Introduction
Welcome to your new home, soldier.
Officially: you are now a member of the 1st JSRD. That's the "1st Joint Services Research Division" in case you're curious. However, as you may have guessed: you weren't selected for this unit just to work on testing out the military's latest toys. As you should full-well know, tensions in the world have been on the rise ever since the first US soldiers went in to Iraq and Afghanistan, and so far they're only get worse with each passing day. So far North Korea seems to be getting ready to storm in to their southern neighbors, Iran is starting to cause trouble on the border (but according to all the news reporters it's just "Al-Queda resistance cells"), and the world is in a huge mess.
Whatever unit in this fine nation's military you came from: you did good enough to get here.
You have ceased to exist.
I don't know if any of you have heard this kind of speech before, but I'd be surprised if you had. You are black-ops people. You are going to engage in operations so secretive that discovery of the United States' involvement could seriously compromise our nation's position.
The odds are always against you.
You are always outnumbered.
However, you will never fail in your mission.
We call ourselves "The Trust". Well, that's what the pin-heads in the Pentagon call us. So take pride: your the first Trustees in American history . . . and nobody will ever know that you exist.
Officially: you are now a member of the 1st JSRD. That's the "1st Joint Services Research Division" in case you're curious. However, as you may have guessed: you weren't selected for this unit just to work on testing out the military's latest toys. As you should full-well know, tensions in the world have been on the rise ever since the first US soldiers went in to Iraq and Afghanistan, and so far they're only get worse with each passing day. So far North Korea seems to be getting ready to storm in to their southern neighbors, Iran is starting to cause trouble on the border (but according to all the news reporters it's just "Al-Queda resistance cells"), and the world is in a huge mess.
Whatever unit in this fine nation's military you came from: you did good enough to get here.
You have ceased to exist.
I don't know if any of you have heard this kind of speech before, but I'd be surprised if you had. You are black-ops people. You are going to engage in operations so secretive that discovery of the United States' involvement could seriously compromise our nation's position.
The odds are always against you.
You are always outnumbered.
However, you will never fail in your mission.
We call ourselves "The Trust". Well, that's what the pin-heads in the Pentagon call us. So take pride: your the first Trustees in American history . . . and nobody will ever know that you exist.
Taking place in...
A world of plausible deniability. our primary setting
Welcome to the world of black-ops and wet-works. In almost every since of the word: this place doesn't even exist.
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The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 5 authors
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Capt. Robert "Mother" Deshoza
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
The room that the four operatives had been taken to was sparse.
It was designed like those of an Army MOUT course: exposed studs, plywood walls, a cold cement floor, and no roof. The room was sizable enough to fit the four of them extremely comfortably, with a row of tables on the east wall, a door on the center of the north wall, and a catwalk that gave a view of the entire course. On that catwalk stood Captain Robert Deshoza. He had been in the Trust far longer than any of the four people in the room, and had been told he was to be leading them in to combat. As a result, he had insisted that he run them through the training course before going out in to the field with them. So there he stood: freshly polished boots, pressed MARPAT-style uniform, and a pair of sunglasses that hid his face from view. With the beard, it almost seemed like a contrast to the neatness of his uniform. Then again, his outfit would be a contrast to that of the operatives in the room. They were all four dressed in more tactically oriented gear: helmets and vests of their choice. While on the table was a variety of weaponry and ammo: all of them bare. No attachments. If these boys (and one girl, Captain Deshoza reminded himself) were going out in to the field with him, they had to prove that they could do it without the fancy toys.
"Welcome!" His voice was amplified by PA speakers throughout the course, due to a ear-piece he was wearing, "To the 1st JSRD's combat training course. As you may or may not already know, my name is Captain Rober Deshoza, or "Mother" to some."
He put his arms behind his back.
"Since none of you have worked together: I'm giving you all a run-through on the course. Pick your weapons and get ready to move on my mark."
----------------
Cpl. Eric "Romeo" Lanford
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
Eric regarded his fellow "Trustees" with a small grin.
They had all already been introduced.
Sergeant Jacob Hart; a Ranger. His call-sign was "Talisman".
Sergeant Justin Case (a bit of a funny name); another Ranger. He went by the call-sign of "Ace".
Then there was the oddity: 1st Lieutenant Evangeline Muthpy. She was a US Marine.
Whatever she had done must have been impressive.
They had all also been introduced to the man that was "Romeo". He was senior to them as a Trustee . . . by about three weeks. Four, on the outside. They had spent the last few days talking with each other, learning where each person came from as far as a military background, and generally just trying to get a feel for one another. Now though, it was going to be shown whether or not they had done a good job of getting to know each other as soldiers. They were using live ammo: normally not a frightening prospect for the former Green Beret if he had been more familiar with the people he was working with. Regardless: there was nothing he could do to change the circumstances. So once Captain Deshoza (he still wondered what kind of a call-sign "Mother" was) had given them his little speech, Eric walked over to the line of tables, and looked over the weapons. It was an unsurprising set-up.
M16s, M4s, M14 EBRs, AK-47s, HK-416s, SPAS-12s, Remington 800s, Beretta 9MMs, Colt .45s, etc.
If you could think of a NATO, Warsaw, or US weapon that could be used when clearing rooms: it was most likely on the table. Eric wasted no time in grabbing a 12-guage Mossberg "Persuador", putting the sling around himself, and making sure it was secure. After that, he secured a Colt .45 in a thigh holster. He grabbed a bandolier of shotgun shells while he was at it, as well as a small number of solid slugs for any locked doors they might have to blast open. Giving it a brief moment of thought, he grabbed a Beretta 9MM as well, and secured it in a holster on the small of his back as a sort of "back-up" gun. It was an old habit he had adopted when he first went in to the Green Berets. Once his gear was selected, he looked back to the others, and thumbed to the table with one gloved hand before retrieving a pair of clear ballistic glasses from his vest.
"Ma'am." He nodded to Lt. Muthpy, "Gentlemen: let's lock 'n load."
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
The room that the four operatives had been taken to was sparse.
It was designed like those of an Army MOUT course: exposed studs, plywood walls, a cold cement floor, and no roof. The room was sizable enough to fit the four of them extremely comfortably, with a row of tables on the east wall, a door on the center of the north wall, and a catwalk that gave a view of the entire course. On that catwalk stood Captain Robert Deshoza. He had been in the Trust far longer than any of the four people in the room, and had been told he was to be leading them in to combat. As a result, he had insisted that he run them through the training course before going out in to the field with them. So there he stood: freshly polished boots, pressed MARPAT-style uniform, and a pair of sunglasses that hid his face from view. With the beard, it almost seemed like a contrast to the neatness of his uniform. Then again, his outfit would be a contrast to that of the operatives in the room. They were all four dressed in more tactically oriented gear: helmets and vests of their choice. While on the table was a variety of weaponry and ammo: all of them bare. No attachments. If these boys (and one girl, Captain Deshoza reminded himself) were going out in to the field with him, they had to prove that they could do it without the fancy toys.
"Welcome!" His voice was amplified by PA speakers throughout the course, due to a ear-piece he was wearing, "To the 1st JSRD's combat training course. As you may or may not already know, my name is Captain Rober Deshoza, or "Mother" to some."
He put his arms behind his back.
"Since none of you have worked together: I'm giving you all a run-through on the course. Pick your weapons and get ready to move on my mark."
----------------
Cpl. Eric "Romeo" Lanford
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
Eric regarded his fellow "Trustees" with a small grin.
They had all already been introduced.
Sergeant Jacob Hart; a Ranger. His call-sign was "Talisman".
Sergeant Justin Case (a bit of a funny name); another Ranger. He went by the call-sign of "Ace".
Then there was the oddity: 1st Lieutenant Evangeline Muthpy. She was a US Marine.
Whatever she had done must have been impressive.
They had all also been introduced to the man that was "Romeo". He was senior to them as a Trustee . . . by about three weeks. Four, on the outside. They had spent the last few days talking with each other, learning where each person came from as far as a military background, and generally just trying to get a feel for one another. Now though, it was going to be shown whether or not they had done a good job of getting to know each other as soldiers. They were using live ammo: normally not a frightening prospect for the former Green Beret if he had been more familiar with the people he was working with. Regardless: there was nothing he could do to change the circumstances. So once Captain Deshoza (he still wondered what kind of a call-sign "Mother" was) had given them his little speech, Eric walked over to the line of tables, and looked over the weapons. It was an unsurprising set-up.
M16s, M4s, M14 EBRs, AK-47s, HK-416s, SPAS-12s, Remington 800s, Beretta 9MMs, Colt .45s, etc.
If you could think of a NATO, Warsaw, or US weapon that could be used when clearing rooms: it was most likely on the table. Eric wasted no time in grabbing a 12-guage Mossberg "Persuador", putting the sling around himself, and making sure it was secure. After that, he secured a Colt .45 in a thigh holster. He grabbed a bandolier of shotgun shells while he was at it, as well as a small number of solid slugs for any locked doors they might have to blast open. Giving it a brief moment of thought, he grabbed a Beretta 9MM as well, and secured it in a holster on the small of his back as a sort of "back-up" gun. It was an old habit he had adopted when he first went in to the Green Berets. Once his gear was selected, he looked back to the others, and thumbed to the table with one gloved hand before retrieving a pair of clear ballistic glasses from his vest.
"Ma'am." He nodded to Lt. Muthpy, "Gentlemen: let's lock 'n load."
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"Right then," Jacob said spinning on his heels and faced the table. He took a couple of steps towards it and was beside Eric, who had picked a Mossberg shotgun. Jake smirked at the man's choice and turned to the table and surveyed his options. A wide variety of choices from Warsaw Pact weapons, to NATO, to good ol' American weaponry.
