FourtyTwo

The Conflict

Fair play. I mean, our people are opportunists in a way- especially Arran, who knows that he just wants the Scorpion dead and that's it. You could have him in contact with Magnus, on some aspects- but ultimately again, they are different people. Magnus is almost a local, but he still wants money- albeit in a different manner, where as Van Ryneveld if what you are saying is more along the lines of a Scorpion-type person that contracts mercenaries, I like the idea of upgraded enemies- perhaps coming in for one specific act, rater than consistently in the conflict.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Jan looked from the floor, coughing as he smirked.
Those were 5.7mm rounds, modernized Russian from that GSH...and I am still breathing. Shattered the outer composite, but I'm okay." He said, looking at the piece of carbon fibre coating that covered a small metallic-looking piece of plate, which underneath sat the main dragonskin layer. The Wilk had saved his life- it was right over his heart, and while there was still a good layer of Dragonskin left, he had stared death in the eye, had he pulled the trigger. Looking over at the VDV officer, Jan got back up, taking Alec's assistance, as he looked around.

"This place couldn't wipe out our task force. But it could do damage. Something tells me that this place was too low profile for a reason, and why VDV was here will be explained. We need to look for intel." He added, as the radio crisply crackled.
"Charges set, Warrant Officer. " He heard, as he chuckled, walking out of the container, looking over at the two launchers, and Majakowska, around 5"7 and significantly berated from here and there for it. She was short, but made up for it with a good charisma, and as the team's explosives specialist, herself armed with an MSBS Marksman variant, with an extended barrel and a bipod, still firing the same 6.5mm cartridge like most of the team, then looking inside.
"Detonate it." He added, aware that this could be quite a bang. As the others bundled inside, Majakowska called it out.
"Firing in three, two, one!" She added, as the launchers were detonated, the warheads inside also adding to the boom, as it shook dirt and dust all over, the position inside the command post a little safer and out of the direct shockwave of the blast.

"Clear." She said, the two launchers out of commission, as Jan looked back inside, and at the officer's cold dead body, The Karambit had gone right through him, whatever armor he wore on his exoskeleton couldn't stop the sharpened blade ending his life. He looked on him, for identification.
"He's from the 1065th VDV Independent Battalion, part of the overall 92nd VDV Guards Division. Service history, Eastern Ukraine, Georgia, Azerbaijan, all in the last thirty years. He's probably served in the latter two, seems a little older than I do, perhaps they decided he needed an interesting posting. And sent him here, with this section." He said, looking over, then at a table nearby, with a holographic display. He lifted the screen up, looking over it, as he read the Cyrillic. This was unencrypted. Holy shit. This was an easy tap in, with what Jan knew of Cyberwarfare, a new drill that any reconnaissance or special forces operator would know. Cyberwarfare in itself had been decades old- but now, more than ever, frontline troops knew how to utilize it. It was no longer script kiddies that had to find backdoors and how to break security systems. Reconnaissance sometimes meant the virtual frontier, not the back lines. Maybe he wasn't as good. But you had aggressive data entry, where perhaps a hacker thousands of miles away wouldn't be able to probe your problem in your hands. And this was a simple job, as he checked his comms.
"Aegis, do you copy? This is 1st Squad, Blyskawica Detachment, we've got a HQ command terminal here. Data looks incredibly like this VDV force was a first repsonder unit for an assault of sorts, I'm sending what we have here. It is appears to be a weak link into a command structure in the area, it's pinging up enemy concentrations and force sizes over the wider Masovia Area. I'm seeing a network of VDV squads, and un-named units, no actual CSTO forces apart from that...though it seems they're massing on the border. No doubt they're ready to move in once they take key installations...but now we know their next moves, and where they have no cover. We can pick our landing sites for Aegis where they have their shadows, and fight back. Haha, these fuckers really left it open." Jan said, looking through, somehow feeling good aware that they now had a widesweeping intel in the area, about enemy forces and what to do with the landings. Now, they could get the show on the road- and Aegis could now easily tap local intel that Jan couldn't crack, finding out even more specifics than he found. It was a way in. And this terminal had been the doorway in, a stupid mistake that had been made in the cock-sure nature of the VDV team here. They were so certain that all Polish forces were routing, that this one Captain had left the system open. Now, it was that mistake which would perhaps free his country faster. Vacate the CSTO soldiers and militants, bring about peace and end this conflict, once and for all. Defectors and cowards would run, back into CSTO, and those bastards would not return, not in this state of affairs, he thought to himself.
"Well, well. Ivan just made a big mistake."

