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Post by Lance Bishop on Mar 21, 2009 0:14:27 GMT -5
Bishop watched the enemy fall back and disappear in to the radio station. Lance wasn't doing much good sitting on the hill top at the moment, since no targets were making themselves available, but he knew all too well that leaving your post never ended with good results.
Lance was a former United States Army Special Forces operator aka The Green Berets. He, like many of the other PMC - D specialists, had seen his fair share of combat in the Middle East and around the world. He was an expert at fighting dirty and even better at putting a bullet on a dime. That's why he was with Dragonfly, they needed someone who as a Jack of All Trades and he was indeed that.
Sure, he was primarily a sharpshooter, a damn good one at that. But he was also a talented infantryman, handy with various firearms. Not only that but he had extensive explosives training and had several times trained insurgents in guerrilla tactics. All in all, Lance was not a man to cross.
Bishop reached up and adjusted the focus on his scope. "This is Falcon.. I've got your six covered.." The sharpshooter muttered in to the mouth piece. He whipped out a pair of binoculars and gave the area and quick recon. Only a few bodies of the hostile fighters remained. He could hear the chatter of gunfire and see the flash of explosions coming from the radio tower. He gave the roof of the facility a look see, making sure no one was trying to get up there and pull off a pot shot at one of his guys.
The wind shifted slightly, picking up just a little. Lance made a quick note of this in his head and let instinct take over. The brain went through its calculation adjustments and re - printed a new shot modification. Lance reached up with a gloved hand and twisted the windage turret just a hair. He lined up the mil - dot of his choice on a terrain specific he had picked out and checked his adjustment. He was squared away and lethal. Anyone popped their head out, they were sure to have a new hole as decoration. Courtesy of a 7.62mm NATO round delivered by your's truly.
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Post by Metal Head on Mar 21, 2009 14:18:35 GMT -5
“Move! Move! Move!” I yelled out over the sounds of battle that had been raging in the middle of the street. Immediately afterwards, I bolted from my spot in the alley, and crossed the street which only moments before had been the cover for the armed men that we’d engaged. They had abandoned the area though, and I watched them from the street as they disappeared into the TV Station. As I picked my way through the cover, I made a large detour so that I wasn’t in view from the front, although it didn’t take me any longer than the other Dragonflies.
Soon I was at the front entrance, my back pressed firmly against the wall beside the front door. Without any idea of where the enemies were, I poked my gun through the door a little and was greeted with a barrage of 7.62mm rounds which slammed into the round I was covered behind. Thankfully the TV station was made out of thick concrete walls, and as I pulled my M4 back, I felt an overwhelming relief that their rounds didn’t punch through.
“Anyone have any kind of handheld explosive? Maybe a flashbang or two?” I asked into the comm. As I patted down myself to see if I had any but of course I didn’t. “The one f**king thing I forgot to bring,”
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Post by thegunny on Mar 21, 2009 17:33:30 GMT -5
OOC: Theres still 15-20 enemies around outside fighting, guys.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 22, 2009 4:07:23 GMT -5
The shooting had thinned out, there was no doubt about that. There was no way to tell who was doing what, or how many bad guys were left, but Tyson was sure it had thinned out enough for him to leave cover.
He had started to feel the impact of bullets through his armor not long after he had stood out in the open lobbing loads of buckshot into soft flesh. He'd fought off the dull sting the rounds made for quite some time, but when he started to feel the full impact break through the steel and hit kevlar, he retreated behind the wall. Thats what he was going to do with his cut. Get a new set of armor. The steel was not good enough to hold up to a mass of rounds, and individually this suit had taken so much punishment over the years, he needed a new one. He hoped he could still get ahold of the guy who made them. Some dude in Syberia or somewhere.
His shotgun full, his eyes sharp, and now with the higher manpower than before, Tyson stepped out from cover and started shooting. He heard Ludolf call for an IED, and saw why. It looked like some of the pricks were bunched up. Ther perfect place to take out what looked like four of them with one go.
Tyson crouched to the ground and set his shotgun down, an open target for anyone who wanted to take a shot, protected by the failing in areas plating and the kevlar that was still doing it's job. He pulled out one of the pipe bombs Matt had whipped up and a Bic lighter he had taken from the gun shop. He lit the fuse in one go, being that there was no wind to blow the flame out, and reeled his arm back. He threw it with a precise amount of force, bounced it off an overhanging sign or some such sh*t, and landed it in the middle of the group. He heard nothing from them, and then some screams of panic moments before the bomb went off and filled their position with fire and shrapenal and death.
Tyson picked up his shotgun, fired off a few more shots that he wasnt sure hit or not, and made his way over to Ludol's position. He pressed his back against the wall and looked over at Ludolf while he fed shells into the shotgun.
