FourtyTwo

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

Shifting up, Ross dived back onto the road, roaring through a tunnel of sorts as he weaved traffic, the 6.2L V8 more akin to something that would fit in a Shelby, not a elegant German Coupe. None the less, it was an incredible sound, as Ross weaved into the hard shoulder, blaring past a couple of generic-looking sedans- most likely some Ford Mondeos, or Honda Accords. He didn't worry about that right now. Getting clear of the cops was priority number one, as the road went on, Ross still going back and forth between in and out of cars, the V8 wanting to spin the back wheels up and make this beast feral. Looking behind, he kept an eye on Kimberly, before turning back off onto the right, looking at the exit.
"We're pulling off here, we might be able to lose our tail. Down to Al-Barsha Road." Ross added, taking the junction clean, as he sped past the construction work, aware that if Kimberly kept tight, and wove past the traffic, she might make it through.

Turning hard, and braking, the ceramics heating up as Ross hit the handbrake and shifted down, the rear wheel skidding as he then was back on the throttle in a sharp acute turn, Ross pulled into the small road, almost single laned, forcing people from the road as he turned left, heading down into the more complex roads, down into Al Barsha, as he kept on the throttle, the sound of sirens becoming a little more distant, though still in the area. Ross kept to the throttle, flooring it down the road and breaking a red light, turning hard left onto another road, between a pair of apartment blocks, dust kicking in the track as he then turned right, the wonder of Dubai's PD still going on- this was a chase that had lasted more than long enough now, and they wanted it over. That wasn't what Ross was going to let them have, not today, as he carried on, aware that they'd lose them soon.
"We might need to split, find some cover under a roof, then head out. Keep as low a profile as we can, apart. Wait, shit, didn't our contact say he left false plates in the boot?" Ross asked, as he thought it through.
"Shit, it might just be screwdriver time, we might get though this easier than I thought..." Ross added, braking hard again and kicking up some dust, as he drove through past the American Academy in Dubai, flooring it through the four way junction and just looking around, for places to quickly lay the car low for a moment or two.

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

Name: Sebastian "Seb" Rietsch
Age: 24

Appearance:


Disciplines Faced: Snowboarding, Skiing, Wingsuit BASE, Paragliding, Rock/Ice Climbing

Seb is around 5"10, with brown shaved hair, and a little stubble on his face, usually being seen with a pair of red-tinted Oakley sunglasses on, as well as a longsleeved grey thermal shirt, when in warmer climes. He seems fairly skinny, but well built for skiing, with a bit of muscle where it counts. Seb can be usually seen on the slopes wearing a dark blue Mammut down jacket, and black salopettes, though for wingsuiting, he usually has a different attire. A blue, with black wingsuit, and a blue parachute is usually his option of colors, having a definite affinity with blue. He usually wears a black Mammut beanie, and tends to his carbon black Salomon snowboard and skis with a very specific love and care. He is definitely an adrenaline junkie, from every pour of his look- a diving Peregrine Falcon on his back reinforcing the image, as well as an Ice Monster of sorts on his right shoulder. He seems to be calm and collected, yet willing to push himself as hard as possible, diving into abysses and cracks that most wouldn't try, aware that he is a little more risque than his opposite, Ellie; though perhaps a little more embracing and reinforcing of when it isn't good to go at others.

Skis (and Snowboard) Color:

Skis (and Snowboard Color Scheme)

Wingsuit

Nationality: Austrian
History:
Seb was born in the mountains of the Tyrolian Alps, in Innsbruck, Austria. His mother was a local teacher, and his father, a ski instructor, in the pistes. The first sport that Seb obviously got into then, was skiing. He had a natural talent for it, and loved the sport, looking into doing more and more crazy things with it. Education was important through his mother, sure; but after school, he'd always hit the slopes, and if it was summer, then he would go to the very top of the glaciers and start there. He picked up rock and ice climbing very quickly at a young age- and found that while he wasn't doing it as a sport, he did it because he wanted to go places so he could ski from. That was always going to be a good motivator, and in the Tyrolian Alps, that was ideal. There was no bound for Sebastian- he had found his calling, or so he felt.

