Realistic or Modern The Program

[Mr_DC]

You are a soldier of the Program. A section of one of the biggest corporations in the world and one of many players in the great game of war. It doesn't matter who you are. Perhaps you are a regular trooper, one of the few who earned their place in the Program. Perhaps you're a legendary Beast, an agent - the finest soldier in a particular field. Perhaps you have dreams of becoming a mythical special agent.
It doesn't matter.

What matters now is the gun in your hand. What matters is your drive. Drive to fight. To survive. To become the best of the best.


Because no one cares. People are happy with the lack of information they are getting. People are happy watching sitcoms. People are happy with their loved ones staying at homes while you fight their wars. While you become a legend.


The question is: Do you have it in you?

https://www.rpnation.com/threads/the-program-information.329563/​

 

[Mr_DC]

"Where's the new guy?" Wolf shouted, crouching in a crater made by their artillery not that long ago. Her four-man squad was there, clad in their dark gray armor. The terror squad. Of course, they were wearing black but it was a compromise. She wouldn't claim her squad is the same color as One's elites while One doesn't pester her about his unspoken rules.
"Isn't he a woman?" One of her squaddies asked surprisingly calmly given how many bullets flew over his head. Sure, they probably couldn't cut through his armor but probably gets people killed.

A few more lumps of dirt fell on Wolf's red helmet, luring out a frown. Everyone knew where her squad was and no one was letting them peek out again. They have been pinned for the last few minutes as the battle around them raged. At least no one lobbed a grenade at their feet. One of the perks of being on the front lines. If anyone even tried to stand up to toss a grenade, they would be shot down by other squads from a safer distance.
"When did this turn into trench warfare, One?" Wolf growled into the radio in her helmet after switching to the command frequency.

"I called in a chemical airstrike from Special Agent Crow." A rough voice came through the radio. "I will give the order when I get the confirmation."
"Keep your heads down." Wolf instructed her squad, casting her gaze up. The sky was gray. Almost raining. That was the last thing they needed. Mud. "Where's the new guy?" Wolf repeated, examining her squad's anxious grips on their weapons. They wanted battle. Sitting around wasn't battle.


"Cards at the Lounge when we get home?" Lion heard a voice over his radio. At times he was envious of Crow. Just flying high above the battlefield, away from the imminent danger. Either bringing extra soldiers to their deaths or sowing bombs on the front lines.
"Drinks." Lion corrected, motioning for the nearby squad of soldiers to move ahead while he maintained his position on the right flank. He didn't feel comfortable with the forest being on his end of the battlefield but that was the position he was assigned to. As much as he was focused on the battle in front of him, every blur between the trees stole his attention and ate away at his efficiency. "I don't think anyone will be up for cards after this is over." He replied as calmly as he would if he was in the Lounge now. Gentle, slow music. Strong liquor. Privacy. The perfect club, right by the base.

"Heard from Spider?" Lion asked as he crouched and took down an enemy soldier with a burst from his rifle. The soldiers he was covering were new. Fresh recruits. They were soldiers or criminals or something along those lines but Lion always felt protective of everyone who just joined the Program.
For all he knew, the person he just shot was doing the same thing. There could be fresh soldiers on the other side as well. New recruits, sent to battle. Against the Program. Against the Beasts, for all that represented.
The Bulgarian Band. Those were the enemy mercenaries. He mustn't forget. Maybe Wolf and her squad were the kind of soldiers to mow down enemies like they didn't have a life but that wasn't Lion. The person he killed had years behind him and ahead of him. Years which he just nullified.

"Nope. Is he even alive?" Crow spoke back, the radio picking up some distant banging.
"Are you..." Lion paused, firing off a few more bursts over the head he caught a glimpse of behind a mound of dirt. "Are you being shot at?"
"Yup." Crow cleared his throat. "We'll talk later. I need to call in another pilot. This flying cow wasn't made for evasion."


"I've got you." Gazelle threw herself on her knees by a wounded soldier. She spotted his chest moving from far off on the left flank and rushed to the front line. She would have sworn the enemy was targeting her as soon as they saw her. A maniac sprinting across the battlefield with her white case. No more rules of war. No honor. Shoot at the medic. Shoot at them both when the medic arrives.
"Stomach." Gazelle muttered, examining the wound. Requiring urgent medical assistance. Not on the field, though. "Need a pickup!" Gazelle ordered her squad of medics over the comms. It didn't matter what others thought but those men and women who worked under Gazelle were the bravest of them all. Risking their lives in ways no one else dared.

As Gazelle raised a hand to signal a pair of medics, it hit her. Grazed her. A bullet scratched across her chest. Gazelle clenched her teeth as a chill ran down her spine. It was always a game of luck. A finite resource.
She threw herself over the wounded soldier. She wouldn't allow another today. At least not that one.


"I got him, Gazelle." Panda said, returning her crosshairs to the medic in brown armor. Another soldier protected. A Beast no less. No surprise there - they were the most reckless ones. At least Gazelle never had to run back to help Panda out. Almost never.
She was safe now. A white figure laying spread eagle on their command vehicle far from the battle.

 

[MoxxyMoxx]

Foxx

​

Foxx was knelt with a gun in his hands behind a dirt mound. He was shooting at as many enemy soldiers as he could, trying to clear the way for healthy soldiers to reach injured ones. This was what he was good at when it came to the army. He rarely missed and if he did he could quickly recover. He was what they called a Beast. He didn't feel like one. He was sly, stealthy and a good shot but a Beast was an awful term. They could've used something better.

