FourtyTwo

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Jan moved forwards in the alley, weapon raised high, as he checked his corners, before breaking into a combat jog, weapon still raised but moving at a faster pace, fully aware that his team were on point with this situation.
"Zhenya, keep up the rear, Scott, stay with me. We are tackling this fucker unless I give the command. Remember." Jan simply said, as they turned the corner, Jan opening up on two men that moved from around a park bench, the sniper round taking one down as Jan took the other, then knowing full well that they were coming close to the Strøget. It felt chaotic, anarchic, and Jan's heart ran faster than ever. Police sirens, the distant yelling of people, it was happening. It felt like he was doing just as much damage as these terrorists were, even if his intentions were to stop them. Perhaps history would remember him like that. Or it wouldn't, as many would probably make it out to be. Jan slid a new magazine into his rifle, dropping one of the PMAGs onto the concrete, sliding the new one in as he moved over the slushy pavement, smashed windows and dead bodies visible. At least half a dozen civies were dead, as Jan saw the carrier and his half a dozen entourage move down the corner, right onto the Strøget.

The shopping street was turned to anarchy, as screams could be heard, gunfire being spread down the road as Jan dived for cover behind a steel bench, bullets flying past as a few civilians were shot, Jan hearing the screams of children and women, families and lovers running for cover into shops and as far from them as they could. The beautiful shop windows and Christmas decorations had bullets in them, and the wet slushy floor beneath his boots felt covered in blood.Sirens were closing in, as Jan shot twice down the street, taking out one of the men, but receiving more back, as the sound of a van behind him could be heard, turning hard behind them in the alley. He saw the omminent sight of Danish Special Forces- creep in, themselves fully aware that this was a terror attack of a high caliber. There were three of them moving up, and Jan knew that in this moment, there was only one thing he could do. They were in the crossfire here. The target was going the other way, but the Danish had him and Scott in his sights. Exhaling, he did the unthinkable.

The bullets hit the men in the chest, knocking them down as their kevlar took the 5.56es, Jan them moving his aim vaguely for their legs, putting a whole magazine between the three men as he breathed hard, then lowering his gun. He wanted to swear. He wanted to say many things, but gunfire from the other side of the street rang out again, as the Strøget rang out in fire, Jan taking a pot shot at another of the men, who had a MG3 set up on a park bench. With a kinched set of rounds, he threw him back, a couple square in his shoulder, before putting half a dozen into his side, clipping him down, then moving up. He reloaded his weapon again as quickly as he could, barking to his team.
"Wendy, get off that roof! Get the vehicle, just drive to our north-west, and keep that jammer in proximity! They're going directly north up the street, we've got Copenhagen PD and Jaegres coming now, they're on kill on sight orders for anyone with a gun." Jan barked, barely caring that he was yelling, absolutely caught in the moment as he moved forwards, using another bench for cover as he saw the men move off the street, around the corner and into another alley. Jan broke into a run, fully aware of the fact that he had his weapon lowered, and began a pursuit, knowing that his two team mates had his back.

Moving off the Strøget, and leaving the carnage that had been left, Jan guessed that the runner had panicked, and wasn't detonating the weapon were it was meant to be placed- and that now, he was looking to break off from Jan and his team. If that happened, Jan knew it would take 30 seconds for him to activate a manual detonation sequence, there was no simple dead man's hand with a weapon like that. It would take time, and Jan fully was aware of this, as they ran onto the road, Jan taking cover by a couple of cars as he sprayed above, the men running across as Jan then looked to Zhenya and Scott.
"We have to catch them, fucking move!" Jan simply commanded, moving around the side and past one of the parked cars, taking a shot at one of the other men by the carrier, A clean headshot sent him tumbling to the ground,as he moved across the slush, police cars on the left and distant lights on the right, Jan fully aware that he could very well be dead if he didn't keep moving right now. The slush beneath the Pole's ground, and his raised HK416, the stock and grip locked around his right shoulder and left hand, the noise and horror of it all, and the deep intense warmth generated from the adrenaline was more than enough to keep Jan from blacking out of this situation and stay on task, knowing completely full well that there was no way that they could let them go. They were moving towards some sort of hotel lobby, and Jan could tell that there were barely a handful left, most of the detail now killed by Jan and his team, and being buffered inside. The local reaction wasn't strong enough- this was hellish, and right about now, Jan could guess that they were probably the only ones locally that knew of the real scale of this attack. As the runner and his two men ran into the hotel lobby, Jan moved across the road, and took cover by a bench, as rounds poured overhead.