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Oh, actually- I think I know a way that the dropship squadron could get used.Hot extraction from that town that they're in? Imagine an almost Heat-esque situation in that village they captured, and they have to basically hold an extraction site as they end up getting surrounded by local militias in the morning. I'm working away on a post.

The Conflict

Agreed. I mean, they'll unify in one form or another, but they have the same idea, is what is interesting. I mean, the three at the moment even might splinter, if one of the personalities decides to say "Fuck it" and walk off to do something autonomously. I like Van Ryneveld being an alternative to Magnus- perhaps it turns out unexpectedly, Ryneveld is the man on the outside of the country that will get Magnus any external (ie. international or even crime-based contracts to hand out, or the source of specialized equipment such as advanced optics, camouflaged clothing and other militaria, if that could potentially work (also, how are you so good with Dutch/Afrikaans names? That is specialist knowledge that sounds awesome right there, I just want to hear Sarah swear now and the image of "fooking niggers" will be complete in my head about a slightly racist mercenary (I know of course, this actually fits the character profile, and we all derpity derp, know this).

We don't want to flat out murder each other's characters groupings, but in a way, I feel that when they find out, things will get heated and things might change the whole status quo- and Big will exploit that, no doubt.

The Conflict

(Worked with Big on this one again on Magnus's part- though I don't want him to have a significant impact from here on out till a later date, as I've simply used him to propel this group of three forwards (but not Sarah/Sheppard).

Magnus looked back, raising his eyebrows again as he realized Edward had somewhat come around, shaking his hand.
"One is next door. If he comes back, we'll have another. Then you have numbers. Friends are important here. Without them, you will not last long. There is no fast way...I hate to tell you this, but here, things are so inefficient, the wheels of justice turn very slowly." He added, Magnus then looked right into Edward, as he then looked down the corridor.
"These people, Edward, are very talented. They want what you want, and it so happens that you are in a good position to work with them before the bus leaves you here in a dead end. Now I can't give you an extra gun. But I will help your group, in the way that men like me do. You will need to think long-term before you consider his inner circle. The locals are your best way in- find the people killing each other and then get to the people who buy the kit direct, or at least through the tethers." He said, as he was about to say something, and the sight of two individuals came to sight. They were familiar. Arran and the unknown man.

---

Arran looked to the Canuck as they walked onwards within the hotel corridor, as Lazarus was limping as Magnus laughed, in a typical Swedish way. Arran hadn't said anything, just remained quiet for now until they got to his room. The corridor was empty, apart from the three mercenaries and the fixer. Things had been hectic- they had needed to move fast, and Arran, while he had mentioned simply to Lazarus that not there was the place.
"Holy shit, in just a few hours, that wasn't bad what damage they did to you. You don't need to pay. We should go into Arran's, before we talk. I would rather hush about it." Magnus simply said, nodding to him, as Arran took his key out and headed for his door. Nobody had entered. Good. Opening it up, he led the way in, for the whole party of mercanaries. Whoever the hell that other man was with Edward, it seemed off.

