Earth, Modern times.

Oribi kept as close to Drake as possible, hoping to be safe but also have the chance to blow some heads off; the snow became increasingly hard while she ran, she barely had any room to step on as is... It was difficult to even walk on simple dirt much less snow!! This was a true challenge for her, she fell a couple times but got back up as soon as she could.

But one fall was particularly nasty, she fell quite hard into the snow and landed straight onto her gun, good thing she had locked it up to safety before she had even started running; she bruised her sternum, chest, collar bones, and lower neck all in one blow. She hissed out crude sayings and straightened herself up, feeling where she felt her skin and bones bruising. This was almost as bad pain as breaking her hand that one time.... Smashed by a man with big boots.

Her ear piece wasn't quite loud enough for her to hear every word, but she could make out a couple bits of Basya's orders. But she simply stood up, this wasn't the worst pain, sure it hurt like hell but she could make it through the day; she somehow always did.

She lunged toward where Drake and Basya were, catching her breath and grabbing a bit of snow and placing it on her chest, and she looked up at the tank, glaring at it. "Go away, go away, go away, go away..." She kept whispering and hissing at it as she closed her eyes for one moment and placed her cheek on the cold rock, feeling comfort from her rosy cheeks.

Drake's voice calmed her a slight bit, but not much; she finally caught her breath and looked over Basya. Seeing Lightning, and the whole array of people. She wasn't the best at talking with so many, one or two would be fine but this many?!

She let herself become aware of the situation, or at least try to, she spoke up, "Hey, what happened?" She was whispering just in case.

"Come one, Joe! We need to get moving!"

While his name wasn't Joe, the voice caught his attention. Looking over Uritz spotted a helicopter, which seemed to be where he was supposed to be heading. Upon arrival He had not even received a briefing, instead being told he would be filled in later en route to the mission. The helicopter that was about to take off was a good bet for a mission about to start.

'Lets send the new guy on the helicopter about to take off, I only arrived ten minutes ago. Seems a great deal of trouble for a new recruit.' Urtis grouched to himself as he made his way towards the chopper, leaving what gear he did not need behind. It didn't take long to reach as it was not very far away, and upon arriving it was clear that these men had been waiting on him entirely too long. Not wasting any time, Uritz hopped on board before introducing himself.

"Anthony Uritz reporting for duty. I'm supposed to be heading out with you, but I haven't been briefed. What's the plan?" Uritz said loudly over the engines.

| 0834L
| 11 NOV 2012
| LMO Russian Outposts' Flight Line

"Anthony Uritz reporting for duty. I'm supposed to be heading out with you, but I haven't been briefed. What's the plan?"

The man that had just jogged his way to the Mi-8 looked really young. The vest was ill-fitting, but it had lots of pistol magazines on the front. An HK Mk23 was strapped in some manner to his leg. The youth of the man was evident. Cunningham didn't address him at first, instead turning to the crew chief. "Chief! This the guy? Can we bloody-well leave now?"

The crew chief nodded and slapped the pilot on the shoulder. The helicopter lurched upwards unevenly, and sped off towards the hastily chosen casualty collection point. Before he could do what he had intended, Cunningham was interrupted by the latest addition to the team. "Anthony Uritz reporting for duty. I'm supposed to be heading out with you, but I haven't been briefed. What's the plan?"

"Survive," Cunningham said, telling him to hold on. He got up next to the crew chief. "I need a fill for my MBITR so I can talk with aviation. Got anything?" The chief simply handed across a "secure key loader" or SKL and it took Cunningham all of two minutes to get his radio set. Tossing it back to the crew chief, Jim sat in a seat near the port-side door and looked at the young man.

"Our real plan is to get those poor bastards down there that are wounded out. Secure the area, and then get briefed on the original mission. When we get down there, you had best pick up a freaking rifle or carbine. That pistol ain't gonna cut anything where we're going." Cunningham turned to watch the land race by beneath him. He'd soon be back right where he belonged.

"About frakkin' time." The man replied as he pulled back the lever to his disruptor rifle again, turning back to Jim for a moment.

"Tanks"

"Tanks? Alright well we'll have to take care of them accordingly then, though how the frak do they expect us to engage armor without proper equipment?" He asked as he leaned against the bulkhead still, turning to Uritz.

