Hazy darkness and a splitting head ache. Romans radio crackled to life but everything in it was garbled and muted. A dull ringing permeated his hearing for more than a few seconds. His personal self-contained breathing apparatus kicked in once his breathing was hampered by the shock foam. His mask slowly came to life with night vision but all he could still see was the foam. However through the ringing he could hear subtle gunshots in the distance and muffled voices and coughs from outside.

As if suddenly remembering where he was Troll quickly performed a self-check by flexing and moving his muscles. Nothing seemed broken or damaged, more than likely thanks to the plasteel in his bones. However, the Russian could definitely feel some slight internal bleeding somewhere in his abdomen. He couldn’t hear anything from his fearless driver and instead focused on freeing himself from the seat belt and getting ready to strike.

Roman knew he hadn’t been out for too long and that the smoke and dust was more than likely still there. With a nudge of his chin he flicked his vision to infrared and worked enough room in the foam to grab his heavy blades. Sharp, heavy, and well taken care of. The man was very proficient in their use. When he was training in mixed martial arts, he was told to learn how to use a melee weapon. Knives were out of the question as they would all be trained in their use. So Roman opted for swords and machetes and with time proved to be deadly with them.

He was trying his best not to crack the foam on the outside, he had no idea how many enemies where outside, what their training was like, or what equipment they had. Positioning himself in his hollowed out little hole in the foam Roman broke through the foam and out into the world. The smoke and dust were still abundant in the area. However, the enemy that had gotten out of their vehicle to attack them seemed to be quite surprised at the man dual wielding large blades, jumping out at them. Cutting the men down with ease and brutality Roman was quick to roll through the concealment and continue his onslaught of blood and gore. If one could see under his mask, they would see a smile.

The heavy blades cut and tore through flesh, muscle, and bone. Caught in the chaos of an up close and personal fighter. In the confusion, the N.O. thugs opened fire on each other as they were slowly picked apart. Roman ducked, dodged, dipped, dived, and dodged. Staying low and making long slashes up torsos, across their backs, and occasionally full on decapitating them. The strong swings and heavy metal of the swords bit into flesh and bone. These cuts were not clean but where jagged and made these men scream and bleed.

The dense smoke eventually gave way to a brutal sight. Multiple N.O. enforcers lay dead on the ground most of them in pieces. Blood dripped off his blades and soaked into his jacket. The heavy breathing of his SCBA filled the immediate area. But within this show of force all the Russian could do was laugh. It had been far too long since he has used these swords in this fashion and still he laughed. A deep laugh that held just the slightest twinges of insanity.

But this battle was not won just yet. He had no idea if there was anyone on the other side of the trucks and there was still a few other vehicles unaccounted for. Picking up a black M4 with a few mags Roman was quick to clear the rest of the crash site but was unable to find anyone else that didn’t die in the crash. Putting one bullet in their heads to make sure he wouldn’t encounter anymore surprises. Suddenly remembering his friend, the Russian quickly went back to the car and started to break apart the foam on the driver’s side.

Eventually He was able to make it to Steve, and he looked alright until he cleared the foam around his abdomen. Steve had been impaled by some metal from the other truck and had been shot a few times. The man wasn’t moving or breathing. Roman didn’t have the supplies or the equipment to save the young man. [color=0072bc]“Such a waste… you did good kid, you did good.” [/color]This sentiment was all he could think to say. The young man would have made a good soldier quite possibly a hell of a pilot too.

The sentiment didn’t last long there was more trucks heading his way. Roman was quick to get the rest of his things and try to make it into the tank before the trucks arrived. But just before he got in the vehicle he saw their lights flash. One one, two two. [i]"Must be those people who called out the distress call"[/i]. Roman thought feeling a little relaxed now sat down on top of the tank. His pack resting over his shoulders, his clothes soaked in blood, with a rifle in his hand as he began to try to fix the radio in his ear.