He swung back on his heel, nodded his comrades, and surveyed the training area. A skeleton of a house. A MOUT course to be sure. A cat walk to observe them. Really standard Jake thought to himself and he shrugged. He began to talk to himself, but the others could no doubt hear him. "Right... Urban combat. Can expect a lot of corners... Shotgun already taken," He glanced at Eric with a smirk, "So then a Carbine would be suitable. Need maneuverability." He said, picking up an M4 and tested it's weight. He size was correct but he just didn't... Like it. He sat it back on the table, "No, maybe not a Carbine." He then scanned his selection once more, and picked up another American favorite, a M16. Again he sat it back down.
Then he caught a glimpse of something that intrigued him. A bullpup design would suit the environmental need for maneuverability. Plus, he had always been partial to the Bullpup design. A British L85A2... He picked the NATO weapon up and immediately loved the weight it gave. Due to the Bullpup nature, barrel length would be the same as an assault rifle's, but it was smaller in size than one too. "Hello there, I think we have a winner," He said before picking up the 5.56mm rounds for it.
Next came the side arm, the standard M1911A1. He slid that into the holster at his side. He then reached under his scarf and retrieved a pair of tinted safety glasses and placed them on his face.
"Alright, let's rock." He said, a smile plastered to his face.
He swung back on his heel, nodded his comrades, and surveyed the training area. A skeleton of a house. A MOUT course to be sure. A cat walk to observe them. Really standard Jake thought to himself and he shrugged. He began to talk to himself, but the others could no doubt hear him. "Right... Urban combat. Can expect a lot of corners... Shotgun already taken," He glanced at Eric with a smirk, "So then a Carbine would be suitable. Need maneuverability." He said, picking up an M4 and tested it's weight. He size was correct but he just didn't... Like it. He sat it back on the table, "No, maybe not a Carbine." He then scanned his selection once more, and picked up another American favorite, a M16. Again he sat it back down.
Then he caught a glimpse of something that intrigued him. A bullpup design would suit the environmental need for maneuverability. Plus, he had always been partial to the Bullpup design. A British L85A2... He picked the NATO weapon up and immediately loved the weight it gave. Due to the Bullpup nature, barrel length would be the same as an assault rifle's, but it was smaller in size than one too. "Hello there, I think we have a winner," He said before picking up the 5.56mm rounds for it.
Next came the side arm, the standard M1911A1. He slid that into the holster at his side. He then reached under his scarf and retrieved a pair of tinted safety glasses and placed them on his face.
"Alright, let's rock." He said, a smile plastered to his face.
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Justin walked up to the table and looked at the all the weapons on the table. This was to say the lest a very well funded operation. The selections of weapons was out of this world. Just about everything from A to Z was on the table. Justin felt like a kid in candy shop. He picked up an M4 and looked down the sights of the gun before putting it back on the table.
Justin walked over to where Romeo was standing. Eric "Romeo" Lanford, As far as Justin knows right now Romeo was a good guy. He was a Ranger no doubt, but Justin had a feeling about him. He wasn't sure what that feeling was just yet, but it was a feeling none the less. "Hell of a course ain't there Romeo?" Justin said with a slight southern twang that can only be fond in Tennessee. His eyes scanned what they could of the course. He looked over at Jacob Hart call sign of Talisman. Another one he liked, he just seemed like a good guy. He chose the L85A2, not what Justin would call a first chose but hey its his call right?
Justin walked backed over to the table after only a few second and picked up the Bushmaster Adaptive Combat Rifle. He owned one and liked a lot more than the M4 or the M16 but with recent recalls for the weapon he didn't want to take a chance. Instead he picked up the Barrett REC7, it wasn't much more than an upper receiver change from the M4 but uses the Remington 6.8 SPC round. A slow but more powerful round the .556 used in the M4 and and the L85A2. Picking up the weapon the weapon and looking down the sights he was satisfied that he had the right weapon in his hands. Justin jacked a clip into the gun making sure to leave the slide open so that it wouldn't jack a round in to the chamber. After that he grabbed an H&K USP Tactical handgun and holstered the weapon. With his lone free hand he took three clips for the rifle and four for the handgun. 120 for the rifle plus forty-eight for the handgun he felt sure he wasn't going to need more than that.
He walked back over to the others. "Rangers accounted for sir! Ready and waiting!" Justin said looking at the Captain. He wasn't sure what Captain Deshazo, or rather "Mother" had done to get to be the leader of this outifit, at the same time though Justin didn't want to know. Hell he didn't know why or he even got in on this. Justin looked back at the woman. The lone Marine sniper. "Well, you coming dear?" Justin said not thinking of any implication that might have.
Justin walked over to where Romeo was standing. Eric "Romeo" Lanford, As far as Justin knows right now Romeo was a good guy. He was a Ranger no doubt, but Justin had a feeling about him. He wasn't sure what that feeling was just yet, but it was a feeling none the less. "Hell of a course ain't there Romeo?" Justin said with a slight southern twang that can only be fond in Tennessee. His eyes scanned what they could of the course. He looked over at Jacob Hart call sign of Talisman. Another one he liked, he just seemed like a good guy. He chose the L85A2, not what Justin would call a first chose but hey its his call right?
Justin walked backed over to the table after only a few second and picked up the Bushmaster Adaptive Combat Rifle. He owned one and liked a lot more than the M4 or the M16 but with recent recalls for the weapon he didn't want to take a chance. Instead he picked up the Barrett REC7, it wasn't much more than an upper receiver change from the M4 but uses the Remington 6.8 SPC round. A slow but more powerful round the .556 used in the M4 and and the L85A2. Picking up the weapon the weapon and looking down the sights he was satisfied that he had the right weapon in his hands. Justin jacked a clip into the gun making sure to leave the slide open so that it wouldn't jack a round in to the chamber. After that he grabbed an H&K USP Tactical handgun and holstered the weapon. With his lone free hand he took three clips for the rifle and four for the handgun. 120 for the rifle plus forty-eight for the handgun he felt sure he wasn't going to need more than that.
He walked back over to the others. "Rangers accounted for sir! Ready and waiting!" Justin said looking at the Captain. He wasn't sure what Captain Deshazo, or rather "Mother" had done to get to be the leader of this outifit, at the same time though Justin didn't want to know. Hell he didn't know why or he even got in on this. Justin looked back at the woman. The lone Marine sniper. "Well, you coming dear?" Justin said not thinking of any implication that might have.
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Evangeline Murphy, better known by her call-sign "Seraph" sat quietly at the end of the tables with the rest of her unit. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a stiff pony tail, her cerulean eyes were acutely observing her fellow comrades who were seated in the room with her. She had gotten to know them a little bit within the past couple of days. Taking a drag of her cigarette she exhaled when she heard Captain "Mother" Deshoza spoke.
Rising to her feet, she approached the table covered with most any weapon imaginable. She lit up like a kid at Christmas, running her fingers along various barrels until she stopped and grinned. Picking up the stainless steel barrel of the DPMS Panther LRT SASS. Even with the extended barrel, it didn't weigh more than 11.5 pounds. Murphy was impressed with the weapon's Semi-Automatic Sniper System which made this particular weapon a high commodity. Both the upper and lower receivers are anodized and then a black Teflon coating is applied to help with corrosion protection. The black Teflon finish has a dull matte finish and is quite effective for a tactical rifle. For a sidearm, she chose a Mark XIX Desert Eagle and slid in a holster on her side. Grabbing a fair share of rounds for her weapons, she took another drag of her cigarette.
She lifted her gaze from the weapons and looked to Justin, the Ranger, better known as Ace. With a slight smirk, she walked through the doorway, "Just needed to accessorize, Sweetheart."
Rising to her feet, she approached the table covered with most any weapon imaginable. She lit up like a kid at Christmas, running her fingers along various barrels until she stopped and grinned. Picking up the stainless steel barrel of the DPMS Panther LRT SASS. Even with the extended barrel, it didn't weigh more than 11.5 pounds. Murphy was impressed with the weapon's Semi-Automatic Sniper System which made this particular weapon a high commodity. Both the upper and lower receivers are anodized and then a black Teflon coating is applied to help with corrosion protection. The black Teflon finish has a dull matte finish and is quite effective for a tactical rifle. For a sidearm, she chose a Mark XIX Desert Eagle and slid in a holster on her side. Grabbing a fair share of rounds for her weapons, she took another drag of her cigarette.
She lifted her gaze from the weapons and looked to Justin, the Ranger, better known as Ace. With a slight smirk, she walked through the doorway, "Just needed to accessorize, Sweetheart."
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Justin shot her a wink with a grin and chuckle."Well boys and girls what's the bet? Lest accurate and first miss buys the first round tonight?" Justin said as he release the slide for his weapon. His first round was now in the chamber and was ready to go. After doing so he made sure that the rifles sling was around his body and secured. Now with both hands free he pulled out his pistol and pulled the slide back and released it. The sound of the slide going was always a welcomed sound to Justin.
"My money says Talisman is the first to miss and our fair lady is going to miss the most. Her being a Marine and all.' Just said as playfully as possible. She was the lone Marine, the lone everything in fact. All of them were Rangers. Justin was in truth more interested in her than anyone else. Woman as far as he knew weren't ever apart of combat. Not only was she, but she became a sniper. That was worth of respect and praise on both counts. It still made Justin wonder about her.
"My money says Talisman is the first to miss and our fair lady is going to miss the most. Her being a Marine and all.' Just said as playfully as possible. She was the lone Marine, the lone everything in fact. All of them were Rangers. Justin was in truth more interested in her than anyone else. Woman as far as he knew weren't ever apart of combat. Not only was she, but she became a sniper. That was worth of respect and praise on both counts. It still made Justin wonder about her.
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Cpl. Eric "Romeo" Lanford
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
"You're not a Ranger anymore, Sergeant." Though he didn't raise his voice, Captain Deshoza sounded like he was berating the Sergeant, "Now get going, Trustees."
