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Post by Lunapocalypse on Nov 20, 2008 0:18:26 GMT -5
The most popular station in all of Raccoon City, favoured over most others anyway. Currently the DJ's Linda and Mike are staying holed up in there in order to continue broadcasting music and news all over Raccoon City and into Stoneville and over the Arklay Mountains. A number of survivors who believe in their cause are helping out by defending the building from any zombies that approach. Reception has been a little bad lately, if you care to know why then by all means head inside and ask, help out too if you want, otherwise this place is just a dead end unless you wish to aid in defending the building.
PMC-D story: The station appears abandoned yet a human hostile presence is in the immediate area.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 21, 2009 10:37:28 GMT -5
<Aya enters from the Transport Hub, The Streets.>
The tension was building up again for Aya leading her unit into their third combat scenario, only tackling this one against human hostiles and under stealth situations. She'd done her best to explain earlier how she wanted to approach their method of engaging, going over it again in her head just to make sure it was sound.
Aya approached an intersection in the road, turning right meant running into the untility vehicle the two men had been driving. She deviated from the road, stopping at a gate which lead into the walled off front yards of the outskirts residence. Each yard she moved through she stopped at the gate to find out how much further they were from their marker, which was the utility vehicle. Aya signalled to rally around her, waiting for each member to take their spot in the shadows out of the street lights glare.
Aya pointed to Claypoole and Tyson before pointing at the gas station, she did her best to indicate that she wanted them to take the attention of the human presence while everyone else flanked the Radio Station, opening fire on her signal; then gestured for them to move up on the gas station and take positions.
Aya then pointed to Emily, Kyle and Lance and then pointed at the Radio Station up on the hill. She put out her finger as the station and then gesturing that they were going to move around and approach from a safer location.
Rounding it all up, Aya held out her thumb to make sure everyone understood her requests, looking each mercenary in the eye. Bullets would be flying on this one.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 21, 2009 12:15:53 GMT -5
OOC: Sorry, gtg, no time to post for emily. I'll post for her later
Claypoole acknowledged Aya's orders and started moving, Tyson following. They were still a good distance away, far enough for them to think.
Alright. So we got two options tyse. We could shoot our way into the gas station and then whole up inside, forcing them to fight us on our terms there...
or we could just blow the whole place s**t high using the gas there, get their attention that way, and get a less... volatile defensive position.
Or we could lure em in, then blow up the gas station with them in there.
I like the "Blow it up" options.
Claypoole didn't doubt that Tyson knew he liked the idea of blowing up the gas station. The two continued to move forward carefully, professional, stealthily, and safely. They used quiet voices, and kept their distance as they moved down the street towards the gas station.
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Post by Lance Bishop on Feb 22, 2009 21:21:10 GMT -5
Bishop nodded to Aya, confirming that he understood her command. The sniper would be better suited finding a vantage point and providing perimeter fire support and observation for the team, but he wasn't sure exactly where the hostile forces were.
Lance racked the M21 and flipped the safety off. The lens of his mounted daytime scope reflected the image of Lance's face. He glanced at it then returned his attention to the radio station. The former Special Forces operator began to assess the terrain and his surroundings. If they were to loop around the station and get in to a secure location without detection they'd have to use some serious skill.
Bishop made two quick whistles, trying to get Aya's attention. He then pointed to his scope and then to his eye, attempting to silently inform her that he could provide some sort of fire support or observation post, while at the same time asking her where she specifically wanted him. He shifted in his stance, getting comfortable on his right knee with the M21 held tightly in his grasp. Lance awaited the answer before moving out, wanting to take this carefully.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 23, 2009 6:58:04 GMT -5
Aya peeked out from the gate again to check Claypoole and Tysons position, she swapped the leg to kneel on to get more comfortable checking the houses behind them. Some of the buildings were two stories, but survey or sharpshooting would be directed straight into the head of the presence; threat of being hit increased.
A nod of her head quickly noted that Aya understood Lance's request, moving up a hill made things difficult and having an eye over the area of operations didn't really cross her mind at first. She grumbled while adressing her GPS, the LCD display illuminating her features while casting eary looking shadows up her face at the same time. She adjusted the slide on the screen so that the area showed as Topographical, they were very much in a ditch at the bottom of the valley; the station was three quarters of the way up. Along the south side of the valley were several peaks in the elevation, the thin strips of light blue would be perfect for sharpshooting and survey. One issue...
There would be quite a hike before Lance actually reached any point of vantage.
Aya moved over to Lance and showed him the image with the three best locations to have an eye over the area, which one he would use was up to him as Aya wasn't quite in any mood to work out windage and arc. She signalled uncertainty as he would be quite outside of built up areas, whether or not those areas were occupied was beyond her; Aya insisted that if he came across anything threatening that he was to radio ahead of time and regroup under any circumstances, or at least locate a safer position.
