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Post by Lunapocalypse on Mar 18, 2010 5:16:06 GMT -5
The Mirage is a small time hotel, big time casino, which has a tropical theme. There is a working volcano outside which is situated on a large man made island. The hotel also has a massive aquarium, which can be seen as you walk through the halls.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Aug 4, 2010 7:10:28 GMT -5
)(Entered from the gun store)(The central casino had literally been turned into a war room. Aya's eyes played tricks on her, seeing mercs pulling on slots when really they were looking in on their own personal screen assessing information being passed from unit to unit. Nobody stopped to salute; you had rank in PMC, but you were mercs, and this was business; every second past meant another grand was dropped into the kitty. The casino owners must be paying well to keep them around. HQ: Briefing "Over here we have the satellite," the Colonel called behind, "We've only got one in orbit, passes over the area every hour so we do have a blindspot in the sky from time to time. Any air units we bring in are just blasted out by EMP. We do know Collateral have a solid defense around their little cubby, breaking through that is like trying to tear iron with your teeth. However..." a single index finger pointed accusingly at one area, "We've got'em beat here, the University of Nevada, and here, the Wynn Country Club. It's a clusterf*ck at the Uni, I don't even think they've got straight command and that's why they're choking. For some reason the Country Club's terrain is in our favor and honest to god if we broke through that we'd be knocking at their backdoor,""Mmm," Aya agreed. That bit of green was like candy, "And if we attacked the club with some force they'd likely have to withdraw from other spots to help back it up. Definitely a vulnerability to work on," she wavered over to the University, "However if we cut through that with a small splinter unit we could probably eat them from the inside out. If you're right that they have no proper command then it'd be like shooting a nail through wet rot wood,"Briefing End Aya turned to Tyson and Matthew, "What do you guys think. Any different opinions?" she asked. "Option 1 is the brute force method. A good way to piledrive this war onto its head quick and mop up the rest,""Option 2 is a little more of a stealthy approach. Maybe even safer in the long run. If they bolster the University soon, though, we may lose that opportunity,"It was probably strange, Aya, a person of military stature would be asking Matthew, a civilian, for his opinion. She knew Tyson would have a well laid plan in his head, already considering variables that other people probably hadn't even thought of. Matt on the other hand was a long time survivor, he dealt with this stuff solo; his experience meant that he'd have his own idea of how he'd deal with it: if he were going it alone. A particular and peculiar type of soldier, and an opinion that counted. In the big picture, Aya imagined the three of them as a spec ops unit, just like Tyson, Claypoole, Jessika and herself back in Tokyo. The type to get the job done. Ironically, Aya hadn't even thought of payment yet. Maybe the adrenaline was good enough.
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Post by Mikey on Aug 4, 2010 8:11:00 GMT -5
Tyson sat at a chair, overlooking the table that had a huge map of the city on it. Computer screens lined the place, giving satellite imaging and data of all sorts, but he only looked at the map. He was used to doing things with a map and a gun. Anything else was a bonus. Troop numbers and capabilities were always nice to know, but he could do without. What more was there going to be? They had guys with magnetic armor and weapons. But then there was the one that had been lightly armored, the one Matt took out… He had to assume that the badass Billy’s were specialists, one of them to ten of the others, that kind of thing. He could only hope he was right, or that there was evidence to prove one way or another. Bad news was still news.
“What kind of numbers are we talking? Ballpark figures. And how many of them are like the ones packing the guns that throw cars like their made of cardboard?” He asked. He finished wiping his hair with the wet towel someone had passed to him, having already changed into the shirt they’d passed off to. He had some blood on his pants, but he didn’t look like he had just gutted someone in the middle of the street anymore. He supposed it was a good idea they had come in through the parking garage.
He leaned forward and put his finger on the map, tracing from the university to the next stronghold building.
“No chain of command, we’re looking at a seven minute window of entry if we go in guns blazing.” He said, allowing for a call to be put in and for a show of force to be moved from the closest area to the one that would be under attack. “Hell, why not both? A diversionary attack to the country club, get their attention away from the university. If I’m diverting my guys to reinforce someplace, that goes backseat to an attack on another weak spot. I leave a skeleton crew to man the place and send the bulk to the effected area.” He said.
“But… That’s a logical plan…” He added. Could they expect these guys to do anything logical? Probably not. Nothing else made sense, why would their troop movements? He was at a loss, even while strategy after strategy came into his head.
“F**k…” He said. “F**k it, we’ll wing it. I’m with option two, sneak in without a sound, save the fireworks for later, just like Saint Mary’s.” He said, looking to Aya. They’d kept perfect silence until the hospital in Operation Rainstorm. “When the s*** hit’s the fan, we need to be the ones holding the shovel.” He said. “I say C4 charges, plant them at anything important to them. Weapon dumps, command posts, port-a-johns, all of it. When we get settled, blow them all at once, come out swinging.” He said. If they got the right targets, it would damn near cripple the entire operation. If they could take out their means of communication, their EMP, the mass of their weapons and ammo, probably quite a few guys while they were at it, it was goodbye to Collateral.
“What kind of s*** are we working with here anyway?” Tyson asked. He himself needed a new rifle, time to configure it as best he could, suit up. An hour from this room to the vehicle, that’s all the time he needed.
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Post by .Merios on Aug 4, 2010 16:39:17 GMT -5
Matthew had changed into a completely new set of clothes, which consisted of a pair of the local PMC fatigues. He normally didn't switch clothing unless it was 100% necessary, but he had to spruce up. He neglected his hair, since it was now bunched up underneath an old ratty de-ranked Army cap. Matthew moved to lean against the table, putting his elbows on the surface and training his eyes on the digital representation of the city map. He took note of the troop movements and the strategic positioning- these men knew what they were doing.