"Welcome aboard, I'm Corporel Cheadle, I'm over in from RDA.." He said as he waited as the helicopter took off, but first the man reached into one of the fabric pouches at his side, that's when the voice registered in his ears, the voice of Jim.

"That thing work?"

The man first replied with "Everything Checks out El-tee." He then held the weapon up and moved it around to allow the other soldier to inspect it for a moment.

"It's a Type 53 Disruptor Rifle, basically it fires streams of destabilized photonic energy, to disrupt molecular bonds, the result is intense heat.. it's an energy weapon, a common sight amongst my people." He said before racking the energy core for a moment, which glowed brightly.

"It's good against enemy body armor, but up against a tank? It's frakkin' useless... we'll need to figure something out." He said as he looked to the ground, watching as the chopper flew along it's course, all while Henry mounted a small scope on the disruptor and began to aim it out.

"I'll take some potshots at the enemy from up here, presuming there is anything down there."

(Ignore this..)

Whiteswords order superseded her own. She shut her mouth, stunned that he hadn't thought to even ask anyone or think to bring a laser designator as she had, but to late now, they would be looking for smoke instead of them looking for a laser and using the smoke as a screen. And without saying a word, then she moved so that her gun was aimed out towards the Chinese. She had her saw in hand, it was good for tactical withdraw. Her 50.cal was securely against her as she snuggled up against a tree and opened fire. it seemed only seconds flew by and maybe they had before, she had to hide behind her tree, and change out clips, and open fire once more. Her ACH slipped down just a touch so that her eyes were nearly covered, but she kept it up. Whitesword wanted fire she gave it to him without question.
In her mind they could have used the smoke slipped forward. The chese would have had a hard time spotting them, they could have started picking them off, and do something about the tank. Then about that time back up should be there and the tank would be taken care of before they moved forward. But instead she sat there helping in a retreat.

"Yes sir!" he said in response to Basya. "Just get her out of here quick! I think the enemy is in a pause! Or planning something..." He finished as the man carried the medic away on his shoulders. Talisman was backstepping in tune with Basya, although a couple of meters away in case the tank suddenly decided to splatter them, it wouldn't get both. "Got to be quick. Always stay in motion. Make a difficult target. Give them hell." Talisman muttered under the scarf wrapped around his face.

All the way back, Talisman kept a steady stream of bursts firing from his L85, firing with a slight agitation due to the fact of a tactical retreat. Next time would be different the soldier inside him told him. He paused for moment behind a fallen tree and heard firing from the side of him. He saw Wolfy firing at the Chinese, giving them hell. "Hey, Wolfy, catch!" He called to her over the gun fire. He had taken the smoke grenade from his chest and was now tossing it to her. She would know what to do with it better than he would, plus her sniper eyes were better trained than his.

"Put it to good use, yeah?!" He stated. He continued to give supporting fire and then backing up a couple of meters, before laying down a bit more suppressing fire. This tactic used up two of his magazines.

| 0845L
| 11 NOV 2012
| Mi-8 En Route to MedEvac...

Cunningham was making sure that his MBITR radio was working. It wouldn't do to have a bad fill and not be able to communicate rapidly and decisively with all the assets in the field. It randomly occurred to him then that he hadn't noticed in either of the other two men with him in the chopper were packing proper equipment--he cursed at himself. This was supposed to be a premier mercenary unit. They should have at least some commonality on equipment. Whatever. It would have to hold until the after-action review. He quickly used his left hand to activate the push-to-talk and was rewarded with an instant beep indicating it had a line to the net. "Bandaid Flight, Raptor Actual; Radio check, over." he said and released the pressure on the PTT.

The pilot almost immediately responded. "Raptor Actual, Bandaid. I read you loud and clear."

"Roger, good copy, Bandaid. Raptor Actual out." Cunningham went over to the crew chief and asked for the call signs for the over-grown Osprey and for the other officers down on the ground. Hopefully they would have considered bringing radios.

"VIRGIL is the air support. Hammerhead is Captain Whitesword. Ell-tee Basya is Icepick. I think that's about the limit of the officers that are on the deck." Cunningham copied the information down on his wrist-board with a washable sharpie. Once he was done, he activated his comms again.

"Virgil Actual, Virgil Actual, this is Raptor on Bandaid flight. We need an emergency LZ to conduct Medevac, how copy, over?"

