Realistic or Modern War Dogs IC

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Mission 1:
"White Silk of Thanatos"

Camp Leo
321 klicks from Kabul (Approximately 200 miles)
0700 hours (7:00 a.m.)

Camp Leo was the main base of operations for NATO forces, having been built by Allied forces during the 2000's for joint US and British troops. It held over four hundred thousand troops, making it the largest military base in history. Every nation in NATO had troops there, though most of them were US, English, French, Canadian, and German. Each nation had a sector built for them, each one separated by a sign just above the entrance with the flag of the nation, and it's name in several languages. The sectors each had their own barracks, armory, mess hall, command center, the whole nine yards. Among the national armies were several sectors bought out by PMC companies, each one varying in size and utilities. The largest was the Black Dogs sector, with the anemities of an army with a smaller area. They had military grade vehicles, mainly Humvees, assault jeep's and trucks, and APCs. The Humvees and APCs were armed with M2A1 Browning .50 Heavy Machineguns, while the jeeps and trucks were mounted with various light machine guns. Each squad had their own jeep or assault truck that they used to get around, and itnwas a tradition for it to have the names of the squad and squad members painted on the sides, along with the vehicle's pet name.

Among these jeeps was one with the word "PANIC" painted on the side, proof that it belonged to Panic squad. They were a strong bunchz like the other squads, bejng formed a few months ago after so new recruits came in. The squad leader was Michael "Diver" Whitton," who was up early as usual. He yawned as he opened his laptop, as he had a Skype call from his wife back home. He smiled as he saw that familiar face, the man saying sleepily, "Hey, baby. How are you?" Kat smiled, saying, "I'm okay. You doing alright, Mike?" Diver nodded, saying, "Well, I'm being shot at while sweating my ass off. Other than that, I'm okay." He stretched a bit, Kat laughing as she bounced their daughter, Madeline. The baby smiled, gurgling as she pointed at her father in the screen. Kat smiled, saying, "Yes! That's Daddy! You gonna say hi? You gonna say hi to Daddy, Madeline?" She squealed, Diver smiling as he said, "Hi baby girl. I miss you. You know that?" He sighed, watching his family as he heard a familiar Russian voice say, "Whitton! Get the fuck to the briefing room!" Diver sighed, saying, "I will! And could you not curse? My daughter's listening!" He heard a curse in Russian, sighing as he said to Kat, "I gotta go. Love you." He ended the call, great his gear after he got dressed. He slung his helmet on his belt, adjusting the Black Dogs baseball cap along with his Tacvest. It was grey, with his name on the top of it. On the right breast was his blood type, "A+," as it was required in case of injury. He wore a grey military saeater wiyh a Black Dogs path on the right sleeve, which was rolled up along with the left one. He stepped ijto the briefing room, rubbing his eyes as he waited for ghe others.

(Banner courtesy of koala )​

 

[koala]

Loading file for CYNTHIA WON. . .

Feeling a sense of seniority and duty towards her company, Cynthia Won woke up extra early that morning. At approximately 0500 she was out and about, much to the dismay of her barrack mates, and making her way over to the practice fields after an hour of getting ready and laying around. There were already a few newer members doing some light stretches and preparing for their early jog. Eagle Eye--she really had to learn people's actual names instead of their callsigns-- was also stretching himself out, but not as intensely as the others. With a cheeky grin and somewhat tired expression, the man waved Cynthia over and patted her the back of her form-fitting gray singlet. That promoted the woman to eye everyone over and pity them. While she wore a singlet and standard military cargo pants, they were all clad in full attire with combat gear. Even the backpacks were full to the brim.

"This is Piccolo," Eagle Eye began as he nudged her forwards, forcing her to awkwardly wave at everyone and attempt a lop-side smile. "I'm sure you all recognize her. She's probably one of the top scientists in the company. God forbid her decision on becoming a merc." The dusty blonde shook his head as a hint of sunlight blessed his face. He squinted his eyes and motioned everyone to get into formation, which consisted of five row of four. Cynthia and Eagle Eye, however, made their spots next to the ones on the third row in order to keep watch. "Alright, let's go ladies! We've got four miles to tackle!"

Cynthia let out a small laugh when she heard the wave of groans, some of them already feeling the drag in their bodies. Unlike those few, however, she kept up perfectly fine. In fact, the woman was shouting a few words of encouragement as well as the traditional "Left. Left. Left. Right. Left." ordeal. That was likely due to her extreme fitness, built upon during her childhood until adulthood. Her father was very strict with her physical training and the habit of keeping herself in shape followed her even after she left her home. It may have been tough on her in the past, but she was thankful for the experience since it benefited her greatly during the present day.

