FourtyTwo

High Table Stories [30 Red Days]

Han Hee-Song

Han Hee-Song

Alias: Pale Tiger
Faction: Xuanlong
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Nationality: South Korean

Appearance:



Well manicured, Han is the product for the face of a slick Triad. With a pretty face you'd think he never got his hands dirty- but he has plenty of that to bother. Brown eyes, 6"0, ruffled hair, he looks every bit the boyband gritty product you could imagine. Except, a few scars and cuts across his chest, shoulders and arms mark that he's been fighting before. He has been there, done that, experienced it. A small plate of ink extends on his shoulder across his upper back and to the bottom of his neck, covering it in a variety of Korean Triad ink, demonstrative of his loyalty. This whole killing lark is aging him, yet in another way, he is yet to find himself. Well dressed, he'll usually wear a shirt and formal trousers to most thing with a suit jacket to boot, described further below.

Voice Claim: N/A

Personality:
Han has changed from the wildchild that held an angry grudge into a formal, cold, cynical killer. He does it because he's good. And he is pointed at that, pointed at the right people long enough to understand what he really wants. He isn't there for fun loving, he is there for professionalism, getting the job done, and being on time, on place. Something he never understood in the army or outside of this, he now gets inside. There is the code, there is discipline, and there are people that die. He is hard to entertain, but he'll let his guard down around those he trusts closest, and he'll let them in close.

Backstory:

Han was born in Sokcho, South Korea, and not being in the big steam of Seoul, got instead to grow up outside of where the money was and near the North Korean border in a sleepy environment in comparison. His youth was spent in misdemeanours as a result due to his parents not exactly being very stable and his lack of commitment to the school system, in and out of gangs, and the hope that Military Service would straighten him did nothing- even the ROK Marines couldn't truly break him, well, not all the way to reform him on return. He was a rascal, and put to work what he learned to work in small time street gangs to earn his bread.

Then all his friends got killed. And it left a mark. A chasm deeper than he thought would be fillable, but he'd try. So he killed the people that did it, knowing where to go, what to do, and how to make a carbomb and spray the place up. When they tried it on them, well, he'd go out fighting. And well, it kinda led to nothing happening. Turns out, he'd been extremely lucky to get on the right side of a Xualong Triad, who equally hated the shits for ripping off his business. He was offered a way out. Join, or get his head added to a mantelpiece.

Deals like that are nice. He worked honourably and did work for the Triad not just in South Korea, but in America, China, Thailand, Indonesia, even as far out as Dubai to help Chaebol interests that the Xualong nudged along to help with, looking the part of an executive officer. He Westernised a little, but well, the small-city Korean always lasted.

Whilst hating the Triads overlords together, Han will do what is needed to make sure the Xuanlong's place at the table is secure and make sure a Korean at least his hand on the table's influence. A place at the table is a position to do more good than bad. And Han has no qualms killing whoever steps in his way.

COMBAT STYLE
Overview: Han approaches work with a surgical, yet precise method. He will go in through the front door if he has to, but more often than not, he'll hit a flank and bring the power to it. Ex-Army means discipline, and Han is surgical- he works to fight another day and balances risk and reward. Han is a jack of all trades, gun-fu, weapons, swords, from both Army and street-wise training. As adept with his sword as he is his FiveSeven, Han brings a typical assassin's method to fighting, knowing when to switch it up when required like the great Mister Wick himself. Whilst perhaps some distance to that, it's a fighting style that never goes out of trait.

Skills:

Han has training from his time in the ROK's Marine Corps, and that makes him an adept shooter and fighter, much more willing than say, Elise in a firefight to deal with pressure. He'll shoot his marks, and do well, using Taekwondo and adapted Krav Maga to inflict hurt in hand to hand hand combat, or use his taught swordsmanship to bring metal to close bear.

Adept with tools, Han is no stranger to making his own devices when he needs it. Trained in explosives, Han has built carbombs, IEDs and the frag rounds he can equip for his USAS12. He's no engineer, but he can make shit blow up, if given the right tools.

Special Trait: Motorcycling is a talent carried by Han, and well, he can't not be riding a Yamaha R1. Even if it is the Yakuza's prefered mode, well, he can pull that off.

COMBAT SLOTS
Preferred Equipment:

Han loves to cook, and like with fresh cuts of tender Beef Bulgogi grilled over a traditional Korean barbecue, it's East meets West.

You dress for an occasion like a Korean barbecue, it's something more respected than a Western counterpart given it's communal and a little more valued- and Han keeps it western business, with a full navy blue suit and plum red shirt, Oxfords and a contrasting plum red tie. An Eastern colour for a Western dress. Lined with silicon carbide, Han is every part your salaryman, but being able to carry a fucking sword or K7 in one coat jacket and a pistol in the other works nicely for party occasions.

You start simple. A FN FiveSeven does the trick like his palate-clensing Sujebi soup, Sam Fisher's tool of choice and also his, the 5.7mm round punching nicely through armour when needed, even scaring silicon carbide plating, at the cost of flesh damage. A lightweight, compact, cutting edge polymer pistol, with a 20-round magazine, an integrated silencer and night sights, the weapon is light, effective, and smooth at warming you up.

Then the sticky rice, the pickled vegetables and cabbage, it's a lot but a classic to any Korean dish, traditional, modern, export, it works. A compact Daewoo K7 does the trick, a submachine gun built with an internal silencer, a 30 round mag with 9mm rounds, a foldable stock, and more importantly, is never not going to go down a treat.

Okay, the main treat. You came for barbecue. So you get it. A Unggeom, a Korean-sculpted, single-sided sword that comes with a titanium forged edge, a composite kevlar and steel cuff, and an ornate standoff, and whilst short, means it can be moved without revealing it. This is as Korean as it gets, and with a smoked wooden pommel, it's stunning.

And, well, okay, spices. Gojuchang Sauce is on the table. So is a USAS-12. They'll both tear you a new asshole. Not always needed and certainly not always carried, but well, appreciated in moderation. The shotgun then, it is exactly as tasty, and loaded with a 12-round, 12-gauge magazine, it will blow your socks off in the right dose. Add fragmentation rounds instead of buckshot, and this is the perfect anti-anyone tool you need this Christmas, because it pulps armour. Given how hard it is to get explosive buckshot, Han makes his own. Although, it is a ballache.

Desert? Admittedly, Korean food here lacks from a comparatively western palate, but fruit and rice cakes, coupled to what you just had usually do the trick. But if you need, a pack of steel-forged Korean knives, one pommelled for use in hand to hand and general murder, three for throwing in the direction of people you don't like.

Special Slot: Han is an owner of Maxwell, a large Czechslovakian Wolfdog adopted from a friend. A bit of a Western touch, but like him, he doesn't really play well with anyone, unless they are in close. Maxwell is well behaved even for a big wolfie, and seems to have an innate bark to him when he wants to talk. He also owns a Yamaha R1- and whilst not always able to get it to his Continental of choice, he'll try.

MISC
Theme Song: Radiohead - Bodysnatchers

Likes:
Cooking
Hot Springs
Beer and Cherry Wine
K-Dramas (Crash Landing onto You is a standout)
Travel
Craftsmanship
Western Rock and Indie

Dislikes:
People who talk too much
Torture
People mistaking him for being Chinese
Cider and Vodka

---

Elise Annabelle Vogel

Elise Annabelle Vogel

Alias: La Rose Blanc / La Blanca Roja (The White Rose)
Faction: Vellum Society
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Nationality: Andorran / Swiss
Appearance:



Elise is quite the stunner, and she may stick out in a room with her dress on, or choose to ghost you completely if she decides not to be seen. 5"3 in heels makes her short and compact, petite, yet able to make any impression due to the rest of her. A gentle hourglass shape toned from her physical time as an full time elite assassin and part time pole dancer, skiier and skydiver makes her stronger than most and well, she's not exactly shy in the departments that men will look at. Not that they spend long there, anyway. Elise has pale blonde locks, a definitively Germanic thing if you really couldn't tell, blended with Andorran and Catalan influences certainly making for a varied type of assassin. When she needs it, it'll turn heads, or when not needed, the hair otherwise tucked into a bun behind a cowl. If you're really lucky, she'll bleach it cherry red, a dark crimson for when she feels like well, a change of pace is needed, or a new crowd need to see a different her. Cherry red lips, a little mascara, a teeny touch of skin softener, with a necklace and a couple of rings, she's looking like someone that completes the package of a Velum Society's spy, pour femme.

Often times you'll see her in a cherry red dress, but more likely than not on a job, she's an infiltrator and spy for hire wanting to avoid parties altogether. She'll be wrapped up in a tight black wetsuit-like getup lined with silicon carbide and a few ballistic plates, carrying little in the way of anything, but make no mistake. She's a vixen that knows how to use military kit, and even if she may not be one for long firefights, she'll still have the ability and talent to make it work and put herself out there without getting battered.

Voice Claim: Ana de Armas

Personality:

Fiery on the outside, cold on the inside, hungry always. Elise is greedy, and wants it all, and has been kicked in the face enough times to learn that sometimes that the path to victory isn't a clean one. But if you want it more, then you'll just have to take it off them. She's solitary, with a pretentious face to pay lip service to some of her friends and manipulate and twist whatever she can. She prioritises the job and while she'll enjoy herself at that party, don't ever think she won't turn that switch. Anyone who's dealt with her will know that she'll be pretty, but like any siren, you watch yourself because she'll come to you in the night, or there and then. You don't know. Fearless, and driven by a pure desire to be the best at what she does and to indulge in secrecy, she loves the feel, and well, wants to advance the society that has now accepted her and she feels obliged to just put her talent to use for because.....it is kinda entertaining. And she is stubborn to that avail. The high life is what she loves and you couldn't take it away from her. She'll let in a select few, but well, if she does, she'll only then tell you how honestly, you should be careful.

Backstory:

Born to a Swiss banker and his Andorran ski instructor wife, Elise was born in Geneva, Switzerland, but spent most of her time growing up in the other mountain village of Ordino in Andorra, living in a mansion whilst her father dodged the shit out of taxes. She went to private school, and well, learned a few seedy secrets, but spent it in the mountains, doing gymnastics, skiing, paragliding and all sorts of things a little princess like her would do. Her father was hustling money out for terrorist organisations, and her mother was only so happy to be happy with this. Aged 15, Elise called him out on it. And wanted in. It sounded cool. And she wanted not to sit there like a spoilt brat, but be stubborn and do something. Like James Bond? Sure.

And she got it. With contacts that Elise's father had, she joined the Swiss Army and was told to toughen up, and after getting the living shit kicked out of her and given the treatment of being wrong (something Elise's stubborn nature of course, wouldn't live down), again, because her father wants best for Elise, she carried on and persevered. That turned into a life of suddenly merging that with a degree in International Relations, whilst connecting with members of the Swiss Intelligence Services through third-hand contacts of her father.

At this point, Elise was a little socialite. Getting all the secrets from her skiing friends, the high society of Europe, and she got to know so, so much. A broker of information, but well, she had to find out more. So, working in intelligence, she learned how to be a bit more. Put it all together, and killing people isn't as far away a step as you think it is. She worked in embassies at first, but bit by bit, she was asked to get closer to people. And then, when no backup was there, do damage. Elise is of course, able to turn off that part of her brain that tells her this is wrong, because well.....the strong must step on the weak. And she is not wrong. In a game like this, that was how it went.

And she was very good at it. For the first time, daddy's little queen was out murdering, and getting seriously juicy intel and blackmail. Of course, you didn't fucking use it, no, you sold it to someone who DID want that, and patted down your gloves and went back skiing again. It was an awesome little gig. It was something she did gracefully, until well, one day, she killed a man spilling the juiciest of them all.

Vellum Society isn't exactly a private Soho Club, even if it might have people in them, you wouldn't exactly find it easy. But she had some dirt on one of their members from a friend of a friend, a rumor that well, sounded too good to miss out on.

Now, that doesn't happen often that you outdo the very society trading in secrets, but when one of them's facilitating deals they shouldn't be making with the 'ndrangheta because they think they can get away with it, sometimes an outsider likes to take a risk. So she used him to force an invite to meet some more, making it clear what she knew.

And when she was in, she then outed him, killed him in what looks like a Murder-Suicide that nobody wants to get even close to because of how bloody it is, and well, everyone very quickly forgot that Elise had been recommended by this man because well, look at her. She's hot, works for the literal people who are the best at silence, was of the Swiss Intelligence Bureau, and supplies a good pipeline of secrets, and would be just perfect as a replacement. Like the fact he was dead, hell, success- nobody would miss that sack of shit. Two years of working in the Society has got her into a very nice position, and whilst she has more to climb, she's right where she wants to be at the start of the 30 days.

And now? Elise is the pretty face that will kill her way to the top. Who knows, how far she may go....

COMBAT STYLE
Overview:
Elise has two modes.

Quiet, or loud. If she's quiet, then you'll never see her. She'll stay in the shadows, using her gymnastic ability and skills to find you, hunt you, kill you, staying in the shadows and working as covertly as possible. The Red Rose hides, dances and moves smoothly.

When things are loud, she's got gun-kata like any men, and while not having the straight up power, she does have the gymnastic ability to almost dance, hop and leap around, like it's a ballet to her, yoinking, turning, and running, even if she isn't the fastest, she still gets it out. Ballet doesn't excuse getting hit in the fucking face, but still, it works when it works and she can maneuverer around slick and smoothly.

Skills:

Elise is a masterful seductress, assassin, and general menace. She may look hot but she is a siren, and her targets who don't know her yet will know in time. She'll eat men alive, well, apart from the really scary ones. She doesn't come swinging for them in public, at least, she prefers not to.

Experience with weapons, sport, generally being fearless, Elise is stubborn and will wear that hard on her sleeve. She knows what she wants, she is focussed, and she'll manipulate anyone in her way to get it. She doesn't really have many real friends. Just people she needs, and doesn't. So it ties all up for a master assassin like her to be what she is when she's fighting in the shadows or on the ballroom floor.

A stealth expert, she blends into the background, working in the shadows and using her agility as a gymnast, pole fitness and her other adrenaline hobbies to get around to places most can't reach. She is a ghost at work, and has very little in the way of remorse when she's at work. When things go hot, she may not be the best firefighter, but she can do her gun-fu in her fashion, swerving and moving fast, using Krav Maga and other moves to flip the script on enemies bigger than her, through wits rather than strength. She has no preference to close or long range firepower- she's a jack of all trades. Imagine your Sam Fisher type character- a teeny bit of hacking here and there, and a little bit of spycraft, and well, she makes it click.

Lastly, she's a social manipulator. She's very good at what Velum Society adore- secrets, trading them and fucking people over. She would blend in perfectly at a casino in Monaco, and she can talk for hours, convince you she's your friend, and screw you over. She is almost beyond natural at this, and the story, everything about her, you'd buy. And if you knew the stories, well, you know to not fall for it.

Her very European background makes her capable of speaking English, Catalan Spanish, French, German and even a tiny bit of Italian. She has seduced men in all four languages so far. She's Duolingoing her way to five.

Special Trait:
Fearless. Elise is not one to shy away from an interesting insertion, or exit strategy. Part of her work as an assassin means she has learned how to deal with verticality, or difficulty in access- especially in mountains, well, you may as well be fucked then. With the right equipment, be it a wingsuit or skis, she'll get there. Extravagant or not, she'll find a way to a target.

COMBAT SLOTS
Preferred Equipment:

Elise, being a lady of high society, likes her gourmet food and Switzerland has so much to offer, yet her Andorran side can't help but like a bit of Tapas, with a side of the best wine from Catalonia. They say money doesn't affect wine. People haven't tried what she has in her wine cellar. And also, fusion cooking comes to mind. Like the minx she is, she mixes and it will leave her guests stunned with a meal to die for.

An old classic tune comes on, and the armoury isn't so much a dark room, but a clean, modern worktop in a ultra-modern kitchen with a mountain view, Pyrenees or Alps, you decide.

Backing Music

For a hor d'oeuvres, it has to be Swiss. The Sig Sauer P320, chambered in .357 SIG. Like the fine artistry of gently melted goopy Swiss cheese paired with crackers, the caliber and hollow point ammunition sort of has the same effect on people too when it hits. 11 rounds, but she makes them work, with the Osprey silencer on the end and the gun-metal grey pistol having a flared magwell, ergonomic grip and a small laser under the barrel for precision shooting, and a mini Aimpoint red dot optic clasped on the slide for precision shooting.