"Scott, get a smoke ready. We're going to do something very stupid indeed." Jan simply said, as he lowered his 416, taking his Glock 17, the torn security cable still around it, as he looked to the Englishman, and then at Zhenya.
"Tell Medved to get out of here. Whatever happens next, you pray they don't get blown." Jan said, exhaling, as the rounds stopped.
"Throw it at the door. Now." Jan simply said, as he adjusted his beanie, breathing hard, as he knew that there was no other way to stop this from happening. They were laying down occasional fire, and right now, Jan was prepared to do something stupid indeed, fully aware that this was suicidal. There was no time left. The hotel had a few windows to it's side, and the main glass doors were shattered into pieces, as the runner and his group inside shot dead most of the people in the lobby, as the carrier laid the device onto the desk. Jan hoped the jammer would buy some time- and that the smoke grenade would make perfect what Jan had in mind. A flank through the windows would either work one way or another, and Jan had little time to make a more reasoned choice.

(We are at the point of the prologue.)

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

Heads up people- I believe Skyth is a little AFK at the moment (I have received a PM from him)- I will post up, giving you guys a chance to post if you'd like to also. He should be coming back though.

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

Parts:

Part One: Pole Position
Part Two: Horsepower
Part Three:
Windchill

Part Four: Night Work

Future Parts to be Noted Here.

Sierra Vanguard (Espionage RP)

Thom kept his head down, as Liberty distributed her brand of kick-ass into the heads of the insurgents in the room. It was a clean execution, and there was nobody left, as Thom uncovered his eyes, his mouth open in order to avoid the ringing sensation of the flashbang. He watched as Lancaster got up, tripping balls, falling over. Liberty always made interesting entrances, and this was nothing less than pure her, he thought to himself, as he saw Lancaster roll over. He lent his colleague a hand, helping him up, before taking his own sidearm out of his right boot. Sliding the AMT Backup out, the pistol chambered in .357 SIG and having eight rounds in it's magazine yet being barely the size of his hand, he looked to the other two, as the LMGs blared outside. He wanted to laugh at Lancaster, but held it in for the moment, knowing it was something that was definitely on Liberty's camera.
"That's the signal. We're good to get out of here." He said in English, as he kicked over one of the pipes going over the bodies, moving to the door. Bullets riddled it, and then moans could be heard, as Thom took point, looking to Lancaster and Liberty.
"I'll get the door. Liberty, you're driving the pickup truck. Bugcatcher, we're going to make a play for it, guns ahoy." Thom said, as he looked back, nodding to the two of them.
"You okay, Lancaster? Guess you got 'banged by Liberty." He asked, the look on his face saying it all before, he chuckled.
"Hopefully you got enough co-ordination for this." Thom added, as he smashed down the door, dropping two men as he exited, a straight shot into one of the fighters' head throwing him down the stairs, as he led the way. Lancaster had the HVT, and Liberty could make a run for it, jumping straight down into the pickup truck. For now, Thom headed down the stairs and onto the street, past the carnage and dead bodies, looking around as he ran for the white Toyota Hilux.

----

"Team, we've got a flash of phone signals, we're going to have company sometime soon. Get him out of there, head to the designated rendevous and lose any tail you have going there. Drevan, you know the drill. Shoot off those rounds at anything that follows it, your UGV won't keep up but it can stop anything with enough fire." Martin said, watching Drevan at work, as he watched Liberty's camera.
"Nicely done with Hassam, by the way. Catch of the week, I call it." Martin added, chuckling, as he saw the drone feed break off as it moved out of the area, the distant thermal imagery of dead bodies and the outside of the Hashish bar now seeing more and more blur.