He made a few more head shots before taking cover to reload. Foxx knew he couldn't keep this up for long. It was only a matter of time before they'd have to either advance with more heavy artillery or retreat and form a better plan. He couldn't think to hard about it. His job was simple. Point and shoot. That was it but he was good at it which is what makes it so easy.

It was only when doing that when a grenade was thrown towards him. He managed to catch it and throw it back in the general direction of where it came from. He smirked under his black and orange helmet when he heard the explosion go off. He loved his job.

 

[0stinato]

This was ridiculous. Rat had long ago muted his radio so he wouldn't have to listen to any interweaving frequencies that were not meant for his ears. Listening in would not be useful, even if he wanted to know what his colleagues were doing. He could see a few of them: the red of Wolf's armour made her unmistakable, and the brown of Gazelle. Because they had not moved, Rat wasn't too interested in their decisions. He would make his own and, if anyone wanted to contact him, they'd have to wait.

He had no team at his heels, ready to obey his commands. Though that was not exactly his choice; he'd never been offered a team. As he took one last glance down at the backs of Wolf's team, he was glad about it. No puppies to kick into line.

Taking the steel grapples from their place on his right hip, he slipped and attached them securely to his wrists. With a few dexterous and quick movements, he was scaling higher and higher on the structure. It almost seemed part of an overpass, the steel girders rusted a depressing brown. With his radio occasionally clicking to itself in one of his ears, and the other shut away from the world by his helmet, the peace up here was mistakable for a combat-free afternoon. Though, once his mind tuned into what it had shut out - the occasional punching sound of heavy fire - the world was back in full force.

The structure was more or less on the safe side of the battlefield, if there was such a thing in war. He'd moved past a few troopers using the thing for cover at its base, but they were no longer his problem. In fact, they might have been a cover for him; any enemy that looks towards the structure would see them, and they might not look to the top, where Rat was crouched. The debris before him would only do so much to stop a harsh shot, but if the enemy had no need to fire there, it was, in Rat's mind, safe.

A perfect crows' nest.

Rat had just the tool for his duty on his back. A tactical, lightweight sniper rifle, it was set up quickly by Rat's practiced hands. His fingers, covered only by a streamline armoured kevlar, had access to every movement they may have done even if they were bare. Through the dark visor, and inside the helmet, he muttered to himself as he turned. Nothing useful. Not even a self-scolding or a quiet curse.

He positioned the sniper's barrel on a precarious piece of debris, but waited behind his cover for a total of thirty seconds before he even attempted to look through the sight. He raised his eye visor, tilted and angled the weapon, held his breath, and fired.

"V. W. X. Y. Z, out," he told himself. Then he reloaded and began again. "V. W. X. Y. Z, out."

With the ten shots, carefully tried and calculated, he'd seen two of the mercenaries fall. One had taken one shot to fall, the other two in quick succession. It was possible the first had struck a killing blow, but Rat had already double checked by that point. But the other bullets were aimed at the torsos and arms of the mercenaries that he could see. There were, perhaps, four alive now at least.

He raised his head as he slumped behind cover for another thirty seconds. Above him, Crow flew, and the rain began. Flipping down his visor and withdrawing the barrel from its makeshift stand, he began to move just as he heard the cover behind him begin to be peppered by a few shots. He kept low, re-attaching the grapples to his wrists, and looked at the cover grimly as flakes of concrete were jolted into the air.

It was time to move on.

Rat activated his radio as he lifted him weight carefully over the side of the structure, digging the hooks into its side. He spoke firmly, getting across the slight coloured tinge in his voice, to Crow, "Destroy this overpass. Make it good. It's no use anymore."

Mr_DC

 

[Dak]

James "The Bear" Bearstien​

They say that a fall from two hundred feet to the solid ground can kill a man, but they never had shock absorbing boots. A low flying cargo plane, flying at a high speed, had dropped it's cargo. A couple crates of ammo and supplies, along with a beast clad in white and orange.

He hit the ground with a solid thud, sending dirt and dust flying up about ten feet in the air. The Beast didn't move. His suit and system had shut down from the initial shock of the impact. "This is Beast B34R Command code S14R1." This was the point that the suit began to roar back to life. Within seconds the armor lock that had been set had let up. The Beast clad in white and orange began to move. cracking his knuckles along with his back and neck.

The hud in his helmet lit up and he could finally see the battlefield for the first time. It was close to hell. He let small chuckle. It was like his own little playground. He was good at his job, and his job was to kill. He pulled up the assault rifle that was slung across his back and checked the magazine and chamber. Full mag with one already chambered. under the mask, he had a huge smile.

THUD.THUD.THUD.THUD.THUD.THUD.THUD.

Went the ground as the Bear began his charge. Bear was known for his risk taking, and his charge was one of the biggest risks he took, but if it paid off then he would end up with a higher kill count. He, along with the supplies, were placed behind friendly lines for his suit start up. He pressed forward till he had come up to the front of the trenches.He was a beast, which meant that he was good with a few things and one of those things was assaulting. He jumped down into the trench, near a squad that was clad in all black except for one, she was in red.

Bear pushed his way over to Wolf and the Jellyfish. He looked at them for a second then gave a light wave. Kind of like a "Hi, how' ya doin'" type wave. "Lovely day, isn't it?" He asked over the comm before peeked over the lip and a bullet knocked a rock near his helmet. He pulled his head back down and looked at Wolf. "...You look like you could use some help." He said jokingly over the comm, He lifted his gun over the lip and let out a couple of shots.
Mr_DC

 

[Mr_DC]

HarleyQuip Dak

"Did I send out invitations to a tea party or something?" Wolf growled through her comms, examining how tight her cover became. "Weirdo." She gave a nod to Jellyfish. "Big fucking bastard." She gave the same nod to Bear.
"Could you please get out there and get shot? This is my cover." Wolf crossed her arms on her chest as an unending stream of bullets flew across their heads. Great. Someone discovered how to switch to automatic. She rolled her eyes.