Fox was following over 5 meters behind the group keeping a good distance. Moving from tree to tree, unlike the others he had hoped they would not open fire on the Chinese but the sergeant with the saw had other plans. He cringed as shooting at them would most likely push them into a forceful response which under the circumstance would get half of them dead, he stopped occasionally to glance at the Chinese who were simply taking cover but for the most part not showing aggressive action.

Personally he blamed this failure on Whitesword. In fox’s mind a bad decision was better than no decision at all. He had not acted and had gotten people killed, but everyone may have a small price to pay in this failure, but it would not have turned out this way if the unit could have stayed in a resemblance of order.

Psycho looked at the tank. Not really able to help it, a sort of slight half smile formed on his face. Taking a grenade from his pouch, Psycho slipped it into the grenade launcher, loaded it, then turned on the safety, just to have it loaded. "Oi! Shit faces! Here's what happens when you cut funding to my labs!!!" With that, he took aim and fired his weapon, three round bursts, aiming for the Infantry. If he had a chance, he'd take out the tank, but not with his armament.

"And don't think I forgot which nation is responsible for sending me to hell!!!" He knew the Chinese were responsible for what he had been through. And now was the time to pay back the favor, by sending them to their watered down version of hell.

(Note: This is replacing my previous post because when I made my previous post I was not aware of Basya's actions...)

The following pain that Lightning experienced ,when Basya picked her up, was overwhelming. She blacked out. For a little while, she complete consciousness and awareness. When she came back, she was in a lot of pain and she didn't know where she was or why someone was carrying her. She would have kicked and punched and squirmed and shouted, demanding to be released but she felt weak. Suddenly it came to her. " Put me down! put me down you brute!".

Basya carrying her like that was making her wound very painful but it was proving to be an effective way to remove her from the battle field. For once she looked forward to being patched up. It meant solid ground and or a helicopter ride, one that would be stable or at least more then Basya's.

Drake gasped as the enemy opened fire again, not because he hadn't expected it, but because he almost got hit. He barely dodged behind cover and remained there until he noticed a break in the gunfire, then he kept moving with Basya as he had done before. He looked back once and saw that the enemy were following. Of course, they couldn't make it too easy. They kept firing at them, and Drake fired a few good shots back, aiming at the head with single-shot bursts, but he couldn't see it he hit them because he kept following Basya.

Naturally, the infantry was the least of his worries. The tank was responding, firing at one of his allies. Drake didn't even pay attention to that ally, he just ran until he was far out of range. Then it dawned on him.

How the fuck were they supposed to complete this mission now? Drake suddenly felt hopeless, as though death was waiting for all of them and there was no way out. He honestly felt scared, and he chewed the gum a little more before swallowing it, since there was really nowhere else to put it. He looked back at the enemy; fewer were following now, either they got shot or gave up, but that didn't stop Drake from shooting at the remaining Chinese. Same as before, he fired in short bursts at the head and ducked back into cover almost before the bullets could hit. He then moved with Basya again, this time firing as he moved, and helping Oribi each time she fell. They couldn't afford to slow now.

If the gunfire from the bunker, a combined team of nearly ten operatives and the brutality between them hadn't been loud enough the sky screamed from the beating propellers of a machine. The Osprey banked and slowed itself as it overshot the area to descend; dropping from the sky Whitesword could have hardly realized what it was, Chotsky and his squad would only see the bulk of the VTOL as it descended and Basya only watched as it came to a rest above their position deep within the woods. The silhouette of the massive mechanical bird threw a long shadow across the battlefield that would have soon been their graves. Across the radio spectrum, a hissing screech blarred through all communication facets, jamming on a massive scacle of some sort.

"One ... two ... three." A whailing screech overpowered a voice and tore the sky apart with fire. A 30 millimeter cannon tore apart the canopy of the forestland and smashed into the ground above. The first target, a mount of natural snow that provided cover. Whitesword had seen one or two soldiers rush for that area. The location ripped by the harsh impacts of the cannon rounds. The Osprey waited no time for aiming for the tank, and a hail of cannon fire began to descend on the top of the tank; it quickly buckled and detonated from the brutal fire. The Osprey pivoted one last time as smoke oozed fromt the burning tank and leveled its wings with the rear area of the bunker and it. A whail sounded as the rockets were launched from impromptu hardpoint rails and collided with the bunker, detonating into a flowering explosion from the impact of a 75 millimeter rocket. The ground behind it was saturated in the artillery as well, bright flares igniting the entire forest side as it was bathed in fire before Whitesword and the rest of the Frighteners.



