FourtyTwo

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

The R8 hummed loudly, as the qualifying continued, the start-finish line coming to bear a few times, as the GT3 car powered on. The times stayed consistent. And Ryan felt good, pulling back through the chicane on the main flat-out straight, already shifting the car to fifth as it replied. GT3 had some sort of different power, mind-melding of some sort. It was insane, it just went like thunder, the Ryan braking hard on Turn 8, as the car kicked out a little at the rear, before sweeping back through the turn.
"Lap times are staying the same, this is your last one remember." Ryan heard Lucas say, as he kept on the gas, thundering to Turn 11, where the left-right section, a technical one, was taken quite well with Ryan, but no better than his particularly hot lap earlier. The time by the time he got to the start-straight was off his original best, but it was good. And Ryan was satisfied with that. The sun sat on the horizon, illuminating the now floodlit track less and less, but leaving a cool shadow and a , and about twenty minutes had passed, the tyres not worn excessively, but Ryan had gotten himself pole- he wasn't too sure of Regina, but she had to have something within the Top 5- Muller and Richards, the standings leader and the particular driver that threatened Ryan's 2nd place in the standings, had gotten in, but he didn't know what order, not entirely.

After a slow and reserved lap, of just cooling off, Ryan pulled the car into the pits, pulling into the lane as the car rumbled loudly, the engine almost uncensored in it's noise as the racing exhausts didn't suppress noise a lot. And that was good, because the raw noise of the V8 in the back was near-deafening, and the reason why ear plugs were worn when inside. The car was backed in and the engine off, as Ryan clambered out, looking over at Lucas, an almost automatic handshake through his Alpinestars gloves coming, Ryan clearly smirking.
"Nicely done. You're on Pole, Regina's third, Muller is behind you and Richards is fifth. Nicely done- grab yourself a drink, we'll get the car up and set." Lucas said, as Ryan took off his gloves, then his helmet, a complicated process compared to getting it on. Taking the neck bandit out, he kept his headset in, taking the earplug out of his other ear.
"Good, good. Car's sticking well, you set it up for us like nothing else." He said, chuckling as he looked over.
"It's a good shot for our first time in. Don't get overzealous on Turn 9- you're spinning up the rear wheels too much, and the complex through Turn 16 and 17 loses you a lot of time. That gets exploited, you'll spin out there, and you won't come back. So stay sharp- you are doing good on Yas today, but you've always got room to improve. I'll get Regina through- " Lucas said, as Ryan nodded, walking over to a aptly placed folded desk and chair, grabbing a Lucozade off the table, and quickly sipping the drink through. Ryan had personally requested they go through, and Ryan was glad to have it to hand, as he knew the heat was going to die down, and it was becoming cooler. He took his MP3 player, and shoved the earpiece back into where his earplug had been a second ago, to just listen to some music. When Regina would come back, he would switch it off, and talk to her, he made a mental note to himself to do.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

(I wanted a continuation post- sorry if it's shorter than usual.)

Natalie kept on firing, the weapon blaring louder than anything that was being fired back, as she replied to Victor.
"You'll have more of that later on, if it's your taste Brute." Natalie said, chuckling a little, as she flung herself through the courtyard, the damaged suit still taking 7.62 hits with ease, as she gunned down enemies holding the far end of the courtyard.
"Saxon, get some charges up on those Shilkas there, we'll keep this under control.. Keep our flanks suppressed." She said, aware that it had been a good run so far,
"Understood." Jenny simply responded, avoiding the tremble in her voice, as she moved round the motor pool, keeping up a regular consistent supression fire on any enemies around the area, but she was really picking off the lucky few that hadn't been shreded by the sheer volume of bullets raining from the M134, or the shrapnel from the XM307's rampage. Natalie felt her HUD ping up a new set of enemies, and she turned her fine attention to her, the mighty giants rampaging through, as they knew it was something that had the force of nature behind it. Already laying down some fire on the enemies concentrated around a raised corner of the Fort found themselves mutilated by the fire, torn apart and giving Jenny the time to move through. She was well armored enough, she thought to herself, but these two, were a new level. Pulling out a sachel, she slid it under one of the Shilkas, one of three, aware the reaction would be enough to detonate the set quickly, due to the ammunition cache behind it. She was no expert, but they'd be out of action easily enough, had they had to fall back.
"Charge set- falling back to the motor pool!" She said over the comms, running with the MG4 in one hand and her left loose, as she almost sprint-ran back across a small section of the courtyard, sliding behind a burnt-out UAZ for cover as she detonated it.