Eric looked as each person picked their weapons.
The Marine girl, Lt. Murphy, intrigued the former Green Beret. The MOUT course they were in was quite obviously a close-quarters experience (hence his choice of the shotgun), yet she had taken a very long-barreled weapon. That meant she would have to be careful moving through doorways, should she accidentally catch the barrel on the doorway. They were using live ammunition after all, and Eric wasn't much of a fan of getting shot in a "blue-on-blue" scenario . . . or at all for that matter. Regardless, she didn't get in to this unit for nothing, and so Eric had full confidence in her ability to use the weapon. Instead, he cleared his mind of such thoughts. Racking the shotgun, he moved over to the door, and took point on the side with the handle. They had none of the fancy toys like under-the-door "snake cams" and other things. They would have relatively no idea what was on the other side of any door in the room. It was a test of their skill as combatants. They would have to adopt and change in literally every room that they came to. He also assumed that not all of the targets would be hostile. One would most likely find figures holding veri lethal phones, purses, and a variety of other vicious weapons in amongst the minor threat of the real gunmen.
Eric reached back, tapping on the shoulder of one of the four people who would undoubtedly stack up at his back. It was a simple method he had been taught since basic training, as would any soldier. The point-man taps on the shoulder of the person behind him to show he's ready, then that person does the same, and it would go to the end of the line (in this case, four people). When the last in the line had been tapped, if they were ready they would tap on the shoudler of the person in front of them, and it would go up to the front (though a quicker way would be to start from the back, only going through once). Then the point-man (in this case, Eric), knowing that everybody was ready, would initiate whatever entry plan they had set up (in this case, simply opening the door, and rushing in). Once the team had rushed in, they would find themselves in . . . a hallway. There was a plain plywood wall a few feet to their right, while to their left, the hallway continued until it reached the cement exterior, and made a right turn. Eric started for that corner, stopping just short of it, and waiting for the others.
Like any soldier, he moved quickly, and precisely: each step measured carefully.
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
"You're not a Ranger anymore, Sergeant." Though he didn't raise his voice, Captain Deshoza sounded like he was berating the Sergeant, "Now get going, Trustees."
Eric looked as each person picked their weapons.
The Marine girl, Lt. Murphy, intrigued the former Green Beret. The MOUT course they were in was quite obviously a close-quarters experience (hence his choice of the shotgun), yet she had taken a very long-barreled weapon. That meant she would have to be careful moving through doorways, should she accidentally catch the barrel on the doorway. They were using live ammunition after all, and Eric wasn't much of a fan of getting shot in a "blue-on-blue" scenario . . . or at all for that matter. Regardless, she didn't get in to this unit for nothing, and so Eric had full confidence in her ability to use the weapon. Instead, he cleared his mind of such thoughts. Racking the shotgun, he moved over to the door, and took point on the side with the handle. They had none of the fancy toys like under-the-door "snake cams" and other things. They would have relatively no idea what was on the other side of any door in the room. It was a test of their skill as combatants. They would have to adopt and change in literally every room that they came to. He also assumed that not all of the targets would be hostile. One would most likely find figures holding veri lethal phones, purses, and a variety of other vicious weapons in amongst the minor threat of the real gunmen.
Eric reached back, tapping on the shoulder of one of the four people who would undoubtedly stack up at his back. It was a simple method he had been taught since basic training, as would any soldier. The point-man taps on the shoulder of the person behind him to show he's ready, then that person does the same, and it would go to the end of the line (in this case, four people). When the last in the line had been tapped, if they were ready they would tap on the shoudler of the person in front of them, and it would go up to the front (though a quicker way would be to start from the back, only going through once). Then the point-man (in this case, Eric), knowing that everybody was ready, would initiate whatever entry plan they had set up (in this case, simply opening the door, and rushing in). Once the team had rushed in, they would find themselves in . . . a hallway. There was a plain plywood wall a few feet to their right, while to their left, the hallway continued until it reached the cement exterior, and made a right turn. Eric started for that corner, stopping just short of it, and waiting for the others.
Like any soldier, he moved quickly, and precisely: each step measured carefully.
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"Well boys and girls what's the bet? Lest accurate and first miss buys the first round tonight?" Justin said.
Murphy smirked at his comment yet remained silent. She checked her sniper rifle carefully, as though she were inspecting it for any inefficiencies that would deter her in the upcoming mission. Really, she knew it was merely a practice run, as did all the other members of the squad. But she understood it was to be looked upon as a regular mission nonetheless.
Carefully disassembling her sniper rifle in a manner in which she could reassemble it in a matter of seconds, Murphy strapped it onto her back. In regards to her clothing, she wore a standard military attire. Gray cargo jeans and black leather boots, as well as a matching steel gray tank top. Her dog tags hung from her neck, yet she wore a peculiar bracelet around her wrist that showed three other dog tags as though they were charm bracelets. She never explained what they represented or who they were from, and she knew she would never need to.
"My money says Talisman is the first to miss and our fair lady is going to miss the most. Her being a Marine and all.' Just said as playfully as possible.
Murphy could merely chuckle as she finished her cigarette and flicked it away, "Well then, just 'lead the way' Ranger boy. I bet I will out-shoot you as well as outdrink you.....And just to show my compassion, we'll use some good old Jack Daniels so it will be good old home brew for you, Tennessee." She was familiar with his background, as they were probably with her own. She was from Montana, yet she had a strong taste for fine southern whiskey.
"You're not a Ranger anymore, Sergeant." Though he didn't raise his voice, Captain Deshoza sounded like he was berating the Sergeant, "Now get going, Trustees."
Managing to refrain from her usual smirk, Murphy kept the straightest face possible though she looked to Ace with that familiar glint in her eyes. She knew their Captain was simply doing her job, doing what he could to keep them in line to to keep them alive. A training mission is still a mission, and she understood that. However her playful nature kept her spirits high. The captain was their point-man, standing right in front of her. Once he tapped her shoulder, she tapped the person behind her. She withdrew her side-arm in preparation, choosing instead to wait for the opportune moment to use her skills as a sniper.
Murphy smirked at his comment yet remained silent. She checked her sniper rifle carefully, as though she were inspecting it for any inefficiencies that would deter her in the upcoming mission. Really, she knew it was merely a practice run, as did all the other members of the squad. But she understood it was to be looked upon as a regular mission nonetheless.
Carefully disassembling her sniper rifle in a manner in which she could reassemble it in a matter of seconds, Murphy strapped it onto her back. In regards to her clothing, she wore a standard military attire. Gray cargo jeans and black leather boots, as well as a matching steel gray tank top. Her dog tags hung from her neck, yet she wore a peculiar bracelet around her wrist that showed three other dog tags as though they were charm bracelets. She never explained what they represented or who they were from, and she knew she would never need to.
"My money says Talisman is the first to miss and our fair lady is going to miss the most. Her being a Marine and all.' Just said as playfully as possible.
Murphy could merely chuckle as she finished her cigarette and flicked it away, "Well then, just 'lead the way' Ranger boy. I bet I will out-shoot you as well as outdrink you.....And just to show my compassion, we'll use some good old Jack Daniels so it will be good old home brew for you, Tennessee." She was familiar with his background, as they were probably with her own. She was from Montana, yet she had a strong taste for fine southern whiskey.
"You're not a Ranger anymore, Sergeant." Though he didn't raise his voice, Captain Deshoza sounded like he was berating the Sergeant, "Now get going, Trustees."
Managing to refrain from her usual smirk, Murphy kept the straightest face possible though she looked to Ace with that familiar glint in her eyes. She knew their Captain was simply doing her job, doing what he could to keep them in line to to keep them alive. A training mission is still a mission, and she understood that. However her playful nature kept her spirits high. The captain was their point-man, standing right in front of her. Once he tapped her shoulder, she tapped the person behind her. She withdrew her side-arm in preparation, choosing instead to wait for the opportune moment to use her skills as a sniper.
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Justin was really starting to like this team. They've all been through a bad tea at lest once. That's just the way it was, sometimes it was just a team full of people that either didn't jell or was just a bad fit as a unit. He had the feeling that this unit, this team, was going to not only a good fit together but was going to be able to go all the as far as it needed to get the job done.
Justin was wearing a black Camelbak DETAL 5 Tactical Vest over a sand color shirt, Camelbak Impact gloves. The Vest had a three Kangaroo MOLLE Pouches where he could get to the clips as fast as he could. His ACU mulitcams were accompanied by a thigh holsters on each side, one for a side arm, the other a bladed weapon. His boots were about worn out, they looked like he had them since he had gotten into the Rangers a couple of years a go. The only thing that had been done to the was a softer sole was added. Justin wasn't the kinda guy to give up on a garment just for showing a little wear.
"You'll do one, maybe, no way you gonna get me on both counts. If you really wanna get over on me, try Makers Mark or something. You know, something that doesn't flow like water down the mountains." Justin said grin. "Never thought I'd see the day an LT try n'take advantage of a young, influential, former Ranger like myself. hats this world coming too?" Justin stacked up ande line and signalled that he was ready. This was about to be one hell of a party.
Justin was wearing a black Camelbak DETAL 5 Tactical Vest over a sand color shirt, Camelbak Impact gloves. The Vest had a three Kangaroo MOLLE Pouches where he could get to the clips as fast as he could. His ACU mulitcams were accompanied by a thigh holsters on each side, one for a side arm, the other a bladed weapon. His boots were about worn out, they looked like he had them since he had gotten into the Rangers a couple of years a go. The only thing that had been done to the was a softer sole was added. Justin wasn't the kinda guy to give up on a garment just for showing a little wear.
"You'll do one, maybe, no way you gonna get me on both counts. If you really wanna get over on me, try Makers Mark or something. You know, something that doesn't flow like water down the mountains." Justin said grin. "Never thought I'd see the day an LT try n'take advantage of a young, influential, former Ranger like myself. hats this world coming too?" Justin stacked up ande line and signalled that he was ready. This was about to be one hell of a party.