---

Throwing himself into the back of the pickup truck, he opened up a small compartment in the rear, Thom taking out a pair of Sig Sauer MPX personal defense weapons, and approximately four magazines, loaded with the same .357 SIG that was inside his pistol. More men were running round the corner, as he watched Hassam get thrown in, Thom firing down the street with his pistol as he looked to Lancaster.
"Fuck, they've got numbers!" Thom simply said, as he finished off the mag on the AMT, grabbing one of the MPXes, and loading up one of the curved 30-round magazines. Pulling the stock back, he aimed down the CompM4 optic and pulled the trigger, inaccurate but supressing fire, as the group at the end kept their heads down, enough for the drone to get a focus on it.
"Liberty, floor it! We'll keep tails off us!" Thom said, sliding the other silver MPX to Lancaster, or George.
"Get a magazine in and drop anything, they look angry!" He added, as they now hit the road, the whole situation passing in an instant, as they now hit the chaotic highways of inner Peshwar, knowing full well that this place was crawling. It was going to take some aggressive driving, to say the least.

----

The phone buzzed, as Martin looked at the number, sighing.
"Hello, Kingmaker speaking?" He said, as he looked over at Drevan, walking out of the room.
"What do you mean one of your drones has gone missing? Martin said into the mic, as he walked out. The voice on the other head was CIA- Anthony Perkins, a handler in the region, and one of Martin's many contacts. He knew him not too well, but knew of his reputation more. Martin didn't care that he had disrupted him- after all, Sierra Vanguard came first.
"Check the signalling again, it's local connections that can tamper it. MI5 has told you again and again, exposed fucking signals..." Martin said into it again, as he headed to his office, looking back at Drevan as he saw the feed drop off from his control, and back into the CIA's grid. Like it had just gone off and had a mind of it's own, with none of Sierra Vanguard's influence.

Putting the phone back, he walked in, the issue apparently sorted out, as his headset buzzed.
"Package is secured in the vehicle, we are exfiling under heavy fire, Kingmaker." Thom said into the radio, as Martin chuckled.
"Oh come on, that's not heavy fire. You have maybe half a dozen vehicles attempting to tail you. You've got ammunition. Use it productively." Martin simply said, quietly amused as he knew that this was where a Sierra Vanguard agent differed from your regular service personel. And that when Martin had his team on a problem, they would get it done, despite whatever odds there were.
"Drevan, take out those at the back with the UGV, and lead off whatever else there is. We'll go to Plan B. Destroy the drone at Ahmedabad Street, and with it any chance of a lead on our drone."

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Ross pushed up, getting cover by Carl, as he raised his Mk48, his arms and whole body tired out by now. This was getting tiresome, as he set up a position for defense, his comms buzzing again.
"We got incoming, Knight. Hold your ground." Andrew said, as he adjusted his rangefinder, seeing the two truck fulls of militants stop further down the mountain, maybe 2km out. They would hit Knight within a couple of minutes, and when it hit, there would be hell to pay. There was six men against perhaps two dozen, but somehow, Andrew could guess that those four down there would be able to take out a fair number and get through this ordeal.
"Lock and load, Nolan. I'll clack up the targets. Knight, they look like they've split into about three, one group flanking to your right, two moving either side of the river. Watch your front 180, we don't see any behind." Andrew added, as back down by the LZ, the smoke still flowing out, Ross saw the first few come into sight. The Mk48 barked into life, as Ross aimed down the sight at a few of the men, a stray couple of rounds snagging his chest, as he took out another, before keeping his head down, Ramsay using his HCAR's stable platform to snipe off two more men that were trying to move into cover behind some rocks.
"Knight, your transport is one mike out." Ross heard, as he moved back out, firing as he heard the distant sound of the helicopter rumble over the valley side in the distance. Ross kept his head down, and dropped a pair moving to the right hand side, feeling his ammo run a little lower by every round that he fired, giving Carl the opportunity to frag a few more. The helicopter began it's landing pattern, the side gun already opening up and peppering supressive fire across the area.

-----

"Contacts, moving up on the right. They're ragheads, no armor, nothing. Range is 750 moving on 670, bearing 050, I count minimum five. There's no crosswind, but 2m/s to the east from us. Fire when ready, drop 'em." Andrew said to Nolan, watching the group move on the other side of the river, watching Nolan get to work, as he didn't use his own rifle just yet- that would come if there was some extra firepower needed against a larger grouping and number of targets.