From the position of the sun, Cynthia could tell it was nearing 0700. The group was getting tired and there were beads of sweat almost blinding some of them. A few of the men even asked how she wasn't sweating enough to fill a small pool, but she only shrugged and kept going. Sure, she sweated like most people but never enough to look like she was drowning. It was likely due to her genetics but even she didn't know. The only thing she really cared about at the moment was finishing up the last few meters and one of her barrack mates waving her over, Cynthia's equipment in her hand. Curious, the Korean woman signaled Eagle Eye she'd be separating and jogged her way over to the other female.

"What's going on?" Cynthia asked as she grabbed a towel and patted herself dry, instinctively picking up her outfit and equipment afterwards. She was already throwing on a sweater which showed her Black Dogs patch on her right sleeve and the blood type O- on her chest. As she was tucking her pants into her boots, the other woman shrugged and offered a small smirk.

"Oh, the usual. Mother Russia's calling for Panic is all."

Shaking her head, Cynthia adjusted her vest and belt before grabbing her helmet and bumping fists with the female. The girls in her barrack had an ongoing joke about the man. There was something about the way he tended to nag people that made some refer to him as "Mother". No one else knew about the ongoing gag, of course, so their secret smiles and chuckles were often questionable to outsiders.

It wasn't long before the raven-haired woman was outside the briefing room. She stepped in and let out a small sigh of pleasure as cool hair hit her, eyeing the room almost immediately. She saw one of her squadmates dillydallying in the corner, a tired expression in his eyes which she knew was from just recently waking up. "Early but not early enough." Cynthia greeted, the wittiness in her response almost blinding. "How are your girls?" Nodding at the man's response, she made her spot next to him and crossed her arms, legs parted slightly as she found a comfortable standing position.

Location: Camp Leo; 321 klicks from Kabul [approximately 200 miles]

Time: 0700

Mentions: -

Interacting: Rusty of Shackleford

 

[Shadow]

Cross-stitch​

It was early. Much, much earlier than he wanted to be awake, but it was unavoidable. Sleep was long gone. Rohan rolled out of bed and landed on the floor with a soft thump. He padded over to his footlocker and got dressed, then loaded up on gear. His idea of a good way to wake up wasn’t normally a workout, but since he had joined the Black Dogs, he felt more pressure to push his physical limits. So he set off at a run through the wooded path that would hopefully take a few hours so he would get back to camp by sunrise. No one should need him before then.
Gradually, he began to hear more people awake and moving, even deep in the woods. A lone runner here, a squad glimpsed through the trees there. He was pretty warm and tired by the time he got back to the openness of camp, but the day was just starting. He jogged towards the Black Dogs’ sector, backpack bouncing with each step. It was strange to pass the French sector and recognize that that’s normally where he would have belonged. But despite how close he had gotten to some of the guys from his French squad, he was somehow more at home with the Black Dogs. It was probably mostly due to the diversity. Guys and gals from every different country and background fit in at the Black Dogs. He wasn’t looked at weird for the light French lilt in his voice, or for the fact that he spoke English. No one was normal, so everything was normal. It was weird, but it worked.
Just as he was closing in on the barrack he bunked in, their resident angry Russian appeared out of nowhere with his bulky arms crossed. “Briefing room. Now. You’re already late, Bayour, so hustle.” Rohan’s eyes crinkled in a light smile and he saluted. “Yes sir!” The Russian grumbled a curse as Rohan side-stepped him and went inside. He obviously didn’t have time for a shower, so he settled for changing shirts and shedding any unnecessary equipment before heading back out.
When he stepped into the briefing room the AC hit him like a wave and he was instantly grateful for his Black Dogs sweatshirt. His regulatory blood type patch read AB-. He gave a nod of recognition to Diver and Piccolo as he moved into the room and further away from the doorway. Assuming that they were already engaged in small talk, he took a spot by the wall and worked on getting his slightly damp hair in order.​

 

[Human__Ramen]

"Just hold on, you're gonna be fine!"
"Jesus Christ, Tina, I'm not gonna make-"
"You will - for my sake you will!"