Matthew glanced over at Aya when she turned towards himself and Tyson, "What do you guys think. Any different opinions?" she said, posing a valid question.
"Option 1 is the brute force method. A good way to piledrive this war onto its head quick and mop up the rest,"
"Option 2 is a little more of a stealthy approach. Maybe even safer in the long run. If they bolster the University soon, though, we may lose that opportunity,"
Matthew listened to Tyson retort, speaking his own plan. He liked the guy, and his plan was solid- but it wouldn't work without men who followed orders. When Tyson scrapped his own plan for the second option, Matthew was a bit surprised albeit a little disappointed. When he finished, silenced filled the room, broken only by a few taps on a keyboard in the corner. Matthew pushed away from the table.
"Option two."
He said plainly, looking towards the exit of the room, then down at his side. He felt naked without his Mateba, and the fact that he left it in the Impala made him feel terrible. It was almost as if abandoning a child. He shook that thought from his head and returned to the present.
"Tyson's got a point. Option two seems better in the long run as long as we make a diversion."
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Aug 5, 2010 5:52:39 GMT -5
The Colonel swiped his hand against the table panel, several blue dots popped up, "We've counted about 50 of those big guys running rampant around Vegas, maybe even more in hiding. But we have no intel on the numbers inside their defense. As for Collateral's typical foot soldiers. It's an army, thousands are scattered in the city and as I said, no idea how many are inside their little home base," he scratched his chin, "That's why we aren't gunning to use brute force. They could mow us down in minutes if we aren't strategic enough," He threw his arms wide in exaggeration, "Not to mention god knows what else they might have engineered!" he opened several digital files displaying pictures of the extremists, "They do have more tricks up their sleeves than messing with mass. It's a delicate situation even if we might seem to hold the winning hand,"
"Delicate," Aya smiled while glancing at Tyson, 'Just the sort of thing we're used to,' both him and Matt seemed to agree a diversionary Op was the best course of action, "Alright then Colonel," she turned to The Man, "Let us break through the University-" she put up a hand before he could speak, "Just us three," lowering her verbal blockade, "Give us 12 hours to get in. When it comes to the diversion... you'll know when it happens," she grinned mischeivously, "We don't disappoint when it comes to that area of expertise,"
Holding a finger on the country club, "When it happens it'll happen fast, push everything you have at the Wynn and hold once they're outside the convention centre. Then place stress on the other areas with thick conflict," Aya leaned back out of the glow, "Worst case scenario, we find out what the extremists have packing. If it's anything major... maybe we'll have to consider another strategy if we can't combat it head on," crossing her arms, "The odds of it coming to that is slim, though," a break for silence as Aya pulled out her last piece of logic, "From everything I've analyzed here, Collateral aren't aiming to beat the PMC's. They're trying to hold that position. Something they're trying to hide," Scary thoughts aside.
"Give my friends here access to your armory," the Ivory commander then demanded, "Any equipment we want is ours. Anything that can help us cut through the numbers," looking back down at the map of Las Vegas, "I'll be waiting, you two. It'll be bumpy. I want you both prepared for Impossible,"
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Post by Mikey on Aug 5, 2010 9:32:51 GMT -5
Fifty Billy’s, a thousand mooks, probably more strewn about… “F*** me…” He muttered, looking at the map and hearing the numbers. More and more it sounded like they were making the right choice, taking the quiet way in. And then… They were going to make sure everyone and their dogs were going to come down on them. He didn’t like it. At least, not at first. The more he thought about it, he was liking the idea. He’d probably stepped off the deep end, but he wanted to get some killing done. A lot of it. Just like the old days, watch people drop like flies in a cloud of pesticide. The fact that he enjoyed what he did so much, he’d made peace with that some time ago. He was probably bat s*** crazy by anyone else’s standards, but since when did he give a rats ass about social standards?
He smiled and let out a chuckle when Aya said “delicate” and gave him a knowing look. Delicate… Tokyo, maybe the first half of it. That was about the only part of their history of working together that could be called delicate. The three of them, breaking into a mass of enemy soldiers and fortifications, and they were going to make something go boom. God, he loved it.
“Just like old times…” He said again with a smile. Nostalgia filled him, good times. Now if only they had Claypoole. He was an artist with a detonator, twice as crazy as all of them combined. The guy who had thought it a good idea to use an old fashioned fuse to blow up a gas station, not accounting for the gas soaking into the fuse and making it burn three times its normal rate. He’d done it on Op. Necropolis, his hair didn’t grow all the way back till Tokyo.
“Hate so see what their hiding, given what their putting out in the open. But we’ll blow it up all the same.” He said. He perked up almost instantly, having been slouching in the chair a bit, when Aya said they were to have full access to the armory. Every single solitary object of destruction they were packing was now his for the taking… He could almost feel a tear of joy rolling down his cheek.
“Prepared for impossible.” He said, a bit of a contradiction. If it was impossible, how could one prepare for it? He didn’t know what else was impossible in this world, so he started going down a list in his mind. Might as well grab anything he could carry.
“Forty five minutes, tops.” He said, standing up in his chair and walking to the door. No one said anything, so he assumed he wasn’t needed anymore. Most of the strategy he had was out the window. Either no way to make it work or no way in hell it would go through, IE carpet bomb all of the occupied buildings and mop up with Mk. 19’s and M134’s. Maybe they’d get to do that later.