"Listen, Crow is about to drop some goodies on our frienemies over there." Wolf pointed a thumb over her shoulder, resting one hand on the barrel of her rifle. A bullet whistled above their heads and Wolf nodded. Panda. Things were definitely heating up beyond the line. A result of them not holding it as much as the line was holding them. Not much they could do except blindly fire.

"So either..." She started but a voice on her comms interrupted her. An order everyone got to hear, not just Wolf.
"All units." One began. "Soldiers with closed-cycle respiratory suits, stay in position and wait for a bombing run. Everyone else, pull back to a safe distance. You have two minutes."
At least he was getting around to finishing the battle. Now all they had to do was survive until Crow figured out which direction to steer his bomber. "Wait for the chemicals to drop and we'll sweep up whoever is alive." Wolf shrugged, leaning against the dirt. At least most Beasts has the suits capable of handling whatever Crow was going to drop. That just meant her squad would have to run away.

"You heard the order." She looked at her frowning squaddies. "Fuck off." She ordered half-heartedly and the soldiers started looking for opportunities to retreat. The way they moved made Wolf proud of the training she provided. All of them covered each other as they moved. Only one in the open at a time while everyone else defended. Brilliant little bastards. Shame people in her squad had the life expectancy of a mice in a snake pit.

 

[Dak]

James "Bear" Bearstien​

The Bear smiled under the mask. He peeked his head up one more time. This time looking for the opening. When one presented itself, Bear let out a loud roar. He waited for a second before jumping over the lip and rushed across no man's land. He ran as fast and as hard as he could till he reached the trench. He jumped down and landed with a thud. He took a shot in the right shoulder. He turned around and shot the one in the gut. He doubled over and fell on the ground.

Bear lifted his barrel up before rushing over to cover. The battle instincts of the bear had begun to start up. Anyone that got in his sight was put down. Eventually rushing down the trench knocking down two enemies who reacted too late. Bear dropped his shoulder and put one on his have. He grabbed the other's throat and pulled. He kicked in the other one's head in.

He heard the roaring of the bomber engines go overhead. "Command code BR341H" He said as the respirator in his helmet began to rev up. By the time the chems fell, he bunkered down. He was going to wait out the fallout before getting back to his anger.

 

[MoxxyMoxx]

Foxx

Foxx replied with a Rodger over the radio when told to retreat. He wished he could stay. He'd done so much damage; he had to inflict more. It was addictive. This was probably why he was the one of the most impulsive out on the field. It wasn't healthy but he got the job done and to him, that's what mattered the most.

He retreated and joined up with the group when he over heard Bear still being in there. He groaned and reloaded his gun, "Do I have to go in after another fool again?" He was clearly mad. The last time he had to go back for someone they almost died. He still held the grudge. He wasn't dying in the field. He wasn't dying like a martyr. He was going to die when he was 80 years old. He'd be surrounded by his lover and all the people who cared about him. That was what he wanted when this war was over. A family, friends...a boyfriend...

But that was a fantasy. This god awful war wouldn't be over until every last troop was either dead or in custody. History tells us treaties don't work for long. They had to die and Foxx was going to be one of the ones to do it. No one could stop him. No one could beat him at his game.

 

[0stinato]

Crow's chemical bombs were, perhaps, more of a threat to Rat than the other Beasts might have realised. Because of his more lightweight armours - his torso was covered, as were his legs and arms, but with a lighter and therefore more vulnerable material than that of Wolf or the others - he did not have the same equipment to protect his lungs from the chemicals. What he had, as an add-on beneath the sniper slipped over his back, was a small air filter as well as an equally small tank of compressed air. He watched the sky, deciding to activate the air tank at the last possible moment. It was either cut the whole thing close or retreat, and Rat didn't want that.

He kept close behind the structure until he saw the chemicals fill the air. They seemed to stain, creating some sort of yellowish haze over the area. No doubt the already churned-up grasses would be knocked flat once this soaked into the sod.

Rat activated the oxygen tank, sealing his mask and helmet, keeping his visor locked tightly down. Then he began moving. His slim frame lent him a dexterous and brisk pace, though he dropped to his front every few yards and took stock of the location before rising to his feet again. This was the no-mans-land of the battle, and Rat wasn't about to risk something just for the sake of a risk.

The mercenaries were soon mere metres away, but, the next time Rat dropped to his stomach, his arms at the ready to push his frame back to its feet, he recognised a different shade in the air. Even through the haze of yellow, and even through the sun-shielding grey of his visor, Rat realised he was the same distance from Foxx as he was from the nearest trench.

He wasn't moving, Foxx wasn't moving. Rat gritted his teeth, and abandoned his trench-diving goal, opting instead to interact with Foxx. He tuned into Foxx's frequency, and spoke through his teeth.

"Either go in, or go back," Rat said. "Don't kneel there and daydream. Get in, get in now."

Even though he was speaking, he kept himself as low to the ground as possible. If any mercenary was to, by some miracle, overcome their choking on their own saliva, tears and vomit long enough to fire a shot, they'd go for the Beast by Rat's side, not Rat himself.

Rat pulled himself closer to the edge of the trench and let himself down quietly. If Foxx accompanied him, that would be fine. If he split, Rat would not complain. He could hear the wretched sounds he hated, so he tried to ignore them as he examined what was below him. Sure enough, there was one corpse, propped up unnaturally by the side of the trench. Long dead, its cheek was ripped through, and one of the eyeballs had exploded. The mercenary had most likely been put in this position by a respectful friend... not that it mattered. Empathy was harmful.

