FourtyTwo

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller) INTEREST CHECK

I'll count you in! OOC starts maybe tomorrow!

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller) INTEREST CHECK

@LadyAmber

Nice, good to have you in Amber :)

@TruthHurts

Hehe, excellent! I like the sound of it already, and it sort of is a pun, so extra points!

All I'll give about my two are (and there are a lot of S's here)

Starving Shapeshifter (WIP)
Scout Sniper Seer

Both are much less classic wizard/witch as I wanted to leave that ground to everyone else, but have a few features of some bits of the TBW world I really wanted to play with, and should feed into any characters you bring in :)

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller) INTEREST CHECK

@BigPapaBelial

A vet in the game, absolutely keen to have you in!

@Starlance

The primary cultural consultant to the RP, I know you'd be keen, so welcome!

@TruthHurts

A pleasure to have you on board! This is a love letter to it, so if you know the source material, it'll feel natural. I think I see where you're going with your idea, excited to see how that plays out :)

OOC to come probably later in the week :)

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller) INTEREST CHECK

An imminent threat requires an immediate response.

Baba Yaga is on the loose in a post-Communist arms bazaar with a weapon like no other.

In the hands of a rogue actor, it could spell disaster for the world.

Enter a legendary team of black ops, intelligence-agency picked, elite special forces soldiers. Tier One casters. The best of the best.

Physically proven, mentally resilient, and with more firepower and mana than anyone else in the game.

They’re conditioned to come from the shadows. Fall from the sky, watch, wait, and pounce. Turn chaos into order. Turn bad actors into nil factors.

You’ll never see them coming. You’ll never see them leave. You’ll never see them blast the light out of your eyes.

This is Fireteam Rav.....wait, fuck, sorry, wrong team, wrong story,...we've done this one already!

Then who did you mean?

Oh, shit, sorry, I meant this team. Fireteam Hex.

A roughly assembled fireteam in a bar at the The World’s End in rural Polavia, this, this particular band of unemployed, questionably sober, unlucky mercs is it.

A bunch of redundancy package having ex-Reactor PMC operators in various states of stupor. Drinking away their last paycheck. Another shot of vodka, and wait for all this to blow over.

And in a bad place, at a bad time....they're the best we've got against a world ending threat.

And they might not even have time to get sober.

(Please don’t narrate the entire thing in stage directions, that would be shit and cheap. Anyway, all Slice of Life RPs have done that already, and the GM is going to actually go postal if he has to keep this fourth-wall stuff up all RP, that would be mental!)

Fair.

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Welcome to Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex.

It’s the first RP I’ve span out of a more formal lore like-for-like (not that you need to know literally anything about it!), from the excellent indie title of the same name. A military, modern-fantasy RP that has tongue firmly in cheek with comedy, and continues to roll on the rule of cool and sarcastic social commentary that great, long-standing RPs like Raven Squad have established.

Never heard of TBW, but you’re still interested by the concept of a modern fantasy, military-thriller RP? Not really a fantasy person, but love military, or normally don't go for modern settings, but love a bit of fantasy?

You don’t need to know anything about it as I’ll explain below in this Interest Check, and by the end, you'll be armed with everything you want to know.

Because there’s only one condition if you’re keen on this RP.

Do you find the below images funny and / or intriguing?

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

If yes, this RP is absolutely your jam.

If not, then….sorry you read this far? I can’t do refunds for time, apologies!

So, with that in mind, welcome to a comedy, military, modern slightly Slavic fantasy RP that is basically just that. This is a very silly idea played half seriously, and is highly quippy, and inspired by not just that game, but many other influences you’ll probably roll your eyes at. You play wizards, witches, warlocks, mages, necromancers, all sorts that basically bring magic into special forces grade mercenary wet work. Gameplay is a standard play-by post format, and works on reacting to posts, while I'll drive the spine of the RP forward, and the villains you face.

