Alastar rested stark still on the hillside, observing the movement of several armed individuals in the valley below. Carefully, he shifts his Mk103 into position, adjusting the 8 power scope a bit to clear up a bit of blur. He blinks a bit, clearing his own vision. He had been staring for so long that his own vision had begun to blur a bit. The uplink between his helmet and his scope made ranged fighting a great deal easier than trying to peer through the scope of his rifle. He toggles the infrared range finder on his rifle three times, getting a solid range on his targets. About three hundred and fifty meters. Not the worst....
Shifting ever so slightly, he zeroes his optic to the range, the range markings customized to his rifle and the massive round it fired. With deliberate motion, he hooks his gauntleted finger around to the trigger. Three targets, one on patrol. Intel suggested two full squads worth inside. No problem. What worried him was the reports of an armed transport moving to and from the area. He shrugs a bit and calmly pulls back on the trigger. The relative calm of the jungle is split by the thunderous roar of fifty caliber short rounds. Three booms bark out, and three men fell, with sizable amounts of mass removed from their torsos.
In a moment, he was sliding down the hillside feet first, kicking up a plume of dust behind him. As he approached, he could hear the sound of loud and angry Burmese echoing from the entrance of the building he was in the process of assaulting. Intel said that there was a series of underground tunnels underneath. Being a tunnel rat wasn't one of Alastars most favorite things, but there were worse things. As he lands in the valley floor, he begins his approach of the building. Within ten meters, he's met with a burst of gunfire. He feels a slight thud as a round catches him in the side. He shakes his head and raises his rifle, gladly returning fire. Two rounds blast fist sized chunks of masonry out of the wall aside the door, and a body falls limp to the ground, missing its left arm and part of its side. He turns his attention to the right side window. Its occupant was hastily retreating into the tunnels inside. With a sigh, he slings his rifle and pulls his sidearm from its holster.
After ducking into the doorway and taking a quick look around, he locates the tunnel entrance. Thankfully, it was larger than usual, due to needing to be able to transport cargo in and out. Carefully, he descends into the tunnels, poorly lit with shoplights strung up on the walls every few feet. Deeper in the tunnels, he could hear more yelling, and the clattering of guns being readied. He was feeling pretty confident, all things considered. That quickly changed when the heavy thudding sound of a DShK machine gun firing filled the tunnel as he rounded a corner. One of the heavy rounds blasted away part of the tunnel wall next to his head, filling his vision with stone shrapnel. He ducks back around the corner and curses to himself. He glances down the way he came, taking a mental measurement of the distance. It was close, but it was about the same length. He didn't see much when he rounded the corner, but he got a pretty good idea of how far down the machine gun was.
He measures out the distance as he walks, humming a tune to himself as he goes. He could hear nervous talking echoing down the tunnel as he went. The walls between the passageways were not very thick. Most of them were thin enough to be supported by wood panels and supports. He picks a spot that looked far down enough and sets to work. With a certain amount of casualness, he set up a breaching charge, securing it to the wall and stepping back a few feet. He checked his mission timer and nods to himself before triggering the charge. The blast, contained by a layer of water, pushes the wall inwards explosively, punching a good sized hole in the wall. Without hesitation, he steps through that hole, a few paces behind the machine gun nest. The concussive force had disorientated the fighters, several of them bleeding from their eardrums. He lifts his sidearm, a hefty revolver, and plugs a round into the machine gunner, who was trying to get to his feet and wheel the machine gun around. He falls back over the ramshackle barricade with a thud. Alastar grunts a bit and delivers a swift kick to the ribs of another man trying to get up, putting him out for good.
A few minutes later, he located the cache he was sent to destroy, and left it with three pounds of demo charges as a parting gift. As he was on his way out, he triggered the detonator, touching off the charges and blasting the tunnel with it. The ground behind him collapses inwards, taking the house with it, sending a massive column of dust and smoke spiraling into the sky. Not a minute afterwords, his radio crackles a bit, a males voice cutting into the music playing in his helmet. He sighs and answers the call. Some other agent needs his ass saved. Lovely.
The sound of a diesel engine rumbled in the distance. He had caught a break, since this bunker he was being directed to was a good several miles away. He lowers himself into a ditch and waited. Before long, the transport was moving down the road near his position. He coils his legs under him and pushes off, bounding out of the ditch and leaping into the air, latching onto the side of the cab of the truck. He shoves his revolver into the open window, forcing it against the temple of the driver. The breaks of the truck squeal as it slows suddenly. He hastily moves the driver from the seat and wheels the truck around, making his way down in the direction of the bunker. He had a bit of a drive, and cab was a tight fit with his armor on. He had to fix that soon...
