FOB Olympus

Forward Operating Base Olympus:

Facilities:
Armory Portable Facility
Guard Towers (One located at each corner, Two flanking the entrance to the camp)
Reinforced Steel walls with giant reinforced sand bags placed behind them.
Two Portable Medical Facilities
Two landing zones located on either side of the base.
Mortar Positions located within the corner of the base.
Fencing with concertina placed around the top.
Various spot lights set up around the perimeter

HDT Base-X Model 303 (Four of these tents for the eight Operators.)
HDT Base-X Model 505 (Two of these tents for Vehicle maintenance.)
HDT Base-X Model 505 ULME (Ten of these for Vehicle storage.)
HDT Base-X Model 6D31 (One for Command Operation Center)
HDT Base-X Model 505 (Ten of these for various support units mechanics, guards, medical, etc...")

100kW Tactical Quier Generator (Two of these throughout the base.)
10kW Tactical Quiet Generator (One of these at each tent in case of power outage)

Mobile Water Purification System

Operator Unit(s):

Call Sign: Artemis

Gideon Kahn aka Geist
Ty Yost aka Renegade
Fynn Yost aka Lord
Sacha Volkov aka Hitman

Call Sign: Ares

Torger Bodin aka Thor
Dierk Jung aka Feuer
Aiden Martin aka Inmate
Kelly Ciar aka Captain

A sharply dressed figure approached the front gate of the Olympus forward operating base. The briefcase at his side and his sharp suit meant that his business was of the peaceful sort. "I'm here for my appointment?" He stared into the retinal scan machine to confirm that he was not a disguised hostile.

Man, security clearance was going to take forever and a day. Perhaps it would be better if they came out to meet him. The weird squiggles under the "no trespassing" sign were just giving him the creeps as well. Clearly it was a language of some sort, but he had never seen it before. Perhaps it was a translation of the above message?

"Oi mate why you be out here in this bloody hell hole dressed like that?" The blustering voice of the Australian sounded from the wall above.

Inmate had the appearance of a very rugged man well versed in war. Holding the MK46 in one arm with a belt of ammo draped around his neck on top of the shemagh he wore. He stood there looking down from above the sunglasses blocking out his emotions for the most part and the glare of the sun.

Three other men were making there way around the wall as well towards Inmate. One man that did not carry a rather large rifle but wore a pistol on high thigh at the current moment.

"He's okay I called him here." Geist yelled ahead with his rather rugged voice. The other two men following him stopping just short of Geist the four standing there on the wall looking down at the man in the suit.

Darien Blackdagger jumped back a little bit. "Whoa! On the wall? C'mon, rappel your way down here. I wanted to talk to you about a business offer." He waggled the briefcase. "I promise I won't bite...really!"

He understood the need for security protocol, but this was just fucking ridiculous as evidenced by the throwing up of his free hand. "C'mon down here and let's talk like gentlemen."

"Very well stand back a bit." Geist vaulted over the wall. The other three Operators stared at him before shrugging and following suit.

Inmate jumping off with the large mk46 light machine gun still tucked under his arm landed with relative ease. Each of the Operators dusting themselves off as they moved their eyes over to the man in front of them.

Geist was covered from head to toe in his gear. Renegade was wearing a pair of desert MARPAT trousers with a tank top (clearly out of regs). Captain was in a similiar set up to that of Inmate without the lmg and the belted ammo around his neck.

Chill out, Darien. You've dealt with far worse before and here you are.

"Boobs. Now that I have your attention, I have a business proposal for your organization to consider. You see, I grow weary of the incessant warring, and I wish to remind all these fighting men of what they all have in common--an appreciation for the female form that borders on the unhealthy. I represent an organization that seeks to gather together a representative sample of such specimens, so that they may be presented for public review. In layman's terms, a pageant, thought let me assure you that the contestants won't exactly be ladylike. Except where it matters to Joe Six-pack jerking it to his computer screen." He made an hourglass motion with his hands before picking the briefcase back up.

"In here I have prepared a detailed proposal for your superiors to consider before pledging their support of my cause. Now which one of you is in charge of this pile of rocks?"

"That'd be me. These other three happen to be part of the rocks." Geist let out a round chuckle.

"Now tell me about this proposal and I will give you what help I can. I know these three sad saps behind me will enjoy it more then most." Geist glanced behind him at the other three Operators who were still stuck on the idea of a beauty pageant and women.

"Just because we like our women like our alcohol. Hard and they go down with a fight. Isn't that right lads?" Captain looked at Inmate and Renegade.

Inmate gave a supportive sly smile. Renegade continued to be off in some daze as if he had yet to comprehend said idea.