Stopping to ask someone where the armory was hidden, and then someone else to find a bathroom and borrow a shaver from, he was directed to a conference room with two armed men standing in front of it. Before that, he had slipped into a bathroom with the shaver and took a look at himself. Yeesh… His hair stuck up at all angles, his beard was way too bushy… What a disgrace. It took him less than two minutes to shave it all off, ending up with the stubble that made it look like he hadn’t shaved for a few days, as opposed to a few months. That was better.
Apparently the guards at the armory were aware that some people would be coming, one stepped to the side while the other unlocked the door. He walked in and was greeted with the sight of weapon cases lining the walls, marked with their contents and stacked on each other, the top ones open to reveal stacks of various weapons, as well as explosives, body armor, weapon accessories. The works, and more. Wooden fold up tables were in the middle of the room, serving as work benches for the four men and women inside to work on them. Tyson stayed quiet, watching the bustle as he walked around and scanned the boxes.
“Did they bring in an unmarked black case, reinforced steel, weighed about a two hundred pounds?” He asked.
“Ya, its over there.” A girl with a long red ponytail said, pointing to the case that had been set off to the side. They hadn’t known what it was, why they were getting it. But the men who brought him here probably figured he’d be here to pick it up.
Tyson walked over to it, hefted it by the handle and brought it over to a table. He set it in and the table bucked slightly, but held under the weight. He swung it open and looked inside at his armor, his first sidearm, his destroyed rifle… He sighed and picked it up, a few of the people stopping their work to look at the rifle.
“That is the weirdest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” A man with graying hair said. Tyson looked over.
“Custom job, thirty grand went into this thing.” He said. “Used it for damn near twenty years, and those f**kers go and destroy it…” He said. He set it on the table and removed the upper receiver from the lower, taking a look at them both. Besides the visible damage to the upper receiver, the innards were pretty much destroyed. Smashed, bent, buckled, separated… He doubted it could be repaired, and even if it could be, it would take a lot longer than their timeframe allowed. In the end, it’d be easier and cheaper to get the exact same setup a second time.
“Toss that, would you?” He said to the man, who had come over to look at the rifle, like the weapon was a piece of trash. Nothing could be salvaged. The shield had been sheared off, even the Masterkey was broken.
“Ya, sure…” The man said, walking off with it and still looking at it. Tyson checked out the lower receiver. The pistol grip was broken off, but the insides seemed to be intact. Made sense, less moving pieces to be jarred around by the force of the magnetic waves given off the those weapons. Tyson detached the pistol grip and set it at the edge of the table.
“You guys have AR parts?” He asked.
“Just fifty seven’s.” The woman with the ponytail said. Tyson gave her a quizzical look. She walked to a crate and got out an AR 15 type weapon, that fed from a P90 magazine that ran the top of the grip.
“You say mine was weird…” He muttered, picking it up and holding it. He pointed it at a wall for a moment. Adjusting the stock to his size and manner of grip, he tried it again. It was… Light. Very light. It felt… good. He checked the fire selector and saw that it only had three positions. He was getting an idea. He set it on the table next to what was left of his own rifle and took the upper off the weapon, as well as the pistol grip. He attached them both to his own lower receiver and tried out the aim again. Perfect. He set it down and ejected the magazine. He set it back in, and then did it again. It was actually easy. It was still a one handed job, even if you couldn’t just let it drop and grab a new one, but it would only tack on a second or two to his reload time. “Where do the casings come out?” He asked, realizing the weapon had no ejection port.
“Out the bottom, same as the P90.” She said, still standing near him.
“I’ll be damned…” He said. “Think you could fetch me something?” He asked.
“Sure, its my job.” She said.
“Get me an EOTech and a Surefire grip, would ya please?” He asked.
“No problem.” She said.
“And go ahead and wheel that who crate of rounds this way.” He said. She gave him a look, not ‘you don’t expect me to do that do you?’. More like ‘the whole f**king crate?!’ “Ya, the whole f**king crate.” He said, answering what he imagined she was asking herself.
“You’re the boss…” She said, dismayed. He set the rifle down and picked up the Desert Eagle. Again, they looked at him. “What?” He asked.
“…Nothing.” The girl said, coming back with a handcart. On it was a crate of the P90 magazines.
“Thanks.” He said, setting the pistol down and taking the Glock from his waistband. They’d never bothered to check him, and the pistol was quite small compared to his frame. Easy to miss in a casual glance when his shirt draped over it. He set it down as well and looked around inside the case. Besides the armor, he had magazines for the two pistols, no extra magazines for the old feed system on his rifle. Seemed like things had been building up for this…
When everything that was related to weaponry was laid out on the table, Tyson took out the chest piece for his armor. The woman looked at it and then at him, and then back. She watched as he slid it on over his head and then adjusted the buckles to make it a snug fit.
“What the hell is that thing?” She asked.
“It’s my church clothes.” He said with a smirk. She let out a laugh and looked at him, waiting for an honest answer. “It’s what makes me different from everyone else. Dragon Skin for the bottom layer, about as thick as your standard top level body armor. The plates are made of titanium, about an inch thick. Then you got the pockets for everything built into the metal. One stop shop for a little violence and mayhem.” He explained. She just looked at it.
He took the bottom half out, slipping it on like a pair of pants. It locked into place with buckles at the waist, synched in place with straps, and had a pair of what looked like boots. They fit over his normal combat boots and snapped into place with more buckles. “The bottom half, same as the top. The boots, they slip on over my normal ones, got an inch of steel under the feet and a layer of rubber for traction.” He said, explaining why he was three inches taller, an even seven feet tall. “Entire thing locks together, one big piece.”