-----

The helicopter came in quick, the Wildcat's skids scraping gravel as the pilot was barely able to keep it in control. It had been a fast landing, as Ross looked to Carl, then at Ramsay.
"You fuckers get in. Just shoot like hell in our direction, don't worry if you stray a round! Just do as I fucking say!" Ross said, as the SEAL leader gave the order to his collegue, and they moved back to the helicopter, the door gunner, opening up fire on a group on the left, taking three down as the rest dived into the dirt, getting cover and popping off inaccurate shots. This was a Taliban group- not AQ, it seemed, this was a bunch of goatherders with AKs rather than full on AQ-trained operators with advanced weaponry. Taking out the grouping in front, Ross looked to Carl, as he took a shoulder and helped him move, putting whatever energy he had left. It was hellish- his own weight was enough, but Carl and his armor weighed enough, and while he only had him partially weighted in order to stop his ankle from completely collapsing and get them the fuck out. It was strenuous, and with his helmet off, the effort on Ross's face could be seen, as he rushed towards the door, rounds still flying overhead and a few even hitting the helicopter, the gunner's reponse enough to warrant them time to get in.

Hurling Carl in as he let him get a step aboard, Ross threw himself by the gunner's position, laying down whatever fire he could as the helicopter began to dust off, gunfire roaring as Ross laid down whatever he could, the gunner moaning as suddenly a bullet pricked inside.
"Fucking hell! To the bloody helmet!" He yelled, as Ross looked, chuckling, as he saw the bullet fragment sit in the well between him and the gunner on the L7A2 in the door, ricocheted off his crew helmet. If that had happened to Ross, he'd be dead- but this guy had it the other way round, a crazy irony. And Ross knew that shock was a natural reaction, but so was his other one.
"You'll have kids yet, you crazy bastard." Ross said, as Ramsay chuckled, looking out the door as the Wildcat picked up speed, nose down as they thundered out of the valley, getting the fuck from that area and the rapidly closing set of troops.

Sierra Vanguard (Espionage RP)

ONL should post soon I would hope- otherwise I'll push us forwards.

Military RPs- a Cause for Debate

Holy thread revival. Wow, I'm interested to see this post, that's for certain.

Over the last few months, I've run probably a few more crazy RPs, that aren't exactly military, but do have a focus that related to the spun stuff that I've known of military. I've learned a lot though, from other RPs, such as Lima, about particular narratives that Military RPs require. It's a strange sort of balancing act- and I keep seeing the divisions between the types that want hardcore, absolutely rough military RPs with total and full realism, to those who dabble in the lighter ends of stuff. I've always frayed the lines between the two, and have never been able to properly satisfy both camps. From this thread, I started Devil's Brigade, as an attempt to foster an RP that focussed on contemporary and a realistic portrayal of warfare in Afghanistan, something that didn't come about in itself. It didn't work sadly- and I realize it wasn't really that great a construct. It felt artificial, really kinda just put up for the sake of it. It wasn't something that I could really write that well, and I couldn't tell why. I think maybe it just was because it had no fire in it- no real sort of passion behind it, that I always try and give in my RPs, and that it's at least better to have your own sort of creativity pushed upon something even if one or two elements of realism do drop away- ones that are just a really, really irritating barrier to opening an RP that can have some influence.

I wouldn't even say it's down to experience or elitism in the community- just because you've served, it doesn't make a military RP any more good for your presence, it only serves to fuel an elitist streak (I have seen many an RP go down when one very, very gung-ho military-type RPer has often over-criticized one fledgling member). While I acknowledge it and would most definitely say that sure, it's a great contribution that you bring and it gives the GM some perspective, it's something that alone doesn't add a lot when you think about it- whilst useful to put yourself in the mindset of a soldier and someone in a warzone, there are liberties that can be taken, as there can be with many other RP genres.