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"Allright, c'mon ladi- Well, i guess that is actually true in one case. . . C'mon, let's do this thing!"
Got to remember. . . There is a WOMAN amongst us. . . How. . . Interesting. To say the least.
John fidgeted a little as he stood in formation. He was anxious to get started. He wanted to see if these soldiers were really cut out to be in this unit. Well, obviously, they were; they were here weren't they? Well, he considered himself a good judge of skill, even if he was still fairly young. He didn't like relying on other people's analysis of someone's skill. It made him feel vulnerable.
He stood at the end of the line; his favorite spot. He would be the last one in, the last one those "tangos" would see, if his teammates hadn't taken them all down first. Of course, he didn't expect to actually shoot any living people in this exercise. He just liked his position. It brought back memories. . . Which were for another time. He cleared his mind, readying himself.
He did one final check on himself in the last few seconds. His standard issue ACU digital camouflage outfit was all closed up, with nothing hanging out that could get caught on something. He made sure his Phantom Denier Force Recon Tactical Vest was secure. He then quickly checked the chamber of his MP5-his preferred weapon when he had a choice- and saw the round lying there, just waiting for him to pull the trigger and send it flying at an adversary. He got in a half crouch-half standing stance, all the better for him to charge in if things got ugly. Finally, he made sure his bandana on his head was nice and tight, then gave the bullet casing around his neck a little rub with his index finger. Good. IM READY!!!! He took a deep breath, calming down. Time to prove myself.
He got the tap from the soldier in front of him, and he calmly tapped him back. He whispered to the team, before things started, "Good luck LADY and gentlemen. And don't trip."
Got to remember. . . There is a WOMAN amongst us. . . How. . . Interesting. To say the least.
John fidgeted a little as he stood in formation. He was anxious to get started. He wanted to see if these soldiers were really cut out to be in this unit. Well, obviously, they were; they were here weren't they? Well, he considered himself a good judge of skill, even if he was still fairly young. He didn't like relying on other people's analysis of someone's skill. It made him feel vulnerable.
He stood at the end of the line; his favorite spot. He would be the last one in, the last one those "tangos" would see, if his teammates hadn't taken them all down first. Of course, he didn't expect to actually shoot any living people in this exercise. He just liked his position. It brought back memories. . . Which were for another time. He cleared his mind, readying himself.
He did one final check on himself in the last few seconds. His standard issue ACU digital camouflage outfit was all closed up, with nothing hanging out that could get caught on something. He made sure his Phantom Denier Force Recon Tactical Vest was secure. He then quickly checked the chamber of his MP5-his preferred weapon when he had a choice- and saw the round lying there, just waiting for him to pull the trigger and send it flying at an adversary. He got in a half crouch-half standing stance, all the better for him to charge in if things got ugly. Finally, he made sure his bandana on his head was nice and tight, then gave the bullet casing around his neck a little rub with his index finger. Good. IM READY!!!! He took a deep breath, calming down. Time to prove myself.
He got the tap from the soldier in front of him, and he calmly tapped him back. He whispered to the team, before things started, "Good luck LADY and gentlemen. And don't trip."
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Jake took the third position... Just right, two bullet shields in front of him and one in back. Of course, he was their first aid specialist, and if one of them did get shot, he would have to drag their ass out of the line of fire, check the wound, check for shock... Check for a pulse, then a dose of morphine and bandages... If he couldn't get the bullet out. If it was only a flesh wound, then chances were, he could get the bullet out... Luckly, nothing shouldn't be shooting at them in the course unless paper hostiles decide to get extremely hostile.
Then the taps came. It started with their pointman, Romeo. Flowed through the next, Seraph, then him, Talisman, and lastly Bipolar... Strange callsign, that one. Normally, Talisman would hike his scarf up around his nose and mouth before breaching and entering... He didn't see the point in the training exercise and passed the tap on along to Bipolar. Then the tap began back down the line, with a whisper of luck from the man behind him, "Always lucky," he said smugly with a smirk encroaching on his face.
Then they were through the door. Romeo took point, while Talisman checked left of the team, expecting Seraph to get the right. A hallway to the left, of which Talisman stacked up with his team...
Then the taps came. It started with their pointman, Romeo. Flowed through the next, Seraph, then him, Talisman, and lastly Bipolar... Strange callsign, that one. Normally, Talisman would hike his scarf up around his nose and mouth before breaching and entering... He didn't see the point in the training exercise and passed the tap on along to Bipolar. Then the tap began back down the line, with a whisper of luck from the man behind him, "Always lucky," he said smugly with a smirk encroaching on his face.
Then they were through the door. Romeo took point, while Talisman checked left of the team, expecting Seraph to get the right. A hallway to the left, of which Talisman stacked up with his team...
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Cpl. Eric "Romeo" Lanford
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
BLAM!
KA-CHINK!
BLAM!
Eric's shotgun roared as he turned right and continued down the hallway.
Two paper targets had been set up along the left side of the hall, a few feet away from each other, and each one fell down. They had been the typical image of terrorists: olive-drab jackets, AKs, and ski-masks. The targets stayed down as the team moved past to a door near the end of the hall, on the right. There: Eric stopped just short of the door once more. He initiated the tap back, recieved it in turn, and booted in the door. Running in, he moved to the right: scanning for any threats at eye-level or lower. The room was about the size of the average living room, with two "terrorists" in the far left corner, one in the corner to their left, one through a doorway in to a closet on their right, and there was a fifth target in the far right corner. Across the room, in the center of the far wall, was another door. Eric's first kill was the target in the closet as he cleared the doorway for others to come through. However, if they were paying attention to the target in the far right corner: they might realize something was off about it.
Captain Deshazo waited patiently to see how the soldiers would react to that target.
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
BLAM!
KA-CHINK!
BLAM!
Eric's shotgun roared as he turned right and continued down the hallway.
Two paper targets had been set up along the left side of the hall, a few feet away from each other, and each one fell down. They had been the typical image of terrorists: olive-drab jackets, AKs, and ski-masks. The targets stayed down as the team moved past to a door near the end of the hall, on the right. There: Eric stopped just short of the door once more. He initiated the tap back, recieved it in turn, and booted in the door. Running in, he moved to the right: scanning for any threats at eye-level or lower. The room was about the size of the average living room, with two "terrorists" in the far left corner, one in the corner to their left, one through a doorway in to a closet on their right, and there was a fifth target in the far right corner. Across the room, in the center of the far wall, was another door. Eric's first kill was the target in the closet as he cleared the doorway for others to come through. However, if they were paying attention to the target in the far right corner: they might realize something was off about it.
Captain Deshazo waited patiently to see how the soldiers would react to that target.
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"You'll do one, maybe, no way you gonna get me on both counts. If you really wanna get over on me, try Makers Mark or something. You know, something that doesn't flow like water down the mountains." Justin said grin. "Never thought I'd see the day an LT try n'take advantage of a young, influential, former Ranger like myself. hats this world coming too?"
Murphy rolled her eyes with a scoff, "Don't worry, the world hasn't gotten that screwed up."
Focusing on the job at hand, she followed Romeo into the hall like a shadow. Despite her gear, she was surprisingly light on her feet, her boots barely making a sound. Sniper training made stealth and recon a top priority in those who practiced the art. She kept her firearm ready to fire on a split second's notice. Two targets approached, but their team leader was quick to act. Murphy came a sudden stop once Romeo did, her finger still steady on the trigger.
After busting down the door, she moved in a flash, putting a bullet in one target's head while Romeo handled the second. Pointing her gun at the next target, she halted, holding one hand up to halt the other.
"Holding fire," she said. The target was like the others. No weapon, and it was shorter. If she had to guess, it would be more child-sized in comparison.
Murphy rolled her eyes with a scoff, "Don't worry, the world hasn't gotten that screwed up."
Focusing on the job at hand, she followed Romeo into the hall like a shadow. Despite her gear, she was surprisingly light on her feet, her boots barely making a sound. Sniper training made stealth and recon a top priority in those who practiced the art. She kept her firearm ready to fire on a split second's notice. Two targets approached, but their team leader was quick to act. Murphy came a sudden stop once Romeo did, her finger still steady on the trigger.
After busting down the door, she moved in a flash, putting a bullet in one target's head while Romeo handled the second. Pointing her gun at the next target, she halted, holding one hand up to halt the other.
"Holding fire," she said. The target was like the others. No weapon, and it was shorter. If she had to guess, it would be more child-sized in comparison.
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Justin had more than a couple of rebuttals, most of which he thought were pretty funny but was not the time nor the place for it. Right now we they were about to be a "combat situation." And that was both the best and worst part of it. The best was just pure and simple, them firing off and taking targets down. The worst was how uptight this was just for training.
There weren't any more danger targets standing however Justin did not like that lone standing target. Child sized it maybe Justin kept his weapon trained the standing target. Till he heard one of the greatest phrases ever to be said, "All clear."
There weren't any more danger targets standing however Justin did not like that lone standing target. Child sized it maybe Justin kept his weapon trained the standing target. Till he heard one of the greatest phrases ever to be said, "All clear."
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Cpl. Eric "Romeo" Lanford
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
The team was right to hesitate.
They all stood there, guns pointed at it.
Meanwhile, the painted visage of a young woman in a pink hoodie stared back, crouching down with a small baby in her arms, and four or five bullet holes that showed where Trustees before them had made a mistake on the course. No weapons. No other immediate threat to the team presented by that target, or any of the now knocked down targets. For all intents and purposes: the room was entirely clear. Eric once again took the lead, busting through the door, turning left down a clear hallway, and stacking up on another door. This time he took a moment to glance back at the people behind him.