Ross looked back to Carl, covering with his Mk48, as he pointed to the gatehouse.
"On me, Carl! I think there's a way onto the walls!" Ross said, moving to the side of the gate and finding a wooden door, kicking it in with ease as he quickly took down one hostile in the room, before heading up a set of thin stairs. It was hard, but it was do-able, just for them. A man lept on him from the top, knife in hand, Ross feeling the man beat down but it was something he could quickly reply to. Almost using the man's momentum that he had used, he turned over, flipping the odds as Ross came down on the Taliban fighter armed with a seriously large knife of some sort, and quickly turned the knife back, aware the suit had taken a stab in the center of the plate, but it hadn't gone through. Quickly clambering up, Ross dusted himself off, Mk48 raised again.
"Motherfucker. Onwards." Ross simply said, as he rolled his body to the side with his feet, moving up as he kept his head down, lobbing a M67 over first, to clear the immediate area of the stairwell leading up to the ramparts. The noise of screams followed as it went off, Ross following and feeling a few hits from AKMs, among other weapons, as he supressed back, giving Carl a chance to get a more accurate shot on, as they pushed up onto the walls of the Fort, Ross quickly feeling the heat but making sure he could suppress back. Moving behind a pile of empty crates, Ross mounted the Mk48 up on it's Bipod, already laying down some more concentrated fire on one flank that hadn't been completely demolished by the Heavies, taking out a DSHKM, or "Dushka" as was usually easier to say. He switched to his M32, already pushing his cover and laying down 40 mike fire on the far end, giving Carl a better chance to set up a position to fire from after about twenty seconds of suppression fire, already laying down some more extensive cover with the hefty M32, clearing out a entrenched tower, as he came back around to the Mk48.
"Carl, move around the walls- I think the Heavies have got shit down there sorted, we need to sweep out the MANPADS on this area. Bound to be some potentially medium-range missiles and Igla installations, if intel is correct." Ross simply said, as he kept up the supression fire, feeling bullets patter his armor from time to time, but he could take this shit.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

It is fine. I'm in fucking agony- four days of walking in the Brecon Beacons, Wales, is horrifying. I'll post up in all that is needed- I think Spartan needs to put one up, then I'll post in.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Aaand I'm back. Accepted- since he's a JTAC/CCT, he'll be on the front with Jan dictating where the Russian Fast Air puts it lead. Makes sense really- you are free to post, in the RP.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Jesus, sucks man. I think the RP is open, but since we're in the middle of a mission, it may take a while. I mean, actually, wait- I could spin you in as aboard the helicopter, but it'd be hard to explain. I'd want Skyth, Queen and Silverwind to really say if that'd be okay- I mean, I want to put it down to that, if the RP could work. I reckon you could, and you may need to briefly remind us of your character, but do it quick, and we'll have you basically on the Little Bird too. As I said, it depends on everyone else- I mean I don't want to speak for everyone else, so it's their call really.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

(Sorry if I God-Modded Medved- I did want to get something communicated, though their command is still firmly in your hands Skythion.)

Neil looked through the spotting device, adjusting it minutely as he tried to focus it a little.
"Maybe...but those IFVs are a problem. They could cause anarchy, and remember, .50 goes through that shit. Just, but it will be needed. So jets first, but even then, likelyhood of them taking off is close to nil." Neil added, adjusting it's point, as he watched the sunrise continue, the sunlight illuminating the area fairly well, with a dawn that seemed to drag for a little while.
"Lima Actual receiving?" Neil said through the mic, looking over at the airfield with his sniping partner.
"I copy you, Neil. Situation?" Jan replied, looking over to the other two members aboard the Little Bird, as they eased in, flying straight halfway through a valley before coming down in a small set of trees, in a gap that would probably just about accomodate a helicopter like this. The pilot was talented as hell- but even Jan knew he couldn't perform miracles. He replied first, as he kept his weapon raised, covering any angle, the helicopter slowly and surely slipping in.
"Several aircraft, likely immobile, a BTR-60 and a pair of BMP-1 IFVs are potentially active in our AO. We pinged about 30 to 40 soldiers on the airfield right now, it's a hive and a half. Not many TIAF scouting parties, but we've heard a fair share of shit within 300m of us. They haven't hit a single perimeter mine, thank fuck. Just pinged two ZSU-23 guns, and a Igla installation, on the roof of the decayed ATC tower. Probably effective to about 5,000m. Well within what the Ruskie transport craft will be flying at."
"Understood. We're at LZ Echo, we're going to move 600m west to OP Nevada and set up a position to do some Forward Observer work- set up a shot on the Igla first, then eliminate the ZSU platforms. Only on my mark, Sniper Team. Lima Actual out." Jan said, as the helicopter came in lower, the pilot simply speaking through the radio to communicate his point across.