"Lightin' the way like the poet," The radio mentioned silently before the jamming lifted, and the Osprey loomed quietly , giving the rest of them a time to mobilize. The swath of land that was destroyed by the rocket run was annilihated to the stumps of trees. Whitesword pointed forward, directing everyone behind him toward the location.
"Basya, redirect! We've got an LZ! Everyone, move forward and secure LZ!"" He shouted, quickly stepping to his feet and gripping his weapon as he began his descent from their slight hillside and toward the bunker, ready to murder anything between them.



Chotsky, quick to witness the utter destruction and sudden absolution from utter doom, shouted at the display of firepower. He hefted his G36 carbine and issued his squad forward into the fight along with Whitesword, being the only squad actually in combat the offensive operations were up to them. They would need to seize that LZ and keep it so both the Mi-8 and Basya could rendezvous without getting a bullet in the side. Josef heard Psycho shout something about the damnation and its relation to their Asian heritage.
"Send them to whatever silly gods they believe in!" Chotsky shouted as he neared the far left flank of Whitesword, waving his shoulder to the rest of the squad to follow, and quickly.
"Get your sorry asses over here, and kill anything you see!" Josef shouted.



Basya hefted the wounded woman on his shoulder as delicately as posible, on one hand he couldn't avoid being a tad painful at times, yet it would have resulted in probably more fatalities. That said, Basya quickly redirected himself toward the destroyed bunker zone in front of him, and with both Whitesword and Chotsky they would have moved quickly and secured it for the rest of them. Talisman, Fox, Staff Sergeant and of course Lightning.
"We're almost there -- Bandaid Flight you have a clear LZ at the rocket strike area, move in now!" Basya shouted as he came into the zone of light through the tree line, glancing upward and seeing the massive bird above.
"You are clear! Get in here now!"



Stonewall shouted as he watched Basya step into the light, the Colonel having to redirect the aim of his carbine. A Technical Sergeant shouted in the back ground, the SAM's had responded from the jamming, which had disoriented them for enough time to get in here; it was only luck the medivac helicopter had joined the Osprey on its run. Now, however, it needed to get out. It could only do that one way, Stonewall tossed the carbine onto the ground and pointed toward the Technical Sergeant.
"You know the drill, hit the signal and get us out of here. I want us painted like one big target." The Colonel said as the crew of the aircraft quickly began to work. A signal would enter the radio waves, designating the Osprey and its location so loudly it blotted out most other contacts. Then it began to move, with its nacelles tranfsered into a forward position, and behavedd light a much sleeker piston craft. The Osprey struck off for a far flank, continuing to accelerate even as missiles zoomed into the sky behind and in front of it.
"Bandaid you have your LZ. Get 'em out of here!"

| 0850L
| 11 NOV 2012
| At the Casualty Collection Point

"Bandaid you have your LZ. Get 'em out of here!"

Cunningham nodded to the crew chief when he heard the call come over the net. The Mi-8, already barely clearing the treetops (and occasionally scoring the paint with green from the tops of the taller trees), ducked down lower. The clearing--not much of one, but large enough for the bird--was filled with debris, whipped up by the rotor blades. Cunningham could see just at the edge of the clearing a number of forms, since they were all in various different uniforms none of which were in his knowledge used by the ChiComs, he assumed they were not the chinese, and so did not engage them. One ran out in a fireman's carry, and the blood was obvious down the front of his uniform. Before the chopper touched down, he gave quick last minute instructions to the two men sent with him. "You, Cheadle, I want you to skeddadle out there to the edge of the clearing and set up the base of fire. Anyone of ours that is intact, you place 'em and fight 'em. You HOLD! Do not let this LZ get overrun! Uritz! You're to immediately find a rifle or machine gun. You're attached to Cheadle here at the hip, at the HIP! Got it? Do whatever he tells you to do. You don't go getting killed, OK?" He felt the wheels of the chopper touch down for the briefest of seconds. "GO! GO!"