Rat kept silent, his eyes tuned into what he could see in this haze. His oxygen tank was already down by twenty percent, so it wouldn't be long at all before he'd have to switch to the filter. For twenty minutes, that filter would do its job, not letting anything harmful into his system, but after that, the longer Rat kept using it, the more likely he was to suffer damage. Rat never let it go on for longer than fifteen minutes, so he knew that was all the time he'd have.

He was operating on a shoestring budget of time, and he had to do what he came here for.

Rat had three trigger explosives, and that was all. Under the cover of the gas, he kept low, not even hesitating when he passed a figure on its knees. They had bigger problems at that point than Rat skulking around their little burrow.

MoxxyMoxx (Hello again.)

 

[MoxxyMoxx]

FOXX

Foxx rolled his eyes, mumbling fine. He got his his head in the game and did as everyone else did, checking his oxygen tank. It was reletavily full, meaning he'd be okay for the time being. Until then, he'd continue to be the Beasts' master marksman and escaping the toxic gas.

The armor Foxx was wearing had an oxygen mask built into the helmet so you never had to take it off. Most things he needed which included his vitals, enhanced aiming and radio were imbedded into his armor for convenience. He asked for these things and it was delivered to him. He was happy with the outcome. He could continue with what he was doing but he couldn't risk it even with his pristine armor. Instead he backed off and stealthily got to his new location, an old look out post covered in a mysterious substance. He began to shoot stragglers and any big looking enemies. They were both easy and hard to take down which is why he chose them.

He spoke to Rat on their radio, "Remember to use the gas to your advantage. I don't want to have to save your ass again. It's getting old at this rate." Foxx had to use his quick thinking too many times to save stupid soldiers so he wished that they be smart right now. His mind was focused. This was war not play time.

 

[0stinato]

Upon hearing the unjustified comment from Foxx, Rat immediately switched his comms off again. It allowed him time to speak to himself as he kept low, and he secured the first explosive into the ground, arming it before backing off hurriedly.

"He'd have been shot without you saying something, Xylem, possibly killed," he said within his helmet. "I hope killed. Too bad I saved his ass first. Exactly... he has no right..."

But Foxx wasn't his problem, the boy could go his own direction if he wanted. It wasn't Rat's issue whether he got shot, or whether he was too blinded by the chemicals and stepped on one of Rat's trigger explosives. Rat knew where they were, but he wasn't about to tell Foxx. It would take too long, and, if Foxx was stupid enough to step on one, at least the IQ in the overall human gene pool would be heightened slightly.

He planted the second explosive, arming it and backing off. Rat wasn't an expert at using explosives, not at all, but he had a basic knowledge. Every Beast knew how to do everything; every Beast knew the techniques for stealth, defense, long- and short-range attacks... but every Beast had their own perfections.

Rat was, first and foremost, a stealth operator. But 'stealth' was more of a way of moving rather than a technique, so he had to be practiced in all sorts of weapons. From long range, like the sniper he'd used minutes ago, to explosives like he was planting now, all could be done effectively with stealth involved.

At this minute though, stealth wasn't entirely useful. As far as he knew, there were to be no prisoners because what was the point? They didn't need any information, and the mercenaries would be useless as hostages. They were as expendable as the troopers fighting on Rat's side. So all Rat could really do to make a useful dent in the population of the mercenaries was to plant these explosives. Some, whose bodies survived the chemicals long enough, would be dealt with by the explosives, and the problem would be halved.

With the last explosive planted, and with only thirty-five percent remaining in his tank, Rat decided it was time to leave. Upon reaching a space he thought would have enough cover to leave, he felt something snag his ankle. Upon looking down through his visor, his eyes met the expanded and bloodshot ones of a mercenary. His hand was gripped on Rat's ankle, and his other was holding a breathable rag to his mouth. Vomit coated what Rat could see of his body armour.

"Please...!" the accent was strong, but the word was unmistakable. Rat's eyes were widened, but not with fear or disgust. He was merely observing.

Of course, Rat knew the affects of the chemicals. The reports were made available to the Beasts, and their equipment had to be able to withstand the chemicals. But Rat had never seen the close-up destruction of this breathable fiend. The mercenary coughed, and seemed to spill the contents of his stomach, bringing blood and viscera up with it. His grip weakened on Rat's ankle, so Rat kicked him off with a flick of his leg, and hoisted his way out of the trench.

His left ankle and boot had the acidic bile on it, eating away the waterproofing. There was nothing he could do about it now, and he had no time to feel disgusted. Should his own air run out, he'd be in the same place in minutes.

"Should've put him out of his misery. But... his misery will end soon anyway."

 

[Mr_DC]

Faulty bombs. Not all of them, of course, but a couple. That's the case with chemicals, you never know how they're going to work. One of them impaled the dirt near Wolf, hissing out its vile contents. Instead of dispersing over a larger area, creating a deadly fog, that one created a cloud of smoke. Instead of going with napalm - something Wolf encouraged in the planning stages - One decided on whatever chemical compound that was. Testing out the weapons before offering them on the market. Not officially, of course. Little housewives wouldn't like hearing that the company selling them milk was also selling bioweapons to terrorists.

Wolf stood up, frowning at the shell of the bomb. Not sure who she would yell at because of it not going off. The designer? Crow? One? No, not One... Maybe One. The battle was won, after all, and One had a new weapon to offer up to the world. He would be in a good enough of a mood to hear Wolf vent a bit. Nothing better than yelling at something much more powerful than you. Just, she would have to do it in his office. She was the one enforcing loyalty, after all.