“Wow…” She said, the only one who spoke as the others looked at him from across the room. He ignored it, setting his own crate on the ground and picking up the crate of ammo. He took one of the magazines and looked it over before he slipped it into the weapon. The rounds had caught his eyes, brass with a black tip. He knew what that meant. Armor piercing, and from what he knew of the 5.7 round, probably pierce body armor like paper. Perfect. For safety reasons, they kept the weapons loaded with empty magazines. He then grabbed a few of them and started to slide them into the slots that were made for the hundred round C drums used by his old weapon. He got to looking at the single magazine for a moment and slid another in front of it. It fit quite nicely. He slid another beside them, and it too fit. He slid one more in, and was amazed to find that all four magazines stayed in the slots snugly, but loose enough to pull out and reload. More and more he was liking this. He filled the four total pockets he had with the magazines, sixteen magazines. Not bad. He then slipped the magazines for his Desert Eagle and Glock into their slots. His knife went into its sheath, and he looked around.
“Bring me some C4.” He said, thinking. “Forty pounds.” Her eyes went wide. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on actually needing it all.” He told her. He could tell it didn’t make her feel any better. She went to get it as he mounted the sights and the handle on the new rifle. Easy as pie. “You know how to make those?” He asked her as she brought the explosives he wanted. She nodded. “Good. Make me some five pound charges, get me a detonator that can link to all of them.” He said. She went to work. “You, you guys carry grenades?” He asked. Another nod. “Bring a selection.” He said. A few more boxes were brought over. He began looking, taking three smoke, three flash, three incendiary, and three fragmentation. He hung them off anywhere he could by the spoons, and loaded the now finished charges into a duffle bag. He loaded four more of each grenade into the bag as well for Aya and Matt. And more magazines for the rifle and his Glock, just in case. Zipping it up, Tyson looked into the box for the last piece. He slung the rifle, he put the duffle bag on the other shoulder, and he picked up the mask. The piece of metal that had saved his life more than once, only showed the years on the right side, the dents and scratches and marks matching up with the scar on his face. He didn’t put it on yet, held it in his hand and started to walk toward the door.
“Wish us luck.” He said. He heard a call of ‘good luck’ and grinned as he walked out. He looked at a clock as he left. Thirty nine minutes, that’s how long it had been since he’d left the briefing room. If he was a smoker he’d be looking for nearest fire exit. Instead, he was on the way to meet Aya and show all these new goodies.
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Post by .Merios on Aug 5, 2010 12:59:53 GMT -5
Matthew watched from his relaxed position as Tyson left. For the most part, there was silence. The plan had already been made, and it seemed they already had the permission from those running it do run their own side-op. All that was left was to gear up and head out. He wasn't quite ready yet, though.
"I'm going in quiet, i'll break away from you two and scout ahead when we're.... Here," he said, syncing up his finger touching the screen at the mirage entrance way and tracing a route through a maintenance room and down a hallway that lead back around where they would meet up, "Secondary power is there. Once we tag the main objectives, we'll need to cut power and get the hell out of dodge.. That's the only real way we'll be able to get out of there alive before the fireworks start."
Matthew looked up at the larger man near the display, then to Aya. He didn't really have much of a say in what was going down, but he knew what he was going to do. He wasn't as seasoned as the other men in the area, but he was trained by the best in captivity for this sort of Op.
"You coming to the Armory, doll?"
He continued his stride towards the door, one of the soldiers opening it for him. He stepped out, taking in a long breath and then exhaling, glad to have left that room full of tension. He started off down the hall but not quite anywhere near the armory. He stopped when the hallway forked and opened up into the main lobby- soldiers pulling slots and countless bodies hovering over the house tables. He smirked, but then quickly shook it off. Now's not the time for gambling...