Cunningham blew by the two men, having his own directives for himself, grabbing the crew chief and dragging him out too. Sprinting to the man carrying the one seriously wounded, he shouted to be heard over the roar of the engines and rotor blades. "Put her down and get back in the fight! I'll take her from here!"

0852
November 2012
At the LZ

"Affirm! Uritz! Let's move, you cover my six engage anything that's got them slanty eyes, I don't want a single one standing, this LZ will be held we'll make it so!" Cheadle barked as he racked his Disruptor one last time. The weapon making a distinct whine as he dove out of the helicopter his boots making a crunching thunk as they hit the dirt, then he ran, heavy footsteps running through the scorched and muddied up ground. Henry kept himself low, as he began surveying a base of fire. "Uritz! That small crater, at the edge of the clearing, secure a weapon and proceed to that clearing." He then reached over to his pack, and withdrew a small oblate spherical shaped device, and one could describe it as being somewhat cylindro-spherical in nature. A Deployable cover the device, when deployed would spring open, an angled bipod stand on the top, and on top, emitters unfolded in a five-point pattern, where the energy field itself was deployed.

Though the Deployable cover was capable of taking many hits from small arms, pinging and deflecting them in all directions, if it was placed under stress, the barrier would shift a red color, and ultimately collapse under the strain of constant weapons fire, given several minutes, the device could ignite another barrier.

"Take this, place it on the ground facing the woods, tilt it so it angles the top of the crater somewhat, on the rim." He shouted over the beats of the helicopter. "Once you've placed it, touch the small button in the center! Once you touch the button you'll hear a whine, once you hear that whine you'll see a tripod and an emitter emerge from the device, do not get in the field, it'll hurt, you'll see a blue field deploy, it's in the shape of a semicircle, hide behind that field and return fire accordingly, trust the field!" Henry barked, he couldn't emphasize his orders enough.

"You're a green recruit, make me proud!" He said as he quickly ducked as a Chinese soldier emerged from the clearing, firing several shots from his Type-30 Rifle towards the Mercenary, Henry quickly dove for the dirt, laying down on the dirt he took aim with his weapon.

"Gods damnit.. Frak!" He barked before he took aim as bullets whizzed and struck the ground all around him. They kicked up dust and dirt all around him, and once the target was considered, the trigger was depressed, a bright red flash emitted from the muzzle of the weapon, akin to a rifle's muzzle flash, a red bolt of light streaked across the battlefield, much like a laser beam of some kind, streaking at high speed, it was like a red streak, once it struck the Chinese soldier, steam would be thrown up around him, along with a flash of red flame as flesh was flash-vaporized, combusting in the sudden heat it was exposed too, armor fused to skin as blood and other fluids near the impact were vaporized, the kinetic shock would be enough to knock the soldier down, as flesh was charred and smoldering from the wound.

It was then Henry got back up, and he promptly made a beeline towards the small crater where the weapons fire had formed.

"Uritz! You see anything yellow and slanty-eyed you light them up!" He shouted before he ducked low into the crater. The ping of the occasional bullet was heard rattling about, seeing another Chinese soldier, Cheadle placed several bolts of energy downrange, hitting the Chinese at range with the third or fourth shot. But they kept coming, and so Cheadle put several more energy bolts downrange, each one making a loud 'Crack' sound from rapidly expanding air caused by the intense heat of the energy weapon, after several successive shots, the muzzle of the weapon began to glow a slight red, three doors on both sides of the weapon itself opened up and began to dump hot plasma out into the air, singing the hairs off of Cheadle's hand, after a few moments the vents closed, and Henry once more continued suppressive fire on the approaching Chinese.

As the scrambling signal began jamming the SAM arrays nearby and the VTOL hovered into view, the tank shifted its main gun to get a shot off on the craft before it opened fire- but too late. The cannons rip the tank apart, sending shrapnel flying, and the resulting explosions of the bunker, tank, and Virgil's shells killing off at least four of the fresh Chinese infantry. With their opposition's retreat turned around and a gunship overhead, the remaining troops flee through the woods back to the base, two more being taken out as the Mi-8 touches down; On-station medical personnel would carefully take Lightning and place her on a stretcher, getting her inside the chopper.

When the jamming signal ended and was promptly replaced by the radar ping, the Chinese responded with vengeful gusto- Five missiles launch simultaneously, streaking through the air towards Virgil. One of the missiles was obviously malfunctioning, taking a wildly erratic course and eventually flying directly up and detonating, taking a second missile with it.