The sound was dampened. She could barely hear the moans of dying soldiers scattered around her. She could hear her breathing. In and out. Perfectly calm amidst the destruction. A survivor surrounded by death. In and out. For a moment, she could understand all of Lion's bullshit about meditation. For a moment. Until her eyes landed on a soldier, all curled up and foaming at the mouth.
Might as well accept the duty of a glorified janitor. Wolf sighed, aimed the rifle at the soldier and fired. Flashes from her rifle marked her position as she walked through the battlefield, ensuring there would be no survivors. Total destruction.

"Soldiers." One came through the comms again, stopping Wolf from pulling the trigger again as she held the barrel inches from a soldier's face. "Agent Mantis is going for the enemy commander. Don't shoot at anyone running." Just as One said that, a flash of green sprinted by Wolf. She scoffed, got on a knee by a dying soldier and took aim. If that cocky little bastard gets to off the commander over Wolf, then she might as well have difficulty.

She paused, finger on the trigger. No one should be nearby. The smoke wasn't clear yet. No one to snitch on her. Besides, few dared to do that. Not to Wolf.
Wolf closed one eye as she lowered the crosshairs. And fired.
Mantis fell into a roll forward, got up without stopping, and kept sprinting ahead. Good armor. Maybe good enough to not start leaking the chemicals into the suit.
Wolf stood up. Maybe good enough.

 

[MoxxyMoxx]

FOXX

Understanding what was said, Foxx once again replied with a simple confirmation and began to climb up as high as possible for the eagle eye perspective. The gas was thick. You couldn't see through it that easily, but luckily for the young Beast, Foxx could see silhouettes. His eyes scanned the field, looking for their leader.

He soon found Mantis and switched comms to the same fierce warrior, "I can see you commander," he stated, "I'm covering your fifth." He shot a few enemy soldiers around her before being forced to reload. It was his last round with his favorite and best gun. It would get trickier from here on in.

 

[Elowyn]

Black Jaguar (Panthera onca)
A low growl escaped Ellie's lips. "I should be out there," she muttered, jabbing a finger at one of the screens that were lit up displaying the scenes of the skirmish. She resumed her pacing like a caged animal. "Not waiting around for God-knows-what!"

"The signal," supplied red-haired and rosy-cheeked Nora, one of Jaguar's subordinate associates. She was fiddling around with one of the drone cams, zooming in to get a better view after the fog obscured most of the screen.
Eloise ignored this interruption. "They totally disposed of me in the Observation Room like I wasn't fit for battle!" Long periods of confinement set her nerves on edge. She wasn't meant to relay information like a lowly soldier. She was supposed to be in the heat of the battle, loosing attack after attack to decimate enemy lines. But instead here she was. Stuck.

"You aren't fit for battle, ma'am. Doctor's orders to refrain from combat for another two days," Nora responded in the same informative tone.
A frown flitted over her features for a fraction of a second. "You aren't helping, Operative Nora." She resumed her pacing, the padding of her boots against the floor resounding quietly but over and over again as a testament to her frustration.
Waiting for the other Beasts to return. Jaguar hated waiting.

 

[Dak]

James "The Bear" Bearstien​

After a large dose of whatever chemical was dropped. The bear had decided to move out from his current hiding spot. He exited the gunbox that he had bunkered down in to see soldiers curled up in the fetal position, blood and piss running out of their body. War could be hideous at times, but it paid good and it gave James the chance he needed to let off some steam. That was when his comm lit up. it was One.

He let out a grunt when one said that Mantis was going for the commander. Mantis or Wolf were always the ones that got the glory. He clenched his fist. "It's time I get some recognition." Bear thought to himself. He started to run. He started his charge. He turned down the trenches, left and right. Passing dead or dying soldiers covered in shit, piss, and blood. He didn't stop to kill anyone. They were already on that road. The only thing he could do for them was stopping the suffering.

"This is Bear. I'm en route to the enemy commander. I'm two mikes out.... Mantis if you think you're getting all the credit today, your dead wrong." Bear said over the comm before reaching the enemy HQ.

There weren't that many people outside, and if they were they would be dead within minutes. The outside of the building wasn't anything impressive. It was more or less a bunker. He propped up some cover and pressed inside the bunker. He could see that some of the people inside the bunker were smart enough to have gas masks. He heard some footsteps behind him. In an instant he turned around, pointing his gun up to see Mantis.

"About time you got here.... I had to deal with all these idiots." Bear said pointing his gun at the dead bodies laying on the ground. "Now let's get this guy so that way I can go home and get something to drink." He said before pressing a button on his helmet, activating the night vision.

Mr_DC

 

[Mr_DC]

Dak
HarleyQuip

"Be careful who you shoot." Mantis spoke over the comms, her usually cheerful tone now rough and strong. It was almost as if it was someone else in her armor but it couldn't have been. The speed and grace she moved with while clad in armor was unmatched. It was her. She simply wasn't in the mood for jokes. "We've got an agent in there." She added, leaping across mounds of dirt, skipping across bodies, careful not to get caught on anyone. The enemy bunker was just leaps away.

"It's Swan." Mantis added, watching Bear enter the bunker. Swan. The least Beast-ly Beast of them all. Never used a gun if one doesn't count tasers. The spy. Not an infiltrator like Mantis. Talking her way in instead of sneaking. Climbing up the ranks in days built on short lasting promises. That was what she was best at. Making people believe that a house of cards is stable and disappearing before it crumbles. So similar yet so opposite to... Him. The unofficial Beast.