It starts with world building (the overall vibe of the world, and what I'm aiming for- think of it as a vision statement), then onto how your character got to the position above (with some wiggle room), how the Arcane works in this setting, a bit on comedy, how your characters might look when it comes to the OOC and then IC, and finally, some ground rules. If you're interested, drop me a PM or message below!

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The World Building:

Right, Tactical Breach Wizards’ (TBW) world is a Modern Fantasy setting, with emphasis highly on the “Modern” part, in an alternative world. This isn’t, and I stress this, an RP that is Magic-First, it’s very much an RP that should, and needs to feel tangible with the magic as a comical afterthought. It’s a world that feels, looks, sounds and smells like ours though, because for the most part, magic is rare, not prominent, and doesn’t run anything. It’s often not that useful. Tech might be a little bit more advanced, but for the most part, it’s 2025. Planes, internet, phones, awful social media, cars, skyscrapers, politics, punk fashion, EDM, non-alcoholic IPA, all of that lovely stuff. This means that while tongue-in-cheek references might be made, for the most part, magic isn’t really talked about, or used by most, so instead, we have all the miserable problems of a modern world with corporate interests and crooked politicians.

It is for all intents and purposes, a modern world. That means relevant to us militarily, tanks, fighter jets, rifles made of composite, kevlar and titanium body armour, maybe a few little bits of some more extravagant and fanciful tech here and there to spice it up, but honestly, it’s close enough. Magic hasn't changed anything fundamentally in how our world operates, bar a few funny little exceptions that pop up here and there that we'll cross when we get there.

The setting, as a variant from TBW’s mostly western and Middle East-set world, is a homage to Eastern European settings like The Witcher, Kingdom Come Deliverance, Stalker, and basically no end of Central / Eastern European folk and stories. Your character is probably gonna be more western, mind, and there will be trips to other countries, but focuses on a new country, that has distinctly janky, post-Soviet feeling structures in a modern fantasy. You should feel like a foreigner- but of course, I'll always listen to characters with a pitch that links to Polavia, but bear in mind- as an Eastern European with a sort of worldbuilding specialist onboard who is also Eastern European, we'll secretly judge ;)

Polavia shares a lot with the rest, but it's Eastern Europe in a specifically vague time. That means Ladas, the remains of Communism, the wreck of shock-Capitalism, gulags, nuclear reactors, dense woods, more corruption than you can shake a stick at, and a world that for mercenaries like you, is your bastion.

The magic bit though is a bit more complex. We will explain that later.

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Right. That's the world, and while there is some more actual lore, history, stuff going on, I will skate over that. For now, we'll play it down what you were specifically into, as geopolitics, much like the real world, is incredibly fluid and messy and far too much hassle to summarise (for now). How did you get to a rural tavern in Polavia drinking with toothless yokels?

A Shared History Of How Your Character Got to the Above: The P45, or your blood-stained 401k Redundancy Package to Current Day:

Your character, let's just say "you", generally, were an ex-operator of a Private Military Company, called “Reactor”. Like our world’s Blackwater, but somehow, more evil. Maybe not like Wagner PMC though, I mean, you’re not drinking Rakja with Satan himself, fuck, you’re not THAT bad, unless you were just really good at hiding it. Most in the rank and file are just normal operatives, with a bit of something about them, a lack of morals, or just an insatiable greed for hourly contractor rates, but….not you.

You got paid more than others in your discipline, motherfucker.

Reactor Private Security Services Limited, with the tagline of “Special Defense Solutions” were hired by anyone, and everyone to do peacekeeping and private security work. Keep guns pointed at bad people so good people could go about their days. Nothing like privatised defense in third world countries, even in the first world. A D.S.R based company, they’re a magnet for people who can shoot first, ask many paperwork questions later, given the undercut they make on larger militaries and security forces worldwide.