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Aug 6, 2010 1:38:57 GMT -5
"I've got all I need," Aya pinched the barrel of her sniper behind her and bounced it twice, the stock making the comment obvious. Then Matt left the room. The Colonel went to stand beside Aya, "You've got quite the ragtag team commander," he mused, "A Behemoth. A civilian. Not to mention a lot of people would consider a female lead to be... inconsistent. Not your usual group of specialists,""The bind doesn't run on talent. We work on trust and communication, that's what I prefer in my unit," clenching her fist, "It lets you steamroll over any obstacle," she widened the area Matthew had been talking about, "Although I do like to go out of my way to find unique soldiers," a button press threw up the line he'd drawn. "He has a point," Clausland nodded at what Aya observed, "If you knock out power it should make it easier for us to push through any barriers they have prepared. I can issue all my squads with nightvision too for when they get into the convention centre,""I know," her pitch was high, as if she didn't already get that part, "I'm just making sure there aren't any ulterior problems which might pop up after we do that," she highlighted several adjacent buildings, "If they're housing anything big it'll probably be in these buildings here near the Venetian Resort. I doubt it'd be along the lines of armor, but they may have some large ordinance in there. Gustavs. SMAWs if they're worried anyone might drive LAV's through their defense,""Actually now that you mention it we have been coming under RPG fire at the Wynn, perhaps hitting that spot with some C4 would help," the Colonel nodded. Aya nodded too, exactly her idea; Tyson would be happy knowing they will be leveling a building, "At the same time it'd be naive to assume the centre of their force is at the convention centre, with a defense that wide Collateral need at least another couple locations to house backup. I suggest here," she pointed at a group of stadiums for a multitude of sports, "And here," what looked like another resort circled by road, "Four major buildings all facing in the direction of the defense grid, perfect for pushing off an onslaught,""If they have a backup centre so close to the University then why haven't they brought extra forces in there yet?""Exactly why we want to hit the Uni now and break in under the cover of damaged rank," Aya crossed her arms, "We might end up in there just as the extremists bring in extra. If that's the case, we adapt," shrugging, "Simple."Straightening is suit as the satellite updated again, "The red circle is a rough representation of where Collateral's defense grid is. The secondary line is our forces pushing on the Wynn Country Club,""The A is us at the Mirage,""Right over the boulevard at B is the Venetian Resort where extremists pour out of,""C is the Sands Convention Center where we're convinced the bulk of the extremists sit,""D represents the conflict at the University. As you can see, knock that out and we'd be taking a big bite from their defense grid,""Areas traced in blue are the spots you think backup could be hiding at,""The two buildings highlighted in orange are spots you think the extremists are hiding extra tech,""You'll mobilize in a small force so we don't give Collateral any ideas that we're getting smart; they have eyes all over the city so they'll know when we're shifting units to areas," the Colonel drew a line down the map, "You'll exit the back of the Mirage and we'll carry you down the Vegas Freeway. The convoy'll exit the freeway on Tropicana Avenue and take you right down to the University. You'll cross through the defense grid briefly but it shouldn't be too bumpy, we'll bypass if the firefight is too thick but in terms of time management it's a necessary route,""Awesome," Aya was satisfied, "If we pan this out right Colonel, you'll have headed perhaps one of the shortest wars in history," stepping away from the light table. Tyson reentered the makeshift command centre. If anything made 'preparing for the impossible' seem probable, it sure as sh*t was his fatigues and loadout. Intimidation followed him in through the door. "Welcome back big guy," one of the mercs in the crowd who'd turned called 'understatement' before continuing his duty, "Las Vegas Sat has been updated, get your bearings before we move out,"Grenades were on offer before Aya could think of anything else, 'They'd sure as hell be handy for our assault. 'Specially if we get caught in headlights,' whatever pouches were free she used to occupy with the grenades, anything left over were hooked onto her custom harness. boxes of munitions being carried through caught her attention, while the word 'grenade' was still fresh in her mind, "Hold it!" the two mercs froze up. turning towards her. Aya approached the munitions boxes, disconnecting the lip of a smaller crate and pushing it open, "Hello," she cited deviousness at the Concussion grenades, 'MK3A2' in white painted on the cylinders. She scooped up three of the small grenades, replacing them with her frags and slapping the lid shut, "Carry on,"
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Post by .Merios on Aug 6, 2010 22:20:55 GMT -5
The door to the armory swung open and Matthew stepped in casually, his eyes scanning the massive room. There were quite a few soldiers strewn out and about the room, checking various objects and talking to each other. He didn't stand out much- he was wearing PMC-issued fatigues, so he was more incognito than he wanted at the moment. He moved his right hand to his lips and positioned his index and pinky finger on either side of his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. Every face in the room turned to him quickly.
"First off, my name's Matthew and I'll be needing some supplies. Who here knows who the quartermaster is?"
A woman in a blond ponytail stepped up, wearing basic army fatigues and sporting a long scar down the right side of her face. She had the kind of look about her, he felt almost like she would have been attractive before the accident.
"Yeah, I know all about the mission. What'll ya need?"
Matthew smirked, walking past her a few steps and taking in the sights of the room.
"I'll need lightweight non-Newtonian body armor. Ya got that?"
She rose an eyebrow.
"You know.. Kevlar treated with a colloidal silica nano-composite?"
She rested her eyes on his, giving him a blank stare.
"We... We've got lightweight Dragon Skin..?"
Matthew sighed and nodded, putting a hand to his head as he turned around and walked further into the room, stopping near a table. He noticed a few familiar items lying in front of him- a Mateba Autorevolver, a sawn-off coach shotgun and a wooden box which was opened and had the two Cougar .40's in it. He smirked, noticing someone had already attached the two compensators and polished up the black ivory on the grips and polished up the steel on the outside. The smirk was still curled on his lips when he saw that the green laser sight housing was attached to the under-barrel of the pistols, making them look more like SOCOM than a Stoeger.
His eyes traced the table to the right further more, noticing an MP5 with an ACOG scope and a silencer placed near the two pistols. He lifted it up and shouldered it, flipping out the stock and locking it in place, lifting up the sights and peering down the ACOG scope, his right hand fluttering up to the scope and sliding down a small lever, the scope switched to what looked like black and white thermal imaging and then night vision, which promptly made him jerk his head back and rub his right eye with his left hand. He folded the stock back in and turned around just as the quartermaster walked back over with a metal case. He set it on the table and opened it up.
"Full body suit, only the kneecaps, elbows, neck, torso and groin have complete protection, the rest is reinforced leather. It's a suit, so you'll have to step into it when you're putting it on."
Matthew looked it over and reached in, grasping it by the shoulder velcro and lifting it up, pulling it out of the case and holding it in front of him, letting it unfold and drop out to the floor- an entire set of midnight black body armor all synced up into what looked like a Halloween costume- only with more pockets and built-in custom holsters for the weapons on the table. Matthew set the suit back on the table and folded it up, stuffing it back inside the case. He gathered up his weapons and their required silencing equipment as well as their holsters and placed them in what looked like a luggage bag on rollers. He gave a nod to the other soldiers.