"Quite a sh*tstorm, huh?" He said with a laugh in his voice, both muffled and reverberated by his metal mask. He stopped refilling the gun when it was full, and reached for a pipe bomb. He handed it off to Ludolf and stopped to catch his breath. He was getting fu*king tired.
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Post by Metal Head on Mar 22, 2009 14:07:40 GMT -5
OOC: Bishop did state that they fell back into the station, as did you Gunny although you weren't as clear as to where they fell back to.
“Hell yeah,” Taking the pipe bomb from Tyson, I slid it into one of my vests pouches for later use, and then disappeared around the corner. As soon as I stepped into the lobby I unholsted my .45 and carefully went through the men who were withering on the ground, body parts strewn across the room with huge amounts of blood coating the walls, ground, and even a bit had landed on the ceiling.
One man had a piece of shrapnel lodged in his throat, so without even thinking I put a round between his eyes. The next man had his arm and part of his leg blown off, so I put him down as well. The other bodies were simply that, bodies. All of whom had been killed immediately (or extremely soon after) the initial explosion, so I passed over their blood and guts, and made a beeline for the only open door in the room.
Suddenly just as I was about to step into the doorway, 7.62mm rounds zipped through the open doorway, tearing into the marble flooring and kicking up one hell of a storm. The firing continued until I heard a distinct click, click and instantly I popped out from the cover of the doorway and fired off a .45 into the mans leg. The bullet ripped into the front of the mans calf and exploded out the back, taking with it bone fragments and chunks of meat alike. Instantly the man fell over, collapsing down the flight of stairs he’d been waiting on, and landed right at my feet, his face a mixture of pain and anger.
Grabbing him by the back of his collar, I dragged him through the doorway which only moments before he’d been firing into. Seeing Tyson, I dropped the man and turned to head back up the stairs.
“Don’t know what the deal is on survivors, deal with him however you want,” Seconds later I was heading up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time, and soon I was on the landing between the second and first floors. The AK of the man I’d shot earlier sat dormant on the landing, so I picked it up, popped out the magazine, and tossed it down the stairs, watching it clatter in the corner, safe from harms reach.
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Post by Lance Bishop on Mar 22, 2009 14:38:36 GMT -5
[[OOC: My bad. Well in that case.]]
Lance strongly considered packing up shop and getting in the dirty with the rest of the team. Though his duties persevered and instead he remained on the hilltop, being ever vigilant. Suddenly a man, strapped head to toe in ammunition sprinted from cover. He held an AK - 47, two magazines tapped together for a quick reload. Bishop tracked the man with his scope. He was wearing some kind of Kevlar vest, it was a thin body armor style that police officers wore under their uniforms.
Bishop led the man just a bit, the cross hair bead just slightly in front of the man, flirting with the front of his shirt. Lance allowed his finger to put a pound of pressure on the trigger. The cold barrel of the M21 caught a glimpse of moonlight through the canopy of trees surrounding the sniper's position. Lance relaxed, his lungs expanding and retracting slowly. The finger pulled back all the way. A loud crack broke through the night. The rifle jumped back and sent a 7.62mm round speeding towards the target.
The man spun, his right shoulder opening up as the round tore in to his side. Blood sprayed out in a small mist from the wound and the Kevlar formed a jagged hole. The man hit the ground and reached for his side, crying out in agony. He began to roll around, blood running through his fingers. Lance kept the scope over the man. End his life now? No.. This was the perfect opportunity to bag and tag a few more targets. These guys were un - trained, or at least it looked that way. They'd walk right in to a trap.
Bishop used the wounded man as bait. Soon enough another armed insurgent came over to the wounded guy and patted him down. He saw the hole in his side and looked up, searching for whoever had done it. Lance began to line up his cross hair on the new arrival when suddenly another fighter came in to view, joining the small party. Bishop couldn't have asked for better results.
Little did the small rescue duo know they were being watched by the predator responsible for the wounded man. His keen eye trained on them, trigger finger ready to rain death. One of the men, the first on the scene, dropped his weapon and grabbed the man under the arms. Bishop figured this was the window. He lined up the mil-dots. A quick calculation was performed and the shot was ready to be delivered.
Crack! The rifle barked again, the foliage around the sniper was slightly disturbed by the concussion of the large caliber rifle. Lance watched as the scope settled. The target's head jerked back violently as a spray of blood and brain matter flew out of the back. Thats a confirmed kill. The man's head went limp and he fell to his knees, then rolled over. Dark matter running down his face. The steel pot helmet on the man's head was loose now, sitting in an awkward position on his head.
The last remaining man dropped the wounded guy and went for his gun. Lance didn't need to calculate the shot. It was pretty much the same data as the other two. He lined up the cross hair, drew in a breath, focused him in, and zeroed everything else out. Bishop's right gloved hand tightened on the stock as he squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked once more. A stream of blood shot forward from the man's chest and followed out his back. A large dark hole oozing with liquid formed on his chest. The man reached up, felt it, then dropped. Another confirmed kill.