When he was 14, he switched to snowboarding, and picked this up equally as well, finding that his home really was on the snow, going fast. He was considering going for the Austrian Skiing Team at one point, but this fell through due to a string of injuries, and the sudden illness of his father at the age of 16, when he began suffering from Testicular Cancer. He felt depressed, and saddened, finding that his father was no longer able to generally carry on, Seb was deeply depressed. He failed plenty of his exams, and felt like he was in a hole, a gap. Then, a friend told him to take up skydiving, as a side joke in the Chalet Bar. This he did, and he didn't look back.

After starting the AFF course, Seb was addicted. So addicted, he carried on, and got more and more jumps done. He had left education, and now worked full time instructing on the slopes, young but talented enough to teach tourists, and make a buck. His mother fed the family, while he get himself enough cash together to pay for his jumps. His father recovered from his cancer by the time Seb was 18, but he never was as good at teaching as he was before- and helped out at home, something that Seb had abandoned. His career of teaching people how to ski and snowboard was one that was dreary to Seb by now- knowing these slopes since being a toddler, but was one that he had to do. It paid his lifestyle, after all. By the time he reached 200 jumps, Seb had his eyes fixed on one thing only. Wingsuiting.

He was 20 when he did his first jump, and it was again, something fixating. Something that fueled him to carry on. He wanted more and more, and this he started getting, as he jumped more regularly. He was up to 500 jumps by the age of 21, almost spending everything he had earned in a month in getting to the dropzone, and jumping. He was committed, and from there, it spiralled even further. BASE jumping, from a fellow friend he had met in the Dropzone, recomended that he should try the death defying sport. Like with previous things, Seb found that it was even more epic and adrenaline pushing than anything he had done. Combined with a wingsuit, it was insanity, just total madness, seeing the mountain passes and cliffsides rush by. The speed was mad, and it was one that drove him to adore what he did.

By 23, he had flown almost 100 wingsuit BASE jumps, and it occured to him, that he had never once filmed himself doing it. A friend's Go Pro, and a simple upload later, and what happened was absolutely stunning. Seb saw the views spike, at almost two million- the video going viral after it showed a death-defying line through the crack of a Austrian glacial pass. The "Wingman" YouTube channel was born. It was one that stunned Seb, and got him started in his YouTube career, making simple blogs and posting footage. This attracted the attention of GoPro, who signed him on as an athlete. It was here he met Ellie Dorian; a woman of similar conviction like him, who share a passion for speed, snow and adrenaline. They fell into a romance quick, working on similar snow and wingsuit projects for GoPro, in either ads or YouTube videos. It was the end of his job as a ski instructor, and working as a packer at the dropzone. Now, he had sponsorship, his job was his enjoyment in life.

As a result of his more interesting activities in his Vlogging, Seb has also learned how to dive (in Icy lakes), and Paraglide, as a part of his channel's content on Wingman, often scoring a good number of views. His collaboration with GoPro has given him the opportunity to travel, and experience more things than ever in life- though he does feel like a bit of a drifter at times, never feeling stuck down.

Seb is fluent in English, speaking it with a German accent but remaining very clear in his speech- a trait due to his mother and lots of English tourists. He is also fluent in French, and his native German (in Austria at least) to boot. He conducts his blogs in English, just to keep reaching a wider audience.

Theme Song:

Madeon-Home

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Natalie chuckled, seeing the big and mighty Victor Kaantario, fully armored up, as her Knight in shining armor. It wasn't lusterous, but it might as well have been in this rainy Siberian evening. There was something about the armor, that they both shared. They were big people, but Natalie always reminded herself, that she was like him in hers. Invincible. Almost. But more or less, a force of nature, with enough ammunition and armor to walk through the deepest thrones of hell and back without too much problems. From the bottom of the armored boots of the suit to his helm, there was enough armor to effectively prevent even a .50 entering, and even IFVs would be a little worried about a head on assault against an operator like Victor.
"My beautiful Mohican badass. Sure, I could use your rear as cover." She said, chuckling, her voice a little drowned out by fire, but audible still. She was a little shorter, so didn't protrude from Victor's rear as badly, using the big armored fella in front as cover, as he drew fire, Natalie firing on men around and to his right, as they pushed forward, Natalie feeling the force of the GMG's kickback even from behind. The burly Russian Goddess followed the Mohican titan of a giant, aware that such a combination was just...well, even to Natalie's disproportionate view of life, the one that involved downing aircraft by flying jet-powered wingsuits, the one that involved wearing almost near enough 250kg plus of armor and a weapon with attached ammunition that weighed not significantly less. The one that involved fucking a giant atop a hot air balloon in an Alps with the cold wind blowing between her bosoms, and the one that involved being rich. She was 26, for crying out loud. ANd to her, this was just epic. This moment here, of being behind her armored partner, and firing her PKP at rogue mercenaries. This was life.

Moving around, she took out a pair that moved out of a shed, mowing them down quick and clean, as she let Victor mow down enemies. As he took increasing volumes of fire, Natalie moved away to stop getting shot at, sliding by an ammunition cache, and lobbing a few frags forwards.
"He's in that structure right there! No doubt he's got a lot of heat. I've got this guy- just hang on a second. You have FLIR, correct?" She said, half knowing that he did, as she took the remaining Smoke Grenades she had. Lobbing them over, she felt her bra almost completely tear apart. And in that moment, Natalie did argueably go full Amazon from there on out. Even the one piece wasn't keeping her two bosoms in, but that wasn't something she cared about.
"Cover me!"

Natalie slid across the boxes, running, out into the smoke, as fire poured around her. Not at her, but at the big giant. She charged, the PKP on her back, and the two Skorpions in her hands, fully loaded, as she charged through the smoke. She knew where she was going. The Spetsnaz-dressed female, her juggs in the open was accelerating towards the portacabin, and when she was in front, it was like a force of nature had decided to knock. The door had been reinforced with two padlocks, but with Natalie's weight, it was like it was made of paper. She dove in, and was already firing, the two guards at the window downed, as Natalie ran forwards, seeing the sight of Maxim, and another accomplice. Natalie shot the other one in the head with the last of the left hand Skorpion, as she spent the rest of the right on Maxim's leg. The man was a terrorist, and had facilitated Wolf's Claw. It had let them carry on their activities, and right now, Natalie had nothing more to lose than kicking the shit from him, as close as she could. Crumpling down, the man yelled, as Natalie moved forward, tits hanging, and drew him over. He had a scary smile on his face before she fully came onto him, and Natalie suddenly screamed. Diving down, she snapped his neck with the crumpling of her body, but it wasn't enough. The sound of fire and heat was immense, as the explosion rocked the whole compound, the click from his right hand enough to do the job. Natalie's vision went to black.

Opening her eyes with a slow movement, she felt the portacabin was on fire, rolling off as she looked at her burnt clothes, the sound of screaming men all over. She couldn't move, she felt in agony, wounded severely. A huge wound sat over her chest, and she coughed a little, seeing a small piece of shrapnel inside, missing her internal organs by a mere couple of centimeters. It had gone in crooked, and was agonizing, horrifyingly bad. She would survive this, Natalie said to herself. The sight of smoke and burning could be seen, and dead men. Her radio was out, and she felt immobile. There must have been a sabotaged setup to prevent intel falling into the wrong hands here, and the compound had been rigged, if it came to that. Natalie was lucky to be in this portacabin, though it was practically destroyed, with Natalie feeling the burning ash and sight of smoke and general hell around her. She didn't know about Victor, but all she knew was, that if she had survived, he probably had too. She coughed up blood, Natalie just holding onto light, as she slowly dragged herself across the floor, screaming in pain, as she hoped that Victor would see her. She hoped she could survive this, but Natalie knew that the other Spetsnaz team was probably dead, and the PMC men too. Nothing could have survived that. The compound must have had enough explosives to level a skyscraper or two, because everything looked destroyed. She turned her head slowly, her burnt eyebrows and partially burnt blonde hair following suit as she saw the large figure come closer, as she fought to stay conscious. This was worse than Brussels, that was bullets, they could come out, this felt far, far worse. She started blacking out again, and felt light headed, unable to get air into her monumental lungs, just feeling him come closer and closer, and just hoping to stay conscious enough to have him by her side. She felt horrid, and her strength was showing, in the way she was trying to stay like this.