"Well, I'd expect it from my Army brethren in the Rangers, but a Marine keepin' up with a former Delta?" Eric grinned, "I must say, ma'am: I am impressed."
Those were the few words he had spoken since this training had started. Eric busted through the door once again, and this time the room they came out in to was . . . completely uninhabited. It was large and rectangular, like a warehouse storage room, and there was a single door on the far side of the room. Crates lined the left, right, and far walls as they came in. Outside of that, there were no hostiles, but that didn't put Eric at ease as he slowly advanced through the room towards the center once they had gone through the clearing procedure. The moment he did, however, he would regret it. A single target popped up from amongst the crates. Eric turned to face it but it was too late. A single red paint-ball thumped in to his vest before he even had the cance to yell, "Contact!" From the shear surprise of the strike, he fell to the ground, and laid there as his team-mates handled the target.
"Congratulations, Corporal: you're wounded. Now the rest of you get to complete this course while dragging him around!" Captain Deshazo's voice boomed once again.
1st JSRD, a.k.a, "The Trust"
A secret training facility
Somewhere in the Arizona desert
The team was right to hesitate.
They all stood there, guns pointed at it.
Meanwhile, the painted visage of a young woman in a pink hoodie stared back, crouching down with a small baby in her arms, and four or five bullet holes that showed where Trustees before them had made a mistake on the course. No weapons. No other immediate threat to the team presented by that target, or any of the now knocked down targets. For all intents and purposes: the room was entirely clear. Eric once again took the lead, busting through the door, turning left down a clear hallway, and stacking up on another door. This time he took a moment to glance back at the people behind him.
"Well, I'd expect it from my Army brethren in the Rangers, but a Marine keepin' up with a former Delta?" Eric grinned, "I must say, ma'am: I am impressed."
Those were the few words he had spoken since this training had started. Eric busted through the door once again, and this time the room they came out in to was . . . completely uninhabited. It was large and rectangular, like a warehouse storage room, and there was a single door on the far side of the room. Crates lined the left, right, and far walls as they came in. Outside of that, there were no hostiles, but that didn't put Eric at ease as he slowly advanced through the room towards the center once they had gone through the clearing procedure. The moment he did, however, he would regret it. A single target popped up from amongst the crates. Eric turned to face it but it was too late. A single red paint-ball thumped in to his vest before he even had the cance to yell, "Contact!" From the shear surprise of the strike, he fell to the ground, and laid there as his team-mates handled the target.
"Congratulations, Corporal: you're wounded. Now the rest of you get to complete this course while dragging him around!" Captain Deshazo's voice boomed once again.
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THUMP
Jake whipped around to where the paintball came from and placed three shots from the L85 right into the center mass of the target. No fancy head shots, so heart shots, just quick and dirty drop 'em shots. As they walked into the warehouse, Jake kept his eyes peeled on the crates along the wall... No doubt if a tango were to pop up, it would come from there... And it looks as if he was right. As it stood, he merely looked at the target down his iron sights and scanned the area for any more. Not any immediate threats, but thoughts like that would get him killed.
He ventured a quick glance to where Romeo laid sprawling on the ground and couldn't help a smirk. "Well fella, this would be the time where I would have to patch your ass up," The medic snarked. As he did he lowered his gun and slipped behind the second person in line and slid beside the dropped soldier. He swung his gun up when he was clear and scanned the place again, even venturing a glance behind him. "As it stands, I'm just going to have to drag your ass out of here," He said, glancing down and finding the handle on Romeo's vest. He nodded for quick reference.
"Right Miss Seraph, looks like you're on point now. Mister Ace, if you would be so kind as to help me carry Romeo here, maybe we can get through here without anymore casualties?"
Jake whipped around to where the paintball came from and placed three shots from the L85 right into the center mass of the target. No fancy head shots, so heart shots, just quick and dirty drop 'em shots. As they walked into the warehouse, Jake kept his eyes peeled on the crates along the wall... No doubt if a tango were to pop up, it would come from there... And it looks as if he was right. As it stood, he merely looked at the target down his iron sights and scanned the area for any more. Not any immediate threats, but thoughts like that would get him killed.
He ventured a quick glance to where Romeo laid sprawling on the ground and couldn't help a smirk. "Well fella, this would be the time where I would have to patch your ass up," The medic snarked. As he did he lowered his gun and slipped behind the second person in line and slid beside the dropped soldier. He swung his gun up when he was clear and scanned the place again, even venturing a glance behind him. "As it stands, I'm just going to have to drag your ass out of here," He said, glancing down and finding the handle on Romeo's vest. He nodded for quick reference.
"Right Miss Seraph, looks like you're on point now. Mister Ace, if you would be so kind as to help me carry Romeo here, maybe we can get through here without anymore casualties?"
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Ace rushed in along side Talisman, while he was tending to Romeo Ace was watching and listening for even the slightest sound. After they done and dragged Romeo to a "safer" area then into the room they would go again and hopefully this time, they could get the job done right.
When Talisman was done, Ace listened to intently while he watched out for any signs of danger. Ace didn't speak, he didn't have to really just tapped Tal on the shoulder and grabbed Romeo's shoulder. "You boys better be happy I ate my Wheaties today." Ace said as he quickly placed his rifle behind him in a way that neither the sling or the rifle would be in the way. Ace quickly pulled out his side arm. "Either fall back or we help me fast. Something happens to you were doubly fucked. He started to drag Romeo back out to where they stacked up.
When they were all back to the starting point Ace looked up at the others. "Well raise your hand if you see saw that coming...... Well if your going take point." Ace said half ass pointing at Seraph. "Be sure your quicker than Rome here." Now that everything was said and done as it where, Ace was to say the lest shaken. This was a first or at lest that had seen. It wasn't the fact that they were Rangers but Special Operations guys. Thats really what was messing him up.
When Talisman was done, Ace listened to intently while he watched out for any signs of danger. Ace didn't speak, he didn't have to really just tapped Tal on the shoulder and grabbed Romeo's shoulder. "You boys better be happy I ate my Wheaties today." Ace said as he quickly placed his rifle behind him in a way that neither the sling or the rifle would be in the way. Ace quickly pulled out his side arm. "Either fall back or we help me fast. Something happens to you were doubly fucked. He started to drag Romeo back out to where they stacked up.
When they were all back to the starting point Ace looked up at the others. "Well raise your hand if you see saw that coming...... Well if your going take point." Ace said half ass pointing at Seraph. "Be sure your quicker than Rome here." Now that everything was said and done as it where, Ace was to say the lest shaken. This was a first or at lest that had seen. It wasn't the fact that they were Rangers but Special Operations guys. Thats really what was messing him up.
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A better look at the target provided Murphy with the knowledge that it was a friendly. The bullet holes in the material showed her that others were to quick to pull the trigger. Her own trigger finger relaxed as she took a deep breath and looked back at her team mates.
"Well, I'd expect it from my Army brethren in the Rangers, but a Marine keepin' up with a former Delta?" Eric grinned, "I must say, ma'am: I am impressed."
Murphy rolled her eyes before returning to keep a sharp lookout, "Happy to oblige, Romeo. Must admit, I was surprised to see you fellas keep up at all. Suppose I'll have to buy ya'll a round for the effort later."
Her own southern slang was apparent in her tone, though she never told anyone of her own origins. Her file reported she was from the southern most point in Alabama, right on the Gulf Coast. Perhaps that would explain her interest in Jack Daniels and good ole' crawfish and shrimp cookouts. In the midst of their "comradely moment", Murphy spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She heard Romeo shout, but she already was aware of the contact even though she failed to voice it out.
She pointed her gun at the target, but Talisman had already beat her to it. Her trigger finger relaxed once more as she looked to Romeo who was hit. Flashbacks hit her like a kick in the gut. While she never really revealed her own past to her teammates, it was apparent in her file of her past missions. One of those missions took place in Somalia only a few yews ago. Flashes of her own unit gunned down flooded her mind. Collecting herself before any of the others could see the small glint of emotion in her eyes, she cleared her throat and prepared to take point.
No doubt, her superiors, especially Mother, knew of her past experiences in the 2006 Battle of Mogadishu. Her own exploits in that fight were merely hushed rumors amidst others in the Marines, but she didn't care. While it was mostly civilians who died, she saw most of her own unit wiped out. She served as a sniper then as well. Truth be told, she grabbed a sniper rifler earlier mostly out of sentiment. It was her calling, after all. How could she not keep such a weapon on her?
When they were all back to the starting point Ace looked up at the others. "Well raise your hand if you see saw that coming...... Well if your going take point." Ace said half ass pointing at Seraph. "Be sure your quicker than Rome here." Now that everything was said and done as it where, Ace was to say the lest shaken.
Seraph scoffed, "As long as you kiddies can keep up, I think we'll be fine."
Once Romeo was securely aided by both Ace and Talisman, she took a deep breath then stepped out from behind the wall of crates that guarded them from further attack. Her gun was held steady in her hands, Her blue eyes scanned the room carefully before tapping Talisman (who helped Ace in carrying Romeo) on the back to signal that they should move forward. Leaving the first room, they entered a second corridor much like the first. Various doors and false windows lined the hallway like it would in reality.
Murphy moved like a cat with its paws barely making a sound as it prowled the area for prey. Her sights were set to kill. In a flash, three doors opened.
"Enemy sighted!" she shouted to her comrades, who each had their own weapons drawn. She aimed her sidearm at the first target, yet saw it was actually a woman. While initially hesitant, she spotted the bomb in the woman's arms instantly and fired. While some soldiers might refrain from targeting a woman, Murphy fired. Two headshots instantly immobilized her. The coldness in her blue eyes was hard to miss, yet she did her job regardless. Two more shots rang out from her gun, each hitting the remaining two enemy targets, both were recognized as combatants.
However, there were more doors not yet opened that were yet to be passed by.