One last check of the GPS, Aya pointed to where Lance and the rest of the group would split up; there Lance would head for the vantage point while her, Emily and Kyle moved to flank the station. She switched off the GPS and pocketed it once the plan was run over and pat Lance once on the shoulder before getting up and maving back through the front yards.
Approaching the intersection once again, Aya checked down both stretches of the street. There was one, blindingly bright street lamp annoying the hell out of her. She went down on her back and shoved fiercly with her right foot, the street lamp shook violently and the light went out at which point Aya started sprinting across the road and down a drive way into a back lot. The light going out would be noted by the people at the radio station, but it was more than likely that it'd be excused as an electricity fault and, after sending someone down to check the area, forget about it all together when no one was located.
Aya hopped the chicken mesh fence onto the cool, soft grass; her footsteps immediately being muffled. She continued moving at a lower posture, moving up the hills shallow incline now.
Once estimated where they were approximately on the steep Aya signalled for Lance to break off and locate the vantage points.
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Post by Mikey on Feb 23, 2009 22:45:53 GMT -5
Tyson glanced sideways to Matthew, listening to his several "plans". They each had a drawback and a plus. He weighed them in his mind and spoke out. "I dunno Matt. She told us to be subtle." He said. Then he got to thinking about it. Subtlety wasnt going to cut it. They needed to put all the heat on them and keep it off their buddies. He qas quite good at that, and at the moment, he was outfitted for a good old fashioned firefight of the lead breed.
"Aw fu*k it. Let's go with three, with a few...creative additions." He said. "I say, you rig the station to blow. When your good to go, I'll pop off a few rounds, get them to come to us, and we run like hell while finding a way to keep them on us. When they get there, blow it and then we get them to keep coming after us. And that...well, thats as good as I got." He said, resting his shotgun on his shoulder.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 23, 2009 23:39:16 GMT -5
Claypoole nodded, and crouched behind a broken down and/or abandoned car. He surveys the gas station with binoculars as he determines whether it is unprotected or not, and then says while still looking through his binoculars.
Alright, we'll go in and rig the station to blow up with some of the explosives we have. Then we fortify our position. Then we draw them in, killing as many of them as we can before falling back after we make our bloody holding action. Then, one man will have to stay behind in a heroic last stand covering me so that I can escape and to make sure the hostiles pour it on into the kill zone of the gas station explosion and make sure they stay there. Unfortunately, this means that one man will have to die. So we'll have to pick amongst the team the person to stay behind to make the plan work.
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Post by Mikey on Feb 24, 2009 0:28:05 GMT -5
Tyson couldnt help but shoot an amazed sideways glance at Matt as he laid out the quote unquote plan. The only thing he could think to counter with, at that moment, was quite simply and to the point a no.
"Heroic last stand my a*s!" He wispered harshly, wispering only so he didnt scream it out and alert everyone to their position. "It's your fu*king idea, why dont you stay? Arnt you supposed to be the captain going down with the metaphorical ship?" He asked, still in a sharp whisper.
"How about this. You rig your charges, make the last stand, blow yourself and them all to hell, and you let me go on back and tell them all how you died a brave man and all that crap. I'm sure Aya will buy you a medal or some sh*t." He said in a more normal tone.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Feb 24, 2009 8:04:22 GMT -5
It all worked out nicely; as her assumptions had gone there was no security setup facing the forest, just a couple of patrols searching the grounds around the Radio Station. They were all sporting small flashlights which they shone in the darker areas lighting the spot up to day, in a matter of seconds being caught in that would equal a funeral. Aya braced herself as she looked down at the grounds counting each patrol, she turned to Emily and Kyle ready to sort out their part in the plan. It was fairly simple, she signalled for them to approach the back docking entrance of the station wasting any patrols they encountered and wait for the sound of gunfire before entering and sweeping each level sequentially removing any hostiles they came across.
Her thumb went up for the second time that night after pointing at herself and the direction she'd be heading in. It was up to each member to pull their weight and do their part now; making something up at the spur of the moment was something to be proud of, especially if it all went off successfully.
Aya sprinted down to the fence line of the radio station sliding onto her backside for a stop and slid out wire cutters from her small belt pouch, gently snipping a small hole in the fence leaving a couple of rungs and bending it open. She crawled through and bent it back as best as possible, this way if one of the patrols sweeped the line with their flashlight they wouldn't notice the hole. Aya twisted a couple of wires together to make sure it held in place.
There was plenty of cover from the crew broadcast vans, parked vehicles and two busses parked in the lot. Aya silently heaved herself over the brick wall separating the back area into the lot letting herself drop several metres and disappearing into the shadow of a bus. Her face contorted as a pungeant and overwhelming smell enveloped her, she'd failed to notice the man who'd left his post for a toilet break; Aya was grateful she'd been careful enough not to break the ambient noise he generated. She slid her Interceptor combat blade from its sheath while approaching and jabbed it diagonally upwards into his head, withdrawing and letting him crumple to the ground; cleaning the blade on his vest afterwards.