"Just don't shoot at any women if you don't know how she looks like out of her armor..." She ran to the entrance but stopping when coming face-to-face with Bear's gun. "I'm going in first." She demanded and ran up to the door. She wasn't about to just fly in. Bear wasn't exactly quiet with his weapons. A slight change of her element of surprise strategy.

She slid into the door, slamming her shoulder by the knob. An idiot move of those who watch too many action movies but she had armor. She was a green cannonball. The door flew open and a few shots went right above Mantis' head. They were expecting them but they weren't expecting Mantis to be so low. By the time they adjusted their aim, Mantis already slid across the floor of the small room, under the table, and pinned a man against the wall.

Probably the commander. Had that experience in his eyes. No shock from Mantis slipping her blade into his throat. A lot of fight in him. The man had to be the commander. He desperately tried to free his gun from Mantis' grip, no matter how useless his fighting was against her armor. Others weren't standing idly by, though. Mantis withdrew her dagger from the probably-commander and flung it across the room at another of the three remaining soldiers. In the throat, again.

Too many barrels. Best leave the rest to Bear. Mantis thought as she spun the commander around and kept him between her and the soldiers as she pressed herself against the wall. She might have been wrong with her assumption that the man was the commander. The soldiers definitely weren't holding back as she shot at him. Shot through him. The armor would hold as long as the big brute did his part.

Then she spotted it. The reason she was sent there. A figure in the corner of Mantis' eye. In the corner of the room. Crouching, covering her blonde head, the grey uniform melting in with the concrete walls. At least she knew how to keep herself out of the line of fire.


Wolf flinched at the explosion not too far from her but far enough to be safe. Artillery fire? No, that was something else. The maniac behind the wheel. "Oi!" Wolf spoke through her comms. "Nice shooting but everyone's dead." She hissed. "How about you don't fire, huh?" She looked back through the fog where the shot had to come from. Good range. Would have been useful when Wolf was hiding but that was an issue she would bring up later. On the flight to the base. On the flight home.

 

[Mr_DC]

HarleyQuip

Wolf grimaced. Tiger. Could have at least went with some German panzer with that name but One wasn't the one for symbolism over efficiency. And tank was definitely efficient. She wouldn't mind having a few of those following her squad. Add a bit to her shadow of terror on the field. Maybe paint them red and black. Use high explosives. She wouldn't accept having Tiger support her, though. Have another Beast watch her back? Over her dead body.

Wolf scoffed when she was offered the bottle of alcohol. Drinking on the field. Pathetic. Drinking in general even more so. Weak minds, weak bodies. Last time Wolf caught one of her squad members drunk, she had him dragged outside and beaten by the rest of the squad. None of them even thought about looking at alcohol. She kept their minds clear and their bodies bruised. As it should be.

"How about you keep that bottle and hop into a trench with Mantis for a quick romp?" Wolf said sarcastically, walking away from the woman. That kind of thinking was what caused soldiers to have little time left. "Where's our pickup, One?" Wolf barked into her radio before pausing. She groaned, realizing how she spoke to One.
"Agent?" One asked back. Slowly. "Repeat that last transmission." He ordered.
"I believe we are done with our task, sir." Wolf quickly corrected her words but maintained her tone. She wasn't about to backtrack with her tail between her legs. "I want to return to the base to continue the training schedule of my squad." She added a flimsy excuse for wanting to get out of there. An excuse which everyone knew was just that - an excuse - but it was an excuse One couldn't deny.
"The choppers are on their way. Be patient." One replied.

 

[MoxxyMoxx]

FOXX

A short yet agile beast shot it's last few bullets at some enemy soldiers that were slightly moving. Near enough all the enemy soldiers were killed or at least majorly wounded. He smirked under his helmet, switching comms on and getting down off of his perch. He was by far one of the best marksman the squad had. He had some of the fastest fingers and could easily think on his feet. He deserved a promotion but his loyalty lacked him behind. He didn't get the code name Foxx for no reason. He was sly. He'd do anything to save his own skin and didn't care about the consequences, like a fox would.

Foxx began walking and looking at any of their fallen comrades. This was the part he hates the most about his jobs. All the death. All the lives affected by this war. They could fight and fight for days but when the sun goes down over an empty battle field, what is it all worth? He has thought about quitting. He has thought about it multiple times. He just had no where to go.

"I just turned comms back on. No enemy survivors in my location. Anything else we need to do before we leave?" He asked, preferring to get confirmation before doing anything. Despite easily being able to go off and do what he wanted, he still preferred to get the general orders before acting. He also desperately wanted to leave. Staying around the battlefield made him feel sick. No one knew it of course. No one knew much about Foxx. There was an aura of mystery around him and he intended to keep it that way.

 

[Dak]

James "Bear" Bearstien​

James watched as Mantis started on her war path. He was a little turned on when she started her rush into the bunker. When she spoke about the agent on the inside bear sighed. "Great..." He mumbled loud enough for the comm to pick up. He followed her up but stopped short of the door when the people in the bunker began to fire. His heart was pumping and his adrenaline was racing.

He peeked in to see Mantis throw the knife at one of the three remaining soldiers. "Time to shine..." Bear said as he took aim and threw his knife at the first soldier. What a shot in the throat. He swiveled around the corner and charged the second soldier. The second guy had raised his gun and was about to fire at Mantis.

Bear first grasped the man by the throat and picked him up and slammed him into the ground. He then picked him back up by the throat and slammed him against the ground again, and again and again. After he lifted him again, and this time threw him against the wall and started to pummel him. After a few minutes, his white gloves began to turn red. He looked up to see Swan and Mantis. "Sorry, instincts." He said standing up and walked over to Swan.