Cheese and crackers, well, that is nothing without Wine. There's a beautiful, crisp and sparkling Cava Penedès, a Catalan white vintage that never, ever gets old and shouldn't dare be compared to Champagne or Prosecco. Neither does the feel of the various throwing knives, six in total, that Elise carries. Petite, but sharp, and thrown with precision and venom, leave you feeling just balanced.

A main course? Well, tapas leaves much to be desired, but you need a meat course, because....you wanted to go to Spain and you seriously thought you'd not eat meat? Well. Do you go for the Albóndigas meatballs, a classic, like an Heckler and Koch MP5SD6 with a foldable stock, the classic nine millimetre integrally suppressed to special forces perfection?

Or maybe, the Paella, spicy yet mixed, like the kick of a highly customised SIG MCX VIRTUS with a compact folding stock, intergrally suppressed, 14" barrel, firing 6.8 mil caseless ammunition with a EOTech Holographic and Magnifier combo?

Or, do you go for Pincho Moruno, the Moorish Spike of pork and lamb because you're an experienced little rascal, rather like the MacMillan CS5, internally suppressed, 10 round magazine firing .300 ammunition with a Schmitt and Bender variable zoom optic.

Then Patatas Bravas. Of course. You didn't come to Tapas without eating this. A forged steel dagger, it's almost like a short sword, except exceptionally double edged and the sort of thing that catches some people who try off guard. She's not a master with it, but it gets the job done, just like everyone's favourite potatoes.

Lastly, desert. Sugary, sweet. Churros. Like carrying two flashbangs and a smoke grenade, you may not always want them, but you sure as shit need them when you have them to hand.

Special Slot:

And last but not least, an aperitif. The cocktails. Like, an Aperol Spritz. Bright, and you can't imagine anything but the Alps with that sort of drink. It'll make you fly.

Elise is not one to much around the bush. She'll bring along whatever tool she needs for a fast extract, or insertion, so she will keep this handy over anything else when the time's right. Her favourite? She's got a red wingsuit and parachute, and whilst not so stealthy, she doesn't see the waste in keeping another set of equipment when she's usually leaving a party with it on.

MISC
Theme Song: ROSALÍA - LA FAMA

Likes:
House, Dance and Electronic Music
Cooking
Gossip
Skiing
Skydiving
Adrenaline (generally)
The Thrill of the Chase
Extraversion

Dislikes:
Shy People
Excessive firefights
Lack of Adventure
Desk Work
Anything involving a meeting

Other Information:

High Table Stories [30 Red Days]

I'm cooking something. The literal term will make sense :D

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Skye Rosalind Lyons

Skye adjusted her headset, hearing Sam's voice chirp up.
"Yeah, she's hurt. Shoulder's a bit messed up, longer term injury. But she'll survive." Skye said, swallowing the lump in her throat, looking to Freya as she did, the blanketed heavy hurting painfully, on the phone to her family. She had that right, Skye wouldn't say a thing, and well, it was an encrypted line.

"Team's mostly okay. We're fine. And uhh...I guess I am too. Still somehow in one piece. Not sure how, but hey, we roll." Skye replied, a little calmer, easier even when talking to Sam.
"Thank you. I appreciate what you did. That was a lot of responsibility you shouldered. You did well. Look, it's a lot right now, the crown is heavy. But we'll talk properly when you land at Haneda." Skye added, adjusting the comms set, sipping down some water.

Eight Hours Later

Somewhere above Japan

Jet Lag

Soundtrack: More Scrapes- Arthur Beatrice

The flight had whimpered for hour after hour, minute for minute of slight white noise but they were coming closer, and closer. With the daylight long since broken, the aircraft was headed on the final half hour of its flight, inbound to Tokyo Haneda, the city airport of Tokyo. They'd get food, some supplies and fuel, and that was good enough for now. The hum of an old song played through her head, a niche. She liked her metal and rock, but it didn't leave, an ambience to an extent.

Skye had slept for most of it- no further work really, she'd just passed out as had everyone else. Yawning, Skye felt better after her transfusion- the toxin clearing out of her system much faster, and at least, deciding not to stick around. She'd feel weak now, but not from that at least and would recover better. Rations had been handed out, some very nasty stuff from the hab up front that had likely been sitting here for years, and even some warm water had been been boiled up. So eating rehydrated rice and beans were on the menu, and it was grim. But food. Food nonetheless. Heavies get triple portions of course, considering they'd basically need an entire sheep from the homestead's farm to eat, but there was about enough for everyone. A bit of a downgrade from the last meal, but hey, it was what it was.

With it, Skye looked to Ebrima, one seat over from where Sophie had been, giving him a quiet nod as she sipped down another cup of water.
"Morning. Afternoon even? I have literally no idea. Anyway, you good?" Skye asked the Cameroonian, looking at him on the floor, his quiet demeanour likely hiding the fact he'd been straight in a warzone after going out for a short training and prep exercise. He looked well though, all thing considered. Then again, maybe he wasn't as damaged as Skye was. She was holding well, considering she'd been hit with a neurotoxin, nearly died, nearly detonated all her friends, killed herself, twice, thrown herself off an electric motorcross bike into the back of a buggy during an avalanche on a mountain, jumped out of a skyscraper into an airbag, and taken a shitload of hit to the ribs.

Even by her standards, it was what you would call, fucking crazy.

Tahlia looked the same, nodding across as she wondered over, the click clack of her legs back on, loose.
"It is 4pm out there. Even I forgot." Tahlia replied, chuckling as she sat down.

"So what are you going to do, boss?" The Kiwi added, sitting down on the chair spare, where Sophie had been, looking across at the ginger haired Scot.

"I still have no idea." Skye's reply meekly came back, a genuine one, deep in thought, yet well, Tahlia taking none of it.

"Well, Sam really, really gives a shit about you. So do I. And Freya. And Ebrima probably will. Probably when he's not getting his minatures exploded. Trust me, bro. I know. That's two years of my fucking life gone too. Lots of woodwork my mum sent to me." Tahlia replied part to Skye and part to Ebrima, the Kiwi's stoic yet twanged nature coming through, a kinda comedy that sort of held.

"Orders are orders. Chances are, it's contingency. They'll want to limit damage but a bullet in me isn't going to help them. They know that much. It's not exactly good for morale, especially a a time like now. Does make it easy to them to get some safety though....nah. I don't see it." Skye mused, knowing it wasn't a fun discussion to make.

"Well, don't go dying on me. I mean that. I want the bastards that blew up our house dead, and all the sheep, and all the kiwis too, cos you sort of cared about them." Tahlia replied, Skye chuckling, shrugging.

"You make an argument." Skye nodded in return, as Tahlia took her own water bottle out, giving it a sip, before wiping the lid, offering a bit to Ebrima.
"I never properly introduced myself. Tahlia Harris. Yes, the tattoos are from Ngai Tahu. And no, there was no blood ritual for me to lose my legs to get them. I imagine you have some tales to tell too." Tahlia dryly joked, chuckling with a wry grin, the stark Kiwi breaking ice a little more, indulgent a little in that. The ink was visible on her frame up her neck and across her arms, considering the fact she'd evacuated the place in just a t-shirt and three-quarter length cargo pants.

"I used, to source equipment when we were in Kaitiaki. Considering that it just got blown up, I guess I'll need to find some new employment at the next place we go to. And that means I've got more time to actually make introductions rather than run around for this terror, constantly." Tahlia added, leaving Skye to dwell on her thoughts, and well, not be the focus.

She looked across, seeing Freya just laying there still splayed out, as before, and then Raph and Sophie having a chat further down, with Chuck left to his own devices- more likely than not, asleep after all of it, though Skye did peer over at him, saying almost invisibly, yep, glad you were there- even if you couldn't chat earlier.

It was a reprieve. Yet Skye couldn't help but think about all the anarchy that had started from another version existing. She knew there were procedures, protocols. Trained for it for years. Yet now, it was happening for real. And now, she wondered what the fuck was actually going on behind the scenes. The transfusion was done, and she'd napped off the fact that she'd been basically gurgling a few litres of blood, for safety's sake. It was nice to feel less dead.

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

Purna Chai Gurung

Frankfurt, Germany

Point Forty Five Calibre

Soundtrack: El Cargo- Amon Tobin

Purna sprinted at pelt and swan dived through the now open window and into the wide open skyline of Frankfurt's afternoon, as he heard the lift open, firing the grapple and linking it against the skyscraper he'd just thrown himself out of, the titanium-pointed grapple pulling in as he used it to yank his way around the corner of it, swinging wildly, and then magnificently at the top of the pendulum using his specialised gloves to pin up against a glass window, inverted.

A pull of himself into a crevice and he swung and clasped the window, smashing it from the outside with a couple of rounds from his weighty USP.45, swinging inside and letting the line retract slow, then quick, clasping it back into his hands as he heard the sound of more guards running up nearby stairs into this office. Slapping his wrist, he suddenly turned into a blur and let the armoured security sweep out the area, their G36-equipped arms passing by as Purna stayed dead still, letting them slowly filter through past the concrete pillar in the office. One came within a meter, and still couldn't see the hazy outline using the pillar in the room.

And then the shadow moved. Purna clapped two in the head, dual wielding his USPs now at a split, directing them both into man three's SWAT-team grade helmets, and then using the same pillar to duck as the fourth man tried to turn. Purna rolled and fired his grapple straight at him, the retract not working as it should but doing enough to pin the man, as Purna reeled instead ONTO him, and slammed feet first into his chest, slicing with the Kukri straight through the eyeball in one swift move downwards before he could even get a reaction. Sighing, he dusted himself down, and reloaded each pistol in sequence, heading for the lift.

Purna just needed the cable. And with the lift going up and the doors wide open, he lept out and held the cable, using it as a makeshift rappel, his gloves and suit able to take the strain. Enough to the lift platform's stop below, where he lept onto the side, magnetic gloves active. The lift headed down right on cue as more guards poured out, and he followed it to ground floor, before dropping down with the cable adjacent, absolutely tactile. The way he moved, it looked like an easy Sunday morning.

That's because it was.

Anyway. Enough quipping. Down into the garage level, Purna checked the last time for cameras from the set he'd deactivated earlier, before yanking out his keys.

You could really say there's a gentleman spy somewhere inside of Purna. He came from dirt poor, poverty, and liked that humility, hated things, hated the idea of it, and really wanted just some peace and quiet, order, no drama and just getting the job done stoically. A bigger car would be better, maybe something else. Yet speed was on the back of his mind, and something that could roll out of this compound without looking too suspicious but could put foot to floor if he needed to disappear. A Ranger Rover? Nah, that screams needy young banker. A Lamborghini? Too loud, too much attention. A Tesla? No. A crappy shitbox? It should have never been there and let in with the first place.

The blip of the key being tapped revealing a stolen Aston Martin V12 Vantage's headlights, sitting right there, in the corner of the underground parking lot. An older classic. Purna's choice. An Aston never gets any questions asked. Even if it is the choice of a British fucking spy. Purna knew if he really had to choose, he'd choose this.

Clambering into the dark green car, the phone rang as he took his balaclava and night vision off, revealing his tanned skin and his cowl, Purna peeling it back entirely and dumping his obvious weaponry into a hidden compartment below the passenger seat footwell, grabbing a pair of Ray-Bans, and a white dress shirt. He hit the receive, as he did his thing, at least covering his top half in civilian clothing.
"Hi, weren't you supposed to call until this evening, Oracle? I thought we're on radio silence? What's going on?" Purna replied, genuinely a little curious, considering all that had just happened, instead of pinging on comms, he was getting a call. He wasn't rude, just if anything, a little wonderous about the change of plan. It was dark till home, unless a call came in.

"Things changed a bit quicker than expected." Purna put on a bluetooth headset hearing the call connect to the voice on the other end, and hitting the start, heard the V12 bark into life. A roaring, hearty thing, as he put it into first, and skidded out, driving around the parking garage's left open door, putting foot to floor. It made a noise that can only be described as a lion having its tail stepped on. A roar for the ages.

"How so?" Purna replied, the car sparking as it was sent up the ramp, and Purna slowed down, the barrier open, just the way he liked it, because he'd already had that tapped up. He kept the throttle pinned on, and pulled out of the underground car park up a level.

"Main team's in need of your services. Urgently. I have a team leader who is compromised, an injured operative, a light MIA and three operating sites completely compromised. So it's happening. We are in the shit." Oracle's voice seemed reassuring, yet concerned, worried even more than ever his demeanour would allow. Like the words coming out were very much him pissing his pants. Purna kept on the throttle and skidding around the bend, saw the cluster of G-Wagens coming his way. Fuck. Putting it into a harder turn, he took another ramp and drove straight out onto the street, skidding out, the Aston no longer incognito, but now, a car being driven.

"Why are you calling me then? I thought this is Wilk's territory if that's the case. Also, I'm in a car chase, the asset's recovered, I'm gonna be done in ten. Give me a second to pull out of here. I'm still in field." Purna's accent was an odd one- Nepalese for sure, but it had the odd trace of a British accent melded in, from so much time spent in the UK. It was clear, he had been around soldiers for a while- their mannerisms clasped onto him, even if he didn't say much at all. He seemed incredibly calm considering anything, not swearing, just direct in how he spoke and somewhat sensical.

"Sure. You do you. And he's aware. Get to the safehouse, and pack up shop. The asset you've recovered needs to come with, fry it first for any trackers. I'll get you more intel when I have it, and send details of where next on a secure metric. Wilk can fill you in on the details, I'm sure you two know the score." Oracle's voice was cool, knowing Purna didn't care too much for the overt detail, just the points, given after all he had relation and had heard such chats before, as he pulled the car around a tight corner, wheelspinning the entire way, ripping a long drift as he shifted back on throttle, the tail he had behind him close, but well, about to find out you can't track this type of thing.

"Affirmative." Purna replied, taking a tight turn past Alte Oper, Frankfurt's main city hall, and cutting through a pedestrian area, avoiding civilians and a Frankfurter stand in the process, skidding past some more bollards and putting on throttle. The G-Wagens didn't have the same versatility, and in the corner of his eye, the poor stand got smashed to bits, and the G-Wagen one of of three on its side jolting over as it hit a staircase, with an insanely angry German guy yelling at the crew inside that had smashed his wieners to bits.

Well, that could have gone better....but then again, who was he to complain, with a sly grin, now turning out of the city centre and finding a patch of clear space in front, blasting down Mainzer Landstrasse and through tunnels out of Frankfurt's packed CBD with the car roaring off and on throttle as he danced on the pedals, dodging traffic with a bop and weave and in time, finding the express roads, putting foot to floor and unleashing all the brutality of the Aston's engine. The tail was dropping away quick as Purna got to work on enjoying the speed, and his thoughts switched to his other need. Signs indicated Flughafen. Airport. That was where the safehouse was, and where he had work to do- as he pulled off a junction and kept the grip going all the way around, heel and toe to really make the most of this car's grip.

Coming out of that junction, Purna exhaled, and instead of putting foot to floor, dropped back to a reasonable speed, aware he'd taken a few junctions without seeing them and reasoned now was as good a time as any to maybe not attract any Politzei for this last stint. The bag on the passenger seat was secure, and well, he had what he had come for.

Another call to make now, as he drove for Frankfurt Flughafen. The small utilities hut past the private VIP entry, and well, the drop point for his short term stolen rental awaited, and from there, he was getting the fuck out of there on the next flight to wherever Oracle told him to go. The call connected on, as he heard the sound of birds tweeting in the background, and woodpeckers.

-------

Adam Stanislaw Kajtanowicz

Białowieża Forest, near Białystok, Poland

Polestar

The phone rung, and in a similar manner that Oracle had just called, the man in the cabin picked up. The olive jumper wearing Captain was not on duty, not at work, but enjoying his rare, opportune time off in a hunting lodge in the most beautiful forest in all of Poland. Bialowieza was full of Bison, Deer, Wolves, animals everywhere, mushrooms, fishing lakes, and it was heaven on earth. Green pasture that had been rewilded, it was beyond pretty, it was left untouched. The wooden hut was built by him and his father, and right now, Adam was on his own, whilst his dad had headed out into town- to grab some more supplies. Even in his old age, he had things to do. So, yeah. This was a place made for Adam, his gear stashed here as well as a woodworking bench beyond the shot of the remote cabin, the call an interruption.