Whatever happened with Virgil and the missiles, it would take a few moments for another volley to be launched, which would provide the ground troops enough time to recuperate, regroup, and hopefully get their wounded on the Mi-8 and out of danger. The Bunker, while completely destroyed, was still accessible a short ways further down the line, where the barrage had opened up the tunnel again. Any weapons that were lying around would likely have been damaged or destroyed by the bombardment, but one could certainly luck out and find a functional Type-95.

With the complete annihilation of the tank, Psycho let out a victory shout. "Oi! Fuck faces! When you get to hell, make sure you tell Thersha I said hello!" He laughed insanely, then realized what he said. "Wonder if I'll ever see her again... never did get a chance to say goodbye..." Psycho shook his head, then ran up to Chotsky. "Do we get to loot them now--- Shit! They've got missiles on our air support!" Psycho stepped back a few steps, afraid of what would happen to them if Virgil got taken down.

They had barely reversed their retreat when the tank was torn to a thousand pieces, and Drake almost cheered, but a few missiles were launched towards their support. "This mission is just getting better and better," he thought. He took aim with his AK and was about to fire, but was distracted by another taking itself out and another with it. There were three missiles left, and he fired a few shots at one, hoping it would explode prematurely and take the rest out with the blast, but they were proving difficult to hit.

His mind subconsciously recognized at that moment the name Psycho said, Thersha. It sounded so familiar, but he couldn't place it. She sounded like a loved one of Psycho's, but he was sure he knew someone of that name. He didn't say anything, though, and looked back at the missiles. His eyes widened as he realized they were about to hit, and he quickly fired one last shot, hoping beyond hope that he'd actually connect, as well as that if he did, the missile would explode and take the other two with it...

| 0855L
| 11 NOV 2012
| Emergency LZ

The rolls of automatic weapons fire was a muted music to Jim Cunningham's ears. Neither side seemed to be using many grenades as there weren't many sudden crashes, nor explosions like in the movies. Without much in the way to do after having literally thrown the one wounded towards the crew chief and the chopper, he tried to figure out who the two officers on the ground were so that the fight could start getting moved in the direction of the enemy instead of away from whatever objective was there.

Cunningham sighted quickly through the 4x setting on his ELCAN SpecterDR. Every so often he saw a head or flash of camo and pop a controlled pair off in the direction of the enemy, but there would not be the instant gratification here of watching the enemy fall as there was in a close-quarters engagement. He estimated that the enemy was now nearly within 75 meters of the LZ, and that was far too close for his way of thinking. He shouted to those mercs that he could see, "Whitesword! Icepick! Where are you!?"

Whitesword screamed into his earpiece as he vaulted over a bank of snow and hauled himself atop the shattered bunker. He had to mind his step, nearly slipping on a stone slab soaked in a viscous crimson stream before regaining his footing and leveling his rifle at his shoulder. Utilizing the reflex sight in place of the standard battle sights, Whitesword was able to magnify his visual range using the cybernetic implant. His breathing slowed and his temperature chilled slightly as the synethic mind operated deep within the untapped recesses of his own. He sweeped the forest with this eagel's eye, identifying the full force of Chinese that were in some cases retreating, and in others advancing. Satisfied with the reconaissance, he quickly disembarked from the bunker.
"All Freighteners, move forward on my position and engage the enemy. Line formation, automatics only!"



Chotsky was barely ten meters away from Whitesword before the reinforcements arrived. Well, three men and a helicopter to take away one wounded. He would not call them reinforcements, they were more like garnish on the hamburgers they would all become in this line of work. Unwilling to embrace the aspect of his death, Josef readied his carbine with one more magazine, still equipped for three more, and waved his hand toward the LZ. Idenitfying one as someone that wasn't supposed to help Lightning, Chotsky barked into his headset while shrugging his rifle toward the advancing Whitesword.
"All units form on Icepick, we're moving out! I'll take the far left!" Chotsky shouted as he began to move to the far flank of Whitesword, struggling slightly with the bulky rail-caster as he began to unleash the first of many short bursts from the G36C.
"Now we weed them out like rats in Great Auntie Worcsa's plumbing! How life repeats itself!"