A great example was that of an RPer (whom shall remain unnamed) that told me to open a door on a helicopter via PM, when there were a group of private contractors aboard a Kamanov Ka-60 utility helicopter. Now, I insisted on them being shut, despite it being a dusty desert environment, as the Ka-60 is surprisingly well cooled- as with many light aircraft, there is a basic climate control, so you don't boil to death. This was someone in the US National Guard I believe, and yes, had something to do with helicopters (as a soldier, not a pilot). Now, I've ridden in the back of a helicopter (AW109), and I can tell you that I stand by that decision, even if it is a different model. You don't have to be a geek about helicopters to understand this stuff, but the GM's authority, when undermined, can be really withered away when a particular RPer overimparts it. I told them I would stand by it, and I received another separate PM.

Safe to say, when a GM who has made a specific decision that seems so tiny and insignificant and is hassled over it, you begin to really wonder where the line is. I want to make a realistic RP, but I do want to maintain my own features of it- and not be fucking messaged when I do one thing out of order. It is important, sure- but there is a point when it stops being for realism, and it starts being a total simulation of a war environment, and becomes a fucking drain to run. I like to enjoy RPing- and frankly, whilst there are places where keeping realism is worthwhile, there are areas where it vastly polarizes the RP group that you're with when some have a vague grasp of realism and others are former servicemen/current.

It really depends what you're going for- and whilst useful, and definitely a great benefit to use in order to further the RP, it can't be used as the only standpoint. Realism is good, of course- but when it gets too much, there is a point where people begin to lose interest.

But I digress.

The point being, I've given up myself on seeing other people run military RPs that last a long and particularly interesting set of time. I've realized that it's the point that people begin bickering about equipment or scenarios, or generally retarded people get involved. The cogs begin to seize, and they die. There was a Vietnam one a few weeks back- and that crashed out, from what I saw. GMs don't avoid the blame either. Non-faithful GMs are fucking horrid. I will say that whilst people have real lives, GMing an RP is a big undertaking- you're creating your own creative scene that requires constant control and work to keep in check. In the past year, I believe I was a part of a couple- one about a WW2 RP set on Crete, that fell through because the GM simply stopped posting. It felt like a letdown, like even my enthusiasm was going to shit. It's a very personal account I'm giving here, as I am finding that it's the best way to write it up. Military RPs can exist, it's just that I've discovered that due to a multitude of factors, they're an impossibility to run.

The only way I see you can run a military RP is to form exceptionally strong bonds with RP partners, about three or four or so. This would mean contact in other forms than just RPG- Skype, or any form of chat (IRC, and so on). Only that way, do you get a consensus of agreement on what the GM is trying to paint as a picture, and it really allows for people to get involved. With Sierra Vanguard, a light-hearted espionage RP that I've set up, I've done it with three of the closest RPers I've worked with.

Many other RP genres can exist without this method, I think- Fantasy and Medieval, Sci-Fi too, but Military and maybe more intricate Spy or so on RPs won't work without an intricate bond. Lima works on that basis- and whilst perhaps less realistic, it does still give a good attempt at putting RPers into the minds of special forces personnel. A fantasy, if you will- but one that finds good traction in a military RP, for the specific segment I'm working with. Yet it works because I know the RPers I'm working with on a far greater level than just in the RP itself an the OOC- and therefore, working with them is a little easier, knowing that I can at least let them go right ahead and do what they think makes sense. There's a broad agreement on what works and what doesn't, and with RPers that you have little contact with, it's playing russian roulette quite frankly.

Hence why military RPs may fail. The content can be dictated to the GM's pace, and whilst there is a stark divide between the two camps, the GM themselves is probably part to blame. My response? I would love to do more and more RPs that have a historical and military focus, but I've slowly lost touch with it. Time and time again, I've tried to base it off different mediums, work with others, and repeatedly, I've seen the dream go to shit. I'll probably have a successor for Lima, and if anyone wants to join in, I say that there will be open spots. But if you don't like it, you can fuck off, quite frankly. I've RPed military for five to six years now, and while I'm not perfect, I do have a good idea of what makes an RP work when you have the right people onboard. Countless numbers, by this point- on new and old guilds. I don't let my RPs die, my people do, or when I join an RP, the GM or someone else leaves and it all falls apart. That is what it comes down to in the end- and I find it rude when people do decide to leave without any justification. That's all I'll say about it really- and that's all that really needs to be said of the topic. To anyone that would like to do a military RP- I would love to, but sadly, I think I've tried enough.