((OOC- I'm not entirely sure how the 2006 Battle of Mogadishu went down yet I know there were casualties. I'm not entirely sure if any of them were military, but I know most of them were civilian. I just know that the US military was involved.)
"Well, I'd expect it from my Army brethren in the Rangers, but a Marine keepin' up with a former Delta?" Eric grinned, "I must say, ma'am: I am impressed."
Murphy rolled her eyes before returning to keep a sharp lookout, "Happy to oblige, Romeo. Must admit, I was surprised to see you fellas keep up at all. Suppose I'll have to buy ya'll a round for the effort later."
Her own southern slang was apparent in her tone, though she never told anyone of her own origins. Her file reported she was from the southern most point in Alabama, right on the Gulf Coast. Perhaps that would explain her interest in Jack Daniels and good ole' crawfish and shrimp cookouts. In the midst of their "comradely moment", Murphy spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She heard Romeo shout, but she already was aware of the contact even though she failed to voice it out.
She pointed her gun at the target, but Talisman had already beat her to it. Her trigger finger relaxed once more as she looked to Romeo who was hit. Flashbacks hit her like a kick in the gut. While she never really revealed her own past to her teammates, it was apparent in her file of her past missions. One of those missions took place in Somalia only a few yews ago. Flashes of her own unit gunned down flooded her mind. Collecting herself before any of the others could see the small glint of emotion in her eyes, she cleared her throat and prepared to take point.
No doubt, her superiors, especially Mother, knew of her past experiences in the 2006 Battle of Mogadishu. Her own exploits in that fight were merely hushed rumors amidst others in the Marines, but she didn't care. While it was mostly civilians who died, she saw most of her own unit wiped out. She served as a sniper then as well. Truth be told, she grabbed a sniper rifler earlier mostly out of sentiment. It was her calling, after all. How could she not keep such a weapon on her?
When they were all back to the starting point Ace looked up at the others. "Well raise your hand if you see saw that coming...... Well if your going take point." Ace said half ass pointing at Seraph. "Be sure your quicker than Rome here." Now that everything was said and done as it where, Ace was to say the lest shaken.
Seraph scoffed, "As long as you kiddies can keep up, I think we'll be fine."
Once Romeo was securely aided by both Ace and Talisman, she took a deep breath then stepped out from behind the wall of crates that guarded them from further attack. Her gun was held steady in her hands, Her blue eyes scanned the room carefully before tapping Talisman (who helped Ace in carrying Romeo) on the back to signal that they should move forward. Leaving the first room, they entered a second corridor much like the first. Various doors and false windows lined the hallway like it would in reality.
Murphy moved like a cat with its paws barely making a sound as it prowled the area for prey. Her sights were set to kill. In a flash, three doors opened.
"Enemy sighted!" she shouted to her comrades, who each had their own weapons drawn. She aimed her sidearm at the first target, yet saw it was actually a woman. While initially hesitant, she spotted the bomb in the woman's arms instantly and fired. While some soldiers might refrain from targeting a woman, Murphy fired. Two headshots instantly immobilized her. The coldness in her blue eyes was hard to miss, yet she did her job regardless. Two more shots rang out from her gun, each hitting the remaining two enemy targets, both were recognized as combatants.
However, there were more doors not yet opened that were yet to be passed by.
((OOC- I'm not entirely sure how the 2006 Battle of Mogadishu went down yet I know there were casualties. I'm not entirely sure if any of them were military, but I know most of them were civilian. I just know that the US military was involved.)
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((OOC: Okay, I'm going to move training along. The main point of this was to see how we worked together both ICly and OOCly. I must say that I am satisfied. Also, the briefing will come after the next post or two.))
"Yeah: just don't get used to this, Talisman." Eric grinned as he was grabbed by his vest, "I didn't make it in to SFOD-D by sitting around, getting shot."
Being dragged along the gronud, he found that there was almost nothing which he could do for the time. Facing the opposite way that they were moving, he could do nothing to aid in shooting, and had to simply be silent as they moved. Now they had to take it slow, seeing as they had a wounded man. Talisman and Ace wouldn't dare leave a wounded comrade, even to simply clear a room, and so that meant that Murphy was forced to run point almost as if she were a solo operator. They moved down the halls and Eric was only able to listen to his teammates' gunshots as they made their way through. The routine was always the same. They would stop at a door, Murphy would open it, and engage any targets from the doorway. After that, they would go in, and move to the next room. Rinse, wash, and repeat. As they cleared the last of the rooms, Capt. Deshazo watched them silently from the walkway overhead, and listened silently to their communication as a team. They seemed to work well together: a good sign. Once they had approached the last of the doors, they would enter in to a fenced off area, in the open, and with a clear view of the desert all around. Just outside of the chain-linked fence was a pair of HMMWVs, painted tan for camouflage, and Capt. Deshazo would emerge from a second door: one that led to a flight of stairs giving access to the observation catwalk.
Removing the ear-piece that enabled him to use the course's PA system, the severe-looking former Green Beret Captain stood in front of them all as Eric began to stand up.
"Congratulations,Trustees." His expression was as grim and serious as it always was when in a briefing, "You've completed your training course just in time. Get ready to rescue some of your brethren-Trustees being held captive. Meet me at the briefing room by 17:00 hours."
"Yeah: just don't get used to this, Talisman." Eric grinned as he was grabbed by his vest, "I didn't make it in to SFOD-D by sitting around, getting shot."
Being dragged along the gronud, he found that there was almost nothing which he could do for the time. Facing the opposite way that they were moving, he could do nothing to aid in shooting, and had to simply be silent as they moved. Now they had to take it slow, seeing as they had a wounded man. Talisman and Ace wouldn't dare leave a wounded comrade, even to simply clear a room, and so that meant that Murphy was forced to run point almost as if she were a solo operator. They moved down the halls and Eric was only able to listen to his teammates' gunshots as they made their way through. The routine was always the same. They would stop at a door, Murphy would open it, and engage any targets from the doorway. After that, they would go in, and move to the next room. Rinse, wash, and repeat. As they cleared the last of the rooms, Capt. Deshazo watched them silently from the walkway overhead, and listened silently to their communication as a team. They seemed to work well together: a good sign. Once they had approached the last of the doors, they would enter in to a fenced off area, in the open, and with a clear view of the desert all around. Just outside of the chain-linked fence was a pair of HMMWVs, painted tan for camouflage, and Capt. Deshazo would emerge from a second door: one that led to a flight of stairs giving access to the observation catwalk.
Removing the ear-piece that enabled him to use the course's PA system, the severe-looking former Green Beret Captain stood in front of them all as Eric began to stand up.
"Congratulations,Trustees." His expression was as grim and serious as it always was when in a briefing, "You've completed your training course just in time. Get ready to rescue some of your brethren-Trustees being held captive. Meet me at the briefing room by 17:00 hours."
0.00 INK
After the conclusion of the exercise, all John could think was; I am glad i am on our side. . . Even with a casualty, his team had managed to adapt to everything and STILL excel. He grinned for a moment as they walked out into the arid desert landscape, taking a look at the rest of the team and smiling; they were quite exceptional. Even the female, Seraph, was rather good. Which surprised him to an extent. First time for everything i guess. . . He patted her on the back, and grinned very widely at her. "Good job Seraph! I'm impressed. Now i just hope you are as good while were are all getting shot at! Hahaha! I kid; i know you will watch our backs. Anyways, good job." He also gave the other team members a pat on each of their shoulders as well, chuckling for just a moment when he got to Romeo. "Let's be just slightly more careful next time my friend." There was no hint of sarcasm in his voice. His face had become very serious. "I like you. I'd hate to see you buy the farm Romeo. So many Juliets left for you to woo my friend. . ."
He slowly looked away, and examined their commander. He seemed very. . . Ominous. Thoughtful. Smart. He liked that. Made him quite an interesting character, and thus a little easier to follow. He let his MP5 hang loose at his waist on its sling, and stood at complete attention, keeping a very serious demeanor. "Roger that. I can't wait to hear about the-pardon my French- bastards that have our comrades."
(OOC: If he seems random, it's for a reason; his Callsign. It isn't bad grammer or lack of writing skills on my part XP)
He slowly looked away, and examined their commander. He seemed very. . . Ominous. Thoughtful. Smart. He liked that. Made him quite an interesting character, and thus a little easier to follow. He let his MP5 hang loose at his waist on its sling, and stood at complete attention, keeping a very serious demeanor. "Roger that. I can't wait to hear about the-pardon my French- bastards that have our comrades."
(OOC: If he seems random, it's for a reason; his Callsign. It isn't bad grammer or lack of writing skills on my part XP)
0.00 INK
Justin waiting for the Captain to finish giving his orders before smiling, a really bad idea came across his mind. He was either about to get jacked in the jaw or bring em to their knees. Wasn't much of an in between with something like this.
"So guys... my impression of Romeo!" Justin hit the ground hard, rolling his head towards the others he stuck his tongue out. Justin started to smile again before he started screaming. "Help Tal, help me please! Imma die! Oh lawldy lawldy lawly. It's gettin dark Ed, hold me close!"
Lifting his mocking a deeper voice Justin said "Tell Scarlet I do give a damn!"
"So guys... my impression of Romeo!" Justin hit the ground hard, rolling his head towards the others he stuck his tongue out. Justin started to smile again before he started screaming. "Help Tal, help me please! Imma die! Oh lawldy lawldy lawly. It's gettin dark Ed, hold me close!"
Lifting his mocking a deeper voice Justin said "Tell Scarlet I do give a damn!"
0.00 INK
((OOC: Going to swear in today, so that mission briefing will be coming later today most likely).
Eric gave a small smile and nod to John.
He could tell the man was serious: no doubt about that.
"Don't worry, man." He smiled, "I didn't make it in to this unit because of being stupid. Of course . . . " He shrugged, "That may have been why I accepted this offer."