Because not far enough out of range to avoid phone signals. He hit speaker, knowing nobody was going to hear. There were no bugs here.

"Kurwa, you too?" Adam replied, sighing, taking a moment as he stood up. The fatalistic Pole had plenty of time for Purna, someone he'd not spent much time training with, but saw eye to eye with. He was a bit more reasonable than Skye, he was just quiet, more than anything.

"How bad is it?" Purna asked, as Adam swallowed his lump in his throat, knowing yeah, there was no easy way of putting it. The two stoically bounced from each other, few words, just intermittent talk. It worked.

"Really bad. I imagine it might just be us. And they have us going to a Blue Sword site. Anything under Raven is currently burned." Adam replied, his heavily accented English trawling through his Polish accent, the baseball cap wearing Pole covering his baldness, albeit keeping his mountain-man beard.

"Blue Sword?"

"It means things are really, really fucked." Adam added, sighing. Yeah, this wasn't a great day off.

"Understood. Who else do you think you're getting?" Purna's voice stayed calm, albeit to a point. It was hard to place. He didn't talk a lot, but well, he did when he had something to add.

"Whoever is left. And.....Frigga's hurt too. Which means......"

"Meaning what?" Purna enquired, a little inquisitive here now. He wasn't THIS bitter. Not even this bad at the end of the world.

"We're working with her, aren't we......if Frigga is really out." Adam replied, Purna knowing EXACTLY who that was. Not like there were many people that could replace Frigga. He had to admit, he felt the same. But had to be reasonable.

"Wilk, she's.....she's good at what she does. She could be useful. Even if...."

"She's a fucking liability? Her brother is a better choice. I imagine she is somewhere getting photos of her lying spread out getting photos of her in lingerie. Again."

"Come on, you can't say that. We are professionals. I get it, you're a better man than any of us." Purna replied, as Adam shook his head. It was sinking in. As much as he was right, he did not want to work with her, but it would have to happen.

---

Athena Anna Kanataario

Port-Vendres, France

Golden Girl

Soundtrack: Parlais Vous Anglais?- Headie One

There's nothing like the sea, the Mediterranean sun, and oh yeah, Athena spread out wide like the absolute beauty she is in front of the pool, on the decking of the hillside designer house perched high above the renaissance castle framed, picture perfect French town that she'd made her weekend out of, the quiet drill music on the nearby radio putting Athena in the zone of feeling like a baddie. There's something about the hype of it, yet it making her feel like she wasn't giving any fucks.

She'd love it if she could fall asleep here, but when there's a guy with a camera lens clicking off shots as she leans over while lying on the strained deckchair and looks at him, aviators on, hair tucked back, a tight royal blue sports bra and sports underwear on with an outline of a seahorse logo on each garment, work is work. There's no denying it. Athena is the absolute figure here, and her towering presence occupies a great deal of it, in every dimension.

There's no hiding her skin, turning a gentle bronzer and bronzer, every curve, every piece sculped like it was out of a gooey pale caramalised marble with a thin layer of sweat, posing for every, single, photo. The muscle behind it is clear, but she's got more in the trunk than Freya does. There's no denying that Athena is sprawled on the deckchair like it didn't really exist, and with any tensing of her arm or legs, it looks like a hydraulic ram compressing. She's got marks from battle, but well, they're mostly caked over for this shoot. And well, she seems to occupy it all. Relative to the cameraman, her sheer size is just bewildering. Especially in the areas that your jaw would fall off at. Her head almost seems small in comparison.

Love it or hate it, this is an excess, vividly so. Most giants who get attention are too shy to know, but oh, Athena is making every single piece of it. She knows what they write. She was a freak no person could even aspire to be. A monster, even worse. A literal definition of capitalism at its worst. A slutty little princess who should know better. A whore, now that one hurt. For every single one of those people, a hundred more would want her business, both personal, and company, she reasoned. They want their logo on fabric barely covering the tight crack of her rear, because it's worth a million and more to anyone that thinks they can have it. Athena is not getting off on this, but damn, if it don't make her feel....special. She wants that. She thrives on it. She gets paid to do this. But they are not paying her just in money, that's a formality. They are paying in the opportunities that come next, and that well, mercenaries cannot look away, especially.... prospective ones.

Athena is quite possibly the greatest pin-up psy-op of a girl that ever served Blue Sword, and well, she had a bottomless list of thirsty men, and women no less, looking to join. That's why they got the best. That made the business rather easy. Freya was good, but well, Athena has it nailed down, like a surgical art, she is a temptress, and every powerful curve, every strand pointed and well, her rotund rear pointed made that so clear you'd be unable to look away when it rattles with her gentle shift, like a peach occupying everything, her chest compressed by the bra like it was hanging on for deer life to release what was there. Shit, you can convince a man's head with money, but the ape inside, that needs a touch that history has never beaten. And the youngest sibling, well, she is making the best case for that now. Her mother in her prime was a beauty, but Athena is straight up illegal for a man's mind in this form.

Athena sighed, as she looked across to the camera over her shoulder, blowing her long strands away, one last pose as she leaned on her elbows.
"Okay, and one more. Standing, and staring into distance." Athena only obliged, her bright white smile beaming back at him as she stood up, and leaned against the glass balcony, click, click, click, her aviator covered eyes covering her green-eyed visage.
"Thank you, Jean-Pierre. I appreciate a professional." Athena simply said, walking across the wooden flooring, hearing it as the phone buzzed on the table across from the pool. Athena sighed, looking across to the cameraman, shrugging her boulder-like shoulders. He was about to reply, as Athena merely kept going to the phone, replying first.

"Business. They never stop. You caught me at a very lucky twenty minutes. Please, if I could have a little room." Athena replied in turn with her beaming smile, continuing as the cameraman, almost diminutive in size, nodding as he headed in, knowing that she did not at all like to be interrupted. She took that aspect seriously. She hated structure, but life in 20 minute blocks- hers and theirs. Business had to happen between these things, and she was nearly continuously on the phone, a Teams call or something else. And well, he had to calm even his own breathing down. Mon dieu, there is nothing quite like her. It's like being in the presence of a sculpture come to life, the size of her barely fitting through doors of the house.

"What." Her reply was prompt, like she knew the voice on the other end, the smartphone tiny in her less claw-like palm, Athena dunking her feet into the pool, comically so, barely coming up to her hip at the very deepest end and letting her sit on the edge, sloshing water. She continued to listen, holding her tongue, wanting to talk. But this was serious. Very. Oracle wasn't messing about.
"The fuck?" The words carried, to a point where even JP could hear it through the glass of the hilltop designer house, Athena putting her glasses up with her spare hand.

"Really?" She continued to listen, a little puzzled as to why she was hearing this, but equal parts, annoyed.

"Oh, fantastic." Athena sighed, sarcasm implied. It was a deflated one, rare from her, but she knew what it meant. Her Mid-Atlantic voice had a stronger British twang to it, her cacophony of origins certainly making it a stranger accent all around. The voice on the other end continued, as Athena cut in again.
"I guess you already told them where to go. And I appreciate you calling...we can help her out, just focus on the rest of them. Right. I'll meet you there. You know, you could have called sooner, asked for my....no, I am not saying I told you so, or.....fine, fine. I'm on it. See you soon." Athena put the phone down, and with it, exhaled a hard breath. She had more phone calls to make also. To get there, then the one to Mama Natalia, then the next one to Hannula. She'd be on the phone joining in when Freya made that call. She wasn't missing that one.

-----

Antti Järvinen

Camp Hannula, Pöyrisjärvi National Park, Finland

Perkele, the Nokia's ringing!

The Finn's old smartphone phone rang with an iconic Nokia bleep, as he stood outside in the just-cleared snow outside one of the barracks in the quiet camp, the climactic opposite in fact, to where Athena was extending the tan on her wide load. Athena did not hold back her words.

"Antti. I'm coming over. Get Jamie there too....before I tear Skye Lyons's throat out and make that poxy bitch drown in her own blood. If Oracle doesn't do it first, I will." Athena spoke with not the kind of fire that Freya had, but more an assured, immature level of threat. Creative, still. Athena knew Skye, hell, half respected the woman. But right now, considering the news, she had half a thought to just see what happens if she just ran at the bitch and sent her through a brick wall.

"Yes, Miss Kaantario. And hello." Antti replied, in a monotoned, almost automatic manner.

"We are going to be busy. Raven have quite a team likely needing somewhere to stay, and I am told there are complications. My sister needs treatment." Athena exhaled, knowing the cold truth, and sticking to that. It was easier.

"It is done. Oracle has already called. And your mother. We have medical specialists, Jamie, and more reinforcements coming." Antti spoke, with a certain conviction, as if he'd always known. Camp Hannula was a quiet Blue Sword posting, a secondary camp that went through surges- and this was one more, albeit courtesy of the secret Raven Squad that he had heard murmurs of.

"Good. Then seems we're all square and they got to it first. I have words....not all of them good." Athena sloshed a bit of water, sighing as she looked out at the view. For a moment, the gigantic Golden Retriever was not pleased.

"I imagine you do. It is cold here, Athena, if you are moving fast. I recommend you bring something warm." Antti replied, making a reminder of it, white steam coming off his cold lungs.

"I am plenty fucking hot enough under the collar." Athena replied, crassly, and the Finn did not care for it much. Manners.

Antti was the rare person who could reply the way he did. But it said an awful lot about the silver-haired Finnish camp-keeper. And in a way that could only be said by a Finn.

"Yes, and the ice eventually forms on the sweat of boiled blood. See you soon, ok?" Antti replied, Athena absolutely awestruck.

It is rare. Nobody, not a single person. Athena may want to say something witty in response, but she has nothing. Their conversation is done, and Athena knows it. Antti disconnected the phone and exhaled.

It's rare to tell a Managing Director to basically go fuck themselves. Antti solidly couldn't give a shit. She had nice tits, paid well and looked after the place, but well, she could use a few more years of experience. Years Antti just exuded, and he knew when to push the button, and when not to. She had so many priorities she couldn't bother. Besides, flattening an old Finnish man, that was no worth to anyone. Antti was kinda irreplaceable, considering he just knew how to make the unique flow of this base work.

Antti looked around, and finished shovelling the last bit of snow outside of the wooden cabin, the melt coming in quicker this year, and the snowy forest around it mostly containing mossy green grass, the lake all thawed and a shimmering mirage of blue and green. The sawmill ardently standing as it always did. Home was beautiful. And he cracked a smile, knowing he got to enjoy it a little more before the flurry of people came.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

FINNISH ADDITIONS

Adam Stanislaw Kajtanowicz - "Wilk"

Name: Adam Stanislaw Kajtanowicz (Cpt)

Callsign: Wilk (Polish for Wolf, pronounced "Vilk")

Age: 34

Nationality: Polish

Appearance:



Adam stands at 6”1, with a strong build that reflects his disciplined training. He is shaven bald with a thick black bushy beard, and piercing green eyes contribute to a no-nonsense, professional appearance that looks comfortable in Afghanistan as much as it does in a hipster bar. While not as tall as Skye, Adam possesses a commanding presence that demands respect. His facial features are sharp, and a faint scar runs across his cheek, a testament to his experiences in the field. He’s clearly built more for power than for athleticism, leaning on the side that isn’t about speed but more about hitting hard.

His attire is practical and tactical, favouring a black and olive green combat uniform with the Polish flag patch on his shoulder as part of his exo’s setup. Adam wears a durable vest with various pouches for equipment and ammunition, and his combat boots are well-worn from countless missions. When on operations, he wears a dark, modernized version of the Polish woodland camouflage pattern. Outside, he often wears very practical clothing- unlike Skye, he is military to the point, wearing an olive wool sweater and tactical pants, with innately polished boots.

Personality:

Adam is a disciplined and focused leader, contrasting Skye's more charismatic and free-spirited approach. He believes in maintaining a strong chain of command and upholding the principles of duty and honor, and that the cohesion of the team is the only priority- he is not a lone wolf but an absolute believer in the unit. While he may seem more reserved than Skye, Adam's passion for his team's success burns just as brightly. He is known for his dry sense of humor and is not one to indulge in unnecessary banter. His leadership style is built on trust, discipline, and a commitment to getting the job done. He tolerates no fools, and everything for him is built upon honour, trust and conviction. There is no room for second guessing- he is hard, and does not exactly allow for the same degree of freedom that Skye allows, instead being significantly more to the point. While allowing him a great deal of authority, it perhaps is stunted by the fact that he can’t get as much out of operatives as Skye does, due to the cohesion compromise. He’s trying to reform operatives that clearly do not fit a typical structure. His loyalty to his squad is unwavering, and he takes the responsibility of command seriously- and that extends to on base behavior.

History:

Born in Rzeszow, Poland, Adam Kajtanowicz grew up in a family with a strong military tradition. His father served in the Polish Special Forces, and his mother was a linguist, fluent in several languages. Adam inherited a sense of duty and discipline from his upbringing, instilled with a deep love for his country. It was hard not to follow- it was a clear direction and put his restless nature into a direction that could work for him, working as a professional.

From a young age, Adam displayed some potential in leading and fighting, albeit not to his fullest potential. He was a troublemaker, until well, a few beatings from his parents later, and a lot of consequences, he reformed- becoming a strict disciplinarian and leader of men. He has a natural charisma that pulls people to him, and a natural aggression to just destroying and wrecking things. He excelled in his studies from then on out and physical training, earning him a place in a prestigious military academy.

At the academy, Adam's leadership skills quickly became apparent. He thrived in the structured environment, absorbing tactical knowledge and combat skills. His proficiency with firearms and strategic thinking earned him the respect of both peers and instructors. Graduating with top honors and following deployment in the Polish Army, Adam joined the Polish GROM, the elite special forces unit. He led fireteams, then squads, and led by example and by conviction.

Adam's early career in GROM saw him participating in various international missions, collaborating with other elite units from around the world. His ability to adapt to different environments and lead under high-pressure situations distinguished him among his peers. During a joint mission with British Special Forces, he crossed paths with Skye Rosalind Lyons.

Recognizing each other's strengths, Skye and Adam developed a professional respect that would later become crucial in the operations they did together in the field. However, their methods were different. Skye was much more independent, and he favoured structure rather than the lone approach Skye took. They didn’t agree- but stayed in touch over the years, as Skye headed to Raven, Adam ended up on another track and was kept in reserve by Oracle.

Over the years, Adam honed his skills in unconventional warfare, specializing in urban and asymmetrical combat- special forces work in the field where they shouldn't have been making him good at adapting and working on the fly within areas that are tricky to navigate. His service record became a testament to his dedication and unwavering commitment to the mission. Despite the challenges he faced, including injuries sustained during operations, Adam emerged stronger and more determined. He's been recently enlisted by Raven onto their rotation- and offers a similar package to Skye.

Skills:

Tactical Expertise:
Adam is a master tactician, drawing on his extensive military training and experience. He excels in planning and executing operations with strategic precision. He may overplan, but is happy to go with the flow and ensure that his team do as they need to, trusting completely in their ability through hardened discipline. Aggression and discipline are at the core of that.

Firearms Proficiency:
A skilled marksman, Adam is proficient with a variety of firearms commonly used in special operations. He prefers a balanced approach, utilizing weapons that suit the mission requirements. Similar to Skye, he's a Special Forces fiend, and therefore, uses a more conventional setup to get the job done.

Field Medic:
Dealing with injuries a lot, Adam has become a seconded Paramedic when required- and knows how to fix people up. In particular, he's quite adept with some of the drug cocktails teams use to keep going- and knows how to mix it right, getting the most out of his squad at the right time, as well as knowing how to patch up in the field beyond a typical operator's know-how.

Unyielding Discipline:
Known for his unshakeable discipline, Adam sets high standards for himself and his team. He ensures that everyone under his command adheres to protocols and operates at peak efficiency. Sometimes a bit much, yes, but also, it works effectively. The team know where they stand, and he will hammer it in.

Multilingual:
Fluent in Polish, English, Russian, German and a little Arabic, Adam's language skills contribute to effective communication in diverse operational environments.