"We're on a slant, gents- you'll need to drop the last few meters. The Russians are to sort out your exfil, Captain- I'm back over to the FOS in Turkey." He simply said, as Jan uncliped his seatbelt, looking over at Scott to his right, nodding.
"You heard the man!" Jan said, as he practically nudged himself forward and fell the last two meters, into the thick snow, landing as gracefully as a soldier fully kitted out could. Scanning his area, he looked around, searching for hostiles, as he then realized what Zhenya had said, it beginning to hit home.
"Zhenya, these friends of yours? Where..." Jan said, scanning around, as he realized in his quadrant, there they were. The Little Bird was flying through the valleys, low as it was but safer than clearing it and possibly risking fire from AA sites, which would be a nightmare. The TIAF weren't well armed in regards to AA, but whatever they did have, it was going to be concentrated,

Jan guessed to himself that it wasn't going to be easy, not through these forests or when they got to OP Nevada- and this was why Medved was right here, on the floor. Medved One had his AN-94 raised high, the team scattered behind as they edged forward.
"Guns down! We're Lima." Jan barked in his Russian, as Medved-1 chuckled, looking over at his men, as he walked forward in the snow, his AN-94 partly lowered.
"And we're working with you, Captain. And you have no choice about it. You happen to have a reason to be here. As do we. So let's get this done, yes? The ridgeline is 200m up there, then it goes downhill, until a plateau where the airfield is located for another 800m or so. TIAF AA is all over the place, but they concentrated in the lower areas rather than these mounts- the bastards, for the better shots- and while we won't be able to destroy them in full, we can deal something with this airstrip."
"And what of the path ahead? We have a sniper team in the area, they're prepared to take that balance away on the airfield itself, of the Igla and ZSU threat." Jan added, aware that the two of them, himself and Medved-1, were both lowering their weapons.
"A few QRF and patrols. Nothing you cannot handle. And I felt there was something about this place, they did well for an observation point. It's your call when you want that balance taken- but after that, we must move fast." He replied, as Jan nodded.
"Yes. Let's move then. No time to waste." Jan simply said in Russian, moving forward through the snow as they went up an incline, to the top of the mount, before as Medved-1 said well, they'd head down and move through the intermittent forests and clearances that had been made by a combination of human activity and landslides, the slush of the snow and rock sometimes subsidizing on the more barren areas and leaving a set of fallen trees and random lumps of earth in the process. Raising his HK416, Jan kept his eyes open, as they moved up, slowly and surely going at a combat pace as they looked out for contacts.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Characters, that is. I'm going to leave Antoine/Howard to it if you want to develop them out, you know what you're doing there.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

(BTW, if this is a bit too deep, my apologies. I did keep it within limits, but be warned, boobs ahead.)
(Long, long post.)

Svetlana's eyebrows raised, as she walked back, shutting the door locked with a key card, then walking around.
"How long have you wanted to ask that? Hmm? At least a year, Bjorn. And I thought you were courageous." She said, turning around, as she then undid the clip around her hair, her blonde locks coming down to roughly her neck. She moved her arms around her back, and undid her bra and her underwear, the sports bra revealing two orbs that couldn't have been more undeniably irresistible, and her big rear end.
"But....yes, I think we should." She said, a dirty smirk on her face, as she almost fell atop him, already coming down hard onto him, as she let him get to work. It went on for minutes, the scene mostly faded to black, as she looked down at him, a look on his face. It had been a long time, since she had sex with a man, but he had been honest. He hadn't been himself, and Svetlana already knew that it was like something had come out of him that he wanted to say for a very, very long time, but it had died.
"You want these where I think you want them?" She said, her boobs hanging a inch above his face, the two melons looming and a sight to see.
"Yes. Please, make it go on forever." He said, calmly and quietly, as she simply came down, moving herself down, and her two boobs right into where Bjorn wanted it most. She stayed down, already letting him carry on, for minutes, and minutes. She felt the passion rise up and down her body, but then suddenly, she realized what she had done. He stopped moving. She moved out, and rolled off, quickly realizing his eyes were wide open, and she couldn't hear a breath on him. Sitting up, still completely naked, she pumped his chest, performing CPR, trying to get a beat. Exhaling into his mouth, she pumped more, swearing loudly, as she felt a tear run down her cheek. She did it for almost five minutes straight, the Viking just not waking up.