There were plenty more patrols in the front lot and it seemed the core of their presence was stationed in the very frontal lobby, they would absolutely swarm down the hill. Aya put her back up against one of the broadcast vans waiting for the patrol to emerge, holding out the blade and stabbing into his chest. She grabbed the top of his AK and wrenched it out of his grip before any nerves pulled the trigger while dragging him behind the van, unloading the mag and discarding the AK. She made her way to the far right hand corner facing away from the station and peered down the hill, sliding the AK mag into one of her empty ammo pouches.
Aya sat tight getting ready to run on instincts and gouge the hostiles from behind, tapping the send button on her radio relaying a burst of static from her frequency to Claypoole and Tyson letting them know that it was all in their time. She checked the remaining rounds in the current 556 magazine, snapping it back in and charging the rifle; huddled, ready to pounce.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 24, 2009 9:06:08 GMT -5
Claypoole shook his head as he lowered the binoculars, waving his hand as if to ward off the bad idea from infecting his brain
No no no, you see, the people who actually come up with plans are never allowed to go down with them, because they're the intellectuals and commanders. Planners are too valuable. So instead they use more disposable manpower that can be replaced with something, like with a Gorilla. Or with a Gorilla that has a chain gun.
They were biding their time for a moment, waiting for a hostile car to pass the front of the gas station, as soon as it was gone they'd move
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Post by Mikey on Feb 24, 2009 10:04:20 GMT -5
"Gorilla my a*s!" Tyson wispered sharply again. He watched the movments of the enemy troops from his vantage point behind Matthew, albeit not in as much detail as through the binoculars. The static from their radios erupted and broke the now silent air. Somehow he knew it was from Aya, telling them to move.
The vehical passed by them without so much as a second glance, and Tyson went from joking to serious in no time flat. "All right, you go plant your charges and get clear. I'll draw some attention, bait them in, and I'll signal you. As soon as I do, you blow that sh*t. Sound good?" He asked, but didnt wait for a response as he took one last look to see if the coast was clear and ran across the street. He took cover behind a gas pump, not planning on starting his distraction there but only to peek out and look for the nearest enemy. He didnt need cover from enemy fire, per se. He was wearing enough steel plating and kevlar to stop a hundred rounds, and he doubted they would land that many shots as inaccurate as AK-47's were.
Leaning his shotgun against the pump, he grabbed his AR 15 from his back and peered through the scope. He had, he knew for a fact, three rounds left after switching to single fire and policing his shots on the truck. Three 6.5 Grendel rounds were plenty for three kills, especially against humans. And one without his surpressor on would give them an exact location of their assailant.
Unscrewing the cylinder from the end of the barrel, he sliped it into its pouch and took aim through his x3 magnification ACOG scope. It wasnt the kind of close up shot he would have got if he were using a sniper scope, but it gave him a good enough sight on the targets to get a shot or two off. He got a good bead on a target, and squeezed the trigger. The loud gunshot erupted and sounded out for everyone in the area to hear. Weather they were undead, alive but hostile, or alive and friendly, they heard it. And one poor bas*ard got to feel it as the round tore into his chest and played hell with several vital organs.
He could see the men start to panic, looking around for the shooter. He let them know what direction he was coming from with another shot to another man's chest. They started to lay down blind cover fire in his direction. He knew for a fact that the rounds didnt stand a chance of hitting him, and fired off his last round. It killed yet one more man, and as if they knew the shooter was now out of ammo, they started to close in.
Tyson slung his AR-15 back on his back and picked up his shotgun, walking out into the open to let the men see him. There was no point in getting them here if Matt didnt have the time to set his charges.
When both forces came into sufficient distance of each other, both started shooting. The side with more casualties to be had were having them while Tyson mearly felt the very dull thud or 7.62 rounds against his torso plate and underlying kevlar.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 25, 2009 9:11:56 GMT -5
Claypoole snarked sarcastically and mockingly
Give a warning first next time "King Kong".
He was mostly sarcastic about calling Tyson "King Kong", which linked with his Gorilla comment. Tyson hadn't waited long enough for reply, meaning he had no real guarantee Claypoole could do what he'd be expected to do. Claypoole though, loyally sprinted after Tyson trying to keep up with him. When Tyson kneeled at one of the gas tanks, Claypoole kept moving past him into the building pulling his P.D.A out to figure out where they were and get blueprints of the gas station. The gunfight had by the time Claypoole had to start improvising. He kept snarking
Oh f**king sure, I can do this. I'll slap on a pipe bomb onto 4 miracolously critical points in the structure and wave my magic wand over them, then run away and push the gas pedal in this RC toy car remote to detonate.
