sort of surprise exercise. If the latter happened they would probably have to thank the mercenary instructors for it. Those bastards always seemed to enjoy mixing things up though they didn't seem to realize that the clankers weren't able to do such advanced and impulsive tactical maneuvers.
Or at least that's what Killswitch thought. It's not like we're going to fight hand-to-hand with a legion of tactical droids.
When Slingshot and Crackdown sprinted off to a new vantage point Killswitch audibly sighed. "There better be some good combat coming."
Bronco
I pull levers
(be advised, did some research on call signs and adjusted ours and our platoon sergeants to be more accurate. We are now playing as 1st Bat, Bravo Co, 3rd Platoon, 1st Squad. Our designation over company net is 3-1. When calling over this net, I'll be 3-1-Actual, Sling'll be 3-1-3, Killswitch is 3-1-4, and Crackdown can be 3-1-5. Essentially this puts the three of us in a fire team with 3-1-2 leading their own made of 6,7,and 8. BTW, 2 is second in command as a corporal. Also, our Platoon Sergeant goes by Bravo-Blue-2 over company net. as the 2nd Lieutenant that leads our platoon is Bravo-Blue-Actual )
Charger moved from his position at the head of the group, keeping low as he came alongside Killswitch and craned his neck in the direction of his provided heading. Twenty meters out, the terrain dropped at a slope in the floor. After another thirty, it angled back up to roughly they same level most of the squads found themselves on now. It was in this shallow simulated valley that Charger spotted a singular pod with its own set of troopers surrounding it. Right at the foot of where the terrain began to ascend was a security party of five, with three extra clones crouched and huddled by the pod in the middle. One seemed agitated and confused, shaking his head and then jamming buttons on his gauntlet to speak with other members of company staff. The one assisting him didn't seemed too bothered, but was continually pointing things out on a PDA to the first clone. Occasionally the first would swipe it away from his grasp and peer into the screen. The third and final of the command team would occasionally address the two, before tending to the surrounding security detail. He remained low as he spoke over their shoulder, perhaps offering advice as he would stick an arm out in a certain direction that they would promptly turn to face. From their body language alone, Charger could pick out the three components of Bravo Companies leadership. He wasn't very pleased with what he saw.
"Fuck'n- good old Lieutenant Dipshit's at it again!" he exclaimed with a forced laugh. His bench mate, Corporal Stride, was quick to try and real him in, "Yeah, but don't let Sergeant Major hear you say that." Charger immediately turned and cocked his head, slumping his shoulders at the same time. "Please, what's the stooge gonna do? Drill us? Not while he's babysitting CO-Clusterfuck over there." It took him a moment to compose himself, but he eventually simmered down as he put his fingers to his temple. "Sling, just- just make sure staff doesn't hurt themselves. Tell me when First Sergeant sorts this out." he of course was referring to the third clone from before, as it now appeared he moved back to the huddle to provide his two cents.
As the defeated squad lead returned to his corporal he carried on with the operation's prep phase, despite it being longer than expected. "Alright, might as well run a gear check." He elbowed Stride next to him, "what you got?" The corporal patted a large tube on his back, slung over his shoulder to the right of his backpack, "Six shots for the RPS, plus two smokes." Charger gave a curt nod as he then swiveled to find his grenadier. "Ey Crack! Fill me in." he got the clone's attention before requesting a gear check.
Charger moved from his position at the head of the group, keeping low as he came alongside Killswitch and craned his neck in the direction of his provided heading. Twenty meters out, the terrain dropped at a slope in the floor. After another thirty, it angled back up to roughly they same level most of the squads found themselves on now. It was in this shallow simulated valley that Charger spotted a singular pod with its own set of troopers surrounding it. Right at the foot of where the terrain began to ascend was a security party of five, with three extra clones crouched and huddled by the pod in the middle. One seemed agitated and confused, shaking his head and then jamming buttons on his gauntlet to speak with other members of company staff. The one assisting him didn't seemed too bothered, but was continually pointing things out on a PDA to the first clone. Occasionally the first would swipe it away from his grasp and peer into the screen. The third and final of the command team would occasionally address the two, before tending to the surrounding security detail. He remained low as he spoke over their shoulder, perhaps offering advice as he would stick an arm out in a certain direction that they would promptly turn to face. From their body language alone, Charger could pick out the three components of Bravo Companies leadership. He wasn't very pleased with what he saw.
"Fuck'n- good old Lieutenant Dipshit's at it again!" he exclaimed with a forced laugh. His bench mate, Corporal Stride, was quick to try and real him in, "Yeah, but don't let Sergeant Major hear you say that." Charger immediately turned and cocked his head, slumping his shoulders at the same time. "Please, what's the stooge gonna do? Drill us? Not while he's babysitting CO-Clusterfuck over there." It took him a moment to compose himself, but he eventually simmered down as he put his fingers to his temple. "Sling, just- just make sure staff doesn't hurt themselves. Tell me when First Sergeant sorts this out." he of course was referring to the third clone from before, as it now appeared he moved back to the huddle to provide his two cents.