Vigil!

Lucas smirked, taking the M4A3, inspecting the rifle, as he adjusted the stock, pulling it out a little, as he chuckled, taking aim.
"It's a fucking beauty. I'm not going to ask how you got this, but I'll assume you have good friends to get you this. It's a tool alright." The Vigilante said, as he adjusted the RDS, the MARS optic a nice sighting picture for quickly picking up targets. Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, he looked about, at the ammunition, and the other pieces of kit.
"You know, Austin, maybe you are smarter than I imagined. You figured it out well. Connected the dots. But keep that on the down low. You have no idea of how dangerous it makes you to supply me. I mean, you can walk away with your hands clean now, or stay and rough this shitstorm out. It isn't going to be easy. There are men in this fucker's organization who eat people, and can expose everything and anything about your life. You have a family, Austin. I'm telling you now. Don't do something you will regret later, even if the money talks and the bullshit suddenly walks." Lucas simply said, as he sighed.
"You're one of the most talented gunsmiths and fixers I know. You pull shit from thin air sometimes. In this climate, that works well. I need information on another target, something a little more varied. Walk with me." Lucas added, as he slung the weapon down, heading back to where the duffel was, and placing the weapon inside, along with at least half a dozen PMAG polymer magazines. This was military grade stuff- definitely hard to obtain by any other means. Zipping it up, he headed outside, out to the back.
"We need to drive somewhere." Lucas simply said, as he headed to his RS7, unlocking it with his keys, before slipping in.

Letting Austin get shotgun, he shut his own door, engine on. No music at the moment, but he thought about putting his MP3 on again, just to kill the time. The duffel on the backseat, he pulled out of the alley, keeping an eye about him.
"If you want in on this, then you're going to need to be ready to do a few things for me. Small pieces of work. But you're going to need to be more careful than the world. Right now, I think I have us a ploy on getting some cash. I call it accounting for the Mafiya. One of their drug dens went up last night, so indirectly, I struck at one of their key earners. But tell me, who sells Crystal Meth in New Realna these days, APART from the Mafiya?" Lucas said, as he let Austin give a response, before then giving his own statement.
"There are some, yes. One percenter biker gangs mainly, but they're mobile, mostly at least. No, there's pretty much just them. Indirectly, supply is down, demand is just the same. Drug Dealer 101. They can sell their shit for more profit. What I'm thinking, is we redistribute the wealth from their increased buisness accumen. In the short term, they can make a buck, but in the long term, their supply of Crystal will wean off. And other fill in drugs, or imports from the Motherland will mean that this little gold rush ends." Lucas said, driving through an orange light, aware he was indeed a amber gambler of sorts. The black RS7 was comfortable, but twitchy enough to turn a corner clean and at a high speed, with the V8 purring gently right now.

It was an almost twenty minute drive, out to the outskirts of the city, over a couple of bridges and near a more industrial set of facilities. Pulling up on the kerb, he switched the engine off, looking around, before peering back to Austin.
"This is the spot." Lucas said, as he pointed it out, aware the blacked out windows kept him covered for now, from a side on angle at least.
"Over there, is the old bottling factory. Now, I've been here over the last few days. I was going to pop yesterday, before a certain meth and skunk lab decided to combust. Now, it seems fairly busy. At least a dozen more guards, as you can see." Lucas simply said, pointing out the four-storeyed brick structure, which stood amongst a few of the other buildings, in this rough area. It was almost noon, but this place was still pretty gritty, and a darker side.
"Why the guards? I watched it because I got a tail from one of the men that was working at the meth lab. They cover well, but I assume that was the money man. So this isn't a store of all their cash, but the revenue is going to be good, definitely, if some of it is stored here. They probably have it here so that the authorities don't chase it down, and when they need to, they send it straight off to be laundered through various shops and services that the Mafiya has...well, stakes in." Lucas simply added, as he sat up in the car, looking around, for anyone else.
"Do you know what's so good about robbing criminals? They can't go to the police when their money is stolen. So they have enforcers go get it back for them. This would be a huge job. I estimate minimum, $1 million in hard cash. Partly to fund my work, partly to screw them out of their drug money, and partly because I want some of that cash back in the coffers of the good old police department and other public institutions. Corrupt, yes, but it's better than in the hands of a bunch of violent Russian criminals. Doing it alone is hard enough, so I've just waited till if something happens, I act on opportunity. I might as well try different now, Austin."