Basya wasted no time in placing the wounded Lightning into the rear of the Mi-8 Hip. Hauling her over his shoulder, he leaned her down sideways before finally shrugging her off. It was only then that he realized he had been depressing the wound, causing not only a severe amount of paint, but also a cut to the circulation; the wound could still be fatal, but she would have five more minutes on the chopper instead. His shoulder, however, was drenched nearly to his waistline in the blood of the young woman. Turning around and noticing his crimson soaked fatigues, he released a foul curse before turning back towards the crew chief of the Hip.
"You tell the Corporal she'll take care of my laundry after she gets out of surgery!" Basya mocked before backing away and allowing the Hip room to ascend. Turning back to the entourage of soldiers following him, he quickly unslung the MCR from his back and pointed toward Chotsky, Whitesword and the second group of mercenaries.
"Alright, we need to get back in the fight -- let's take the right flank. You see any of 'em, put two rounds right between their eyes."




"Sergeant, get us the fuck out of here!" Stonewall was going to be damned if he'd let an explosive cigarette kill him. This bird would perform as he expected it to perform, and short of Stonewall taking the stick himself Virgil was traveling just as quickly as if he was a shade in the depths of Hell. The missiles were increasing, but an ever adapting thatch-weave manuever, capable only through the Osprey's tilti-rotor design, was making it more and more difficult for the missiles to continue on their track. The last bank had been at a high angle of turn as well, Stonewall and the crew having to strap themselves in for the manuver before quickly springing back into action.

"Colonel, unless we offline that signal, those missiles will keep coming for us. We either jam 'em, or slam 'em, not both!" The pilot shouted to him before cranking the stick upward and yawing to the left, causing the bird to launch into a barrel roll before stopping mid-stride and zooming onto a new heading. The altimeter dipped, twenty feet in under half a second, before stabilizing again in the high thirties. Stepping away from the cockpit, Stonewall glanced down the bay of Virgil to see a Technical Sergeant aiming out the open bay of the Osprey with a carbine in hand.
"Sergeant, the bloody hell are you doing?!" Stonewall shouted as another technician turned to notice the soldier placing precise shots with the rifle at the incoming missiles. None struck, the combination of sheer velocity and pressures alone buffeting the rounds off course before they could do any good. Stonewall found it commendable, though.

"I'm going down shooting sir, even if they're a bunch a fuckin' missiles!"

A mechanical clicking came from Talisman's L85 as he ejected the spent magazine and replaced it with a fresh one. By his mental count, that meant that he had used five magazines, leaving five more in various pockets of his person. He came prepared, but apparently not prepared enough. Throughout the skirmish, he kept a mental note of such items he wanted, either by making it back to the base, or scavenging. Topping that list was more grenades, an undermounted grenade launcher for the L85, and better armor. He had already taken the shot beanie off of his head and hid it within the confines of his person, not to mention that his outdated flak jacket had all kinds of shrapnel and holes in it.

Talisman pulled the scarf from around his mouth in order to obtain a freer range of movement from his head. Then the order from Whitesword rang out, advance in a line formation. He wordlessly acknowledged the order and pushed forward. Making his ways through the woods on the way to the Bunker, he fired minimally in order to conserve ammo. He managed make it to the right end of the ruined bunker, The one which the Captain was on top of. Talisman called out to Whitesword and anyone who was close enough to the bunker to examine it. "Hey! Does this pile of rubble look like it leads anywhere to anyone?" He called. He then pulled back a bit from the corner of the bunker as shots rang through the air and one impacting on the corner. He poked out for a moment in order to take a potshot at the owners of the shots, before retreating back into the corner.

Feeling impatient about the bunker, in his mind it could hold needed ordinance or ammo, maybe even a tunnel connecting it to the main base, he pulled back around the bunker and went to the opening which was opened earlier by the bombardment. He sincerely hoped it contained something of use, like a tunnel to the base or weapons. Of course, at the opening he stopped at the wall beside it cautiously. There may be stragglers in it, or survivors with nothing on their mind but his blood. Talisman called out to his team once more, "I'm checking the bunker! Maybe it'll have some goodies for us." Then, changing the direction of his voice, he called into the bunker, completely on the cautious side. "Anyone any there?" Regardless of the answer, he kept his eye glued to his sights and his finger firmly on the trigger. He then spun into the entrance of the Bunker and surveyed it thoroughly, looking for hostiles...