Tactical Suit:



OsirisM2 / "Sokol" ("Falcon")- PL Variant

Similar to Skye, Adam uses an exoskeleton as a support tool to run, move and get across the warzone. While able to stop 5.56 rounds thanks to armour plating throughout the suit's chassis, covering the torso, legs and upper arms, he wouldn't want to remain under constant fire with this thing- it gives him a little more survivability just as she does. Adam opts for a faceplate over an open setup, using the optics and arrangement of it, coupled to the fact that he employs a slightly different tactical setup to Skye. The suit also comes equipped with a shoulder-mounted mini-missile system- almost akin to the heavies, but more more suited to much lighter targets, such as drones, jeeps and other light skinned vehicles. The exo comes with a red and white pattern on the frame, contrasting his usual camo and representing its Polish engineered origins. Whilst the Osiris programme may come from an American conglomerate, Polish variants have propped up and represent a new angle of attack for them.

Adam’s play with this armour is a bit different- and uses tech recently recovered from Rose Lyons, namely a field generator. Whilst diverting power and thus making leaps less effective, Adam can create a short term forcefield with the armor- literally creating a bubble of about two meters around him, deflecting everything but the heaviest rounds in bursts rather than continued actions. This can buy a little bit of time to reload, reposition and then fire, giving Adam some protection and those around him in the immediate moments.

The other real advantage of the exo is that it gives him a more disproportionate strength in lifting, moving and protection. Similar to Skye’s setup, it makes him capable- albeit hasn’t got the out and out aggression of the jump pack and exo itself due to the added weight from the generator and tailoring towards a more armoured package.

Weapons:

FN EVOLYS LMG, Chambered in 7.62mm
OR
Fabryka Radom MSBS Grot B (Bullpup), 20” Barrel, Silencer, Magnified Optic, Chambered in 7.62x51mm
Daewoo USAS-12
FN FiveSeven Pistol

Equipment:
Tactical Knife
3x Cluster Grenades
3x Flashbangs
Various Smoke Grenades
Various Flares
Quad-Optic NVGs
Jump-Pack
Arm-Mounted PDA

Hobbies:
Chess
Reading Military History
Trail Running
Cooking
Woodwork and Metalwork
Hunting and Trapping

Likes:

Precision and Order
Team Cohesion
Polish Cuisine
Polish Vodka and Beer
Lack of Ego

Dislikes:

Insubordination
Unnecessary Risks
Lack of Preparation
Lack of Humility
Loud and Abrasive Characters

Purna Chai Gurung - Viper

Name: Purna “Pur” Chai Gurung (fmr Sergeant)

Age: 28

Nationality: Nepalese / British

Voice Claim: N/A

Appearance:



Purna stands at 5"6, and on the face of it, doesn’t look as built or as incredibly athletic as someone as Skye- yet behind it, possesses a compact and powerful physique that allows him to run, leap and climb well, focussed almost entirely on cardiovascular- not an explosive power, but a long distance runner's. His lung capacity in particular is astounding- plenty of oxygenless climbs of mountains over 8000m make him a bit of a natural at zero meters. His skin bears the weathered look of someone accustomed to high-altitude environments, a leather-like tanned skin that reflects his origins in the Indian Subcontinent, but more specifically, that of a Nepalese mountaineer, often above the snowline. His head is clean-shaven, showcasing a few scars earned during his military service. Purna's eyes are a brown-gold, with the tiniest wisp of a mustache forming. Many who know the Gurkhas do not underestimate the fact that despite an unassuming look, someone like Purna is a warrior.

His tactical gear is a blend of modern functionality and nods to his Gurkha roots. In combat, he is usually clad in a full tactical suit that hides his origins, whilst outside of an operation, he’s often found wearing a puffy jacket and old worn trousers, often not going with the cutting edge unless he’s forced to blend in with a t-shirt, jeans and sunglasses. His ability to blend into crowds seems to be a little uncanny- considering his half-cast skin and his otherwise sharp eyes, his less sharply given features mean he can dissolve.

Callsign: Viper

Skills:

Close Quarters Specialist:
Purna is a master of hand-to-hand combat, trained in traditional Gurkha knife fighting techniques along with modern close-quarters combat styles. His agility and swift movements make him deadly in tight spaces. Highly aggressive, Purna will be able to weave his fighting into when he runs- contrasting his usually cool and calm demeanor, once he’s sparring, he is ferocious.

Stealth Infiltrator:
Trained in covert operations, Purna can navigate through various terrains with a level of stealth and precision that is characteristic of the Gurkhas. His ability to move quietly and blend into the environment makes him an ideal infiltrator- and less suited to out and out combat. Whilst he can hold his own, his loadouts are optimized to keep his stealth going- he would rather scoot then shoot rather than hold his ground. This also extends to infiltration by social stealth- Purna looks like he doesn't come from money, and can give off that look of a street worker far better than anyone else.

Survivalist and Mountaineer:
Growing up in the rugged landscapes of Nepal, Purna possesses exceptional survival skills and exceptionally good high-altitude performance. He can navigate and thrive in various environments, making him an asset in unconventional and challenging missions- and when it comes to ascent, he can plough on through wildly tough conditions. It’s a different kind of conditioning to Skye’s- he seems to have this ability to just never give up, rather than remain adept before cracking.

Fluid like Water:
Purna’s real grace is that he’s incredibly quick- the sort of operative you blink, you may miss him. With the combination of a grappling hook and wingsuit, as well as specialized climbing gloves brought into focus by his mountaineering talent, Purna has this ability to just evaporate when he moves through a landscape. Parkour, movement and general access for him is considered his strength- when you need someone to get somewhere, you get him in.

Multilingual:
Fluent in Nepali, English, Mandarin, and French, Purna facilitates effective communication in diverse environments, adding a valuable linguistic dimension to the team.

Personality:

Purna is known for his calm demeanour and unwavering focus which remains reserved yet loyal beyond belief, traits instilled in him through Gurkha training- even with the advanced equipment that basically turns him into Nepali Spiderman, he’s still humble and remains grounded. Despite his reserved nature, Purna forms strong bonds with his teammates, providing a stabilizing force in the team. He carries a quiet confidence, and his presence exudes a sense of reliability. Working as an infiltrator requires him to be a ghost- and therefore, it holds that he can be like that, knowing when to talk, and when not to. Of course, Purna has street smarts- and it can dissolve unexpectedly when he’s in a comfortable environment, a sure fire sign that you have gotten into him. He'll let you know he likes you, and will give a quiet smile and nod. He won't give much more.

He often finds solace in the tranquillity of nature, a connection rooted in his upbringing in the Himalayas.

Tactical Suit:

“Gryphon” Prototype
The custom adjusted Gryphon infiltrator kit for Purna enhances his tactical specialities of stealth and vertical maneuvering- turning Purna from just a good light into a very talented one. In its default setting, it's features bare minimum of military accessories- a thin layer of kevlar plating, with the suit virtually clinging to him like a wetsuit, and a small plate carrier with a few lug points for attachments. That’s because it comes equipped with an optical cloaking layer- turning him invisible at the flick of a switch, and into a shadow.

The tactical infiltration kit comes in Henry Ford's favorite color- jet black, with very little else in the way of colour, nor much in the way of armor on the suit itself. The cowl of it covers his hair, almost like a wetsuit of sorts, and is usually worn with a balaclava and night vision goggle setup providing an advanced optical arrangement that doesn’t compromise his usual vision. The suit has sound-dampening and thermal-dampening properties, making Purna quiet when sneaking around and virtually invisible to a thermal imaging camera without cloaking, and with it active, actually invisible with a thin blur. In short, she's a shadow with delicate angles. The non-reflective texture similarly dampens his presence- making hiding in the shadows and out of the lights a piece of cake. He uses his grapple on his left arm- the main motor located along his upper arm and the pivot near his wrist, allowing him to swing and modulate the way the hook works- it can be shoulder mounted instead with a gentle reclip of the hook.

Additional features can be quickly attached to Purna's suit, giving his vastly improved climbing abilities with increased grip strength and better grip through mag-gloves. In the hands of Purna, he can effectively climb any and all surfaces like Spiderman, but looking a whole lot better. A wingsuit to this complement, when combined together may make for a kit that is a bit too heavy on movement and compromises the amount he can carry- but safe to say, almost makes him unbeatable as a combination in an urban or mountainous environment. Alternatively, he can equip more kevlar plates and take a few more hits, albeit at the cost of speed.

Weapons:

Mk14 Enhanced Battle Rifle, with 12x Magnification (Thermal)/ Canted Red Dot
H&K MP5SD6
2x H&K USP.45 Tactical

Kukri Knife:
A traditional Gurkha knife, Purna's kukri serves as both a utility tool and a deadly close-quarters weapon.

Throwing Knives

Equipment:

Climbing Gear
Grapple Claw
Combat Medic Kit
Smoke Grenades
Flashbangs
Multitool
Survival Kit
Quad-Optic Night Vision Goggles
GPS Tracker
Wingsuit

History:

Born in Phera, Nepal, Purna Gurung grew up surrounded by the rich heritage of the Gurkha warriors, his father an ex-soldier, his oldest brother a Gurkha, and his other siblings married off to become wives of Gurkhas. Living in a poor house with seven siblings however, was no way to stay in the foothills of the Himalayas- even with the relative wealth of the Gurung family, he wanted to make something more for himself. From an early age, he displayed exceptional physical prowess and an unwavering sense of duty- coupled to a mind that very much enjoyed the outdoors and surviving it. He has summitted numerous peaks working as an apprentice to Sherpas, and well, come 16, he knew his path- and that was to fight like them.

Joining the Gurkha Regiment of the Indian Army, he quickly rose through the ranks, earning a reputation for his discipline and combat skills. A cousin of the Oxford lecturer, Imran Malik, Purna was able to use his connections to expedite a transfer to the British Army- where he quickly managed to create a reputation for himself. He was a wildcard, but the man you relied upon to get work done. There are many stories of Gurkhas going one man army against people, and it’s a certain kind of warrior-like creed that exists to the modern day- Purna slicing throat after throat in the darkness, in reports that increasingly got more and more redacted in missions that he was usually selected for due to scarce reports of a small Nepalese man doing a lot of damage. Purna’s relatively small stature yet unbreakable spirit seemed to fuel this- Purna of course believed in the mission as priority, and did not consider backing down an option. His own team in the SFSG left Purna to his devices and sat back as he did what he did- and well, the rest was history. Viper One gets the work done, and there are a lot of bodies after to clean up. You don't ask how he got past security, or the scores of men guarding. He just does the dirty.

He left the SFSG five years ago to work independently, and since then, became a mercenary for hire that specialized in assassination and wetwork- killing people, sneaking into places, getting the job done, be it hacking, IP theft, murder, or just straight up shenanigans between contractors. Purna’s USP was absolute secrecy- he was incredibly efficient, and an absolute ghost, able to fabricate death from nowhere, even in North Korea and within security arrangements that typically would not be easy to break. Purna’s aim was to support his family and his brother, who was maimed in a nasty wound- helping to support them out of poverty and survive a better life. He told them he was just doing consultancy. If they knew half the mess he got up to, they’d give it all up in a heartbeat- Purna knowing sometimes, the lies never found are the best ones to keep. He’s naturally quite cold, but knows that with the experience he has gained doing what he does, and the technology in his hands, he can do more good through being independent.

Purna's relation to Oracle was fairly obvious- and under a mentoring of Imran, ended up joining the team on a semi-permanent basis, often working independently as it was recognised this would be best for him. He's about to become relevant.

Hobbies:

Adrenaline Sports
Meditation and Mindfulness Practices
Mountain Climbing
Poetry Writing (Keeps a personal journal)

Likes:
Quiet Reflection
Community and Selflessness
Nepalese Cuisine (he makes a spectacular Gurkha Curry)
The Outdoors
Bouldering and Climbing
Setting up technical equipment
Testing said equipment

Dislikes:
Idleness
Alcohol
Anyone calling him short
Anyone stealing Gurkha Kukri
Anyone calling him Indian, Pakistani, Tibetan, Bhutanese....
Hot Temperatures (prefers cooler climates and mountains)

Antti Jarvinen- Finnish Logistics Man (NPC)

Name: Antti Hekki Järvinen

Callsign: Echo

Age: 48

Nationality: Finnish

Role: Raven’s Logistics Lead for Camp Hannula. Antti is responsible for managing and maintaining the outpost in Northern Finland, ensuring it operates smoothly and is well-stocked for Raven Squad's needs.

Appearance: Antti stands at a tall height of 6”4, with a sturdy and robust build. His short-cropped blonde to gray hair, fair complexion, and ice-blue eyes give him a distinctly Nordic appearance. Despite the harsh conditions of Northern Finland, Antti appears unfazed, exuding a sense of resilience and determination. His attire is a mix of practical outdoor gear and military-inspired clothing, emphasizing functionality over fashion.

Personality:

SATANA PERKELE….

Antti is a no-nonsense individual, known for his straightforward approach and unyielding work ethic. He is polite, beyond pleasant, but....

He is innately Finnish. No emotion is shown, no feeling (without a shitload of booze), he seems almost android-like to the look, because he captures zero fucks. Life is good, and life is ongoing no matter what. He seems completely unfazed by things, because well, Finns don’t need to tell people what feelings are like. Getting on with it is more important. This means that he has some incredibly dry humor, which out of nowhere, can hit. Even his stoicism makes Skye and Tahlia look chatty, but if Antti is angry, you know.

He takes great pride in ensuring that the outpost operates at its peak efficiency, leaving no room for error. Much like Tahlia, Antti is a natural leader who motivates his team through his own diligence and commitment. While he may seem stern, those who work closely with Alvar appreciate his reliability and dedication.

Antti is also well-versed in survival skills, having grown up in the challenging environment of Northern Finland. His stoic demeanor conceals a dry sense of humor that emerges in unexpected moments, providing a rare glimpse of warmth beneath his frosty exterior.

Background:

Born and raised in Rovaniemi, Finland, Antti comes from a family with a long history of outdoor expertise. His upbringing in the Lapland region instilled in him a deep connection with nature and an inherent understanding of survival in extreme conditions. Alvar's interest in logistics and organization led him to pursue a degree in Transport and Logistics at the University of Oulu.

After completing his studies, Antti joined the Finnish Defense Forces for his mandatory service, specializing in logistics and supply chain operations. His exceptional skills and ability to navigate the challenging terrain of Northern Finland caught the attention of Blue Sword, who sought an experienced and resourceful individual to oversee their outpost logistics.

Antti's knowledge of the local environment, combined with his expertise in logistics, made him the perfect fit for the role. While he may not be in the frontlines, Alvar's contributions ensure that Raven Squad has everything they need to operate effectively in the harsh conditions of Northern Finland whilst at Camp Hannula- he's the homesteader that you need and yet he knows how to get things into the far north.

Skills:

Cold Weather Survivalist:
Antti is an expert in surviving extreme cold weather conditions, utilizing his knowledge of local flora and fauna to sustain himself and the outpost.

Logistics and Supply Chain Management:
Antti's formal education and military experience have honed his skills in efficiently managing and optimizing supply chains, ensuring the outpost is well-stocked at all times.

Marksmanship:
While not his primary role, Antti is a skilled marksman similar to Tahlia, capable of providing support if the need arises.

Terrain Familiarity:
Antti's intimate knowledge of the Northern Finnish terrain allows him to navigate and secure resources efficiently, making him an invaluable asset in the outpost's operation.

Languages:
Antti may not say much, but he does speak Finnish, Swedish, English and a bit of Russian okay, holding his own on the languages front.

Equipment:

Arctic-Adapted Outdoor Gear:
Antti wears specialized clothing and gear designed for extreme cold conditions, providing insulation and protection against the harsh Northern Finnish winter.

Multipurpose Utility Knife:
A versatile tool for survival situations and practical tasks around the outpost.

High-Powered Binoculars:
Essential for observing the surroundings and detecting potential threats or resources from a distance.

Sako TRG M10 Sniper Rifle:
A precision rifle for long-range engagements. Just in case anyone else decides to come knocking.