As the defeated squad lead returned to his corporal he carried on with the operation's prep phase, despite it being longer than expected. "Alright, might as well run a gear check." He elbowed Stride next to him, "what you got?" The corporal patted a large tube on his back, slung over his shoulder to the right of his backpack, "Six shots for the RPS, plus two smokes." Charger gave a curt nod as he then swiveled to find his grenadier. "Ey Crack! Fill me in." he got the clone's attention before requesting a gear check.
The Fluffiest Floof
Floof, truly the fluffiest
Crackdown watched as they arrived at the command team, unable to believe his eyes. "We could´ve seen this coming.", he stated in a low voice. "Seeing who leads the operation, we honestly could." He sighed, sitting down, resting his back against what he had used as cover before. He seemed a tad resignated as he started to clean his rifle as good as possible in the field.
As soon as the gear check was requested, Crackdown looked over to Charger. "Underbarrel launcher armed with 8 droid poppers and 8 smokes.", he reported and grinned. "And an unbreaking will to trash clankers." He looked over to Slingshot again, peeking around the stone towards command. "Might as well set camp, looks like we´ll be here a while.", he joked cycnically.
As soon as the gear check was requested, Crackdown looked over to Charger. "Underbarrel launcher armed with 8 droid poppers and 8 smokes.", he reported and grinned. "And an unbreaking will to trash clankers." He looked over to Slingshot again, peeking around the stone towards command. "Might as well set camp, looks like we´ll be here a while.", he joked cycnically.
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Slingshot
Nodding, Slingshot made a faux salute and flipped down his rangefinder once more. "Aye sir, I'll keep you posted."
That said he adjusted his position and sighed, pulling up his rifle slightly as to allow it to rest much more comfortably in his lap as he remained kneeled atop of the terrain piece that he used as a vantage point. When Crackdown spoke Slingshot could be heard chuckling from where he was sitting. "Careful. Don't want to wish for anything too fun."
Killswitch
Hearing that the command squad had not only managed to mess something up but also earn a scolding from one of the superiors was as annoying as it was embarrassing. The 417th were so close to seeing live-combat yet everyone but the command units seemed ready for it. Competent soldiers and key Republic assets were left sitting on their collective ass while the officers in charge were scolded like first-rate shinies.
For someone who usually didn't have an opinion on things this situation in particular left a bad taste in Killswitch's mouth. What if it had been a real situation? Without proper planning and equipment the troopers could end up being boxed in, getting ambushed or forced to hold their positions while allies- their brothers- end up dying in scores.
"This is just shameful. Let's hope command irons out whatever communicative issues they have while they still can."
Bronco
I pull levers
Charger grinned under his helmet at Crackdown's enthusiam. "Long as you save some for the rest of us," he answered, before also throwing in a suggestion, "That being said, you're not scrapping shit from down there." he commented on how Crack seemed to be sitting behind cover and not holding any kind of security. As to not single him out, he addressed the entirety of the squad around him with this next order. "Staff fucked up, who'da thunk it. Let's NOT follow suit and actually keep out shit together. Maintane security, it's gonna be a long one." as numerous clones reshoulderd their blasters or rose from sitting positions, Charger continued to wrap up his gear check. "Where's the big man?" he asked Stride. In response there was a steady reving sound from behind the pod, the squad lead turning just in time to see a bundle of spinning barrels sticking out from around the craft. Though the trooper weilding the Z6 remained hidden, Charger retreived his ammo count. "Y'know you tend to point those things at the enemy, Gatling." Charger chided his machinegunner when business was concluded. "Bro, you sat me back here!" came the disembodied voice of the heavy weapon's specialist. "You got legs right?" Charger shot back with a chuckle from both him and Stride. "Aight, nah that's fine. We'll see who's laughin when our rear gets lit up." It was obvious the machiengunner was wound up, but like most acts of brotherly love it was all in good fun.
Having confirmed his sqaud was well equipped and nothing was left in the pod, Charger turned his attention back front. Things remained still for another minute, aside from the occational movement of a platoon sergeant running between squads. The squad lead was about to ask the status of command again, looking over to Slingshot when movement caught his eye. In one of the towers to their North, right above staff's defalade, a clone appeared. He wore the same training armor as everyone else involved in the exercise, which upon closer inspection was decorated with a red highlights along the kness and elbows. A similar scarlet stripe ran down his helmet and chest. It was also apparent that he was raising a targeting rifle over the railing of the tower and.....pointing it directly into staff's squad. "Contact North! High, Sling!" he exclaimed, snapping his own blaster in the general direction. As he spoke, other shouts could be heard across the assembled squads. The towers began to populate with red trainees, as did the rest of the unoccupied citadel. The first training bolts came cracking in, impacting with cover, troopers, and pods.