Moments later, Justin proceeded to through himself violently to the ground in his "impression" of Eric himself. Then he began wailing, rather dramatically, and Eric's eyes slowly turned to a squinting glare. He pointed one finger at the man from where he stood across the room, though his face still had a smile . . . or maybe a sadisticly vicious grin.
"Oh . . . oh." He started to chuckle, "You better hope LT Murphy gets to you first. I ain't gonna go as easy on you as she would for that."
He set down his rifle: stalking towards Justin quickly with that grin still on his face.
Eric gave a small smile and nod to John.
He could tell the man was serious: no doubt about that.
"Don't worry, man." He smiled, "I didn't make it in to this unit because of being stupid. Of course . . . " He shrugged, "That may have been why I accepted this offer."
Moments later, Justin proceeded to through himself violently to the ground in his "impression" of Eric himself. Then he began wailing, rather dramatically, and Eric's eyes slowly turned to a squinting glare. He pointed one finger at the man from where he stood across the room, though his face still had a smile . . . or maybe a sadisticly vicious grin.
"Oh . . . oh." He started to chuckle, "You better hope LT Murphy gets to you first. I ain't gonna go as easy on you as she would for that."
He set down his rifle: stalking towards Justin quickly with that grin still on his face.
0.00 INK
Good job Seraph! I'm impressed. Now i just hope you are as good while were are all getting shot at! Hahaha! I kid; i know you will watch our backs. Anyways, good job." [i/i]
Seraph shot him a sideways smirk and replied with a light shrug, "I like to think I have a [i]little skill." Instantly her attention was brought to Ace.
"So guys... my impression of Romeo!" Justin hit the ground hard, rolling his head towards the others he stuck his tongue out. Justin started to smile again before he started screaming. "Help Tal, help me please! Imma die! Oh lawldy lawldy lawly. It's gettin dark Ed, hold me close!"
Lifting his mocking a deeper voice Justin said "Tell Scarlet I do give a damn!"
Seraph wasn't entirely sure how she was to respond to the impression, but she saw Romeo move towards him out of the corner of her eye. Given his expression, he wouldn't inflict any real damage but she interceded regardless. In a flash she stood between the two, and hand on each chest to keep them separated.
"Now, now, boys," she sighed. She looked to Ace, "Might wanna work on your stand-up. Enemy combatants might not think you're quite as funny."
Seraph shot him a sideways smirk and replied with a light shrug, "I like to think I have a [i]little skill." Instantly her attention was brought to Ace.
"So guys... my impression of Romeo!" Justin hit the ground hard, rolling his head towards the others he stuck his tongue out. Justin started to smile again before he started screaming. "Help Tal, help me please! Imma die! Oh lawldy lawldy lawly. It's gettin dark Ed, hold me close!"
Lifting his mocking a deeper voice Justin said "Tell Scarlet I do give a damn!"
Seraph wasn't entirely sure how she was to respond to the impression, but she saw Romeo move towards him out of the corner of her eye. Given his expression, he wouldn't inflict any real damage but she interceded regardless. In a flash she stood between the two, and hand on each chest to keep them separated.
"Now, now, boys," she sighed. She looked to Ace, "Might wanna work on your stand-up. Enemy combatants might not think you're quite as funny."
0.00 INK
"That's enough." Captain Deshazo suddenly spoke up, after Lt. Murphy had interjected.
He could have stopped it earlier, true, but he wished to see how she would handle herself.
He needed to know these things if she was going to be his second-in-command in the field.
"I know you all want to relax, but we have a mission." He ordered.
With a nod of his head, he motioned them to the HMMWV, "Let's go.
He started for it himself.
-----------------------------
The "briefing room" was by no means fancy. A cooling breeze was coming in from outside the wide open hanger door, wafting in to cool the occupants within. At the center of that room was a C-130 Hercules. It's crew were going over it, making sure that it was okay, and that it had everything it needed. Meanwhile, off to the side was the team's ad-hoc "briefing room". It was a pair of marker boards covered in photos, sheets of paper, and a variety of other info. Between the two boards stood Captain Deshazo, while to his left (on the other side of the board on that same side) stood a young woman in digital camouflage by the name of 1st Lieutenant Alexis Corcoran. In front of them was a small collection of folding chairs in which the Trustees had been instructed to sit. Captain Deshazo looked over all of them (now in the digital camouflage issued to all Trustees as their "C-class uniform", since they weren't training anymore). He then started speaking, first motioning to Lt. Corcoran.
"Listen up people: this is 1st Lieutenant Alexis Corcoran. She's a former Army intelligence analyst who was brought in to the Trust, as with the rest of you, for her exceptional skills. She will be flying in an overwatch position during your mission once you are in the field. She can run thermal imaging, radar, radio scanning, satalite imagery, and other things that you may need to do. She will be handling information for all of us when on the field. You can get acquainted later." He said simply.
He pointed to one of the boards, "Now: to the mission."
======
Two days ago, at 03:00 hours, we lost contact with a Trustee observation team we had sent in to observe for signs of insurgent or Taliban activity in southern Afghanistan.
We thought we had lost them for good and were about to give up hope when an Air Force-operated Predator drone provided us with a lucky break.
It picked up a small convoy of trucks moving through the mountains and tracked them to a small village where the occupants proceeded to dismount. It observed at least two members of the group who seemed to be held captive, though with thermal imagery no details could be confirmed. According to intelligence reports, the local area is not extremely friendly when it comes to Coalition forces. They often neglect to tell us about enemy movements in the area, accidentally-on-purpose, so the military is reluctant to send in teams to rescue people. We, however, are not, because we believe based on some of their more detailed observations that they have important information on the enemy, and we need to do everything that we can in order to recover those men from enemy hands. Besides that, they're human beings. It'd be wrong not to save them from what might be done to them if we don't/
So the plan is simple.
We'll move in under the guise of a team of US Army Green Berets.
The village they're being held is located in a deep valley, with cliff-faces on either side, and so we'll need to be careful going in if they try to ambush us early. We'll be approaching the village form the south in one Technical and an SUV. There is a check-point on the far southern edge of the village where we'll have to stop . . . assuming we haven't been lit-up by then. Which reminds me: somebody in each trucks should always have their NVGs on to keep an eye out for any thermal lasers coming from the mountains. Once there, we have to be careful. We don't want to engage if we don't have to until we're in the building they're being kept. We'll need to go near the north-eastern side of town, where they are being kept in a walled-off compound. Once there, everybody is to go weapons-hot on anything in a turban, and move quick to search the building inside the walled perimiter. Once we have the prisoners: we load them in the SUV. Sergeant Hart, I want you in there to help them with medical care as much as possible, if you can.
So here's the vehicle line-up.
Technical (Ford, standard cab, mounted PKM machinegun)
Driver - Captain Robert Deshazo, call-sign "Mother".
Gunner - Sergeant Justin Case, call-sign "Ace".
Passenger / NVG Observer - Corporal John Raines, call-sign "Bipolar".
SUV (Ford, six-seater, folding rear seats)
Driver - 1st Lieutenant Evangeline Murphy, call-sign "Seraph".
Back-seat Passenger (on approach) / NVG Observer - Corporal Eric Lanford, call-sign "Romeo".
Passenger / Medic - Sergeant Jacob "Jake" Hart, call-sign "Talisman".
Lt. Corcoran will be flying over-watch in a C-130 for technical support if we need it.
======
After the veritable information overload: Captain Deshazo looked at them all once again.
"Any questions?"
He could have stopped it earlier, true, but he wished to see how she would handle herself.
He needed to know these things if she was going to be his second-in-command in the field.
"I know you all want to relax, but we have a mission." He ordered.
With a nod of his head, he motioned them to the HMMWV, "Let's go.
He started for it himself.
-----------------------------
The "briefing room" was by no means fancy. A cooling breeze was coming in from outside the wide open hanger door, wafting in to cool the occupants within. At the center of that room was a C-130 Hercules. It's crew were going over it, making sure that it was okay, and that it had everything it needed. Meanwhile, off to the side was the team's ad-hoc "briefing room". It was a pair of marker boards covered in photos, sheets of paper, and a variety of other info. Between the two boards stood Captain Deshazo, while to his left (on the other side of the board on that same side) stood a young woman in digital camouflage by the name of 1st Lieutenant Alexis Corcoran. In front of them was a small collection of folding chairs in which the Trustees had been instructed to sit. Captain Deshazo looked over all of them (now in the digital camouflage issued to all Trustees as their "C-class uniform", since they weren't training anymore). He then started speaking, first motioning to Lt. Corcoran.
"Listen up people: this is 1st Lieutenant Alexis Corcoran. She's a former Army intelligence analyst who was brought in to the Trust, as with the rest of you, for her exceptional skills. She will be flying in an overwatch position during your mission once you are in the field. She can run thermal imaging, radar, radio scanning, satalite imagery, and other things that you may need to do. She will be handling information for all of us when on the field. You can get acquainted later." He said simply.
He pointed to one of the boards, "Now: to the mission."
======
Two days ago, at 03:00 hours, we lost contact with a Trustee observation team we had sent in to observe for signs of insurgent or Taliban activity in southern Afghanistan.
We thought we had lost them for good and were about to give up hope when an Air Force-operated Predator drone provided us with a lucky break.
It picked up a small convoy of trucks moving through the mountains and tracked them to a small village where the occupants proceeded to dismount. It observed at least two members of the group who seemed to be held captive, though with thermal imagery no details could be confirmed. According to intelligence reports, the local area is not extremely friendly when it comes to Coalition forces. They often neglect to tell us about enemy movements in the area, accidentally-on-purpose, so the military is reluctant to send in teams to rescue people. We, however, are not, because we believe based on some of their more detailed observations that they have important information on the enemy, and we need to do everything that we can in order to recover those men from enemy hands. Besides that, they're human beings. It'd be wrong not to save them from what might be done to them if we don't/
So the plan is simple.