"Ammunition and additional equipment will be procured on site.
Matthew gave a nod and extended the grip on the luggage bag, tilting it and pulling it behind him as he walked out of the armory, looking more like he was going on a long flight rather than going to war.
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Post by Mikey on Aug 7, 2010 2:33:06 GMT -5
Tyson walked into the briefing room, waving a hand at someone who welcomed him back. He caught the tail end of Aya and the Colonel talking, walking up to the table. He took a look at the map, easily making sense of all the lines and the markings. He also was able to figure the route they’d be taking, the freeway. Easily the best way to go, loop the hostile areas and drop them off a matter of yards from the entry location. He looked up, having the map memorized, at least the important stuff in the circle. When it came down to it, a map wouldn’t do them much good. Odds were any direct route they tried to take would be blocked at some point. They were going to end up going with the flow, so to speak. He smirked, started to laugh. He saw the looks he was getting, and looked at Aya.
“Go with the Flow.” He said. Far as he knew, that was her last name. Had been at PMCD, anyway. Even he thought of how odd it was for someone in his position to be in such good spirits. Well over a thousand hostiles, sci fi guns and armor, the whole ‘kill everyone because their evil’ mentality. What were they? Three merry little misfits with some gumption and give em’ hell attitudes.
He set his bag on the table and opened it up, showing Aya the grenades. She took a few and then procured some of her own, a variant he hadn’t seen in the armory.
“I also got enough C4 to collapse Mouth Everest.” He said, not quite sure if he was joking or not. Forty pounds of plastic explosive was a big bang. “Divided up into five pound blocks, blasting caps and receivers attached.” He explained before pulling out the detonator, a big block with another radio receiver. “Single trigger will work for all of them. If not, we can set the charges with timers or…” Tyson trailed off a bit. “Manual triggers.” Sure, it was a last resort, the kind of thing you did when you were laying on the ground bleeding from your jugular, but it was an option. If he had to go out, he couldn’t think of a better way to do it.
“Waiting on Matt, are we?” He asked. It wasn’t much more than a few seconds that Matt came through the door.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Aug 7, 2010 7:07:47 GMT -5
"God knows it's the only way to go," Aya chuckled; then she paused, having had little thought of her marital name, 'That's actually a really catchy slogan. An in joke, but still. Might hijack it for later use,' she returned to the box she had requested; one of the shops in the Mirage supplied shoes, something Aya had wanted to replace, "I feel like blowing something up, anything less than that much explosive cash would disappoint me," smiling at the image in her head of 100 dollar bills flittering through the night sky in a huge, orange explosion while slipping off her slashed boots. The black and white Converse were a lot more comfortable and flexible; lacing them up; Aya wouldn't be counting on them for grip, though.
She removed her hoody too. Things would get hot, quick; heat didn't register as a luxury in her book. The concept of carrying the amount of armor that Tyson did almost made her feel sick, "Yup," replying to Ty's question, "No longer it seems," as Matthew returned to the war-sino (War Casino). Aya stood, slipping her radio into her back pocket, "I don't know about anyone else, but I feel like raising some hell. If it's not too much to ask as well, grab me one hundred scalps while we're out there,"
Following a group of mercenaries back down to the parking lot and into a set of four humvees, piling into the second from the rear. A soldier shouted "Rollout!" as the convoy fired up and headed for the exit to the freeway. A blown out entrance, one which wouldn't have been there hours earlier; but it increased the efficiency counter considerably.
As they hit the four lane causeway the forward humvee booted up a little metal for the trip, speakers to the windows for anyone they passed by to hear.
)(At El Universito del la Nevado)(
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Sept 18, 2010 13:22:56 GMT -5
Back at command. A lot less people were in the casino than before, all sound in the building was a low buzz of conversation and heel against tile. It was surprising to see how many mercenaries had turned their backs to their company and the city, either leaving for their own HQ elsewhere or deserting entirely. The people who remained where the honest ones. Little would they realise that the last soldiers in Las Vegas would probably all band together to form a brand new PMC. The pattern of life continues. Aya had been wrapped up in a tweed blanket; there was no real need for it, but she held onto it as more of a comfort than a requirement. Plus it let her sink in with the rest of the civilians all looking for a safe haven. A lot of dead bodies filled the streets; men, women, children. Aya overheard a report that most areas of the city were clear of any Collateral threats and that the war in Paradise was quickly coming to a close. A price had come of it, but a total disaster had been averted. "Take a look at this. Calculations say an explosion of mass that size would have punched a hole in the earth. The crater would have reached the ocean! Then Nevada would have pretty much flooded, and the Grand Canyon would have filled with water. That'd be a sight,"Sitting on a leather bench near a row of slot machines, Aya passed the time listening to everyone around her; details. Thankfully the chopper crew which had located them agreed to a tight lip on discovering them at ground zero, the next in command too. No royal treatment; Aya just wanted a warm meal, that's all. Footsteps approached her, the person she had been waiting on. Aya stood, indicating the importance of the situation, "Will he be alright?" she asked looking the Captain dead in the eyes. "He's stable, and slowly getting better. There's no sign of his status deteriorating. The shock he suffered from seemed to be amplified, more on a sensory level; there's the typical course of electricity..."The Captain held out a piece of plastic, an x-ray of a skull. Several areas had been highlighted. "Then there's the implants which had been effected by the shock, sending it straight to the sensory motors of the brain,"Scanning the x-ray, Aya had caught evidence of this before but decided to feign ignorance, "Implants?" she asked. Of course only the cornea implants had been obvious; she hadn't been aware of the inner ear implants. "Yeah. The lousy state they're in probably helped to scramble his conciousness even more. They're old. I'm talking pre 21st century tech. I haven't seen anything like that in a long time,"Taking one last look at the image before handing it back to the Captain, "Thanks," she said, and the man took his leave to perform other duties. Aya dropped back onto the leather, the desire to curl up and snooze lingering over her head. It had been hours since they returned to the Mirage, the clock eventually hitting midnight. A want for company seemed to override rest though as Aya's mind crossed over Tyson for a moment. Upon arrival to the front entrance of the casino a small gift had been waiting for him, done up and dusted but still maintaining that rusty appearance. "Yep. It's good to go, even better than before. We gave it some bulletproof plating as well for that added edge,"How much of the Ford had been cut off and sewn back on was uncertain, but the PMC engineers were experts and made it seem as if it hadn't hit a wall at 80 miles per hour at all, "How's she looking?" Aya called to Tyson after stepping out of the grand casino entrance. Seemed their transport was all in good nick. The one thing going through both of their heads was most likely an urge to get back on the road and far, far away from this spot of civilization. For Tyson and Aya though, going through what they had in Las Vegas had been its own sort of journey in a way.