Before choosing a significantly better financial package due to…reasons, you were probably a police officer, an elite soldier, or even just a lifetime soldier of fortune. Reactor promised, then made sure the medical benefits were great, the pension was amazing, hell, even the work balance was significantly better than your old job. It was a really good place to be.

Well, if you ignore the rumours of mercs in tubes being force-fed Mana and turned into chronomancer-like supersoldiers with cancer (we’ll get there later) to try and even emulate your craft. And the fact the CEO actively did not pay interest to local politics and thus justified an armed mercenary group’s presence wherever he deemed fit, with “shareholder value” in mind, to say the least, those bits weren’t so…fragrant. And they didn’t keep up pay with inflation. And shore leave got interrupted with overtime. But you didn’t say no. You had a….thing? Other half? Family? Something else?

You were pretty good at what you did, bringing your little slice of crafty magic to a fireteam that was otherwise dryer than plasterboard. You killed people. Incapacitated a lot more. And probably, built your little nest egg somewhere you’d like to go back to.

Fuckin A'.

It WAS a really good place to work, mind you.

After a series of events that led to Reactor PMC being “financially insolvent” in the last few months due to…..events like the CEO getting impaled by a poisonous vine in an “accident” and a massive venture in Medil that went badly wrong and left dozens of your colleagues dead in the midst of a civil war with Reactor chasing Mana like some cartel would, you’re wondering if you’re maybe in the shit. You might, or might not have been there when it all went bad- Reactor was driven out by the locals, and it all went badly wrong, despite your seemingly overwhelming advantage against the rebels.....things went south. But you survived that to your performance review.

So due to some not so hush-hush discussions stemming from “poor performance”, they’ve had to make a lot of “hard business decisions”, something about “optimising our team”. You might have been good, but you weren’t “core to the business” or some increasingly corporate bullshit that irrespective of how good, or bad you were, happened to you.

All of that’s code for, you were made involuntarily redundant. An ex-something, made ex-mercenary, and given a fat stack of cash, and told to go away. Not make too much fuss and leave. And it’s not like the economy globally is good either. Who’s going to hire an ex-mercenary who’s talents are seeing the future or something like that? You can’t exactly keep yourself entertained flipping burgers when you’re flipping targets.

Oh, and as it turns out, due to Reactor’s activities being now illicit in at least four different countries, you’re now wanted for questioning by just about all of them.

For war crimes.

Not a great start to unemployment, but hey, could be worse. You didn’t actually do them. Defenetration definitely doesn’t count, right? And, you’re breathing, so that’s not too bad. And have a craft that might be handy, too.

But if someone finds out you worked at Reactor, again, you’re going to be asked questions at a tribunal with little hope of being able to afford a solicitor when your bank assets are frozen.

Your last day at Reactor was a week ago, but because of how it all went down, you ran away with your gun, all of your vessels and channels you could carry, and ended up in Polavia, hoping to lie low. (How you did this, I mean, it’s up to you, I’m not going to hold your hand here in international smuggling, use your imagination!).

Ah, Polavia. Land of milk and honey for ex-mercenaries and adventure capitalists, right? And maybe get a fake passport, let this blow over, get your cash out, back to whatever that thing was that you said you loved.

Something like what a friend said on what to do in this situation.

Even if you don’t drink, you have to admit, they have a point.

So, naturally, we start at the end of quite a shit week. The bottom of the (beer) barrel (or non-alcoholic Liquid Death can) is upon you.

And like literally any stereotype of Dungeons and Dragons, of course you’re going to meet other unemployed mercenaries with little to lose in a bar with you.

Like any great adventure would ever start.

You have something in common. A past you ran from. A collective agreement you want to go back. Or at least, not be a fugitive.

It's worth saying, this means you don't start as the "good guys". You're sort of morally grey, and like any great party, anti-heroes!

That said, even that idea of being an anti-hero in a world of cash, AKs and mana isn’t going to last you.