Lance shifted the scope to see the first victim, the wounded man, to slowly be loosing his grip on life. Bishop felt sorry for him, he lined the cross hair up on the man's chest. No.. Another shot would for sure expose him. If he hadn't already been located. Lance watched as the man lost his strength and went motionless, waiting for death. Bishop could hear a few shouts, probably the fighters trying to locate the sniper who had already racked up six or so kills. Lance hadn't been keeping track.
Soon he'd have to switch positions. He'd wait until they returned fire on him, or maybe he'd move just down to the North a bit and set up a better position. To confuse them. It wouldn't be too hard.
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Post by thegunny on Mar 25, 2009 21:38:58 GMT -5
as the battle continued, a special TFP AC-27J swooped in on the combat, out of no where sweeping the remaining men out in the open that hadn't fallen back to the radio station out by precision fire from dual side mounted GAU-12 equalizer 25mm gattling guns. The pilots commentary comes in through all of their headsets This is spooky 3-2-7, T.F.P wants the broadcasting tower cleared and operation within a half hour. Commence clearing of the radio station, will provide close air support to friendlies outside of the building. Firing on the broadcasting tower from the air has been prohibited; you'll have to flush them out in there on your own. Use grenades at will, but no C4. The transmitting equipment can NOT be damaged, I repeat, can NOT be damaged. Be advised; non-hostile survivors are in the target building, basement. Hostiles had imprisoned them and seized the building from them. Once the broadcast is underway commence releasing the imprisoned civilians. Over.
Claypoole replied into his mike
Ten-four. Moving into the target building. Pheonix out.
Claypoole then made a hand signal toward Ludolf and Tyson to move into the building, following after them. There were 16 hostiles left in the building. They'd have to clear them out or flush them out. Claypoole then said into his headset
Aya, Emily, Bishop, your going to have to enter from the south entrance together to aid in the clearing out. Us three alone could use some help. We're going in via the east entrance. Sounds like any hostile that comes outside will be taken out by that gunship. Lance, start moving up
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Post by Mikey on Mar 25, 2009 22:26:41 GMT -5
Tyson moved out on Matt's order, making a beeline as gunshots sounded out behind him for the door. He ducked inside, the first one there, and moved down the hall enough for his two teamates to take position along the wall.
He started feeding new rounds into his shotgun until it was full, and then replaced the rounds on the side rack that he had used for a quick reload. He stopped a moment to see how many he had left in the belt around his shoulder, and found 17 shells. 17 plus the 10 on the side rack and 11 in the gun. 38 total. He had enough left, at least he thought so, having started with damn near a hundred.
His shotgun full, he pressed his side against the wall and moved toward the turn of the hall. He ducked out into the open to check for threats, and found this particular one clear. After confirming this, he moved back to the door and saw Claypoole and Ludolf.
"Immediate area is clear." He reported, waiting for further orders.
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Post by thegunny on Mar 25, 2009 23:29:56 GMT -5
Claypoole pulled out his double barreled shotgun, and looked around. He looked directly at Tyson, who's armor looked like s**t
Hows your armor holding up? Feel like being pointman? Either we have us with the shotguns blast our way in with a dynamic entry, or we do a soft-entry with Ludolf's suppressed .338 Spectre.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 26, 2009 0:06:06 GMT -5
Tyson, after a quick but thourogh check of his armor, looked over at Claypoole and nodded. at the idea of him being pointman.
"The steel is going to hell, but the kevlar is fine. We wont be dealing with the same volume of people, so I'll be good. Let's go tear these fu*kers a new one!" He said, his body renewed at the fact that instead of walking into a slightly even firefight, they were on the way to a slaughter.
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Post by Lance Bishop on Mar 26, 2009 21:29:19 GMT -5
Bishop heard the call over his headset and packed up shop. He rose slowly from his sitting position, the rifle lifting from the log used as a perch. He dropped the box magazine out and slipped a fresh one in, placing the half - used mag in an empty slot in his vest. Lance slung the rifle over his back and drew his 1911 holstered on his right thigh.
The sharpshooter took some time navigating the hills and slopes before he finally found a good way down, using patience and balance to avoid disturbing too much of the scene. He crossed over the battlefield, hurdling a small crater and moved around a dead bodies. He even passed his victims from earlier, their bloody corpses close in proximity.
Lance came up to the radio station. He knelt down just outside of it and gave the place a quick scan. When he was sure there was no hostile waiting to jump him with a bullet in the back, he proceeded on to the East door. Bishop emerged from the darkness quietly, his face painted with black stripes coming at a right diagonal down his face. The man snapped his 1911 up as he moved to the corner of the radio station. He shuffled down the side, his back pinned up against the wall.