We'll move in under the guise of a team of US Army Green Berets.
The village they're being held is located in a deep valley, with cliff-faces on either side, and so we'll need to be careful going in if they try to ambush us early. We'll be approaching the village form the south in one Technical and an SUV. There is a check-point on the far southern edge of the village where we'll have to stop . . . assuming we haven't been lit-up by then. Which reminds me: somebody in each trucks should always have their NVGs on to keep an eye out for any thermal lasers coming from the mountains. Once there, we have to be careful. We don't want to engage if we don't have to until we're in the building they're being kept. We'll need to go near the north-eastern side of town, where they are being kept in a walled-off compound. Once there, everybody is to go weapons-hot on anything in a turban, and move quick to search the building inside the walled perimiter. Once we have the prisoners: we load them in the SUV. Sergeant Hart, I want you in there to help them with medical care as much as possible, if you can.
So here's the vehicle line-up.
Technical (Ford, standard cab, mounted PKM machinegun)
Driver - Captain Robert Deshazo, call-sign "Mother".
Gunner - Sergeant Justin Case, call-sign "Ace".
Passenger / NVG Observer - Corporal John Raines, call-sign "Bipolar".
SUV (Ford, six-seater, folding rear seats)
Driver - 1st Lieutenant Evangeline Murphy, call-sign "Seraph".
Back-seat Passenger (on approach) / NVG Observer - Corporal Eric Lanford, call-sign "Romeo".
Passenger / Medic - Sergeant Jacob "Jake" Hart, call-sign "Talisman".
Lt. Corcoran will be flying over-watch in a C-130 for technical support if we need it.
======
After the veritable information overload: Captain Deshazo looked at them all once again.
"Any questions?"
0.00 INK
Justin moved forward in his seat while meekly raising his hand. "I do sir. A few if you don't mind.... What is the R.O.E and what is our exit strategy? Also do have anything on enemy numbers or is to be assumed that everyone in the village is an armed combatant? Oh and what about close air support from the c-130, sir. Or do we just hit the ground and we're on our own?"
Justin was more than worried about how is questions would be taken. He didn't really care about how the Captain took them. Well not as long as he didn't think Justin was a complete moron. Justin was there because he didn't really have anywhere else to go. He was about to be turfed to another unit when this offer came along. It was important that he at lest excelled here.
Justin leaned back into seat the look on his face was slightly worried.
Justin was more than worried about how is questions would be taken. He didn't really care about how the Captain took them. Well not as long as he didn't think Justin was a complete moron. Justin was there because he didn't really have anywhere else to go. He was about to be turfed to another unit when this offer came along. It was important that he at lest excelled here.
Justin leaned back into seat the look on his face was slightly worried.
0.00 INK
"The rules of engagement are simple. If they don't do anything to us, we don't do anything to them until we've reached the location of the prisoners. At that point everybody save Mother Theresa is a valid hostile target. Our exit strategy relies on speed. We'll use the technical and the SUV to head out the northern side of the town, since that will be closest, and head to a pick-up zone in the mountains: here . . ." Captain Deshazo motioned to Lt. Corcoran, and she handed each of them a satalite image of the village; with a route marked in a red marker, with an X up in the mountains.
". . . and the C-130 is unarmed as far as offensive firepower goes. It has thermal imaging, radar, it can track radio signals, and things like that. However, we are masquereding as Green Berets, which Romeo and I don't really have to try at too hard, and so we've managed to set up a QRF support flight of two F-16s, as well as support from A-10 Warthogs, but I prefer to use them only if we have to. There are already enough American lives at risk, here. I don't want to risk possibly having to add to the body-count if I don't have to."
". . . and the C-130 is unarmed as far as offensive firepower goes. It has thermal imaging, radar, it can track radio signals, and things like that. However, we are masquereding as Green Berets, which Romeo and I don't really have to try at too hard, and so we've managed to set up a QRF support flight of two F-16s, as well as support from A-10 Warthogs, but I prefer to use them only if we have to. There are already enough American lives at risk, here. I don't want to risk possibly having to add to the body-count if I don't have to."
- 27 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
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View All » Add Character » 10 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
John Raines
"If i must. I will. Doesn't mean i have to like it... But i do, so I'm good. Don't judge me. Just because i enjoy what i do, doesn't make me a bad person... Just slightly unstable. So don't mess with me. Other than that, pleased to meet ya!"
Peter Faizon
"Well, I would gladly pick you all up if it weren't for this nasty AA-fire coming my way. Could you be so kind as to persuade those gunners to stop shooting at me?"
Alexis Corcoran
"If it has a circuit board, a radio signal, or a pulse then I'm your girl. I can hack it, track it, or help you kill it. Take your pick."
Evangaline Murphy
You can change the world with a single bullet in the right place.
Justin Case
Pick up your weapon and follow me.
Robert Deshazo
"I'm not going to lie. We're going in to hell, but then again: that's why we get paid, isn't it?"
Eric Lanford
"Well: intel says they have at least one hundred and fifty fighters, light armored support, and some gunships. It's just a handful of us, so . . . this is gonna be a long night."
Trending
Justin Case
Pick up your weapon and follow me.
Peter Faizon
"Well, I would gladly pick you all up if it weren't for this nasty AA-fire coming my way. Could you be so kind as to persuade those gunners to stop shooting at me?"
Eric Lanford
"Well: intel says they have at least one hundred and fifty fighters, light armored support, and some gunships. It's just a handful of us, so . . . this is gonna be a long night."
John Raines
"If i must. I will. Doesn't mean i have to like it... But i do, so I'm good. Don't judge me. Just because i enjoy what i do, doesn't make me a bad person... Just slightly unstable. So don't mess with me. Other than that, pleased to meet ya!"
Evangaline Murphy
You can change the world with a single bullet in the right place.
Robert Deshazo
"I'm not going to lie. We're going in to hell, but then again: that's why we get paid, isn't it?"
Alexis Corcoran
"If it has a circuit board, a radio signal, or a pulse then I'm your girl. I can hack it, track it, or help you kill it. Take your pick."
Most Followed
Robert Deshazo
"I'm not going to lie. We're going in to hell, but then again: that's why we get paid, isn't it?"
Alexis Corcoran
"If it has a circuit board, a radio signal, or a pulse then I'm your girl. I can hack it, track it, or help you kill it. Take your pick."
Evangaline Murphy
You can change the world with a single bullet in the right place.
Peter Faizon
"Well, I would gladly pick you all up if it weren't for this nasty AA-fire coming my way. Could you be so kind as to persuade those gunners to stop shooting at me?"
John Raines
"If i must. I will. Doesn't mean i have to like it... But i do, so I'm good. Don't judge me. Just because i enjoy what i do, doesn't make me a bad person... Just slightly unstable. So don't mess with me. Other than that, pleased to meet ya!"
Justin Case
Pick up your weapon and follow me.
Eric Lanford
"Well: intel says they have at least one hundred and fifty fighters, light armored support, and some gunships. It's just a handful of us, so . . . this is gonna be a long night."
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27 posts · 10 characters present · last post 2011-05-02 01:48:40 »
Welcome to the world of black-ops and wet-works. In almost every since of the word: this place doesn't even exist.
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » More Than Courage: Out of Character
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More Than Courage
1, 2, 3by Eli the Walker on Mon Apr 04, 2011 4:28 pm
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on Sun May 22, 2011 6:53 pm
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More Than Courage
Most recent OOC posts in More Than Courage
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
I would like to post, though I was hoping Talisman or Mr. Raines would post first. Though I can go ahead if ya'll like.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
The only thing I can think to ask is numbers and strength. I just don't think its worth a post on it,
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Same-sies.
BTW: Feel free to post multiple posts containing questions as you think of them. Keep in mind that you're characters are trained soldiers. They're probably not fans of risking their lives with minimal info to back them up.
BTW: Feel free to post multiple posts containing questions as you think of them. Keep in mind that you're characters are trained soldiers. They're probably not fans of risking their lives with minimal info to back them up.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Fair enough.
I really wish someone would post here. I really want to see where this story goes.
I really wish someone would post here. I really want to see where this story goes.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
I had just figured that with the amount of people who would join, it wouldn't be very believable that they were the only field operatives of the group. Thought I had changed it. Sorry.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Haha, its cool dude, evaluations of the story line. It happens to me all the time.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
I did? Crap. I meant to edit that out, sorry.
From when I was first writing this story.
From when I was first writing this story.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Anyone else notice that the intro page said we were the first trusties in american history?
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Wait, crap! I missed everything in the IC... I wait a long while before I check the IC on this one... I don't know why... I'll try to catch up tomorrow, my grammar is suck right now.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Its nice to know I am not the only one that is happy about this. Now I don't feel so bad drinking the night away over it.
Now go post!
Now go post!
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Bin Laden is dead! I know it might be of little relevance to the actual thread, but I just wanted to express my celebration. I would never celebrate the death of a human being yet this is one I can honestly said I am thankful is over. Amen!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Thats what we call them. If you live in a place with a decent amount of light poles. Run to one, sprint to the next, then run to the next, sprint to the next, so forth and so on. You just keep going till you can;t do it any more. You do it hard enough you can run a mile in a couple weeks.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Dude you have no idea how much your going to run. I think we did a few miles everyday. That and push up got me. (My arm is all jacked up and what not.)
Best I know to build up your running is Indian sprints.
Best I know to build up your running is Indian sprints.
Re: [OOC] More Than Courage
Seeing as it's the Army National Guard . . . :P
Seriously, though: yes. I'll be training right along side active and Reserve boys, with the same equipment, and to the same standards.
Seriously, though: yes. I'll be training right along side active and Reserve boys, with the same equipment, and to the same standards.