Hobbies:

Ice Fishing
Skiing
Wilderness Photography
Sauna Sessions (a Finnish tradition)
Northern Lights Watching
Hunting

Likes:
Order and Efficiency
People who don't talk a lot
Traditional Finnish Cuisine
Midnight Sun in the Summer
Quiet Nights in the Outpost
Reliable and Durable Equipment

Dislikes:
People who talk a lot
Unnecessary Waste
Disorganization
Warm Temperatures
Overly Complex Technology
Unreliable Team Members

Athena Kanatariio - Valkyrie / #AthenaAwesome

Name: Athena Anna Kanatariio

AKA The Corporate Duchess

AKA #AthenaAwesome

Age: 24

Appearance:



Athena is an absolute bombshell, her striking beauty undeniable. She stands at an impressive 7 feet 7 inches tall, a testament to her giant lineage and Kanatariio blood. Her long, flowing apple blonde hair cascades down past the bottom of her shoulders and blows around her face, a beacon of radiance that complements her piercing green eyes- currently, she has streaky blue tips in it, a dark navy to match her armour.

Athena's physique is both toned and curvaceous, embodying the essence of a goddess- she seems significantly more plump than Freya is, in all departments, and the imagination can only boggle at how she stands in a doorway and blocks the light with her voluptuousness. Her well-defined muscles are a testament to her love of physical challenges and extreme sports, but with her plump nature, don’t make her look like a gym rat but more like a padded out sculpture. Despite her incredible strength, she retains her feminine allure, her features exuding confidence and sensuality. She often doesn’t wear too much makeup, though mascara and cherry red lip stain is always present, just adding that last five percent to her. She’s picky about it, and well, a girl’s gotta look good, even in combat. So far, she hasn't got any tattoos- keeps her clean for modelling work.

There is one important cardiovascular thing to note about Athena, however. She’s got a scar running down the nape of her cleavage, and it’s where a second heart has been placed inside of her. Athena, you see, didn’t exactly have one very well functioning heart that could keep all the insanity she was going so, under a fairly experimental surgery, she has another one that’s been exhaustingly transplanted from another giant- and rather than replace hers, acts as a secondary, pumping even more blood around her. So she has two working hearts, which in fucking with her adrenalin gland, means she’s basically continuously in need of action, and has become more hyperactive. This isn’t ADHD, this is straight up crazy fucking energy because she has so much going through her all the time. There’s no denying it but it makes Athena’s already gigantic ability even more uncanny- she seems to move faster as a result and without armour, a lot more explosive, particularly on lifts and carries, because she just has an engine that motors on. As a con however, having two hearts does mean it makes her more of a sprinter, not a long distance athlete- she can charge hard but her body will take time to refill and pound back at her lungs, which are in overdrive. It also has other interesting impacts upon her body- her more voluptuous nature somewhat helping her to absorb her body’s accelerated rate of calorie takeup, but she still has to manage it out.

In casual settings, Athena often dons tight-fitting athletic wear that accentuates her curves. She favors sports bras and leggings that showcase her physique. All of it. When in a professional environment, she opts for sleek, form-fitting outfits that exude both confidence and authority, wearing a powerful business suit, dress, or darkened tactical gear that cannot hide her endowments, albeit reinforces her position as a Managing Director and her status and wealth. Her choice of footwear ranges from sturdy gym shoes way oversized to match her feet to high-heeled boots, depending on the situation. She is a fashionista, and make no mistake, her choices are very distinct, and she is often posing for her socials as the great #AthenaAwesome with them on, for her various clients that she side-hustles.

Her accent is distinctly international, almost Mid-Atlantic, a strange hybrid of American and British accenting, with a dash of Swiss and Norwegian trickling in.

Voice Claim: Natalie Dormer

Nationality: American/Norwegian/Russian

Callsign: Valkyrie

Skills:

Adrenaline Athena: Athena has an insatiable appetite for adrenaline-pumping activities. Whether it's skydiving, base jumping, rock climbing, or racing, she thrives in high-risk, high-reward situations. Her fearlessness and love for the thrill make her an ideal candidate for missions that demand audacity and quick thinking. She's not one to back down, and unlike a berserker, doesn't see red, she just goes in feeling wild.

Firearms Proficiency: Growing up in a family of mercenaries, Athena received thorough training in firearms and combat tactics. She excels in marksmanship, handling a variety of firearms with precision and accuracy. Her knowledge of weaponry extends to unconventional and experimental firearms, a valuable asset in the field. Her Tesla Coil makes her exceptionally good at area denial, and particularly, zapping targets behind cover.

Twin Hearted Titan: Athena possesses a unique modification that gives her two hearts, providing enhanced cardiovascular performance and endurance- baked into her already towering and powerful physique from shadowing her siblings and parents as a gym bunny. This physiological advantage allows her to excel in physically demanding tasks, making her a formidable force in combat and strenuous activities- if Freya is more dainty, then Athena is explosive, running in full afterburn. Whilst coming with drawbacks where even her refined body can't keep up, it makes Athena an absolute animal- in continuous need of adrenaline and excitement to keep her hearts in optimum, it has turned Athena from a wildcard into a continuously pounding giantess. In hand to hand, while she may not have the advanced skills of Chuck nor experience of Freya, she makes up for it by just driving relentlessly.

Managing Director: With an MBA from a prestigious business school, Athena is a shrewd businesswoman. As the Managing Director of the family-owned private military company, she oversees the strategic and financial aspects of the organisation. Her keen sense of leadership and negotiation skills contribute to the success and growth of the Kanatariio enterprise of Blue Sword, and she is savvy around people- perhaps lacking in the intelligence that comes from academia but definitely having that wild and burning desire to make money, get shit done and get things over the line. She isn't interested in anything that isn't- when the switch is turned, it's about getting it done the professional way. She holds to that true personally- social media freak sure, but you gotta do it for real too. She has the command not of a Team Lead, but the respect as the Corporate Duchess. You don’t easily tell her no. She takes.

Miss International: Due to being internationally raised, Athena has picked up a surprising amount of languages. Fluent in English, French, Norwegian and Russian, she has this strange variety of tones, as well as having somewhat of a globalised understanding of it. Athena is well travelled, and she's seen all seven continents, and probably done something dumb there. Or got drunk there. Or killed someone there. In one night. Possibly.

History:

Athena was born into the Kanatariio family, a lineage known for its giants and warriors. Her parents, Natalie Denisova Kanatariio and Victor Kanatariio, instilled in her the values of strength, determination, and audacity from a young age. Growing up alongside her older sister, Freya, and Jamie, the middle child, she was surrounded by a culture of adventure and audaciousness. Freya of course was a genius, a PhD grabbing redhead that set things on fire and the physics world too. Jamie, a hardened warrior that went after his father, a soldier who kept it simple and kept up the tribal ways. Athena? Athena was a matriarch’s girl and Natalie spent the most time with her, teaching her how girls get it done, in business and everything else that mattered. Athena after all, was her mother's callsign- and well, a suitable name for a blonde goddess such as hers, perhaps lacking the intellect but having the shrewd know-how to run a business. She was raised in international schooling in Eton, UK, then more in Switzerland, leaving her with a plurality of accents that broadly sounds like an international one. She was destined to run the show, and Athena wanted it all for her to do.

From this, she went to study at HEC Paris, completing an MBA course in tandem with an undergraduate in Strategy and Business at London School of Economics (LSE)- so well, she was rounded alright, and possibly the most freaky student in the class. She was a socialite, and well, her little slice of fame came from the nights out, and the seedy things she got up to- mingling with the teens of the elite after all when you're over seven foot set her apart, and her social media fame is one that is baked in....and well, isn't really rivalled. After completing her MBA, Athena stepped into the corporate world, eventually rising to the position of Managing Director at Blue Sword, running the day-to-day of the operational business and taking over from Victor, her father. She excelled in leading teams, negotiating deals, and expanding the family's business empire. There may be a wild maniac inside Athena’s pounding hearts, but nobody can deny her talent at sealing deals, talking contracts, and getting it done. She can see through bullshit, and nobody wants to ever mess her around.

Separate from her MBA, she learned how to fight from Freya, Natalie and from Victor, and all of the team at Blue Sword. She learned how to be a merc- from martial arts to weapons handling and more, lifting, carrying, fighting and generally being Mommy's little warrior princess. Her combat training was rigorous, and she quickly became proficient in firearms and combat tactics. However, it was her fearlessness and adaptability, honed through years of extreme sports, that set her apart from her peers. A lack of fear, a few broken bones, well, they heal and then you get back to work. That said, it was noted at age 20 that she had a defect with her current heart- and following surgery, had a secondary one installed, taking the pressure off her cardiovascular system and giving her ... well, a unique bit of power. Athena was already wild enough, now, she could build up her cardio fitness faster, lift heavier stuff, hell, she was powering way above what she had before. Of course, being deeply out of breath and having to double her calorie intake followed as well as a few side effects, which has of course, offset some of the gain. That slight addiction to adrenaline became a full addiction, and there is no denying her. But Athena relished in it. It's a marketing tool to be so cool you need a second heart to keep going, right?

From an early age, Athena also exhibited an affinity for extreme sports and adrenaline-pumping activities. Her parents encouraged her pursuits, recognizing her natural talent for navigating high-risk situations. She excelled in sports like skydiving, base jumping, and rock climbing, consistently pushing her limits and seeking new challenges. These go on social media, and Athena is known to push her brand- yes, she has a brand. She is probably one of the few mercenaries to be able to get away with it, because well, someone as insane as her can. She makes no bones about the fact that it rules her out of the sort of work that Raven does- she’s absolutely a high flying executive, at such a young age, and well, enjoys the support work, and the high life.

Sometimes with Blue Sword that means getting direct though, and well, she is capable of that. Athena is no stranger to armoured combat as a heavy- and whilst she isn’t as perhaps experienced as others, she’s put to use her body and her capability well. The sight of Athena behind friendly Blue Sword mercs is a sight to see, because if the Boss is out, then well, shit is getting real. It often does. Athena was no engineer, she was pure business, straight and simple, and her Tesla Coil was adapted from an older design, blasting bolts of either concentrated shock electricity, or just wider sprays of shock. Same with her armour- a similar one to Freya's, yet taking elements from her mother's, and bolting on prototype elements that only someone as loud, proud and mad as Athena can make work. It’s a feeling that never gets old, and sometimes, the boss needs to go to work, if she’s not busy in a spa having her acreage of skin moisturised, or closing deals. Whilst she spends some time behind a desk, she’s often in a private jet flying from point to point, going to meetings, and you bet she’s sometimes taken the express down.

There’s no taming a girl like Athena. People like her believe they run the world, because when you have a sixty inch rear, maybe you think you do.

Personality:

Athena is a whirlwind of energy and audacity, constantly seeking the next thrill and pushing her limits. She approaches life with a bold and adventurous spirit, unafraid to take risks and embrace challenges head-on. Her fearlessness often borders on recklessness, but it's this very quality that makes her excel in high-stakes situations. A complete extravert, Athena thrives on being the boss, being the big bitch in every scenario and making you know. Of course, she’s also polite beneath- and with long held friends, calms down and matures, knowing how to play fair and enjoy.

Outside of her adrenaline-fueled pursuits, Athena is a charismatic and vivacious individual. She has a magnetic personality that draws people to her, and her natural confidence makes her a captivating presence in any social setting. She enjoys socializing with her teammates and friends, always looking for opportunities to engage in spirited conversations and share stories of her adventures. She is unhinged, but same time, embraces and is completely comfortable in her skin- she knows giants shoulder a lot of attention, so she reflects it like a mirror at everyone. This can make her arrogant, bitchy sometimes, but well, people with power can be. She’s not ashamed of her body, her assets, the looks she gets. She knows she owns it, she’s the big Goddess and anyone that is brave enough to fuck with her will get consequences.

Athena's loyalty to her family is unwavering, and she shares a close bond with her sister, Freya. Despite their differences, they complement each other in many ways, and Athena respects Freya's intelligence and scientific pursuits. She can be a protective younger sister when the situation calls for it, but she also knows when to step back and let Freya take the lead. They may clash over certain things Athena may end up doing, and my, does she do a lot of silly things. But, in the end, Athena means well and is just living hard, in her own way. Same with her brother- she'll give him shit for being quiet, but will hang out with him all the same, with the two plastered all over her socials.

Tactical Suit:

Valkyrie’s suit is aptly named the Warhawk. Quite a name for a suit. And it lives up to it, the Corporate Duchess herself needing something rather tasty.

The armour is heavily modelled on Freya’s, sharing much in common with the Gjallhorn. It's constructed from a combination of advanced composite materials, reinforced with carbon fiber and graphene nanoweave plating on top of titanium, ceramic and composite plating, with a built in exoskeleton within the frame. It clings to her form, and rather than being overtly robotic, almost looks melded, like the sheeting itself was pressed against her every being. While it doesn't have the optical cloaking system that Freya's suit boasts, it more than makes up for it in sheer movement and speed, having a slight navy blue tinge to it- it is almost this vivid shade of carbon honeycomb and navy blue, with yellow outlines on key areas of the electrical coils. The suit can withstand direct hits from small arms fire, explosives, and even some heavy weapons- and with a supporting muscular and pneumatic-hydraulic exoskeleton built in, as well as jump jets, turns it into a Warhawk that may not be stealthy, but can make Valkyrie able to leap, crash and basically play out like Skye's exo with an extra 400kg of weight. Oh, and of course internally, it’s laced with the finest of silks and cooling fans, with built in CBRN. Perfect, because Athena doesn’t do bodysuits as a glove to wear before getting into the suit. That isn’t how she rolls.

Where Freya's suit prioritises stealth and agility on the floor driven by a lighter composite using field generators and shielding, Athena's suit features a powerful jump jet system and makes as much noise as possible and uses traditional hard-hitting methods with heavier armour that contains electrical coils. Twin thrusters are mounted on the back of the suit, allowing her to leap incredible distances or reach elevated positions quickly. This jump jet capability aligns perfectly with her love for extreme sports, enabling her to perform breathtaking aerial manoeuvres during combat- she will ground pound and make an absolute dramatic scene out of things and blast electricity everywhere, because for her, combat is just a mere performance and SHE is the main star. This is of course, the worst thing you could give a hyperactive doll like Athena when told it’s even vaguely possible.

Warhawk's helmet features a heads-up display (HUD) that provides her with real-time information on her surroundings. It displays critical data such as enemy positions, ammunition levels, and the suit's integrity. The suit's visor is also polarized, adjusting to different lighting conditions and protecting her eyes from blinding flashes. The polycarbonate-crystalline reinforced visor comes with a golden finish, complementing the navy colour of the suit. It shimmers almost in look, and well, looks mean, with a large neckbrace, chinguard, and reinforced plating system. The suit comes with specialised gauntlets, which are less paw like and more finger-like for the use of her lighter weaopns, and comes with designer inspired boots which unlike Freya's, have zero sound damping.

A Trophy System exists on the left shoulder, and on the right, an integrated smart mini-missile launcher able to cycle through different rounds allowing her to lock, find and acquire targets- the same system as Jamie’s but using more in the way of anti-tank, rather than anti-personnel rounds. The hip (comically, mounted not too far from her rear) contains an IR smokescreen launcher.

Warhawk is equipped with a suite of combat utilities, including a retractable forearm blade for close-quarters combat on her left arm, magnetic grappling hooks for scaling structures based on her mother’s harpoon system on the gauntlets and on the abdomen of the suit and modular attachment points for carrying extra gear. While lacking in cloaking and a shield emitter, the latter is the next upgrade on her shopping list- though will slow the suit down considerably and limit her weaponry choices.

If Gjallhorn is the freight train you never see coming, Warhawk is the one you see coming from a town over. Her weapons certainly help.

Weapons:

Primary Armament:

Custom Tesla Coil

(looks sort of like this static.wikia.nocookie.net/isa-helghas…)

Athena's signature weapon is a massive Tesla coil, a marvel of cutting-edge technology that harnesses the power of electricity to devastating effect. Carried in both hands and triggered by a large stud in the chassis, with the suit linked in with various charging coils across the suit, the Tesla coil can discharge lethal bolts of electricity at her enemies. The weapon can be dialled down to deliver non-lethal electrical shocks for crowd control or turned up to fry enemy electronics and incapacitate armoured foes. The crackling arcs of electricity it emits serve as both a deterrent and a warning to those who would dare to challenge her. It’s described as such.