He knelt down next to her. He moved some of the blonde hair out of the way and looked into her eyes. A note flashed on his hud saying that it was safe to take off his helmet. He took off his helmet. "have your fun?" He asked giving her a small smile. He stood back up and looked at Mantis. There was another one in the corner that stood up who must have been waiting for the right time.

He charged again, this time full on linebacker tackle the guy. He pinned him down and put the barrel of his pistol to the guy's throat. "Come on fuckface. Give me a reason...."

Mr_DC

 

[Mr_DC]

Dak

"Good job." Mantis dropped her human shield and gave Bear a quick nod. "We're all alive and job's done. I think drinks are in order when we get home." She smiled and looked at Swan who stood up and examined the room. She wasn't exactly hiding the fact that she kept her eyes off the dead bodies. She didn't have a look of discomfort on her face, though. She looked determined.

"I'll serve the rest of the army to the Russian forces heading for the oil fields. There are no other troops left." Swan motioned at the door. "You can go." She quickly said and shook her head at Bear, still holding a soldier. "Could you please..."
"Oh." Mantis chirped, taking a few steps to the door. "Kill him. We can't have someone snitching on Swan." Mantis shrugged.

She wasn't sure whether Swan's cover was still important or not but she assumed that was the reason Swan wanted the man dead. In spite of not being able to ask for it. Whatever plan One, Swan, and Wolf cooked up, Mantis knew it wasn't for her to think about. She wasn't the one to worry about the plan working out and what to do if things don't don't end well. She didn't mind guessing, though.

From where she was standing, it seemed that Russia didn't just hire the Program. They had some of their forces. Enough to destroy whatever was left of the mercenaries Ukraine hired. Why the Program didn't hunt down and destroy the remaining forces was beyond Mantis. Urge to go back home, perhaps? Back to the US. "Come on, big guy, lets go." She motioned for Bear to hurry up, and walked out of the room.


MoxxyMoxx 0stinato HarleyQuip

"Agent Fox." One's voice came over the comms after about half a minute. "Please proceed to regroup with Agent Tiger at the armored reinforcements." After a short pause, One continued again. "Agents Rat and Jellyfish, rally on Agent Tiger. Your transportation will be here soon. Troopers are taking over from here." One issued the order and the troopers who withdrew previously were now approaching the field as the chemicals dropped were mostly dispersed. They weren't getting in there yet so a large number of troopers gathered at the tank as well.

 

[MoxxyMoxx]

FOXX

After replying with a simple, "Yes Ma'am," he jogged to the other agents. He didn't like to be referred to as agent but he wouldn't object to his Commander calling him one. Foxx was easier to go by. A simple one syllable word that reflects him both a professional and personal level. He was a fox. He was sly. Some would call him Foxy as that was what he was. He was the fox.

Once he arrived at the meeting point he announced his presence after turning off comms once again. "Guess who's back," he said in a sing song voice and a smirk on his face. He was faking his happiness though. All the death around him just filled him with pain. Every person who knew one person would be affected by their death. Friends, family, lovers. They all would be affected. It pained him which was why he limited the people he knew and kept it all to just his other fellow beasts. No one should hurt when he was gone.

 

[0stinato]

Of course, Rat had noticed Jellyfish not too far away. Skulking near the treeline, his unmistakable shadow and wafts of fumes still hanging around. There was no one else that silhouette could be other than the Beast famed for his technique of vapour-warfare. Though, with how low Rat's oxygen was, he was trying to avoid the Russian.

But Jellyfish apparently had other ideas. He had his back to Rat in the first place, Rat noticed that as he neared, ready to keep sprinting past him towards the treeline, where the air might be a little fresher for when his filter kicked in. Though he soon turned, made a series of aggressive movements whose details were lost to the vague impact of the chemical fog, and raised his hand to Rat's face. Rat was coming to a halt anyway, wanting to move away from Jellyfish as soon as possible but:

"Is Rat?"

Rat scowled beneath his visor, feeling the corners of his mouth prick up into a slight snarl.

"Yes," he replied through the comms, "but get out of my way. You start gassing the place and you'll kill me. I'm retreating to the trees, until evac. so until then stay away from me."

He hesitated as a sound rippled the ground minutely, and invaded his airspace. It was soon followed by a second explosion... and Rat guessed that they were his trigger explosives going off. He looked up at Jellyfish, though he wasn't too much shorter himself. It was simply Rat's slim frame, coupled with his lightweight armour, that tricked the onlooker into thinking he was perhaps smaller than he truly was.

Rat took a few steps away from Jellyfish, holding his hand up to indicate he was of no threat to his fellow Beast, when One's order cut through his comms. He felt his tongue retreat in his mouth, a physical indication he was withholding his own irritated mutterings, but it would not have mattered if Rat had switched his comms off again or not - One's orders always got through. Always.

"Damn," he said, turning his body to Jellyfish again. "Looks like I'm staying with you, for better or for worse."

Even if it was true, even if he was staying with a potential threat to him, should Jellyfish start his usual routine of chemicals, Rat wasn't going to wait. If Jellyfish remained passive, Rat could remain relaxed. It was as simple as that. After that final comment, he switched his comms off, turning to where the Abrams was dragging itself over the terrain. To Rat, it seemed like overkill, a declaration where there only needed to be a warning. Though maybe it was because of a difference in Tiger's personality to his own...