Claypoole was just being grumpy for the sake of comedy, and his role of as the Joker amongst the team. Claypoole went down to the basement of the old service gas station and tossed a pipe bomb, betting that he wouldn't hit gas yet, and started blasting his way through the wall to get to an exposed pipe leading from the surface, down to near the basement and to the gas stations tanks. He used another pipe bomb and then he was there. He was ready to go. He then started bashing his way to puncture the gas pipe, and then set molotov cocktails in place, replacing their short fuses with extra long cords. He drenched the cords in the flow of leaking gasoline and then got to the bottom of the stairs with the cord, whispering into his mike as if he spoke too loudly the Molotovs would explode prematurely
Its going to have to be a verbal signal, Ty.
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Post by Mikey on Feb 26, 2009 3:01:49 GMT -5
"Right." Tyson said into his mic as loud as he dared. His 11 shells had gone quite a way, killing ot incapacitating more than that ammount. As he landed on his last shell, he started to step back. The other men, having noticed how heavily armored he was and how their weapons didnt seem to be doing much, had taken cover behind what they could and fired blindly at him. They were hitting him even less than they had at their maximum distance.
He fired off his last shell, hitting a man square in the chest who had decided that a bush was adequet cover from buckshot, and held the shotgun by the pump in his right hand while he pulled his desert eagle free. He fired his shots few and far between, missing his targets by more than a foot. He wanted them to chase him now, but not so quickly that they could catch him and get close enough for a melee assault. Turning to run after five rounds, he hung the pistol behind him and continued to fire.
"Matt, blow it!" He yelled as he got to the door and too partial cover. He knew Matthew hadnt left the building, mainly for the fact that the only means he had to blow it up had no detonator. He waited in the doorway of the general shop connected to the gas station, silently hoping Claypoole hadnt chosen this time to overcome and adapt.
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Post by thegunny on Feb 28, 2009 15:42:06 GMT -5
Claypoole lit the long fuse and ran like hell, not looking back for a moment; now was not the time to admire the gasoline of the fuel being consumed in the blick of an eye by the fire. It had been improvised with gaps in patches of the fuse being drenched in gas, so that he had about 4 seconds to run. He ran like f**king hell. He got outside, right as he had a second left to run. Claypoole, to himself, seemed to be in slow motion as he burst through the back door of the gasoline, a hail of bullets wizzing all around him and passing by as the hostile survivors poured in behind him, turning hard right to have the wall block them from shooting at him, at the same time being far enough away from the station that he wouldn't be engulfed in the blast. He had his head down low, his hand on the back of his head, most of his body forward, his hand on his rifles pistol grip helping hold it up while his gunsling helped support the rifle. The gasoline exploded, MASSIVELY. The ground below them exploded, the extent of the gas pipe apparatus beneath them being made apprent by this. Claypoole was sent flying in the air, his back and legs charred and several small fires on them as he soared through the air and then rolled on the ground, stunned. The hostile humans had been obliterated, but right now Matthew Claypoole was completely out of it for a moment. He wasn't dead though, and his entire body wasn't on fire; just a few small patches that wouldn't be too major.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 1, 2009 6:09:43 GMT -5
Tyson had been expecting an explosion. He had been expecting a lot of fire, and quite a bit of force. But he would have been lying if he said that he had been expecting the ground was going to open up and the force to be so great that is seemed like Satan himself was popping up out of the fu*king ground to bring a slice of Hell to Earth. Who would have thought that there would be that much gas left in the underground tanks?
Not him. As evidenced by the fact that now, after not taking enough distance or good enough cover, he was lying on his face and being showered by bits of burning debris and rocks the size of fu*king grapefruits. Not to mention some of the wall he had been hiding behind had collapsed into a pile of bricks and sh*t that luckily didnt bury him totally.
Turning slightly from side to side, he worked enough of the debris loose to stand, and grunted in pain at the tenderness in his right knee. He must have banged it against the concrete when he fell or had something heavy fall on the back of it. He didnt know, but he did know that there was a biting pain in it and it was making him walk with a limp.
Limp established, he made his way over to Claypoole, who was seemingly unconcious with his a*s on fire. Literally. With a quick stomp of his boot, he completed two goals. He both attempted to wake and extinguished the pyromaniac.
"Wake the fu*k up!" He snapped, kicking him again only to spur him back to his feet. "Jesus, did you have to collapse the cealing in Hell AND a city block?!" Tyson yelled, still smarting at the fact that he, and he slightly assumed Claypoole, had no clue as to the power of the explosion. "Come on, we need to get going. If me shooting didnt get all of them on us, that sure as hell did. And I dont think we have another gas station at our disposal." He said, hauling Matthew to his feet by the back of his collar.
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