---

(Also, remember the future upgrades system? They're coming into play for Antoine/Howard- I think I remember something such as a optical/thermoptic cloaking for Antoine, and a prosthetic-jump system of some sort for Howard, though you're able to choose your character's upgrades, so long as they're not OP.)

"I should mention, Spectre, this isn't a test you do with your armor on. If it was, then the likes of me and you would walk it. It isn't ready yet you two- trust me, you'll be there before you even know it. Just sort your shit, and you'll know when." Imran said, walking away, as he headed back into the lift, going back up to the common room/armory level, where he quickly walked through the room, looking around, already spying the wookie and the femme fatale. This was Scimitar, he reminded himself- and whilst they were very different garments that the the two lights wore, they both knew how to become almost invisible in the right circumstance with them, and that it was something different.
"Ah, Howard, Antoine- seen the recruits? They look like grinder meat, Scimitar test for them in ten, and you both remember exactly how that was. Haha, it will be good to watch. Shit, I need Svetlana actually- give me a second, I'll be back. Radio through to me if you need anything- the armory's open and I think the technicians were talking about some stuff for you both, some upgrades that you were on about to me. Bunch of other stuff- I'll deal with them, then in a couple hours, I'll bring us all up to speed on what we're dealing with." Imran added, quickly realizing where he had to be, looking into the room, as he let them reply, before he had to quickly run back to the lift, already going back down to the quarters, as he wanted to be quick.

Running to Svetlana's billet, he knocked on the door, hearing nothing as he cursed to himself in Punjab. Moving along, he looked in the gym, but found nothing, trying something else. Maybe Bjorn would do for this, perhaps, he asked himself mentally. Yeah, he would. Running to his billet, he knocked on the door, just not bothering this time with waiting for a response as he pulled out his keycard, a universal one, and opened the door up, walking in to see what he wished he could unsee.

---

Svetlana didn't want to call it crying, but it was a set of tears, as she sat by his side, still looking, as she turned her head to Imran.
"It's not what it looks like.." She said, as he walked in, shutting the door locked. Imran couldn't help himself, but he knew that above the boobs and her body, there was her face. But she looked different, just a little torn apart somehow.
"The fuck is this? How?" He asked, as she stood up tall, looking.
"We were having sex....and I went too far. Take a guess." She said, moving her arms to her breasts, indicating in some way.
"I don't even know, Svetlana. He'd dead, you tried to.."
"Of course I did, Imran. There's nothing I can do. He asked for it, you must understand...why'd you think he wasn't so on form over the last six months?" She said, looking over, as she took a seat on the end of the bed. He walked over, looking to the bedside, for any papers, or anything.
"Damn...look, I don't want you gone. That would be a lot of paperwork, and I have enough University shit to deal with. You don't lie Svetlana, I know you well enough. But listen to me. We must sort this out."
"Of course. Asphyxiation of course, so we need to make it look like he hung himself perhaps to make it look like he died from oxygen deprivation- but allow no autopsies or observation. His body must be burned. It would be what he wanted." She said, looking over, as she looked over, wiping her tears, her voice coming back to normal.
"A Viking Funeral. It can be done, but not now. I'll find some rope. Look Svetlana, this isn't what I wanted, but there is nothing we, or you can do. Nobody, NO-ONE can know that you did this to him. I mean, even if they knew that he wanted this...you know."
"Of course." She said, as she dragged him over, into a certain position, already looking over as Imran walked over to a cabinet by the side of the bed, looking for a lace or something that he may have used.