He keys his radio after stripping himself of his armor, broadcasting on the encrypted global channel "To all units responding, this is call-sign Papa Thunder reporting. En route to rendezvous with call-sign Hunter. ETA is... However long it takes, I suppose. Approaching from the south. Papa Thunder, out."
Shifting ever so slightly, he zeroes his optic to the range, the range markings customized to his rifle and the massive round it fired. With deliberate motion, he hooks his gauntleted finger around to the trigger. Three targets, one on patrol. Intel suggested two full squads worth inside. No problem. What worried him was the reports of an armed transport moving to and from the area. He shrugs a bit and calmly pulls back on the trigger. The relative calm of the jungle is split by the thunderous roar of fifty caliber short rounds. Three booms bark out, and three men fell, with sizable amounts of mass removed from their torsos.
In a moment, he was sliding down the hillside feet first, kicking up a plume of dust behind him. As he approached, he could hear the sound of loud and angry Burmese echoing from the entrance of the building he was in the process of assaulting. Intel said that there was a series of underground tunnels underneath. Being a tunnel rat wasn't one of Alastars most favorite things, but there were worse things. As he lands in the valley floor, he begins his approach of the building. Within ten meters, he's met with a burst of gunfire. He feels a slight thud as a round catches him in the side. He shakes his head and raises his rifle, gladly returning fire. Two rounds blast fist sized chunks of masonry out of the wall aside the door, and a body falls limp to the ground, missing its left arm and part of its side. He turns his attention to the right side window. Its occupant was hastily retreating into the tunnels inside. With a sigh, he slings his rifle and pulls his sidearm from its holster.
After ducking into the doorway and taking a quick look around, he locates the tunnel entrance. Thankfully, it was larger than usual, due to needing to be able to transport cargo in and out. Carefully, he descends into the tunnels, poorly lit with shoplights strung up on the walls every few feet. Deeper in the tunnels, he could hear more yelling, and the clattering of guns being readied. He was feeling pretty confident, all things considered. That quickly changed when the heavy thudding sound of a DShK machine gun firing filled the tunnel as he rounded a corner. One of the heavy rounds blasted away part of the tunnel wall next to his head, filling his vision with stone shrapnel. He ducks back around the corner and curses to himself. He glances down the way he came, taking a mental measurement of the distance. It was close, but it was about the same length. He didn't see much when he rounded the corner, but he got a pretty good idea of how far down the machine gun was.
He measures out the distance as he walks, humming a tune to himself as he goes. He could hear nervous talking echoing down the tunnel as he went. The walls between the passageways were not very thick. Most of them were thin enough to be supported by wood panels and supports. He picks a spot that looked far down enough and sets to work. With a certain amount of casualness, he set up a breaching charge, securing it to the wall and stepping back a few feet. He checked his mission timer and nods to himself before triggering the charge. The blast, contained by a layer of water, pushes the wall inwards explosively, punching a good sized hole in the wall. Without hesitation, he steps through that hole, a few paces behind the machine gun nest. The concussive force had disorientated the fighters, several of them bleeding from their eardrums. He lifts his sidearm, a hefty revolver, and plugs a round into the machine gunner, who was trying to get to his feet and wheel the machine gun around. He falls back over the ramshackle barricade with a thud. Alastar grunts a bit and delivers a swift kick to the ribs of another man trying to get up, putting him out for good.
A few minutes later, he located the cache he was sent to destroy, and left it with three pounds of demo charges as a parting gift. As he was on his way out, he triggered the detonator, touching off the charges and blasting the tunnel with it. The ground behind him collapses inwards, taking the house with it, sending a massive column of dust and smoke spiraling into the sky. Not a minute afterwords, his radio crackles a bit, a males voice cutting into the music playing in his helmet. He sighs and answers the call. Some other agent needs his ass saved. Lovely.
The sound of a diesel engine rumbled in the distance. He had caught a break, since this bunker he was being directed to was a good several miles away. He lowers himself into a ditch and waited. Before long, the transport was moving down the road near his position. He coils his legs under him and pushes off, bounding out of the ditch and leaping into the air, latching onto the side of the cab of the truck. He shoves his revolver into the open window, forcing it against the temple of the driver. The breaks of the truck squeal as it slows suddenly. He hastily moves the driver from the seat and wheels the truck around, making his way down in the direction of the bunker. He had a bit of a drive, and cab was a tight fit with his armor on. He had to fix that soon...
He keys his radio after stripping himself of his armor, broadcasting on the encrypted global channel "To all units responding, this is call-sign Papa Thunder reporting. En route to rendezvous with call-sign Hunter. ETA is... However long it takes, I suppose. Approaching from the south. Papa Thunder, out."