Entering his room, it became rather busy, as Arran took a seat on his bed, looking over. It didn't seem weird even when he went into the hotel that he had a G3 lowly held, and he guessed that with a rifle like this, keeping a low profile was a better idea than not.
"Simple introductions. This is Arran Mackenzie, you're Edward Brewer, and this is..?" Magnus spoke and then asked, as Arran quickly butted in.
"Lazarus Stamp. Man in the joint. Canadian." Arran coldly said, looking over to him.
"My name is Magnus Gunnarson. I work as a fixer, as the two of you would know, and our Canadian friend here will know now. Don't mention money here, friend. It is the easiest way of getting mugged, and most likely, shot, and I know full well that you owe this man, not me. Scorpion's name should be kept as quiet as possible. You went into the wrong people, and you are lucky to live- seems like your new Scottish friend decided you were worthwhile. Point being, you all came based on one letter. We cannot remain here for long- so I will make it quick. You need to join the UPL or PUFE forces in the next town of Mokuba, south of here. There's too much equipment and weaponry in this place. That town is currently in dire need of people. Where we stand now, like they already did to Lazarus, they'll purge anyone who isn't on side, massacre even. They leave behind a few people, people like myself and others such as the general populace who they do actively hunt out- but they'll take a few to be examples, and murder them in the street, or force them into slavery. You are better putting a bullet in your mouth than being taken, is all I will tell you. Point being, from here you are unlikely to find the Scorpion. He wades in the conflict, where murder and war happens. There is a bus leaving in thirty minutes. Get on the move. I will stay here, but I will contact you indirectly, in time. Just make sure that you have all you need to know." Magnus said, as Arran protested.
"And what about our shit here? You expect us to just run?" He asked, rather brutally.
"You can stash it. They're not very clever, they don't search floorboards. Take your valuables and simply go. You will find work, and revenue. Then, you can actually get good guns...that G3 looks like it's going to fucking explode in your hands. The people in this hotel will be reasonable with you, so cut it behind. I do not know when this war comes here, but I know that it would be better to leave now than later, when they're hunting people like you with whole squads." Magnus added, as he looked at all the mercenaries, nodding.
"And from there, I'll see what I can do. Because then you won't be at risk, and you'll have what you want. Be ready to adapt, gentlemen." Magnus simply said, as Arran threw the G3 on the bed, looking outside, before Arran left.
"If you insist. So we're going to join one of these factions? And who says they won't put us all into captivity?" He added, as Magnus chuckled.
"Firstly, that was a local UFL militia, a bunch of bored locals who aren't lucky enough to be skilled enough to kill their own countrymen, where people like you take their jobs. They have a right to be pissed. And look around! This is a neutral town, right now at least. It won't be for long, but out there? You have those bastards killing each other, and you just need to be in the right time with a gun to be thrown a wage and told to kill any Opposition force you see. That, is how you live. I will contact you indirectly, when the time comes- right now, focus on getting yourselves established." He said in response halfway out the door, as he left the room, walking down and out of the hotel. Arran had animocity with him, but so far, he was alive. He knew shit- the locals, the conditions at the moment. And most of all, he had stern enough a watch. Nothing would be earned by killing him. It would be like killing a Elephant, just a pointless act that would just not change the flow of the organic world around him, but just be the death of one more wise person amongst anarchy. And even Arran, who knew that he lived on that rush of just fucking shit up and dealing with the dirt, knew it was better to leave it.

"Well....I trust that man, and I've known him for five fucking minutes. He isn't bluffing. He had a tattoo on that shoulder of his, I could see it through his thermal shirt. Kustjagarna. Swedish Marines...fucking nutcases." He said, looking to the assault rifle on the bed, truly a piece of shit.
"Magnus is right, nobody here knows of Scorpion unless they are higher up in the militias. He could be any white man, able to come and go like nothing else. So say we don't follow his route into the militia. We try and search the forests systematically over the next few weeks, from here, and figure out what to do." He added, looking out on the powerful sun that arose, the mid-day in full swing.
"That sounds like a bad idea if you ask me- this is a big country, and the locals have already tried to kill one of us. We need to stick together, and figure out a plan to at least know what we do once we're in these militias. Aye, you'd fucking get gibbed if those bastards with tae fucking machetes get a hold of you, and that crap. When you can't beat them, join them, you know. And who knows. One day, he walks in to inspect and sell...we go to the sale, BAM. One arsehole of a human being dead, and we all walk away with freedom, money, and that shit sounds like it's better." Arran mulled, checking the weapon, pulling the old magazine out as he put a new one in, barely getting the rifle cocked as the rusty and shitty mechanism was almost tattered to total bits. No oil or WD40 would fix this. It was fucked, sooner or later. These people he didn't also know how far he'd go with. He wanted his own cut, he wanted to just go and get what needed to be done, done. Yet somehow, beyond his nature, he felt that he was going to need. To just stay with them, and leave them- not betray them, when needed. He'd go his own way when he knew he had what he wanted to know, and while that was subjective to change, he felt that in this world, the man he could have just saved would simply pull his revolver to his head and pull the trigger. Or the other man, Edward. He seemed itchy, for intel and stuff to know.
"We need to be careful, but so long as we're capable of killing people and staying at the top of the food chain, we're good. The most ironic thing is, I feel we're going to have to buy weapons indirectly through the network of the man we're gonnie kill." He added, his Scots just jumping in dramatically, to absolutely ruin his pronunciation of the English language, more prominent on his pronunciation of some words than others. He took the G3 to hand, and looked out the window.
"It's a good thing I brought fucking 100 percent deet for insect repellent." Arran said, chuckling, trying to take his mind off the fact that in a few minutes, things would get quite serious. He had shit to hide under the floor, and while he knew he'd be back to this room, and in a way, he'd be in this exact room, he knew that otherwise taking the rest of his repetoire would be important. The GPS, his weaponry, and the empty Bergen, mainly to hide the G3 from plain view.