| 0900L
| 11 NOV 2012
| Bunker Entrance

It was a hard, five minute firefight to bound all the way up to the bunker. Picking his way carefully, Jim Cunningham fired a few rounds every now and again, but rarely paid more than scant attention to the bullets zooming around him. The rest of the mercenaries seemed to be blazing away, oblivious to taking aimed shots, and more towards spray and pray. Cunningham hadn't heard any response from either Whitesword or Icepick to his shouts, and he wondered if they were already dead. Seeing all the people grouped around the bunker, he shouted at the bunch, "How about you either get your waste of spaces inside the gorramned tunnel? Get the hell out of the way! You're making a great target for a gorramned grenade!"

He looked about for the two guys that had come in with him--he hoped that they had followed his lead, but there was no guarantee, and he didn't really care any more. If none of these guys were going to fight as if they had any bloody experience, that wasn't on Cunningham to deal with. He had no idea what the mission was--still no brief from those who had been on the ground at first, either--and was wondering if this mission was going to be a wash. He'd work to get the SAMs knocked out for him to get a lift out from either Virgil Actual or the Mi-8, but beyond that, he was really past caring what everyone else was doing.

0910
11 November 2012
Adjacent to bunker complex.


Henry remained behind the deployable cover for a few moments as the retreating Chinese took several shots at the barrier, bullets pinging and deflecting upon the barrier as Henry climbed from the defensive position behind the barrier, turning to his Comrade, he spoke up.

"You, stay here and don't move..." He said as he grabbed his disruptor rifle and made a run for the bunker complex, looking alongside it's superstructure, the familiar clack and buzz of his disruptor heard as he checked the numbers on the readout of the energy core within the weapon.

"Right..." He then ran sidelong towards the main entrance of the bunker, taking cover behind a cement redoubt, he kept his eyes on his surroundings still, so far everything was quiet. Soon a shout was directed to Cunningham.

"We going to go inside this thing? I'll cover your six." He said, eying the tree line before seeing the outline of a retreating Chinese soldier, raising his rifle he fired several shots, a 'pop' heard with each shot as a streak of red was fired towards the Chinese man, the first two shots missed, one struck a tree, splintering it, the other hit the ground, the last one struck the man in the leg, blowing a sizable hole causing the Chinaman to go down with a scream.

"You go, I'll follow." Cheadle added.

A sigh escaped Talisman's lips realizing that the bunker was indeed, empty. Not much of it's original occupants remained. Just a trail of blood and odd pieces of rubble set haphazardly across the smashed bunker. A flicker of a light further down the hall attracted Talisman's quick reflexes and almost immediately had the L85 aimed in that general direction. Then the light flickered off. It was just a bulb, which was the only illumanation in the tunnel minus the light of the sky behind him.

Talisman relaxed his grip on the L85 and took a cautious step into the bunker. He reached forward flipped a switch on the LLM01 flashlight attachment on the side of the weapon, sending a ray of white light into the dark bunker. He scanned the room a little bit until he was completely satisfied of the nakedness of the bunker. The one thing that caught his as important was the bloodied tunnel leading somewhere near the base, presumably. He flashed a light down the tunnel and the trail of blood glistened on the ground and walls. "Cheery," Talisman said simply.

Then pops of firing was heard just outside the bunker's opening causing Talisman to instinctively back up against the wall adjacent to the opening. He peered out of a corner and spied a man firing towards some hostiles. The man was one of the ones who came in the chopper, reinforcements. He nodded to himself and then saw another man near the tunnel. Another new comer to the fray. To this one he called out from inside the bunker's opening, waving a hand to get his attention. He then returned a hand and began to scan the treeline for hostiles.

"Hey buddy! You're one of the ones who got dropped off right? Good." Talisman said, already knowing the answer to his own question. He saw the soldier disembark while Lightning was being loaded in the chopper. He then pressed on his comms in his ear so that the rest of the officers, as well as the soldier, can hear what he had to say. "I think this bunker tunnel leads somewhere near or in the base." Talisman said, taking eyes away from the soldier for a moment to glance down the tunnel. "I bet we can get down their throats, and avoid the rest of the tanks out there with this thing. Though I'll be damned if I go down this sucker by myself." He said, waiting on a reply from anyone. He glanced around the smashed bunker again and flashed a curious light down the tunnel one more time