It can escalate from different modes- from a “Taser” level, to a “Stream”, a near continuously arcing ball of thunderous electricity, to the “Lightening”, a concentrated bolt, to then, the “Emission” - a concentrated force that is like turning the amplifier up to 11, and emits a large glowing ball of static plasma, basically evaporating anything it touches. It’s fucking terrifying, and will melt even armoured vehicle plating up in the process, frying anything it touches. A prototype mode involves the use of an EMP built into the suit known as the “Fryer”- but this of course, isn’t very teammate friendly and remains an emergency mode, for use only in killing everything within 200m of her.

Secondary Arnament:

2x Ingram MAC-10s with Extended Mags

Tertiary:

2x Shortswords

Straight up, Athena brought two swords and an electricity gun to a firefight. The “shortswords” are effectively the length of most people, considering her side, and she uses them when charging to hack. The Tesla Coil is exceptionally bulky, so these come in handy when in a closer quarters. Similar to her mother’s, they are made of an incredibly strong metal.

3x V40 Cluster Grenades
3x Thermite Grenades
3x Smoke Grenades

Hobbies:

#AthenaAwesome: Being a full time influencer and part time mercenary bruiser is work- and more than Freya, Athena makes it pay. Some people say that you’ll come for Freya, but you’ll stay for Athena. Athena is all about her- from beach trips, business work to wingsuiting down a mountainside through a teeny gap, Athena lives completely and totally on the edge of life, making sure EVERYONE knows who she is, as #AthenaAwesome. It’s not really much money compared to what Blue Sword pays, but she knows that nobody can really ignore her. Modelling work, motivational speaking, lifestyle advertising, you name it. She’s permeating into all of the other mercs feeds, because with a body like hers and bonkers insanity like hers, well, she’s gonna deliver. They know who she is when they see her, and well, her celebrity status always lives up to expectation. Even professionally- it makes her a motivational speaker, and well, if you ignore family money, she talks from a place of experience, adrenaline and living on the edge. Does this piss you off? Probably. Does it supply Athena with the supply of continuous adrenaline her hearts need? Yeah.

Extreme Sports: Athena's greatest passion is indulging in extreme sports and adrenaline-pumping activities. Whether it's leaping from a plane or scaling treacherous cliffs, she seeks out new challenges and thrills whenever she can. In particular, wingsuiting through a tiny crack in Switzerland (which considering her size, is more remarkable), a naked parachuteless skydive into a crash mat, cliffdiving in Mexico and dirt biking through a ranch in Upstate New York rank highly- so not exactly living life in the slow lane. #AthenaAwesome has zero time to rest, and when she has her downtime, she’s doing as insane as possible. Her parents, and her relatives are unsure how she hasn’t died yet doing this, even though they may have started this chain.

Networking: With her love for social media, Athena enjoys attending events, parties, and business gatherings, using these opportunities to expand the family's network and influence. Athena has learnt from her wise mother when to maybe amp herself up, and when to remain quiet and let them look. She’ll always get her way when it comes to a contract, tender or subcontract. She'll be there at parties. And while she may not be the cleverest, she's no doll. Apart from...

Fashion: She’s into fashion, big time. Heavies like her find it hard to find clothes, yet her time in Paris has made her connect with designers obsessed with using her for modelling, in exchange for new designs. New activewear to keep up with her activities, business suits and dresses, even some cutting edge technical designs for integration with her suit, on the sly. She wants you to know she has the most niche, gucci brand on the side because it’s what she’s in.

Business and Reading: Often found with a book in her hands on Business, Development, and even Business Development, Athena may be a silly and basic girl at times, but this girl knows how to hustle. She wants to make Blue Sword bigger, and wants the contracts that she hasn’t got out there to be hers. She is very aware of aggressive business strategy, because she’ll be there in the fore.

Likes:

Adrenaline-pumping activities
Socializing and making new friends (Extrovert)
Pushing her limits and embracing challenges
Frying stuff
Being the boss
Making money
Travelling
Her siblings (at times)
The High Life (Fashion, Money)
Showing off everything Athena-related

Dislikes:

Monotonous routines and boredom
Being told she can't have something
Her siblings (at times)
Being confined to a desk or a sedentary lifestyle
People who underestimate her abilities
People leering at Freya rather than her

Oracle

Name: Imran Malik
Age: 48
Apperance:
This
Imran is your average Sikh, but he is well built from years of training and service, being 6"6 and able to hold his own against most. He wears a dark navy blue Turban, which is not obtrusive to his role in combat and though hugely contrasting to his combat equipment, still makes him look meaner than anything, and keeps a mean, clean full beard. He has a tattoo of a Kirpan on his back, and though having a good number of scars on his back too, seems to be quite intact as a person.

Callsign: Oracle

Skills:
Unit Leader: Imran commanded Scimitar, a mean feat considering how diverse and skilled the team was. He keeps Raven concentrated on targets, and really makes sure they hit hard against them, also being able to keep a firm hold on the situation at hand. It plays well into looking after Raven as the de facto top-down controller of the unit.

Rather Clever: Imran is able to speak, listen, read and operate with others in many, many languages, from English, French, German, Russian, Urdu, Mandarin Chinese, Punjabi, Pashto and even Icelandic, a trait picked up after spending multiple postings as a mercenary and becoming a very fast learner of language. He understands technology and machinery well, though not as much as Li, and out of operations, training or anything to do with Scimitar, he is a keen learner, in almost everything that broadens his knowledge, both militarily and normally, and while not telling his comrades in the team, is working on a PhD in Chemistry at the University of Oxford part time, compiling his papers whenever he has the chance and being a keen Chemist. His upbringing is responsible for much of this.

History: Imran Kafir Malik was born in Lahore, in the Punjab region of Pakistan, to a British-born Sikh mother and a Pakistani father who was a politician, and thanks to tutelage, and his wild ability to quickly string together ideas, meant he was very clever for his age. In fact, he was a child prodigy, one among hundreds of thousands as having a high level of intelligence, being hailed as one of the cleverest children in the district due to his results on various tests and subjects, and adopted Sikhism- being a reasonably firm believer most of his life, though it has waned a little. He studied at the British School in Lahore, his mother telling him that children like him would be much better in the United Kingdom, to live and be educated. However, at the school, even with his intelligence, he never stood back and took shit from people- he ended up strangely beating up students whenever he was threatened, though he avoided expulsion on several occasions due to his status as a gifted child.

However, a tragedy struck when he was 12, almost weeks from leaving for the UK- a local gangster killed his father, and his uncle for refusing to give in to a local gang's demands. Imran was shocked and almost broken by this, his mother and him leaving right away, from the city that he loved and the people that he had known, to Bristol, England- based on her mother's English citizenship, Imran being allowed in. He carried on his education, and found a keen interest in the military, dreaming of becoming an officer in the British Army, despite the fact that almost everyone agreed that Imran was something very special in terms of his knowledge. By this point, he spoke five languages fluently, and could easily complete the work his teachers set him, whilst others struggled. He was given a scholarship by the British Army to pay for his Degree, in Chemistry at the University of Oxford, which was followed up by a Masters in Chemical Analysis, before he joined the military.

He went into the Royal Marines following Officer Training, being at first ridiculed for his "Oxford" background, his accent, and his religion, though quickly, he rose the ranks and became scarier, and scarier. He went into the Royal Marines Commando, and was feared for his brutality, as well as his sound head and vision that paired up with it that that made Imran and his unit so concentrated and vicious against an opposing force- channeling the rage and really bringing the best out his men in terms of combat capability. But something felt wrong, to Imran. He loved being a soldier, it was the one part of his mind that perhaps after his father had died, he had embraced from him- to fight for what he believed in. But he felt less and less inclined to Britain, and wanted to go back home, and make real change. He felt like he was undervalued, tasked with things that were not his endeavor- and was Honorably Discharged, at the rank of Major- commanding almost a full mechanized infantry company by the time he left, though he still fought side by side with his men, rallying them and showing considerable displays of valor.

One year later, and Imran was hired by MI5, to perform operations in Pakistan, killing specific leaders of the Taliban, who were escalating activities- learning over his hiatus how to fly helicopters, how to create IEDs and how to fight beyond his Royal Marines and previous streetfighting in Lahore as a child. He was a lone asset- and found this was more of his thing. He felt better to be working on soil he felt at home on, and found his revenge on the man who killed his father and his uncle very quickly- the decapitated bodies of almost an entire gang finding it's way into the Indus River. Though sometimes at odds with his superiors, he was a vital asset in eliminating key Taliban officers, and after two years of operations spanning the globe, was brought into the Black Ops of MI5, far deeper and covert than simple operations to kill a few leaders. He was acquainted with tactical exoskeletons, and was sent into West Papua to kill a terrorist leader, again alone. After a botched intel agent revealed how Imran was coming in, he was left to die, and barely made it to Papua New Guinea after escaping captivity, barely managing to salvage himself from what had happened.

He moved back to Oxford, leaving the service, and wanting to at least figure out his own life instead of doing what he did in covert operations, or commanding a unit, or whatever he did. He just wanted to study, and he was accepted for a Part-Time PhD in Chemistry, studying a specific analytic method that he had concocted. He was contacted before the other about Scmitar, by a contact known as "Oracle", who then put the wheels into motion, and him in charge of the team, due to his extensive experience in combat, and his intelligence. Imran accepted for some reason beyond even his mind- the call to battle was too much, and compared to times past, it felt like it was very, very different- the technology and extent of what Imran began to saw made his mind set on doing this. It felt like his personal call to fighting, and to leadership of the right kind, rather than menial commanding.

And Scimitar was quite something. He led the team for five years, and quit with a view to succession. It came and went, but Artemis hadn't died. In that time, they'd stopped a serious threat, but it turned out to be a rogue actor- rather than Artemis proper. A last-ditch attack on a missile silo in Idaho and Kerala stopped a near-sure war breaking out, and it certainly reminded Imran the world needed protectors. The Oracle to Scimitar team revealed themselves in turn, and well, Imran hasn't revealed who that was. But they passed down the reins- and Imran himself became the Oracle, the de-facto leader of Raven Squad.

Imran's role is shadowy- he'll mostly be known as Oracle to many, bar the people that know him directly in the role. His role is to facilitate the team altogether, when required- arrangements with other forces, updates from strategic roles, and so on. But he also plays a key role in ensuring the team continues to function- operationally, this is delegated to the Team Leader, but in an emergency situation, comes to him. He was a lecturer at Oxford University in their Chemistry department, and has on the part time, taken the study of Narcotics to be a pet projects of his.

Personality: Imran is confident, and weathered with experience, trusting his team but knowing when to hold them to account. He doesn't mind outsmarting anyone that he talks to, though he won't do it unless he is angered enough. He is mostly open, working together rather than putting up a front, unless he smells a rat. He has a vague Pakistani accent, and can be heavily accented when he likes- though he usually sounds quite English, hanging around with a lot of Oxford students after all.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Skye Rosalind Lyons

Somewhere above Wellington, New Zealand
Aboard an A400M Cargo Plane

Black Feathers

"Mon amis, this is Raven Airways, please fasten your seatbelts as we are taxiing for takeoff. For sudden decompression, hold onto the nearest object to you, for lack of oxygen, put your head between your ass and prey, putain. We are leaving the battle zone." Vincent called on the aircraft tannoy, giving a wry chuckle, as he turned up the power, and the plane pulled away.

The team was pretty battered after the entire experience, and as Vincent led the plane to the runway, he let Sam take lead, the F35 roaring back up into the sky following a refuelling, with the A400 ready to go the distance too if needed. It followed up on the runway pretty quick, the driving and pouring rain clapping against the cockpit, and with all engines at power, coasted the aircraft down the tarmac and into the skies, the combat pilot back in his element with headphones on and his breath only back now. He was back in a comfortable position.
"Chaos, this is Hawk, we're airborne. Now what?" Vincent spoke on the shared comms link, Oracle's voice picking up as he pitched the aircraft over the Wellington sky, and headed up to altitude, trying to get separation away from the war to the south, and the absolute anarchy they now had to flee.

"Hawk, Chaos, got the track on the aircraft. Friendly fighter support is en route, should help cap off any trails to you,. Rout yourselves to the navpoint coming through to your systems, Tokyo Haneda airport for refuelling- Chaos, leave the F35 once there with the JSDF squadron on the ground, and join Hawk with the A400 onward Pöyrisjärvi, Finland. We have contingency for the team set up at a site operated by Blue Sword. I will meet you there for a full debrief.....including a status update on Queen. We need her there, post haste. Artemis will be in disarray, but time will be limited. Out." Oracle called, Hawk nodding to an invisible person in response as he put hand to ear.

"Affermatif, we'll set course. Out." Vincent replied, turning the aircraft slightly,

"Chaos, heading on bearing three-five-zero, northbound. Fuel will get us there, very just. I will be the voice in your ears to keep you entertained. I can provide you with Skye's personal commline, if you need it too. I imagine the boss-lady, she may need to hear something from you." Vincent replied, as he turned the comms on for the inside of the plane, following the tanoy from earlier.

"So, we are now cruising at 15,000 feet, and we are heading towards our destination of Tokyo, Japan. We have no snacks, no drinks, but we are going to a location I am sure you will all find many of them on our involuntary layover. So sit back, relax to this flight now with no SAM missiles or cannon fire, and enjoy." Vincent's voice sounded like it should have been on a chilled music radio station, as the man who was visibly shaken took a moment in his Francophonic accent to give one last little remark, much to the chargrin of Skye, who sighed for a brief moment, apart of it.

------

Skye sat there staring into space, the team likely conversing between each other at this moment, as she took a moment to explore about, breaking out of her trance, trying to at least. She had to do something. Her head was spinning, ticking over lots, and well, it was shite. Roughly half of the aircraft in the back had the team in the jump-seat area, with the noise not so fun yet for a modern military dropship, probably better than half the Hercules that she'd flown in. Sitting up, after chatting to Ebrima, she looked to Freya, who looked hurty, very hurty.
"Nicely done. Glad Sophie had a look over you as well, by the way. Listen, whatever happens after, do rest up. I hope wherever we're going, someone will see sense that we give you chance to heal for a mission. Unbelievably, I agree with Sophie. But you did well. Thanks, Freya." Skye smiled, the redhead illuminated by the soft LED lighting inside the A400, as she made her way across to Chuck and to Tiny Nord, both giants imposing in the way that they sat.

"And you both too. Well earned beer after all of that. Nord, Sophie may need to borrow some of your supplies potentially. I know, you're a good medic, but I'll let the good Doctor have her time. If you can keep an eye on Freya, I'd appreciate it." Skye replied, giving Duke a stroke over his ears, a nice yelp coming back as she smiled, the rare break of a dog actually making her life feel a bit more. From there, onto the rest of the support team, who she found very exhausted, mostly asleep, so skipped by. Tahlia had her legs by her side and was out from the drugs that Sophie had given, her stumps swollen and her body hurting, with Raph the same, his laptop sealed on his lap. Skye went forwards through the cabin and into the sealed unit in front, a temporary hab it looked like, with a small briefing area on the left, and on the right, a makeshift spot for an armoury- which would be perfect as a mobile base it looked like. Beyond that was the front of the aircraft, and Skye poked her head through to there, seeing Vincent give a thumbs up, alone at the wheel but comfortable with long stints. With enough coffee, he'd be alright, Javi being parked up in the co-pilots chair.

Coming back in, Sophie managed to pick her up as she walked through the corridor of the hab.
"Right. We need to do that transfusion, when we get a chance. Thankfully, looks like Nord packed some bloodbags with him so I should be able to do it here and now." Sophie looked pressing, and Skye only obliged, as she walked back to her seat, and Sophie got to work, sticking the needle in.

It felt odd. All of this. Rose said she lived a parallel life to her, and Skye wondered how much of it was true. Rose had been in SIS too, same as Skye, and kept from her. By intent? It meant whoever was in charge was just as bad, just as culpable. Or perhaps, even worse. She never wanted to think too hard about the tentacles of Artemis, after all, people were corrupt all the time, but people who had been involved in that perhaps envisioned a better world. Even if they didn't agree, they were looking to make it right. And now, Artemis wasn't looking like a paramilitary with a perchance for disorder, they looked like they wanted to destabilise it, now with Rose perhaps getting Raven to decapitate much of their structure, they wanted to completely reshape it. Chile had gone, likely so had Corsica, so that left not much else at all, perhaps there was something else to salvage, but what there was, would take time. They needed leads, contacts, and more than that, support. No doubt that would come.