"So here's what I need. I'll need you to figure a way out for me to get a look inside. I was thinking a variety of methods would work. A drone, perhaps, or a mole. I can do the second well if I find me the right person and enough reason to believe he'll walk in and tell me everything I need to know when he comes out. I'll need a grappling hook, and two pairs of Night Vision Goggles. Hard to get, I know, but trust me- it's a wider part of the plan. A cut in the power, so a small explosive or at least tools for the pylon, followed by some more. If you're interested, I could use a second eye across the road. That warehouse is completely derelict, and from that second storey, you can set up a shot. If I remember correctly, you said you were a Force Recon Marksman. So you'll be fine. If help is what you want to do, then we do that." Lucas simply said, breathing, as he chuckled.
"Demanding, yes, unorthodox, definitely. But with that many guards, I need to tear through them. I'd need to find the cash, and get out, in three minutes. The M4A3 will do well, but if things go to shit, running is a better option in this one, no matter what. A bike will do for extraction, while you drive down the road innocently, stripped of anything incriminating whatsoever. I need you to be with me on this one, Austin. You'll have a cut too, but remember why we do this. I want to fuck these people over. They ruin the lives of enough people. When they know one of their money sites isn't safe, they'll start thinking about the nature of their operation." Lucas added, as he shook his head, somehow in disbelief himself almost.
"I need you to work your wires. It's up to you. But remember, I need to figure out what the inside looks like, without getting shot; from the money to guards, vantage points to areas of entry and weakness. I need a grappling hook, so a titanium cable and thrown quadruple-fishhook arrangement will be fine. I need a couple of charges, something better than the Semtex I can make, and apart from that, I need general intel on this site. It's big, but I think you might as well. It's on the back burner for now, so take your time. I give it about a few days, then we deal a blow to this place." He said repeating his last list, as he started the engine again.
"For now though, I reckon some smaller stuff is in order. How's your schedule looking for this evening?" He asked, as he turned the car around, skidding as he put the throttle on, the V8 surging as the car's 600BHP engine blew the RS7 very quickly out of that block.

Vigil!

It may be me. It might not be. Either way, shit's been hectic, so I will post now.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

That gif...has me in stitches :)

That was a fucking fast turnaround, you two. Queen posts, we go on.

Any Skydivers?

I *almost* did a little, but wound up doing gliders instead. The jumpers always scared the shit out of me because they're falling through/near our landing pattern.

@mdk

Indeed we do. Downwind, crosswind, upwind...yep.

Do paratroopers count?

Also, hi sir, how's the leg

@ReonenMiruel

They would. Sounds awesome man- wherabouts did/are you serving?

My first jump is one that still sticks with me. I've done 16 static lines now (and hopefully, will move onto freefall very shortly), but my first was one I still laugh at. Redlands DZ has a small landing area, and basically, thanks to what must have been a dead wind, I ended up landing in a four foot thorny hedge :D Haven't had a bad landing since, lool.

Any Skydivers?

As the topic suggests, just wondering if anyone here partakes in any skydiving at all. This being anything from just one tandem, or learning to jump, or being experienced. I'm currently doing RAPS in the UK- just wondering if there are any other RPers in the sport (as I do remember a few years back there was someone I was RPing with that was involved, I cannot remember the name).

Vigil!

Just what he said.

Vigil!

Nah. It's more extended than just this, and I don't like collabing. I couldn't RP someone else's character, in the same way I couldn't easily let mine. It's tempting, but not really my thing, as we do have a nicely complimenting RP style in our separate veins of posting.