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Post by .Merios on Sept 19, 2010 13:32:14 GMT -5
Matthew's eye lids fluttered open, the bright, blurry light enveloping his vision and impeding any sort of detail he could have seen in his environment. He closed his eyes again, finally regaining feeling in his extremities. With a grunt, he opened his eyes and attempted to sit up. His hearing was silenced out- everything was muffled which included the machine to his right beeping furiously once he started moving. A single arm moved to press on his chest, another hand on his shoulder to put him back into bed. He shook his head, continuing to sit up, overpowering the two men attempting to put him back into the bed. He brought his arms up, the two men backed up as his vision cleared a little. He saw his left hand was completely bandaged with a thin white layer and his right hand was almost as he remembered it.
He stretched his right hand fingers out and attempted to make a fist- he didn't have much strength left but he managed to curl his fingers. With a shake of his head, his vision cleared up completely and he looked around the room; Umbrella Corporation had a worse operating room than these PMC's, but from the looks of it, this particular PMC seemed to have taken a page out of Umbrella's operating manual when it came to decorating their operating rooms. A gout of fear rushed to his head as he frantically moved to swing his legs to the side of the table, the gown ruffling as he watched his shoeless feet touch the freezing cold tile. Attempting to stand, he pushed off of the bed which prompted his right foot to buckle as he toppled forward, landing on his right shoulder hard.
His right ear began ringing as one of the doctors rushed over to assist him, checking his body over with some sort of instrument.
"What.. Wh..Where am I? Where's..?"
He noticed this man was from the PMC he was recently fighting back at the Sands. Anger filled his body as he spun around, his right foot arcing upwards and he bent it at the knee, locking his right leg around the man's torso and pivoted his body, rolling until the man was on top of him and quickly brought his arms out and wrapped them around the man's throat, placing the doctor's carotid artery in between his right forarm and bicep and began to squeeze, wrapping his legs around the doctor's torso as the man flailed violently.
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Post by Mikey on Sept 22, 2010 4:15:01 GMT -5
“They f**ked with my cassette tapes.” Tyson yelled out of the open passenger window, sitting at the drivers side with his legs dangling out the side of the cab, rearranging a set of tapes in a shoe box. It’d come with the truck, late 80’s and 70’s music, his kind of music. Most of Megadeth, the Stones, Zeppelin, Metallica, Motorhead, the classics. Modern music, at least as modern as music could be these days. It just sucked, plain and simple.
He slipped the last one into its place, arranged by A-Z of the band name and then the order the albums had come out. He was meticulous about his s***, to say the least.
Sliding off the seat as he slid the box between the center gear shift and the seat, he steadied himself with the door before slamming it and limping to the other side of the truck. On his right leg, the one he had come to find out was a clean break, clad in a brace that looked like a piece of his armor. Metal plates and rods for support and strength, straps to brace the wound, really high end s***.
He looked at Aya and then to a few passing mercenaries in uniform.
“So…” He said, trailing off when he saw someone passing by. “What do they know?” He asked. She’d been talked to more than him, she was pegged the commanding officer of the little band of misfits. He’d gotten his truck and was pretty much left alone. Good thing about being freelance. No paperwork.
“Sure, he was a prick, but finding out I burned their CO alive might not blow over so well.” He said as remembered the event, perhaps sickeningly, with a smile. Were they aware the ones they were shooting at in the hole was the ones they were thinking of as heroes now? Aware that they’d taken losses to these exact heroes? He supposed not, their welcome wouldn’t have been quite so warm.
His mind wandered to what they had seen earlier, Kristian. That meant one thing, he figured. He didn’t bother telling her now. She knew Sincell was up and running, still. Didn’t have to be said, and he had a feeling she would hold only ire for him if he told her he’d been working for the sons a b*tches for months.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Sept 23, 2010 11:12:21 GMT -5
Leaning in through the window while hearing the big man complain, Aya let out a laugh, "I think the collision probably helped out most in that aspect. Just be grateful the shock didn't scramble the magnetic tape," she stepped out as Tyson exited the Ford, limping around it. Aya grimaced at the brace; they would be grounded for a while until his leg healed up. Granted, it wasn't something that would probably hold Ty back on performing duties; it seemed the best excuse to find a spot to rest up a couple of weeks at least.