But Skye knew she was a risk to everyone now, everyone on this plane, beyond, and everywhere else. This wasn't about dying, however. She'd have to make a plan. And Tokyo, Japan....that gave her an idea. An idea that popped straight in. An old colleague was there, she knew maybe where to look, and what to do. It would be a risk. Oh, it would be massive. But when Rose chose to fight unfair, then well, Skye had to do the same. After all, she was good at being a ghost when needed. Doing what she would less expect was needed, doing more importantly what was needed to keep the team going with leads would be more still, she could do that.

30 Red Days - John Wick Universe

@Sho Minazuki

It's red, but suitably red for how bloody the RP will be getting. Nice stuff!

When's an OOC going up?

30 Red Days - John Wick Universe

@Sho Minazuki

First interest check in a while that has me. Coloured interested, and I have a couple of characters in mind.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Skye Rosalind Lyons

Rangitoto ki te Tonga / D'Urville Island
South Island, Aotearoa / New Zealand

Ka Kite Kaitiaki

Skye barked out rounds from the fifty mounted on the remote weapons station as the two heavies clambered into the back, the weight decidedly shifting as she took out a couple of incoming soldiers, the gun feeling like it was almost at boiling point when Boraro pulled them out of there and floored it. The remaining helicopters were too much in chaos to be able to do anything, and what Frigga and Tiny Nord had left spewed behind would buy them enough at least- luck was certainly on their side but then again, they couldn't leave the Heavies behind- no way in hell would Skye allow that, so some risk needed taking.

It wasn't pretty, but running now made sense, after giving them an almighty kick in the teeth. Rose probably wanted Skye's team quickly eliminated with a JDAM- but of course, their resilience wasn't something she'd bargained for. Sending this was a message, a pure detail that indeed proved the point- she'd gotten in close and gotten what she needed, and now was just ruining the rest. And as they left, Skye dwelled on it a little. Rose must have known everything. Been in there for hours, before they got back even? There would have been a way to wipe her tracks, after all. It felt like they were deep in the shit. It meant that the safehouse in Chile had been raided probably by Artemis, and that Spectre was dead or recaptured by Artemis. After spilling intel, likely the former- Skye knew it was nothing personal, and he would be compromised. It meant no more leads there, and worse, Rose now had everything in her hands. Time would be limited. They would be on the clock, and more than ever, in need to stop whatever she had planned. It was hard sometimes to put a face to evil, but in this instance....it was the one looking in the reflection of the display Skye was networked with.

Skye had to pull all the sinew in one way to keep going, and keep it together, knowing that full well that as that team lead, she'd be looked to for answers. There would be time for emotion, hurt later. Right now, not dying would be handy.

@Starlance
"Agreed, Boaro. We'll need any help we can get. I don't like this method of getting out....but we haven't exactly got anywhere to run. That's where Chaos comes in." Skye replied, the gunfire getting quieter as they bounded through the forest, over the ridge, and towards the other side of the island, to the dirt runway and docks. The message came in from Sam, as Skye adjusted her comms, getting back in touch.

"Affirmative, Chaos. Keep up the fire and keep me in the loop!" Skye called back, the fifty cooling down as she sank back down away from the monitor and joystick for the gun.

For a moment, the drive was quiet, the road back along now emptied of hostiles. Skye exhaled hard, leaning against the wall. Freya sounded exhausted, so did Sam, Oliver, Tahlia, all of them, to be honest. Before she could think too much, they had arrived at the dock, the two bundling out of the back and Skye following, abandoning the MRAP in favour of the boat. Seems like there were bodies here- Chuck, Tahlia and the forward team had cleaned up a bunch, and a few of them had been eliminated with the bodies that were left. Covering the area, Skye followed the same routine as Boaro, before bounding across and making her move to the boat.

Clambering aboard the vessel, Skye had a moment to catch up with various members of the team, even if little was said.
@BigPapaBelial@LadyAmber
"Cheers, Frigga, Boomer. Keep an overwatch, then let's get out." Skye commented, and walking up the plank, got into position to cover, eyes fixed on her from the bloodied, dirty and then across to Tahlia, who gave a silent nod, as did Sophie, Vincent and Raph. Everyone was pretty fucking ruined, so almost the words didn't carry well. As the Boaro covered sector, Skye set herself up, the MG3 perched, readied.

"All aboard!" Skye yelled, hoping Boaro would bound across from cover and reaching out, took a hand on Frigga's armoured form, a token gesture more than anything, as the boat rattled into life, and with Javi at the helm, and everyone aboard that could be at this final call, left the dock and headed out of the cove into a stormy, dark night in the Cook Strait.

As they set off, the fire seemed to drop back- the combination of the F35 and the straight up firepower of the team had knocked back the enemy. Skye didn't know where the Artemis team had come from- likely from somewhere to the south from the main part of the South Island coastline, using the jungles, forests and mountainous terrain to set up, prepare and spring the attack. But thankfully, their shock and awe hadn't worked- after all, New Zealand was remarkably far away from anything, and in itself, worked almost as a good deterrent. There wasn't much easy way to hide materiel or anything of that kind coming in- so Artemis had thrown the kitchen sink and collectively, Raven had baseball batted it out of the park.

She sat back down, Skye holding onto the side of the boat and coughing up a little, the dirt and dust lodged a little in her throat coming out now. Sophie walked across and with a gentle turn, sat next to her, bringing her medical kit to bear, a surgical kit that an actual doctor might want to use, rather than just one of the team members. Skye had kept going despite all of what had occurred- but the dump of adrenaline wearing down now was clearly having an effect, Sophie being acutely aware of the situation from what she'd gathered from the rest of the team. It was probably a good idea to have a review.
"Right. Let's take a look at you, shall we, now that we have a second." Sophie asked as Skye silently nodded, bringing an IV up into Skye's wrist and pricking it, the smart needle being equipped with enhanced diagnostics that would effectively be like plugging in a fault code recorder into a car. Now they were clear, this was important to check. After an event like that, Skye could be a serious risk to the team and herself- and with Rose's specialist blood, even Skye deep down knew there could be a risk of something like that being around, or perhaps in the toxin trace. With it, Sophie pulled out her tablet, a diagnostics for bloods, heart rate and a few other metrics- a more advanced tool than the one that Skye had access to in her smart AR-enabled telemetry. Sophie was an expert in these sorts of things- she was at the cutting edge of battlefield medicine, and keeping a team like Raven going required understanding drugs and medicine that kept the superhuman at that level. Even so, Sophie's terror at the killing was probably a rather normal response to a situation that was utterly FUBAR, and unbelievable. Back with Skye, she felt professional again, doing her job to distract from that.

"Wow. How you didn't die after that is remarkable. It is quite a potent mixture that's coagulated in your bloodstream. The antidote is real, so we can assume whatever you used, hasn't produced any adverse effects. I can't see it having any other effect on you. Long term, you'll need a transfusion to be safe, because you're going to feel quite messy and whilst I can't see any nanites in your blood, neurotoxins usually leave an effect. You're not seeing any blurring, limpness, anything are you?"
"Rose actually gave a shit about me.....then she's a little narcissistic to not put me to ashes. No, I'm okay. Just hurting, groggy, limp. Adrenaline spiked nicely to push through, but it feels like I want to be sick, Sophie." Skye retorted, shaking her head as almost a sombre reflection she internalised, Sophie nodding in response as she continued to go through it.
"Okay, that's not as bad as it could be. Let's not be sick, keep your fluids. Anyway, your bloods are alright. Adrenaline will wear and you'll probably pass out for a bit. Not much I can do, apart from hit you with more, but then you'll complain more about me. And....oerhaps Rose really didn't know what you'd do, genuinely thought she could change you. And thank you for earlier, by the way. Never thought I'd have to carry a gun, rather than a needle. " Sophie replied, Skye shaking her head, somewhat appreciative.
"That's okay, Sophie. You shouldn't have ever seen this."
"No, I know what I signed up to. Rest up. I'll stay with you and keep an eye on your vitals." Sophie replied, giving a rare smile, the doctor sitting by Skye's side, as she drifted to sleep, the boat on the rough sea peeling away and the waves crashing into the outside areas, the door beyond Skye getting coated in water.

Vincent in the meantime, caught the eye of the other African on the ship, his pastel-white skin something he'd heard of as a merc from back in the day. Boaro was a fearsome operative, a ghost yet you couldn't really avoid someone like this, not in the sphere that the Senegalese merc himself had worked in. Switching to French, the Senegalese no longer had that drawl in his accent, half glad to have a Francophone-speaking West-African on the team to compliment his own.
@Starlance
"Good to meet you, Ebrima. Shame about these circumstances, eh, but we move. I'm Vincent Cisse, ex-FFL, pilot extraordinare. Might have fought against each other someday, maybe togehter, but now, here we are." He commented, passing a hand out to the masked operative, the Senegalese pilot perhaps glad to have kin for once, of somewhat similar origin. The world as they knew it had collapsed, and everyone may have felt depressed, but in the moment, he knew to keep some spirit going, and well, this was as decent as he could be to keep matters at bay.

---

Meanwhile, Chaos's comms would flutter up with something else, probably not great timing considering she was dogfighting multiple bogeys, and trying to cover the team down below, but she would need to keep tabs on it.

"Chaos, it's Oracle. The New Zealand Navy have a frigate approximately 20 kilometres out from the zone that will clean up any remaining support ships and provide extra SAM support, and we have aerial assets from a nearby US Navy asset inbound for support, approximately 30 minutes out. I'm sending your team a navigation point. They're to head for Wellington Airport, aiming for the southern cargo area for the US Antarctic Survey hangars- get them to run the ship directly to the nav point, getting it aground and, then on foot to where they need to go. Until then, you are the only friendly aerial asset in the sky, keep eliminating any threats wherever you can. Artemis will be hurting and limited after being beaten back, but they will pounce if they can." Oracle called out on Sam's personal comms, taking a breather, knowing normally he wouldn't pause to give more detail, staying professional - except knowing that Sam was likely to be struggling with some of this and rather in shock with it all.

"Listen, for what it's worth, you're doing well. What's going on with Skye is beyond complicated....for now, you need to get her out. I've got some additional intel from Spectre, the data core and from historical records. I'll send an additional navigation point once the team get airborne and we'll go into more detail. Right now, just focus on what's in front and we'll catch up later. Oracle, out."

-------

Wellington Airport, New Zealand

Exit Strategy

The ship jostled through every single wave, every single hit blasting water over the bow in the pitch black- the team utterly and completely helpless out here if they took a hit- this was an inconspicuous vessel, but the fact Artemis knew was a concern. The ship team hadn't encountered any more fire or boats on their journey- the storm had cloaked them, and Skye had been even seasick, the Cook Strait's stormy and dark nature cloaking them as they rolled on through, the Scot asleep considering the state of her. The frigate hadn't seen them either, but in the distance, had probably kept an eye out for any other naval assets trying to make a play, and locked it down. Through a mixture of sheer luck and bad weather, the team had gotten their method out- and crossed into New Zealand's capital city, and headed for the isthmus that the city's airport sat on, a relatively small international airport yet with great significance for its location.

Running aground onto the foreshore, the boat rattled and slumbered over, Skye coughing from the dirt and dust in her lungs, looking down at the drop onto the adjacent rock groyne. With a gentle hop, she dropped down, offering a hand to Tahlia, before clambering down from the rocks and up the beach, towards the southern perimeter road of the runway on the isthmus.
"Fuck me." Skye could only exclaim, sarky and cold as ever, Tahlia shaking her head in response.
"I think you really shouldn't say that when you've killed your doppelganger twice in one day." Tahlia's dry, dark and deeply spirited response got a cackle from Skye, that weird bond between the two hitting so hard when she was at the bottom of her barrel, shaking her head as she looked back.
"Yeah....shame to lose home. Fuck, I'll miss it, weirdly. You holding up okay?" Skye enquired, the prosthetics of Tahlia clacking back, with her giving a quiet nod. She was feeling pretty weary with everything, and right now, didn't have a proper reaction for all that had happened. For now, she awaited Skye's response, as the team bundled down and off the boat, the Scot having some idea of what to do, from the memorised contingency plan. Chaos would brief the team on it, but Skye already knew it internally.

"Alright, team. That there, is our way out...I think I remember it well enough. I'd rather not bring any more Artemis attention to Wellington, or else they'll do that fine city what they just did to us. Let's scoot out of here and leave. She'll give us fire support if we need it." Skye called, and with it, the team kept their areas covered, albeit now they were very much in a civilian area- on an access road looping the airport's southern perimeter, and scaring the ever loving shit out of locals who were seeing almost two dozen personnel, including three giants and three very heavily kitted operators crossing the road.....which must have looked like the scariest thing that had ever happened in south Wellington, ever. As far as you could be from a warzone and that heavy a set of weapons, well, it was way worse than any gang warfare or drugs you could even consider in what was a relatively safe country. The reason Skye kept the team on alert was the uncertainty if Artemis might be here- there was a possibility a strike team could still be a risk- they were covering for good reason, and Skye knew they had no time to waste if they were getting out of dodge.

Bounding across, Skye took a relatively dim view of the gate allowing entry onto the taxiway by using a breaching charge, and well, from there, they had their route through. With a tactical run, the team cleared the cargo parking and taxiway, the shock of cargo staff being told by an invisible hand to do nothing, to sit still because there was a security incident going on that Raven were single-handedly in the eye of the storm for. The airport had been informed incredibly briefly of what was going on, the airport was to stand down- and well, to any civilians, it would be just an exercise, an unplanned security event....not the near end of the world coming down on them. The rainy tarmac mirrored the lights from the skyscrapers and hillside houses in the Wellington marina as well as the floodlighting all over the cargo areas between the 777s and A320s parked up, Skye bounding with the last remaining pace she had to get ahead and ensure that there wasn't anyone in wait when she got to where she was going.

Moving to the hangar, the dated lettering of "United States Antarctic Survey" could be seen on the hangar doors, as Skye headed to a side entrance, no longer having ID so instead, kicking in the door with the last vestiges of her exo's power supply. Heading in, she flickered the lights, and headed to the control for the entry, switching the hangar doors to open and revealing what was inside.

"Damn. Okay, that's not a bad choice. Chaos, keep the skies clear for us. We have our ride. Hawk, she is all yours." Skye whistled, looking to the others, the last part she could hold to a smile, that finally, fucking finally, they may have a ride out of here.

And what a transport it was. An Airbus A400M, a large prop-driven, grey USAF liveried aircraft that was parked up in storage, readied intentionally as a backup aircraft for Antarctic operations, containing a basic habitation unit at the front, and a cargo area in the back. A hell of an option for them in the short term, and while nowhere near as advanced as the prototype VTOL they'd recently been using, it would do the trick for the time being.
"Oh, she's quite something. Okay, all aboard. I'll run checks quickly and get us out. Fire up the APU, Skye, I'll get us moving soon." Vincent said, walking around and starting, Skye clambering inside and running to the rear, the APU flickered on and providing power as Vincent did his thing. The rear door opened up, and moving through the hab, she got to the seating all the way at the back and the cargo door, the wide space able to take the entirety of the team and then some. It would be a home from home for at least a few hours while they headed off, and given this plane was on standby, it was fuelled and ready for long distance.

Skye slunk down into one of the jump seats in the rear, and taking her helmet off, exhaled hard, head back and her body crashing out.
"Ebrima, you have absolutely golden timing. Sorry to put you in the deep end. You did well." She said, brushing her messy red hair with her gloved hand, checking out the Cameroonian following by, and the others beginning to shuffle in, only in utter disbelief of it all. She started to feel like she was melting, her hand on her face, her hurt definitely sinking. This was getting worse and worse. She had zero idea of what now. They would take off, and was she on the chopping block for Rose's actions? Was the entire team? Were they already too late, and Rose was rolling on whatever insane plan she had? It felt a lot more hopeless than even usual. In this instance, the hurt was still sinking, the bits of the neurotoxin that swirled about her still making her still feel a little lethargic and torn, when the exo wasn't basically carrying her willpower up now.

As the other members came in, Skye looked across, unable to stand yet happy to see them intact, at least somewhat after all of this.
"Apologies, everyone. I really, really hope it's not you lot that put a bullet through my brain, I'm not putting you through that." Skye commented, leaning in, off comms, aware that no pickup from Oracle was going to happen here. It was almost a half serious comment, considering the breach- and well, it would have been Skye/Rose that caused it, right? Something stark about that sat untrue, and she felt like she needed answers first, before she was going on that funeral pyre, if she was going that way. Nah. She was too stubborn to die. And she'd go out and kill the bitch a thousand times if that's what it took.