"Fuck...what's that?" Imran said, picking up a tiny film-reel sized canister out of a cooled box, almost not wanting to say it.
"You must understand, Imran. Giants such as me and him....we're a rare breed, when I was young, a doctor in St Petersburg told me best. It's an extra chromosome, but unlike the effects of some, such as Autism or other genetic diseases...it causes this. Gigantism, but without the disadvantages. It scales the human body, explains my...features and my height and my size...and it has no side effects, apart from perhaps the fact that you're socially an outcast for your size, and ones that we haven't really chartered. Early death, organ failures..I will likely not live to see my 60th Birthday, Imran. So this is all that is left of him that will ever last, and giants tend to keep a store, as a just in case. I mean, there are giants out there that haven't got it from that, but they're either shorter, or have Pituitary problems."
"Bloody hell...are you suggesting? You saying your...boobs are from that?" Imran asked, looking over, as Svetlana looked over, both of them aware that Svetlana still didn't have her bra, or her underwear on for now. And it made this entire situation a little bit strange, as she chuckled a little, trying to relieve herself of what happened.
"Ah, Imran....you do know that for just telling you, you'd be in between my cleavage too. But you're a good man, you're clever to know the science, and you have your end of the deal....and besides, if I did, I think I wouldn't want to murder the rest too, it's too early in the morning. One day I'll deal with that canister, da. But that isn't today, to deal with that in relation to me. Ever hear about the Viking at the Battle of Stamford Bridge? The one that killed hundreds of Anglo-Saxons, with his axe before being felled? Probably the same blood. All the stories in Ancient Greece, about Gods? Giants, or at least I think. There's even a Russian Tsar, Alexander III, who had some aspects of it, but don't ask me how it works exactly- but when you hear the stories of him bending coins, and keeping the roof of a railway carriage lifted up, you understand it is something we tend to overlook in the past. We are myths, and history tends to think of us as that, for the good."
"And Bjorn then? He had it?"
"Yes. Same as I do. It's either genetic, or a mutation...but you know, it depends from case to case. Like I said, there's differing kinds. I guess he wanted to just get something out of his system, before he felt he'd die. Bu he chose to die, Bjorn asked me to come down, and while I got carried away, you tell me a giant like that wouldn't fight if he had something better to live for. So keeping some of the genes in the system means at least we'll be around. Perhaps it's that group conscious, I don't care."
"I understand. We can deal with this. But this is between me and you. He died happy at least, remember that Svetlana. Any man would want to die between your breasts, and he was one cross away from going back home and undergoing the rehabilitation process. It isn't healthy, Svets- I developed it with what Chemistry I know alongside the stuff they've developed before from the CIA, and it's horrifying what it does to the mind. But it's repression and a forgetting of details here. A need, and there isn't one case of...well, things coming back to us. Perhaps it was for the best."
"Yeah..."
"Look, you know what to do with this. But right now, we need to do this, or we're screwed. Just tell me this." Imran said, looking over, straight into her eyes.
"What?"
"Just promise you'll leave it at this. Don't feel responsible, or else things get complicated. Please, Svetlana." He said, as she looked over.
"And you're not going to start studies on this and become some sort of fucking lecturer on this, or else.."
"I know. Something for something, Svets. We have training to do- we'll deal with this quickly, then we'll be able to properly make something out of this situation." He replied, as he looked over at Bjorn, Svetlana walking back with some rope. It was a misery buisness, but he had died happily, and somehow, both of them knew that he had the best death he could get in this business. And he was going to have a proper funeral, and somehow, deep down, they both knew that if he believed in his Valhalla so much, he'd probably get there.

---

Twenty minutes later, and Svetlana and Imran had left it at that, to some degree. Bjorn hung in his room from the lampshade, a harrowing thought, and his will by his feet, Svetlana at least putting his underwear on to give him some dignity. Svetlana had gone to suit up, and the rooms that Spectre and Iceman were in, Imran had already gone to deal with. The Scimitar Test was a horrifying experience, and it did what many military tests simply didn't do. It threatened their lives, and Imran had recalled times when they had to recover bodies. It wasn't pleasant.

The knockout gas had been pumped into the two quarters from the canisters mounted within the radiator, taking less than 30 seconds to come in. The rooms had been locked, and they were fairly sealed, doing what they had to. It was a nasty method, but these raring recruits, Imran reminded himself, perhaps found at the moment that their lungs filled quick with the gas was that this was serious. And it meant two bodies to drag. Svetlana had gone to suit up, but hadn't taken her GMG, and the test was already set, if Imran remembered correctly how this would look. With a bit of help from her, getting it set was fairly quick, which was always a relief.