The Italian's knees were deep in mud. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead as her eyes frantically scanned the extent of the man's injuries. Her brother's injuries.
The man's foot had been blown off, the one who triggered the explosion now having their blood sprayed over the ones left. Indistinguishable yelling and muffled gunshots filled the background as Valentina tried to wrap bandages around the dismembered limb.
Blood gushed from the blown-off leg onto the mud and Valentina's pants. The bullet sounds were beginning to get closer, but the woman's attention was completely and absolutely geared towards keeping her brother alive.
A quick glance at his face that trailed down to his torso took the Italian out of her trance. He was bleeding from the chest. Valentina hastily finished wrapping the bandages around his leg and moved to put her hands over the wound, attempting to stop the bleeding. Tina took a quick glance over her shoulder.
"Hernandez, help me out here!"
"Can't, princess!" The man called back, looking over the tree log he had taken as cover and pressing down on his weapon's trigger. Valentina cursed under her breath and returned to her brother, only to see more and more blood leak from the wound. She pressed harder, which only made it worse, and before she could realize, she had her elbows burrowed into her own brother's chest.
Valentina sensed something deep inside of him. She grabbed ahold of it and removed it, bloody arms retreating from inside to reveal a grenade. Before her brain could even register the explosive, the thing blew in her hands, ripping her upper body in a wave of heat instantly-

Valentina's eyes shot open. Her heart felt like it was going to rip through her ribcage, but it quickly returned to it's normal pulse. After the realization that it was all a dream, she sighed.
The nightmares were back.
Valentina shifted over to the side of the bed, sitting with her head hung. Tired eyes wandered over to the digital alarm clock next to the bed.
6:28 A.M.
Valentina knew she wasn't going back to sleep - especially not after that experience. But still, she couldn't bring herself to get up either. She simply went back to laying there, trying to keep her mind off of the dream.
Five years. It had been five years since his death - most of which Valentina had spent struggling to sleep. The bags under her eyes showed it.
Valentina could still remember in great detail what happened. Corporal Hardy's body being eviscerated by the landmine's explosion; Theo's foot and hand following suit; the ringing in both Tina's ears; having the air kicked out of her lungs as the shockwave threw her back into the mud; her entire body going numb as she saw her brother bleeding out on the ground... the experience still haunted her, and she could never stay in a quiet place for too long that these memories would creep their way back in.
Tina was pulled out of her trance as Mother Russia barked at her to get her ass to the briefing room. She didn't reply as he left. Tina rolled her eyes over to the clock.
7:03 A.M.
"It's too early to be shouting like that..." Tina whined in her thoughts as she slowly got up from the bed. She noticed some other mercs stirring in their beds and others that were already up, looking just as tired as her. After hesitating for a bit, she got up.
The Italian put on a black shirt, rolling the left sleeve up to her elbow and cargo pants. She reached under her bed, grabbing her boots and the Revamp Mk. III.
For as impressive as the concept was in design and practice, the device itself looked like something lazily put together by the Italian. The EKG was sewn onto a large piece of yellow fabric that wrapped around Valentina's arm. It was kept in place by two leather straps on both ends of the cloth, and a somewhat thick wire that was connected to the EKG hung precariously from the screen. Beside said screen were two small empty vials inserted into a metal component, which, in turn, also had two wires connected to it. After tying the straps to her forearm, she left the barracks and passed by the armory, picking up her Tacvest.
As she made her way to the briefing room, she adjusted the vest on her figure. B- was written under her surname on the left breast. Upon arrival, Valentina was surprised by the cold gush of air that greeted her. Spotting some members from her own squad, Tina made her way over to them, but kept her distance, putting her hands in her pockets and directing her gaze to the ground.​

 

[High5ives]

“Did I tell you to stop!?”

The words echoed in Dimitri’s ears. His nose presses into the dirt, back straight, arms bent just past a ninety degree angle. The Russian was currently in push-up position...

Dimitri didn’t respond to the officer as his arms began to pump, moving his body up and down rhythmically.

“Answer me when I fuckin’ talk to you!” The officer yelled, kicking dust into Dimitri’s face just as he reached the downward position. By the sound of the officer’s accent, he was most certainly and American, probably from somewhere in the south. “Halt in the downward position, stay off the deck!”

Dimitri complied, holding his body just inches from the dirt.

Slowly the American Officer crouched down to see Dimitri’s face. “If I hear about you fightin’ with my boys again, you’re out. I don’t give two shits about who your daddy is. You. Will. Not. Disobey. Am I clear!?” The man snapped into Dimitri’s ear.

“Yes.” Dimitri responded, intentionally refusing to call the man ‘sir’ as you typically would.

“Yes what?!” The American demanded, standing up and placing a boot on Dimitri’s back, putting pressure down on the Russian.

Dimitri clearly hesitated before finally responding. “Yes...sir.” He finally said, prompting the man to take his foot off his back and step away.

“Get the fuck out of my sight, you sack of shit.” The American ordered.

Dimitri wasted no time before sprinting to his feet and jogging back to his barracks. He would most certainly be late.