Sierra Vanguard (Espionage RP)

"That GMG might be useful for their vehicles, but watch for collaterals. Area looks mostly clear of civies, but remember, we minimize it and avoid the shitty blowblack we've already expected for this. Still, click and shoot. Should work though." Martin said, looking over at the general overview of the feeds, as he then watched the drone in the sky, the one that Drevan had "borrowed" for observation. Martin couldn't help but feel charmed that his team were good at creating solutions to problems. They needed an eye in the sky, and Martin wanted a drone from MI5, to do their work for them. Instead, he had been refused, as it was too risky in an airspace like this. So instead, now, Drevan had done this. Here he was thinking that he'd engineered a different solution, but in reality, this was the one that would work, this was the one that was giving them the views. The UGV was a good piece of equipment to use, but again, was a failsafe. Martin didn't like losing agents after all, and Sierra had only ever lost a few. A few good men and women, who were cremated, their bodies buried at sea if they were recovered at all. And he knew that it was all based on getting the right timing and the right methods that meant that people didn't fuck up. From Drevan's questionable hacking, to Cassie's unorthodoxy, George's suave methods and Thom's role in the background as a connecting thread, you could tell that while they all had different ways of getting the job done, they were unbeatable. Oh, and him. Controlling that circus like the brave magician he was. He knew exactly how it ran from the lower levels, so he had no qualms in calling the shots to make the calls he was making now. There would be bodies
"Affirmative, Liberty." Martin simply said into his headset, as he took another sip, watching Liberty's feed.

------------

Hassam looked at Lancaster, or Qadir, taking a small sip, as he nodded, Thom looking across. Very soon, things would be getting real. The radio buzzed, as he heard Liberty place herself in position, and could tell, that when she came in, it was going to get very dangerous indeed. Hassam drank down a little more, as Thom took another strong puff, before putting it back.
"This hashish is not bad at all. I'll need to take some with me. Allahu Akbar (God is great) for your presence, Mohammed. I do wish I could make a better introduction." Thom simply said in Arabic, as he adjusted the position of his watch. Hassam looked at Thom particularly, words forming in his throat but not coming out, as Thom moved his wrist up an inch further, Sadiq looking at Hassam in particular worry. Then, Thom pushed his finger into the watch's adjusting dial, and the miniture pressurized compartment, and the cyanide dart inside flew out of the watch.

The tiny dart was perhaps half the size of a toothpick, and it flew through the air with a vigorous force, landing into Sadiq's neck. It flew through his Carotid Artery, and the tipped dart left enough poison in his bloodstream, pumped to his heart to shut it down within mere seconds. The handful of men in the room looked around and yelled loudly in Arabic, as Thom watched the carnage now unveil from Liberty's unorthodox methods- throwing himself flat on the floor in front with his hands pushed forward, head down so as to not get shot or murdered. Hassam was already out for the count, and on the floor too, unconscious but more passed out than a sleeping drunkard.

(Short post is short. May the defecation hit the ventilation, people.)

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

Seb parted off to the side, and while knowing it wasn't the longest flight that he'd done- that being reserved for the Eiger, this was something special, unique. It was one of a kind, and the cold wind and total trust in his abillity reminded him, that there was no place he would rather be. The blue and black was a smidge of a color as it blasted past a set of rocks, Seb now going to the left, away from her. He saw Ellie get her canopy open, and followed with his own, throwing the pilot chute out as he brought his arms in, legs still open as he brought his arms out, the pilot chute flying out of the burble. The rest of the canopy rushed out, and Seb felt it slow him down from 160mph to 30, the force hard but something he was used to with a high performance wingsuit like this. Looking down, he yelled with joy, looking over at Ellie's golden parachute, contrasting to his own black-topped, blue underneath colored canopy. It was fairly docile, but for something like this, it had to be- the last thing that Seb wanted was a kite to stop him when the rush ended. Turning the toggles, he dived a little, seeing Ellie come down as he whooped again, flaring as he felt his feet almost touch the ground. It was the last moment, the moment when your feet and your body no longer felt in the sky, like you were still in the void. And as his feet touched the rock, he made a running landing, as the canopy collapsed.