Running with the Wolves (kingkonrad and Enalais)

Scott looked up, smiling, looking to Alexis, as he tried to think, connecting the words.
"Alexis...Alexis. Where am I?" He said, quietly, barely able to get his words through, as his mind felt like it was coming together a bit. He had to worry, but his body felt different. His grey matter was actually beginning to connect, and while it had been for weeks and months, through his treatment, it was if only now, it had really began to spring into a real step. He felt the oxygen tube around his nose, and the slight of his legs and arms exist, as he shook violently and in an uncotrolled manner, not controlling his muscle's movements. He blinked, looking. Memory wasn't there, he just knew her, but what was Basra? A place? He felt as if he was somehow just blinded, not understanding of what was going on, looking at the other nurse that had noticed him say it.
"I'm still here...I just feel really confused...I can feel things slowly coming back, there's a real pain in my arms and legs." Scott added, just feeling his whole mind was a blur, as he slowly sat up, the feeling returning to his fingers and hands, as well as parts of his legs, but not his feet, not yet. But things felt like they were restoring, like everything was coming out of the blur, and he was somehow recovering. Perhaps it was just the time it took for his mind to reassemble all the pieces, and now, it had clicked, and rather than muttering or reflexes, he was in conscious thought.
"It's like everything is really hazy..." He almost felt like he could speak a little louder, coughing a little as he smiled, looking up at Alexis.
"I can't remember much..I can't remember anything at all. I just remember this really sharp pain, and poof." Scott added, just looking to her for answers, wondering what she'd say. He knew his name...it was Scott, Scott Harris. And he was some sort of soldier, that came back too, but he didn't know what exactly. Did he have family? Or what was he? What role? He had no idea that the whole of the time he had been out, the operation had been one kept under the rug. He was a relic, of something that didn't happen, on paper that was. All the hospital knew, was that he was from a US operation and in need of post-traumatic care, namely, in his state of a coma. The Army had relinquished it's hold over his injury- he was now a veteran hospital's worry, and they were responsible for the rest of his treatment, while paid for by the US Army itself.

---

The van pulled up, the noise of men in the back cocking rifles being heard. They wore balaclavas, as one at the back cocked the AKM, looking to the others.
"This man we find, and take." He simply said, his accent a deeply Arabic one, as he opened the back door, and putting away the picture of the American soldier. They emerged, wearing various white shirts and gloves, all balaclava'd as they moved in. They simply jogged through the Hospital lobby, already weapons raised, the four men moving with a certain pacing that seemed to suggest that they meant business.
"DOWN ON THE GROUND!" He yelled, as he pulled the trigger, emptying a pair of rounds into the roof. A security guard reached for his sidearm, but the leader's accomplice shot him with a pair of rounds to the chest, as the rest kept eyes on the crowd, and another frightened nurse came over to his body. The accomplice shot again, one round, and it sent her on the ground in fear. Walking up, the leader pointed at the receptionist.
"Do you know where Scott Harris is being held? You have thirty seconds, or we kill three people in this lobby for every ten seconds you run over. You understand, woman!?" He yelled, his loud Arabic accent scaring the whole room, as she barely searched up, almost crying, not wanting to let people die.
"DO IT!" He yelled, spitting through the mouth hole, raising it right to her temple, the woman now in tears as she could barely act, almost totally frozen yet somehow knowing full well it was going to make people die. These people had done it already- and surely, one patient compared to a whole lobby would be a brazen act. This wasn't a bank, it was a veteran's hospital. And even the security guard, who was there simply for appearances to deal with external threats such as aggressive visitors or other smaller security concerns, had failed in dealing with this. The police could well be on their way, but they had minutes of time, not seconds, to get what they wanted done. To find Scott Harris, and to bring him. It had taken years to find him, to this very hospital. And while he was no liability, he needed to be brought as proof to their employer, to be dealt with appropriately. This was a man who had been part of the operation that meant a lot to his employer, and he had very powerful connections.

The Conflict

I like that idea. Just so long as it gets stuck to- it would be too much work to draft up a table and a whole set of results to stick to.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

I'll make another post afer Enalais, to flesh out the intel on the ground- if that's okay. The man they just killed (that officer) was a Captain, so he'll know a lot, no doubt from his files.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Is the GM around? This RP is in full flow, no posts from him lately. Just curious.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Almost so. I mean, the main landing site isn't where they are, but suddenly, it's going to turn very, very interesting in that town, and they'll need to hold, as well as slowly and surely find their way back to the fight, with support from above.