~-~-~-~-

After being stuck in the morning sun doing PT, Dimitri was already tired. His muscles ached, demanding to sit and rest. However it was tolerable, a minor inconvenience at most. He wasted no time dressing himself. Black pants with a grey high collared shirt, covered by his jacket and the overlapping strap that held his gear. Finishing the ensemble was his rifle.

Rushing from his barracks directly the the briefing room, Dimitri promptly took his place among his squadmates without saying so much as a word.

 

[Midrick]

Pat walked out from behind a truck which took him to the headquarters of the NATO force. It was the sandbox alright, sand everywhere, misery, and wood lice. He heard that some people even got that shit in their pubes, that sounded like hell. He grabbed his gear from out of the transport, he had is Crye combat pants on but that was all except the T-shirt that they had given, it had the company name and insignia on it, it screamed 'hey look at me I'm a badass.' It was a good fit, showed his muscle definition it would have been great for attracting the local women at a bar if it wasn't fucking Afghanistan, he walked into the main area of the camp where the black dogs tent was he heard a radio blasting rock the kasbah, nice. He looked down at the marpat camo on his pants, they had changed it from the digital back to a more natural looking pattern, he liked it. He saw a big man, check that, big angry man, glaring at him. "Why the hell were you late Smith?" Pat curbed the urge to call him ruski, it would be sure to push him off. "Well, seeing as the goat fuckers have gotten themselves anti air, I had to take a truck, and seeing as they also mined the hell out of the highways with IED's we had to take a couple detours." he stated in a flat voice, he walked past the man throwing his bags down in the corner that seemed to be the home for stuff that had been dropped in order to avoid an ass chewing by a CO. He got hit with a cold wall air of as he entered. he crossed his arms in order to protect against the cold "Jesus, I didn't know this place was a fucking meat locker." he said as he stood next to a woman who stood alone, probably one his squadmates, "So what the hell is going on here?" he asked he looked at her patch it read Florenzi.

Human__Ramen Rusty of Shackleford koala

 

[Mowser]

Doug "Reaper" O'Connor

Doug woke up at 03:30 that morning. He rolled out of bed and quietly put his desert BDU pants, a black t-shirt, his combat boots, and finally a ball cap with a patch from his old unit in the marines.

He started his morning with PT. First he did some warm up exercises and stretches. He then did a normal workout of body weight training. Push ups, pull ups, sit ups, etc. He followed up with a 2 mile run at a faster pace than most others. By the time Doug was done with his run it was about 03:45. He then worked out with free weights until 04:30 while listening to his playlist of Metalica, Disturbed, and Korn.

Once Doug finished his morning workout he went to the vehicle bay to look over the squad vehicle. He made sure it was full of fuel and checked the rest of its fluids. He set the tires to the correct pressure and then inspected the under side for damage. Everything checked out so he looked over a couple more things. The last thing he did was re-arm it's weapons. With the vehicle serviced and ready for action he went back to the barracks and showered.

Doug got dressed again and checked the time. 06:00. He gathered his M240 and UTS 15 and took each of them apart and thoroughly cleaned them one at a time. After cleaning them he lubricated and greased the action of each weapon and made sure they operated smoothly and without hang ups. With his weapons clean and ready to go Doug made his way to the briefing tent and waited for everything to get rolling.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Michael "Diver" Whitton

Michael shrugged at the question, saying, "They're fine. They just got the money I sent over. Should be able to pay the rent for the month. It's crazy how expensive our apartment is. Should probably move." Ivan, the Russian man who called them there, nodded when everyone came in, saying, "Welcome. I don't care if you had a good night's sleep. Let's just get to the briefing." He turned on a projector, saying, "Two days ago, a squad kf U.S. Marines went missing in the south district of Baghdad. No radio tranmissions, no witnesses, nothing. They would have sent w search party in, but the Marines are a little caught up with dealing with the recent offensive. You're job is to find them, dead or alive. Your payment will come after. You'll take the truck for this mission, though we can't spare any support for you. Once you're in there, there's no way we can help you. Plus the civvies don't like us very much. Any questions?" Diver was silent, just really tk get this over with.​

 

[Mowser]

Doug "Reaper" O'Connor

Doug listened as the Russian gave the briefing, it was short, simple, and to the point. Go in, find some Marines, and get the hell out. Probably shoot some Jihadis in there somewhere. It wasn't out of the normal line of work so it should be a fairly easy mission. He did have one question though..

"What are the rules of engagement?" Doug asked. "Is this supposed to be one of those hearts and minds missions or is it a get shit done no matter the cost mission?"