"Falcon here.. In position. On your go." He mumbled in to the headset.
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Post by thegunny on Mar 28, 2009 20:13:36 GMT -5
OOC: A GM of sorts for Bishop
Aya and Emily shortly thereafter stacked up behind him, Emily instictively at the back of the formation with her Kimber Stainless II 10mm M1911 out. Emily whispered into her mike, speaking for both her and Aya
Ready.
Aya signaled for Bishop to lead the three of them inside as point. They weren't sure who they'd run into once they entered, but they knew once they went in, it was back into the fight. They didn't know that they would be entering into a barricaded up lobby with 3 hostiles hiding back there, one armed with an Uzi, another with a semi-automatic .30-06 rifle, and another with an illegal cheap Romanian AK-47 with a drum. None of them wore body armor but were densely clothed.
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Post by Lance Bishop on Mar 28, 2009 23:28:23 GMT -5
Bishop shuffled in to the radio station. He immediately spotted the barricades, armed men surrounding them. There were three. Lance only had a shot on one of the guys. He snapped the 1911 up to the firing position and put a double tap in to the chest of the man carrying the .30-06. Blood sprayed outward as his arms flew up, the rifle falling to the ground. The target fell to the ground with the rifle, slumped over against the barricades.
Lance dropped and rolled to the right, pinning himself up behind a small row of file cabinents. Automatic fire cut through the room, the bullets bouncing off of the floor and tearing away at the file cabinents. Lance cursed under his breath. He stuck his 1911 out and returned blind fire in to the barricades. They needed to devise a plan to eliminate of the other two before they cut them to pieces.
Bishop brought his hand back around and dropped out the empty magazine. The loud roar of bullets strafing his cover echoed, causing Lance to lean over. He was sitting on his rear with his back pinned up against the file cabinent, hugging as much of the ground as he could. "Wait for the reload.." Bishop muttered in to his headset.
The mercenary slid a fresh magazine in to the mag well of his 1911 and released the slide. The automatic fire died down and Lance could hear the clicking of the magazine release and the scratching of the enemy mag wells. "Now!" Bishop flipped around the cover and beaded down the iron sights of his sidearm. Hoping to catch one of the men exposed.
Surely enough the Uzi wielding foe leaned over the cover. Lance's instinct kicked in as he shifted his aim and squeezed back the trigger. The loud echo of his sidearm darted around the room. The first round caught the man in the shoulder, turning him to the left slightly. Lance fired again, this one catching the Uzi equipped insurgent in the temple. The man's head snapped back, blood and brains painting the wall behind him. His body swayed then fell.
The AK - 47 trooper rose over the cover to help his friend, but was caught by a storm of bullets from Lance's side. He looked over at the two females, unsure of which one actually killed the man. "Clear!" Lance called out, searching the room. "This is Falcon. All PMC - D personnell please advise, friendlies in the East sector. Check fire. Out." Lance let out a deep sigh of relief and looked down at his trusty 1911. "Let's get moving." He said to the other two.
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Post by thegunny on Mar 29, 2009 14:52:34 GMT -5
GM: to Bishop
Aya signaled for bishop to continue through the lobby and into the hallway, which was completely clear. No one was patrolling the hallways. Emily checked her P.D.A and reported
The stairs are down the hallway, to the left, and straight ahead. We need to get to the third floor,, which will have all the broadcasting and power equipment there.
The team then continued as Emily had suggested, until they got to the third floor. There were 5 hostiles in there scattered and heavily armed. There was one pair of them. None of them were all vislble at once, and only 1 had sight of the door. The equipment was all in the way.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 30, 2009 7:53:40 GMT -5
The radio call came in from Bishop, breaking the silence that the half team of Ludolf, Claypoole, and Salem. Tyson was in front, Ludolf in the center, Claypoole bringing up the rear. And so far, there was no activity. It was starting to **** Tyson off.
"Roger that Falcon. Out." Tyson responded quickly, knowing the others heard the message as well. The group continued through the halls, seeing a whole lot of nothing for at least four more turns. The further in the building they got, the more Tyson stated to think that all the hostiles had migrated east. And all of a sudden, he changed his train of thought.
He changed it because, as soon as the largest man of the group turned the corner, he was face to face with a man with a gun. Well, it was more like collar bone to nose. Before either man could raise a weapon, Tyson struck out instantly. Steel met flesh and bone as Tyson rammed his face foreward, catching the other man at the tip of the nose as well as the forehead. Bone cracked and blood spurted as the man crumpled to the ground.
His friends, two men armed with small automatic weapons unidentifiable in this lighting, ran around the corner and raised their weapon to fire. Tyson raised his, and he was sure Ludolf did as well. He wasnt sure if Claypoole even knew what was going on. Gunshots sounded as fire came from both sides.
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