"You mean we get to watch half naked women again? I wouldn't have to be restricted to this hell of a hole with all these bro's and no female contact?" Renegade looked up at Geist. As if a sudden realization dawned on his face.

Darien Blackdagger chuckled. "Yes. Yes, you will get to be exposed to women from all corners of this many splendored 'verse, and they will be happy to expose themselves to you to a certain extent."

He figured that getting his foot in the door would be the toughest part of this sell, but now they were ready to fall like dominoes. "I guess I let your fearless leader here have my briefcase--better him have it than me not keeping my hands in full view, right? In there you will find detailed information on the format, which will have auditions and a series of stages ending in a final competition. It will also contain the terms of a business agreement between your corporate entity and my own in organizing said events. By attaching the good name of your company to this event as a sponsor, you gain publicity as well as the opportunity to interpose yourself between the contestants and the unwashed masses. This will mean you'll have to trade your fatigues for a fancy suit, but if I can walk all the way out here lookin' sharp, I think you guys can manage."

He slid the briefcase along the ground towards Geist. "My contact information is enclosed inside as well. Please do take as long as you need to make the right decision for your men and your company. Until then, I will be awaiting your answer."

He still had to be formally dismissed. He didn't want to get shot in the back, after all. Not after coming this far.

"Good to go then. Will you need a ride back I can have one of the Operators or support personnel deliver you back to the City if you wish." Geist said holding the briefcase in one hand looking at the man awaiting a response from him.

"Don't worry about the suits either. They clean up real nice when they want too." Geist said chuckling.

Scott Kay, a fugitive, for no better word could describe him, watched the activity in this small expanse of military might from a tiny knoll a short distance away. His rifle sat on the ground beside him, hidden. His dust encrusted cloak, with the hood pulled up and helmet over it, should easily conceal his presence except from the most trained eye, or if bad luck found him, a well placed scope. But hopefully that wouldn't happen. He needed transport, and where else to find it than here? Especially since it was almost dead set in the middle of nowhere. Oh, he saw the sign. But then, that was about all he saw.

<br> "There's the vehicle tents, I presume...", he says to no one in particular. At least their enemy was minimal out here. He figured he could take out the guards with his rifle before they even caught any sight of him. That would be best case scenario. However, as his instructor had taught him, if anything can go wrong, it usually will. Scott allowed himself a small grimace as he slung his rifle under the cloak, preparing to move forward.

0200 - FOB Olympus.

The ride of the Valkyries



"Zelbinion this is Big Duke one, we've reached the deck and are assuming combat formation." Lieutenant Henley radioed as he eased the Condor VTOL low and slow, along the flat expanse of the wastelands. flying alongside her was a formation of roughly six other Condor VTOLs, and one heavy Heron class assault VTOL.

The aircraft maintained a staggered formation, low to the ground to remain difficult to detect with conventional radar. But the sounds of their engines were unmistakable as they approached.

"Zelbinion, this is Big Duke one, we're approaching AO, ETA Two five Centons, over." Henley radioed, before he turned back to the Marines in the troop bay.

"Big duke one, Zelbinion actual. Low and slow, seize the facility and leave no survivors, we'll be on standby to provide support if you need it."

Henley chuckled, before he got on the tactical channel, broadcasting to the other Condor VTOLS.

"We're going in, get tactical marines!"

With that. Henley turned to the squad leader. "Start the music."

"Music, sir?"

"Coeurl, it scares the hell out of the Terrans." He called out, and on cue, Aschen war music, with powerful percussion, strong brass, and subtle lute undertones began to blare from the Condor's speakers as they approached.

Splitting up into two formations of three, the squads readied the crew served weapons on the craft, mostly rotary plasma cannons, and Big Duke one carrying a stanchion mounted portable ion cannon.

Henley eased the Condor in, under cover of darkness, he let loose, sending two ATG-5 'Gladius' Missiles from wing mounted hardpoints.

These two missiles careened into one of the guard towers, lighting it up in a brilliant plume of white hot plasma, white phosphorus, and searing hot shrapnel.

A thundering boom followed, as the Condors sailed over the FOB, with initial recon showing there was minimal AAA, the squadron was confident they were going to get the job done.

Swooping around, a pair of Condor VTOLs moved hard to the right, while their gunners switched to thermal view, to try and get a firing solution on the inhabitants.

Raining plasma, they opened fire on any thermal signatures they could find, peppering a pair of tanks with hot plasma from the air, which rained down in brilliant blue streaks from above, with the Condors running dark, they would be difficult to see with the naked eye.

The attack had begun.