Seb was landing on the rocky beach by her side, high fiving her and screaming with joy. This was perfection, as he looked over to her, helmet still on and canopy behind him. He smirked as she looked over, the rocky beach along the fjord's coastline just a little desolate, but a wonderful place to be. And after that, it felt like he was most alive. Like he was truly living a life. He turned off his GoPros on his chest and leg, looking at Ellie, as she took her clothes off, and in her thermal garnments, was running to the sea. He filmed it through his helmet cam, as he saw her splash in, and warm on adrenaline, begin swimming. Turning the camera off, and unzipping his wingsuit, he threw down his kit, anchoring his canopy on the stones as he took off his down jacket and helmet. Dropping his rig down, he then put down his Oakleys, the dawn and difference in temperature at sea level completely different. He wore a simple thermal longsleeve top, and thermal leggings, perhaps a little strange but tight fitting and good at keeping the cold in. He felt warm, alive, truly like he was in a second heaven. He saw Ellie yell at him, and chuckled, looking over.
"You're such a tease! Come here darling!" He said, running to the water, as he dived in, feeling the cold kick hard, as he ran out to embrace her, in the cold, cold water, kissing her and knowing she was soaking wet. Embracing her, he felt her soaked thermals, and the nipples on her breasts inside her thermals poke against his thermals, feeling the wet feel of his girlfriend. He kissed her, tongue in, barely feeling the cold, but her warm feel.
"God, there's nowhere I would rather be..." He said, clutching her tight, as he felt like this moment was going on forever.

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

The rush was unbelievable, totally unbelievable. Like all things in life, it never failed to amaze, to remind of what they did what they did. Seb watched her fly over the edge, his camera fixed on her, as he followed suit, hurtling towards the recurve that threw him airborne. He couldn't help himself, as he threw himself into a backflip, skis flying off as he opened up his legs and arms, the blue material inflating as his wingsuit caught the cold and dry air, fully aware of what he did. He had backflipped off the edge, and now had the void in his view. His love's white and gold a different shade to the rock and snow below, as the moment felt slowed down. The adrenaline was flowing already, but now, his heart felt trapped in a moment of pure bliss, total calm. When you did this, there was no point doubting your ability. If you did, you would get injured, or die. You had to promise yourself that this was your territory, and that you knew your line down.

The speed rushed past his Oakleys, as he dived down, the rocks in double digits in meters in their proximity, as Seb followed Ellie, threading down the mountainside at a stupid pace. Diving a little, he felt the wind kick hard, the speed faster and faster, as it felt as if he was truly gliding. He could open his arms out fuller and back out, but he was coming in closer, a certain proximity. Ellie looked as content as he did, as they flew down the mountainside, the sight of the two a heart-stopping sight to see. The mountainside was rugged, and they were like birds in the breeze, well and truly alive. Seb didn't know anything better than this, maybe not even sex. It was that surreal, the whole fjord in his view, as he began turning, to follow the line's curve. A little bit of a rift that Ellie thundered through was something he followed into, as the rock gave way to greenery, the fjord in sight. They were going for the coastline, right down to the bottom.

Arms and legs open wider, he felt the aerofoil-shape of his body now pick up lift far better, as he thundered past a set of conifers, coming within meters, as Ellie had done. She was fearless, to say the least, and no doubt a match for his abilities. Still, this wasn't a race, just a very, very fun way of doing things. Those did occurred, but this jump was a first, and a real chance to just enjoy life, as it was. At 200mph, they were going over terrain that a supercar could never match the speed on, or any other transport. The view was incredible, the sunrise still going up, as Seb followed Ellie's line, staying right behind her within 20m or so, up close and personal with the Canadian's back, as they began coming out of proximity with the mountainside and clearing over this last stretch. They had to get a little height, and amazingly, due to the level of diving that they had incurred on the way down, it was possible to actually create positive lift with the wingsuits they used- the speed converted to lift, and giving a little more breathing room for deploying the canopies. Breaking off a little to her left, he had her in full view with his cameras, as they flew over the coast of the fjord, about ten seconds from going splat if they didn't deploy here, and hence he was out of her way when the parachute flew into the burble and rocked her into the arms of safety, out of the jaws of madness.