Having confirmed his sqaud was well equipped and nothing was left in the pod, Charger turned his attention back front. Things remained still for another minute, aside from the occational movement of a platoon sergeant running between squads. The squad lead was about to ask the status of command again, looking over to Slingshot when movement caught his eye. In one of the towers to their North, right above staff's defalade, a clone appeared. He wore the same training armor as everyone else involved in the exercise, which upon closer inspection was decorated with a red highlights along the kness and elbows. A similar scarlet stripe ran down his helmet and chest. It was also apparent that he was raising a targeting rifle over the railing of the tower and.....pointing it directly into staff's squad. "Contact North! High, Sling!" he exclaimed, snapping his own blaster in the general direction. As he spoke, other shouts could be heard across the assembled squads. The towers began to populate with red trainees, as did the rest of the unoccupied citadel. The first training bolts came cracking in, impacting with cover, troopers, and pods.
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Slingshot
By the time Charger spotted movement in one of the towers Slingshot had already spotted it, entered a crouched firing stance, calculated his shot and pulled his trigger.
The marksman's precision fire contributed to some of the first shots of returning fire against the opposing forces.
When a training bolt impacted into his cover Slingshot switched targets in complete silence. There was no chatter or curses, just ice-cold focus.
He spotted a machinegunner in one of the towers who seemed to be taking potshots. At the entire landing area. Slingshot returned the favor with four shots of his own with two striking the gunner and two striking the spotter next to him.
By now the enemy had figured out that he was a sniper which made another gunner target him. "I'm pinned down!" Yelled a now-distressed Slingshot as he was forced to crawl up behind his cover.
Killswitch
When the combat started Killswitch took a knee next to Stride and began to engage the hostiles without hesitation. At the same time he was looking after Charger to make sure that their squad leader was still in action.
The glare from a sniper's scope caught his attention and, upon realizing who the target was, Killswitch took off into a sprint and tackled Charger down to the ground using his left shoulder.
As the two troopers fell to the ground a training bolt whizzed past them.
"You can thank me later, boss." Muttered Killswitch.
Bronco
I pull levers
"Yeah sure, my fuckin hero." Charger grumbled as he quickly crawled behind a piece of cover not far from where he'd been pushed over. To his right, behind a smaller barricade designed to appear naturally occurring, was Stride. He had watched the little scene unfold, threw a chuckled at Charger, and then popped up to send a burst of fire down range. The squad lead shook his head, his pride wounded, before analyzing the situation unfolding around him. He already had two troopers down, their armor locked up after being hit by electrified training rounds. One was slumped against the pod and another was down not too far behind Slingshot's cover, he'd taken the fire meant for their marksman. Charger watched as their ace in the hole made his way out from behind the pod, The clone pouring a stream of blue bolts into enemy positions ahead. He moved slowly, firing in exaggerated bursts as he stepped over his fallen squad mate. "Brother! Noooooooo!" he laughed in mock concern as he looked down at the clone. A shaky middle finger was raised in response before it fell back to the trooper's chest and Gatling continued his laughter.
"Shut up and lock em down, Gatling! Base of fire!" Charger exclaimed to their machine gunner. "Brotherly love boss." he replied cooly before ceasing his shenanigans, probably trying to get his squad lead back for earlier. Now Charger was focused on the enemy, peeking over his cover and laying his blaster's stock atop it. After a few bursts two red trainees were forced to the ground, and Charger had a decent idea of who they were fighting. He crouched back down to let his rifle cool, addressing Stride as he did so. "Who the hell'd they send our way this time!?" "I think you know." The corporal was right, he did know. He was willing to hold onto the slimmest chance he was wrong though. "They better've not."
"Shut up and lock em down, Gatling! Base of fire!" Charger exclaimed to their machine gunner. "Brotherly love boss." he replied cooly before ceasing his shenanigans, probably trying to get his squad lead back for earlier. Now Charger was focused on the enemy, peeking over his cover and laying his blaster's stock atop it. After a few bursts two red trainees were forced to the ground, and Charger had a decent idea of who they were fighting. He crouched back down to let his rifle cool, addressing Stride as he did so. "Who the hell'd they send our way this time!?" "I think you know." The corporal was right, he did know. He was willing to hold onto the slimmest chance he was wrong though. "They better've not."
Viper Actual
Ask me about my tourniquet fetish.
Slingshot
Ignoring the chatter from the rest of his squad, Slingshot continued to lay down precision fire. Another red trooper armed with a sniper of his own clutched to his shoulder as Slingshot struck him down, forcing him slump backwards behind his cover."Call out any special troopers if you see them," yelled Slingshot from his cover.
Killswitch
Charger's sarcastic remark earned a scoff from Killswitch as he got up and rejoined the battle.As the squad leader got into cover Killswitch kept his blaster firing. "Whoever we're tangling with ain't no genius; at this point this battle of attrition might as well go on forever."
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