With it, Skye started to explain to anyone who wasn't there what had happened. The entire story. Skye's doppelganger, everything about Rose, what she had said, what she had done, what it meant. The stakes were decidedly high. Rose would come back, Skye was her genetic copy, and well, she'd now taken a lot of Raven's data- though had of course, been cocky and left traces behind they could work with. While physically she hurt, Skye held herself mentally and used it as a crutch to go logically and concisely through it. As she finished up, she knew they may have questions on what next, Skye not so sure now all things considered.

"The plan is a bit loose in my mind of what happens next. What should happen, is we'd relocate to another base run on Raven's behalf. There is half a chance the entire network will be compromised, even if Rose died there, she'll probably wake up sooner or later and find out how to get access through the backdoor. So it may mean we end up somewhere I didn't expect. Either way, we'll have a chance to talk to techs about recovery of equipment, any research, anything at all. It will take a little time, but considering what the stakes might just be, I think we may be thrown an awful lot attention more than what we're used to." Skye added, knowing the team were gagging for answers, must have been, and many more would flow through.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Queen

Boaro

A collab with @Starlance

Rangitoto ki te Tonga / D'Urville Island
South Island, Aotearoa / New Zealand

Toa!

The sound of the Cameroonian creeping in was an oddly reassuring one, considering she’d forgotten to even make an introduction. Then again, when new operatives rotated in and out, and rejoined the team then left, it was sometimes difficult to keep track. Ebrima was a wise head, a capable soldier that she was glad to have on side- Skye lowering her MG3 at the sight of him, the Scottish exo-clad operative a parallel to him.

Skye looked a little different to the other medium, his exo a cutting edge unit and shinier, hers a little more bashed, open, and more than anything, Skye’s face left open by her helmet with her tactical specs, MNVGs and comms framing her dirtied red hair and face- the navy shirt and jeans a weird combo outside of the frame of the exo’s relatively comprehensive plates. Skye should have gone for a faceplate really, but the tactical glasses and chops of the helmet she wore did most of the protecting work, as well as naturally benefitting peripheral. The damage she’d done to the team on her flank was appreciated, given she was getting surrounded rather quickly, and a face like his was never forgotten and never not appreciated when he could do what he did. A capable medium after her own heart, well, in killing people, that was.

Seeing him come over, Skye nodded in reply and nonchalantly walked over, bringing her PDA off her arm and without a reply, tapping a command into it, and tapping it against his chest, near where his own comms link would be, syncing it in quickly and clean.
“Now you can hear me. Good to have you, Boraro. Picked a time and a half to join me. Appreciate you taking that lot out..” She replied, looking keenly into his eyes, dry as you can imagine the Scot would be, her stern look turning to a wry smile, appreciating it, the look saying more than words as she peered at his visored face, barely able to see the operative behind them. She backed away, checking her own MG3 over, and the environment over, hearing the sound of booming come into sound, not of the enemy F18 Hornets, but of the F35 itself. Now the fight was on level. The submarine had gone up, the pier on the flank was clear, but the bastards were still coming up. It was a headfuck of a scene, but then again, when the war came home, it was getting a reply.

“Sit rep isn’t good. There is way more than I can even begin to explain right now, but Artemis is after us, and they are coming thick and thin. We’ve got a good chance to make a run for it back over the ridge through the woods. Sounds like if Chaos is airborne, we have a chance at not getting strafed or lit up. And my comms aren’t on lead…again, lots of factors..” Skye replied, the ardent Scot holding a certain kind of hold in her voice, one that cracked a little and clearly looked like she’d dealt with a lifetime’s worth of mindfuckery in the last twenty four hours. Even killing people as an operative for a living didn’t really compare. Her red hair, freckled face and all around well-looking demeanor couldn’t hide the weariness and prying away at her self, and she was glad he was here to help, because they’d need any advantage they could get, and he’d have the energy.

Friendly air was always good, he had been wondering where an F-35 came from all of a sudden and knowing it was on his side was the first bit of good news in the last 15 or so minutes. ”C’est la vie.” He shrugged at the bad sitrep. It sometimes came at you like that. ”If it’s just us, we can likely make it easy. That land rover will be a more visible target. But what if Chaos needs a hand?” He gestured vaguely to the sky. If that Lightning was the only asset covering their retreat, nobody was covering it and retrieving a downed pilot in the Artemis soup didn’t sound like it mixed with living to tell about it too well.

The last comment did warrant a raised eyebrow. ”Cliffnotes, then?” Abrupt leadership change was something that ranked pretty high on the list of things he wanted to know about, ”Who took over?”

Skye nodded as she pointed up at the Lightning, blasting past and with the sound of Chaos in Skye’s and Ebrima’s ears being rather….excited, yes, that would say a lot.
“Her. Oh, and riiiight….in a nutshell, there’s an evil clone of me that’s a crazy bitch, and I mean, she’s fucking mental. Like worse than me. And her blood has a tracker in it. Mine likely doesn’t, so her insurance policy is caving us in and well, trying to fucking kill us. Can you see what I mean?” Skye retorted dryly, looking around the corner of the concrete structure, keeping an eye on Freya and Tiny Nord, absolutely laying down all manner of shit down below, from the energy-based smacks of the AEW to Tiny Nord’s usual blasting apart with his fifty. And speaking of, they had their route out. With the prototype VTOL destroyed, the team evacuated, the two were now the last remaining hares. Now or never really, as Skye took a last moment to chat, knowing they’d need to get a move on.

“I’ll lead us ground based folk. But the link to Oracle, the drones, the lot, goes to her. She’s a smart lass. She’ll be right. Anyway, we have our bits to do. You good on ammo, munitions? Exo feeling nice?” Skye retorted, knowing Ebrima would want to skin her alive for her mannerisms, but then again, the Scot was beyond being particularly easy on the truth. To Sophie maybe, not right now when shite was getting real, albeit the last part, well, she checked in a little, twitching her NVGs back down, the quad-optical device covering her weary eyes back up as she switched to the thermal, before flicking back up, readied and prepared.
"Chaos, got Boraro on the line. He's with me, we're moving out to the exfil."

For a small moment, he wondered that maybe, just maybe, he should’ve shut up and done his time. Clones and blood trackers were something he’d have to learn to live with. ”Good for now, but conserve thermobarics. Get them clear and run?” He asked, taking two seconds to count remaining magazines, colored tape around their bases denoting different loads making it easy. ”After you.” He gestured to the furball, shouldering his shotgun. Really should’ve brought the rifle to the training outing.

Having Chaos in charge of the big picture brought yet another unwelcome input into the ‘what if…?’ scenario of the Lightning getting into trouble, though with a handful of Raven operatives being the only ones remaining in the fight and no support on the way, that was where she was most useful.

Skye nodded, beauty before age, or something like that she reasoned, taking point, heading out of the support site and up the hill, following the sinewing gravel track out of the exposed sheep-roaming fields on the lead up to the beach and up into the forested chunk, the comms messy and more going on than she could imagine. While the two Heavies would retreat one way, Skye and Ebrima had the other route to take, the Scot keeping her wits about her, and yet for a brief moment, the two pacing nicely on the track. The forest kept them out of view for the most part, and they had some reprieve, some moment to get a breath back, and at least take it in.
“Yeah, we’ll get them clear. You’re on the network now, so should be able to see where they are in your display. Two heavies together make one hell of a team, Tiny Nord and Frigga, if they ring a bell. I’d not be too worried, except for the fact that Frigga right now is running on an absolute cocktail of drugs. Trust me, that shit would send most people to the moon, stimulants. Once she crashes out after this, she’s gonna be like a fucking tranquilised elephant. You know how hard it is to move seven foot of a giant like that?” Skye retorted with that classic Scots charm, filling in Ebrima in, knowing full well the Cameroonian probably had little context, little idea and less belief in what the fuck was happening. That would come later- but could at the least punctuate something.

“Alright. Hold a sec.” Skye called in the comms quiet, as the sound of another MRAP, an ex-British Army Cougar of all things could be heard, the vehicle cutting the two teams into halves, given past this bit of the forested track, they’d be on the slope down to the beach, and where a fishing boat come emergency extract would sit. A risky option, but they just needed to buy time to fend off any more waves of Artemis from sky, and with the Lightning in hand and the combined firepower of the team, they’d probably stand some chance of crossing the Cook Strait and heading for Wellington. Skye had to wonder, they had a hell of a surplus from somewhere. But they had some exquisite buying power, and well, that got them some very interesting connections indeed, and people to maintain. After all, mercenary groups were more common in the contemporary security sphere, and if they had the dollar, they could get their hands on more than just a few Hiluxes and M4s, they could kit themselves out with the latest and greatest. The soldiers were well trained, likely ex-US Armed Forces, NATO and others- not all Russian or Chinese mercs, but a multi-cultural force of paid troops.

A group of soldiers clambered out, a couple exo-equipped in shiny looking suits a grade down from Skye and Ebrima’s, but no less capable, three more in the front as someone stayed on the mounted gun and drivers seat.
“Okay, that might be handy. Saves us a drive to the airfield if we can secure the MRAP, and we may even be able to scoop up Frigga and Nord, if it works out. Question is though ... .who you having?” Skye called to him, knowing that whilst they were being hunted, sometimes, it was good to have the advantage the other way around. In the foliage and in the dirt next to the road’s ridgeline type, she felt not like Frodo, but like someone else in the Fellowship in this part of The Shire….sorry, New Zealand. The dark rainy evening made things trickier for the Artemis mercenaries to spot them, so Skye knew herself holding was not a bad call. She looked on, before looking back at his face, holding her crouch and checking the German-made chainsaw of an LMG one more time, her explosive nature matching hers. Skye was a force on her own- with Sam, Freya and the others, she’d adapted her game plan to be the all-running team mum, bouncing between the two- but with a dedicated exo-carrying operative like Ebrima, she knew things could go much further. Someone matching her pace, aggression, fire. Quite a charm.

Ebrima indeed did not have the context for the situation, but what he did have was experience with drugged up combatants. Sicarios whose most protective piece of equipment were cargo shorts shrugging off jacketed rounds like BBs was bad enough by itself. Just the thought of someone that strung up in a heavy suit… oh boy. If he detested drugs among the enemy ranks, they didn’t get a pass on the other side of the barricade either though. People he had to trust doing who knew what to their bodies, for an impressive short term gain, maybe, but at what long term cost? That was of course assuming the giants even followed the laws of human biology.

And Skye nodded on that, moving around the rear and checking her MG3 over, and knowing she’d have to get in close. A batch of them were sweeping out, and Skye had her eyes on an exo and one of the men at the back.
“That works. I’ll try not to cover you in shrapnel either. All you, Boraro.” Skye responded, following the sunken part below the road, and ready facing the two troops at the back, the female merc in her exo considerably more fucking ugly than her counterpart next to him. Well, it’d be over quick. Exoskeletons were good, but this thing was a racket- the team locking the road down yet paradoxically, making their own trap. She noted the gun was active, so any fire would need to be quick, to then get inside the MRAP and evict the guy. And well, that was that. She unloaded her fire onto the two, and whilst the other exo managed to get a few shots off, from half-prone with an LMG that she could fire on the move, well, it was fairly easy how that went down. With a roar, Skye went from prone to upright, and moved around the other side and onto the next two, using the exo to leap hard upwards, and play her part.

Skye was onto something though. The MRAP, initially an obstacle, might have been a blessing in disguise. He withdrew his hand from the M25. The vehicle should handle shrapnel just fine, but why tempt fate? As long as Artemis didn’t look too closely. ”Divide and conquer?” He gestured for Skye to go around back, himself taking the vehicle’s front as long as they minded each others’ position. Friendly fire was not on the menu today.

He set out through the undergrowth, waiting for the MG to play the part of the starting gun. First order of business was the mounted gun. As its operator instinctively turned it backward to see what the machine gun fire was about, that was all the opening he needed to cross the bit of open space between him and the Cougar. The first couple of shots struck the driver, probably giving the Artemis mercs a nasty surprise. That sinking feeling that you were in a vice, pressure on two sides and hardly a way out. Now in the gun’s dead angle, he could finish the wounded one with impunity before the big show. The exosuits they used meant the grenades he had were out of the question, as much as he would’ve loved to chuck a smoke int the truck and let the guy stew, the situation called for something faster. With the two others now turning to him, he he flung the left passenger door open, something that took some effort usually made trivially easy by the exosuit, and unceremoniously emptied the rest of the magazine across the passenger seats, reasoning the turret operator had to be disabled, not necessarily dead. But that left him facing the two with an empty weapon.

Skye came back down on the other side of the bank, rolling out and blasting one of the men without the exo with her MG3 as she came back down off the part above the sunken road with just a satisfying drop, then slamming into the other like a sack of potatoes, punching the man hard in the head with a satisfying twack. She looked up like a rabbit in the literal headlights of the MRAP, exhaling hard, the MG3’s barrel cooking hot from the moment to moment, as she nodded to him silently, taking a breath back and walking with an intent back towards the MRAP. The Cougar was a 6x6 variant, an odd one to have somehow driven onto the island, but was clearly one of the more tooled variants that Artemis was trying to use.

“We make a team. Even held a door for me. Alright. Keep the wheel. I’ll get on the weapon. Looks like we have room on the back for the two to clamber into so we can make a pickup, albeit like a sandwich. Mind you, that’s like loading a tonne….we’ll see how we get on.” Skye retorted, dragging out the dead driver outside, and the gunner too whilst at it, manning an RCWS platform, a remote weapons station with an old-school M2 .50 hooked up to it. She shut the door in, the exo-clad form of Skye very cramped in the seat yet able to network into the device, using the joystick and haptic of her exo’s PDA in sync. The Scot would normally drive, but in this instance, knew the Cameroonian had his talent in that.

He expected he’d need to argue about not sitting in half a dead merc. ”Minor teething problems.” He allowed himself a rare moment of levity in such a situation as he swapped out the magazine, having been about to use the door as a shield. Maybe now that he was working for rich people with R&D, he could inquire about 30 round drums that worked. Not even an hour on the job and he was already making a shopping list. ”Let the team know we’re coming under enemy colors.” That wasn’t an accident he wanted to be a part of.

“Aye, I’ll agree on that. Smells bloody horrible here. Don’t want to add to that. Alright, all yours.” Skye called back, and with that, knew that Ebrima would be taking them down the road going back to the fire- the outline of Freya and Oliver soon to be seen, as she checked comms one more time.
“Frigga, Nord, we’re coming to you now in a commandeered MRAP. I’ll pop the door and lay fire out with the MG but you need to get the fuck in, stat.” Skye called, checking the area with the RCWS turret, the sound of gunfire calming down indeed suggesting that they’d at least held a wave for the moment being. It was a rare drop away, but there could be plenty more, and it sounded like Sam’s team had fought through hell to get to the exfil. Now they’d just have to join....no time to put the stereo on, but if there was anything playing, it sounded like Supremacy by Muse. Brooding, dark, deep. The way the Scot liked her rock music.

With gunfire coming in, Skye turned the turret and tried to pick up the angle, clapping a few troops further down the bare green hill, the plasma coating the retreat but giving Skye the chance to paste everyone else. The .50 barked, clapping out shell casings onto roof, as Skye kept up the fire till it could no more, the heavies closer, and closer.
"Hold here, I've got this." Skye called, leaping out, giving a wave, seeing the scorched look on Freya and the battering of Tiny Nord. They'd taken some hits alright, but thrown it back.
"Alright, get the fuck in!" Skye called, the twin doors at the back open, and able to fit the two inside the tight space, as with it, Skye banged the stock of the MG3 into the side of the wall, indicating once they were in, they were gone. She clambered back into the gunner's seat once more and started firing out rounds, lacing another buggy down the bottom, a few 40mm grenades blasting the hill around them too as she hoped this was it. They'd need to get to the runway and the boat there, and get going from that.

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

Very, very nice! Glad to have you on board @Starlance, post into characters and I'll have a play with how I can introduce him. One of the most unique characters I've seen in an RP for a very long time too- a very interesting origin for sure.