The chamber was two floors down, the lowest down of the subterranean facility on Bouvet, and was a strange and ethereal place. There was quite a large room, about the capacity of two shipping containers, and another one sat in the room ahead, sealed by a large naval metal door. The two wingsuits that Iceman and Spectre now wore were red, both still completely out for the count, wearing a specialized pair of goggles and haptic equipment integrated into the wingsuits that put them into a completely different world- one that wasn't a metal container, but a pitch-black mountainside that felt frozen. It meant that it felt real, almost unquestionably so, the wind from a fan on the far wall and the motion sickening and horrifying. But it wasn't that that did the job. It was just a simulation for a good reason, because the two nozzles on the side of the tank, had already started pouring salt water in from the South Atlantic, coming up to Imran's soles, himself now wearing his proper digital uniform, a mixture of UCP and a hexagonal silver. A tiny metal prong sat on the floor, that sent a current through that was able to deliver a shock roughly weaker than a Stun Gun, and it was consistent through the water. Perhaps when they woke up, they'd be feeling like they're be awakening to falling towards a cliff, but when they realized that when they tried to pull their chutes, Imran knew they'd only do one thing- and it was that which sucked them straight from their simulation into a reality, of a flooding room with freezing salt water that had current running through it. It fucked up the muscles, with twitches and shocks that could easily destabilize the body's own nervous system, nothing permenent but enough to really fuck someone up. Iceman and Spectre were about at the roof of the room with adequate room to at least react to the simulation via the haptic system, attached by a tether that in reality, was impossible to feel, but visible. A crash would send them to the floor, the tether would break and they'd fall almost three floors- enough to break a few bones, to say the least.The two would be tested simultaneously, but that was fine in itself. Walking out, he sealed the first training room, the invisible door on it's side leading to a instructor's viewing point, where he took a seat, able to look into the training area, from the start to finish. Many died here, from the current, drowning in this part, as well as occasionally taking a 9mm that was ultimately fatal because they ran around a corner like a lunatic. But if they held their nerve and kept the air in their lungs, they'd be able to figure out reality from virtual, and make it through. And if that didn't kill them, the assault course and the close quarters section could easily.

Beyond the first room through the reinforced naval door that lay at the far end, already deeply submerged, lay a water drain that preluded a daunting assault course in the second room, followed immediately by the close quarters combat course. An intensive scheme indeed, but it was required. It had a pair of G36A2 Assault Rifles at it's start, and many surprises along it's path. Ones that weren't just artificial. The shock test broke people- it was whether they could operate at maximum capacity after that that Imran cared about. And Svetlana sat at the end of the close quarters course, as one last surprise, aware that she wasn't a target to be beaten. But to be attempted. And she had no qualms about breaking people in half until Imran said stop. Targets could fire back, targets could easily do a multitude of things, move around, or even completely teleport. It was a mindfuck, in any aspect. A horrifying one. But it separated the wheat from the chaff. And whilst Special Forces training could train a man to be unbreakable, and competent at doing the impossible, this was different. It was a shock to every sense, and would require an operator to go beyond a normal means of what they already knew, to succeed.

From the control room, he looked over, as the system, fully activated, recognized that they were both awakening. They were being flung into the fray, as Imran spoke into their earpieces. The room was halfway filled with water, still filling as the pumps quietly worked, the saline sea water something they'd literally drop into, as soon as they themselves hit it in the simulation. Perhaps only after realizing their chutes weren't going to work.
"Welcome to the Test. LZ is on your HUD- Good Luck out there." Imran simply said, aware that they were going, and the wind turbine in the roof was billowing cold air, already adding an simulation to what they felt through the haptics, the false senses that they were feeling pressure from the wingsuit, and the VR working full pelt to put across the idea that they were in almost a pitch-black environment, by a mountainside, hurling at almost 200mph to the sea for an insertion. But Imran knew that they'd have worse, far, far worse, and they wouldn't even know right now what was real and what wasn't.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Bjorn's about to leave the RP in a Viking way- and it does break the Love Triangle, l think that BigPapa and Spartan, you've got something good. It's all good.

Team Scimitar (an Over-the-Top Military RP)

Reasons for lack of post on my end? I'm tired as fuck lately, and my creative juices feel like they've been blown out the back of my skull. I will post in this shortly, and get us moving again.