"Welp," Aya opened to sitrep, rubbing her eye, "There aren't a heck of a lot of people who actually know we were there when it happened, which is handy. Nomad wasn't a very big company to begin with, I'm guessing Clausland wanted it that way to keep under the radar. Most of the mercs in the group are either dead or deserters, and it wasn't too hard to convince next in command that their top brass died valiantly in the field,"
Thumbs tucked in her pockets, rolling her shoulders back for a little more relaxed posture, "Whoever else in Nomad that is corrupt and still alive..." raising her brow to emphasize the possibility, albeit slim, "Are either keeping to themselves, the healthy thing to do now that their boss is dead, or have gone about their merry way with better prospects. After that, anyone else who survived the situation probably don't have a lot to say of what they saw," she shrugged, looking out to the boulevard, "What would they say? A ten foot Tyrant aparated out of thin air? They'd be laughed out of town," she finished, sighing.
"We're clear, as far as we should be concerned. It doesn't feel great writing a nemesis down as a war hero... I feel his demise vindicates that, though," the corner of her mouth curled for a moment, the emotion was quick to pass, it wasn't her style to hold that kind of feeling close. Another thought overode it anyway, "And I lost my f*cking Springfield in there as well," she spat the curse as if the realization had only just slapped her, "Gonna have to find a new primary now," she shook her head, hands on hips. Aya had found her rifle before they left, only it was in several unrepairable pieces. She had raised a glass in its honor after a decade of service.
Breathing deep through her nose and letting an exhale of relief billow out, "Anyway. If you're ready then we'll skedaddle soon. With the state Matt's in I'll get you to have him ride shotgun in the truck, if you don't mind," she turned, "I wouldn't trust him to be able to drive straight in his Impala. I'll just wheel out my bike from the garage..." she started back up to steps, "And Tyson," turning back to get his attention, "You did well man, with everything," continuing up the stairs, "I'll know who to call on next time when I stumble across a god damn WMD,"
A moderate amount of commotion had begun to emenate from inside the casino. Several mercs stood up and hurried off in one direction. Taking particular notice, plus slightly alerted, Aya gradually began to follow the flocking soldiers. They lead her in the direction she had planned to go, but not particularly under the circumstance she would prefer.
Through the glass windows of the money-room-turned-infirmary Aya could see Matthew in a toss up with one of the medics. Another four mercs inside attempted to pry him off while a fifth was perparing to attack with a baton, "Hold it!" Aya barked, her voice resonating for attention as she circled the room and the many onlookers to reach the entrance. They had all stopped the wrestle, resistance remaining from the medic and one other merc.
Stepping inside, the girl quickly approached the slightly delusioned scar face and his victim, "Matthew," speaking his name once as she attempted to pull his grip away from the struggling medic. He chose to be stubborn about it, "Matthew!" she called again, a wave of adrenalin helped to pull his arm away and let the merc get a breath of air. From there she wrenched his grip off entirely with the help of the other mercs, picking him up to his feet and pushing him back over to the gurney.
"Calm down, it's me!" taking a hold under his chin to control his vision, "It's Aya. Relax," he still seemed disoriented over something, analysing the movement of his eyes, 'Implants...' she would regret giving him the concussion, but if it helped to snap him back to his senses, or at least one of them. Aya brought her arm back, winding up, and slammed her open palm over Matthew's right ear. Percussive maintenance. Just needed to knock that inner ear implant around.
Aya held him up from the impact, stumbling herself slightly and concluding she had probably applied more force than was needed, "You with me now?" she asked, holding him up still. For everyone else it probably looked nothing less than smacking some sense into him; Aya turned to look at the two medics and the mercenaries flooding the place, "Don't any of you have things to do?" she asked rhetorically. The point got across fast as mercs began to bottleneck out of the room and the medics went to attend to other patients.
She looked back to Matthew loosening her grip slowly, "It's over, Matt," Aya made to reassure one last time, "We did it," waiting with him until his composure returned, "Just ease up, we'll be outta here soon," attempting to coo the guy out of commando mode before letting go entirely, taking a few steps back, "We're at the Mirage. You took a heavy sting back at the expo centre..." grabbing a small box of thin nexcare bandages from the bench and applying them to cuts on his forehead and cheek, already looking better than before, "Thanks for that by the way. Tyson and I probably wouldn't have held out long enough if it weren't for your help,"
Tossing the box to one side, Aya stepped around the gurney and back towards the entrance, "We'll be going soon. The sooner the better. There's some black fatigues for you on the chair to change into," one hand lingering on the door frame, a final check to make sure Matt was back on record, "Meet Tyson out front when you're ready," and nodded before leaving. That kind of shock was meant to kill a human being; in essence, it had sealed Aya's theories about the guy. That much put an issue to rest.
Rounding up her gear; fresh clothes she had picked out; a new hoodie, fresh pair of high tops; goggles hanging around her neck. The mercs had pretty much given them all they needed in return for services; Aya gratefully slipping a new radio headset over her head, giving it a sound test. She took the elevator down to the garage, seeing her Luna still as clean as when she had left it, then the empty scabbard at its side. It reminded Aya of how she needed to be less sentimental of her possessions.
Hopping onboard, firing up, and tapping her headset on, "Ty. We'll head North out of Vegas. I'll catch you on Austin road just outside the city before we move on," Aya pushed the suspension and kicked the stand up, rolling out. She might have been tired, but she was sick of this place; a 50 mile ride to somewhere a little less bright to sleep she could deel with.
[Ooc: Finish up with one last epilogue post before heading on.]
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