But everything was authorised by One. And that made Rat doubt his mysterious leader. Rat had been so sure that One thought as he did - carefully, but naturally, as if a solution was visible immediately after a problem was put forward - but was he? There was a motto that Rat found himself living by, despite his opinion on mottos as a whole. Silly things made up to help people 'better' themselves, nothing better than horoscopes or the light side of religion.

However, this motto was useful to Rat, and he was sure One followed it too. "Never play an ace when a two will do." Yet here One was, happy with Tiger pulling a tank into gear? As he rallied, Jellyfish nearby and Foxx standing casually by the Abrams already, he found his respect for One was dimming very slightly. If this tank was authorised by him, then curse him. If it was simply Tiger doing as she pleased, then scold One for letting her have this much control.

Rat stood near Foxx and Jellyfish, though was still in his isolated bubble of silence in his helmet. Only One could get through the off setting. If Jellyfish or Foxx spoke to him, he didn't need to hear it - speak if you have something to say, not because you have to say something.

MoxxyMoxx Mr_DC HarleyQuip
(Sorry for the late reply, I just did 9 hours in Hell-- I mean at work. Also, I'm just feeling out Rat's personality, so apologies if he's a little rough to everyone else...)

 

[0stinato]

"Agents Rat and Jellyfish, rally on Agent Tiger. Your transportation will be here soon. Troopers are taking over from here."

Who were all the Agents? Rat, Jellyfish, Tiger? Wolf, Mantis, Foxx, Bear? Panda, Gazelle, Phoenix? Amongst others? Who were they? XYlina knew their Beast names, but nothing more than that. Nothing differentiated them from each other in her mind, because she didn't know them. She'd served six months as a lowly trooper, and never had been close enough to any Beast to know them.

Their tactics, stratagems, methods, none were apparent to her, and all the stories - horror or otherwise - that she'd heard had all become clumped together in her memory. She had no idea if it was Wolf who'd slain perhaps hundreds in a fit of anger, or if it was Bear. She had no idea if it was Tiger who was the more deviant agent, or whether it was another one. The other troopers, especially the more experienced ones, had their own little stories. XYlina had nothing to offer. Nothing yet.

With her hands, sitting quietly and still between her white fingertips, was the standard-issue assault rifle. Nothing amazing or spectacular, just the bare minimum that her, as well as the perhaps hundreds or thousands of other troopers had. Her armour was an unimpressive but smart-looking grey, but the shoulders were too big for her.

Why were the shoulders too big for her? They had her measurements, so why wasn't the armour fitting properly? As she stepped onto the dirt, XYlina shifted her shoulderblades in her armour, tilting her head uncomfortably as she fell into step with the other troopers, marching and marching towards a yellowish fog.

Chemicals, probably like mustard gas but thirteen times more deadly. At least thirteen times. XYlina's breath stifled in her helmet, and she wondered if the breathing filter would save her life. How long did the filter last? She had no spares. How long would she be out here? Would the wind, sweeping very slightly from behind her, blow the chemicals away?

She felt her molars clench together and kept her eyes on the trooper in front of her. She had steps to take, and couldn't afford to trip, stumble or get trodden on. This was a battlefield and, even though the Beasts had been on the field prior to their arrival, XYlina doubted the enemy would be completely dead. Would the enemy have filters too? To breathe?

Her eyes fell on the landscape as the regiment split up, she following left with those in her section. She fell into cover, clenched her molars tighter, raised the short barrel of the rifle over the top of the bank, and fired with the rest of them.

 

[Dak]

James "Bear" Bearstine​

Bear pulled the trigger and red spray covered his face. He wiped off the blood from his face and stood up. "I'll hold you to that..." Bear said as he ran out after Mantis. He put his helmet back on and slung his rifle on his back. "Hey Mantis... I wanna talk to you about something...." He caught up to her and kept pace with her. "Now as I understand it, you're one of the top three.... I've been with the program for 11 years... worked many ops and done a lot for this program..."

He watched as the troopers rushed passed them into the compound. "I have a family back home. When I signed up my contract was for 12 years or until I was killed... I'm gonna need another contract..." He watched as in a matter of moments the whole battlefield changed. It went from non-stop action to a more relaxed feel. Within minutes they passed to the other side of the battlefield. They weren't that far from the transport.

Mr_DC (Appologies. I'm having a brain fart...)

 

[Mr_DC]

Dak 0stinato HarleyQuip MoxxyMoxx
"What, you got killed?" Mantis laughed, nudging Bear with her elbow. "Been eleven years now, huh? Time flies by." She shrugged, hands on her back, giving nods to passing troopers. Where were her troopers? They weren't that active in the middle of the battle. Only in the opening. Rushing into enemy trenches to cut them down before they figure out what the hell. They were good that fight. No fatalities - as expected - but also no injuries. Perfect performance. Would have ended bloody if One didn't order them back. Difficult to be the fast moving element in the open while everyone else is still.

"Just head to One's office when we get back home." Mantis shrugged, approaching the tank and a group of soldiers.
"How are we?" She spread her arms as she approached the group of Agents. "Great work we did here, huh? Not good work but it was done well." She laughed, placing her arms on her hips.

Her arms slacked down her side as she stared at Wolf's back in the distance. With a furious growl, Mantis grabbed a rock and flung it at Wolf. "Hey, bitch!" She shouted, the rock hitting right at the back of Wolf's head. A perfect strike, as always.
"The fuck?!" Wolf roared, turning around, her rifle tight in her hands. Her finger hovering above the trigger.
"You shot me!" Mantis clenched her fists, making strides towards Wolf who seemed content staying where she was.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Wolf spat back. "I saw your buddy Bear shoot in your direction while you were running off." She shrugged but Mantis hardly slowed down on her charge towards the red armored Beast.