Because you and your new fireteam, are maybe all that is left against a threat even greater than you could have ever imagined.

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Right, enough of how you got to that bar, time we finally do the magic and explain that bit! I'm not used to writing it as a GM, so go gentle, so this works off a system formed from the world of TBW more than anything else, and then fills in blanks wherever we can. It isn't always going to be systemic, but generally, *tries* to be where it can.

Explain the Arcane:

Magic in this world works a little differently than just being able to cast fireballs on poor bastards. You have plenty more up your sleeve than that, yet limitations.

We'll go into main sections- how your character wields it, their main attached trait, bits that help / add to it, and bits that allow them to point it at mostly bad people who are drunk.

Casters

People who can use magic in combat are typically called “Casters”. Because you know. They…cast things that aren't exactly bullets. And they don’t catch fish in the process.

Those Casters, individuals with inherent magical ability are usually locked up by the government, or gently convinced to serve in the Armed Forces or straight up killed…..or find work in criminal gangs or cartels…and/or, maybe if they’re lucky enough, able to keep it to themselves. And mildly annoy people with it in society without causing too much fuss. Pick how much your state of origin polices it, but most strike a balance between acceptance, anarchy and beating you to death over it, with Casters serving time in the military, before leaving with a nice retirement that comes with a bespoke set of skills. Talents like those are far, far too good to pass up, so, if you Cast, you likely know how it goes. You could be an incredible detective, a really good surgeon for billionaires, even just a great contract killer, or Street Mana dealer. A very particular set of skills can make you a bit extra.

As such, magic isn’t some “well spread” or understood thing, even if society has it in the background. A lot of it is vibes, with broadly understood undertones like how a Vessel might work, or a Channel holds power, yet it makes about as much sense to most as quantum physics.

While punks in the street might take straight up “Mana” (luminescent glowing blue powder), maybe cut it with cocaine or ketamine to get “Street Mana”, making them believe you’re able to run through a wall, it doesn’t really come the same as actually being activated, because….well it doesn’t really work at all. Like how cocaine might make you chat bare, mana is that special sauce that for most, doesn’t do anything. Actual mana, the kind that’s inside you if you’ve got this ability to cast, actually makes you capable of doing the arcane for real.

So, the remarkably few that even have magical abilities are rather useful to those who might need them. And when I say few, I mean, we’re talking, maybe thousands, in a world of billions. If you have it, and are up against other people with a gun, you almost certainly are the only person in a room with that power, so keep in mind- you're sort of a weird, poorly understood operator. Like I dunno, Airborne Pararescue, people in the Coastguard, the guys who do JTAC, you mysteriously make really crazy shit happen.

Wow, how special.

And in a fight, nobody cares if you can spit fire when they’re casting lead at you. Your bullshit opinon on power doesn’t make you immune to reality.

Best keep your options open, yeah?

Oh, and one last thing. It’s called bullshit by some. When you realise what it can do, it sort of is.

CRAFT (BULLSHIT)

Your Wizard, or Witch (or Warlock, idk) has a “Craft”. This is your main, signature ability. The ability to shapeshift into a Lion? The ability to see seconds into the future? The ability to reverse mistakes you just made? Peel concrete from walls to create walls of temporary cover?

CRITICALLY, you got this craft because you NEEDED IT, not because you would “like” to have it as an ability. You didn’t choose this. It happened to you. It might tie to you by coincidence, might have been something you ran into, but probably, it’s a chance that your chraacter is now very much defined by this.

This means historically, something traumatic, or serious happened to your character that forced that “emergence” in you that might have otherwise killed, or seriously injured you. The degree of which it did that to you, is likely to play proportionately to how strong it is.

Craft is, however, the core of your character’s gameplay. It’s what makes them who they are, and likely, spirals the rest of your character out. It is likely that this is the core of your domain, and your personal journey. Saw a bomb that was going to cut off and cut a wire and might have seen it was the wrong one? Congrats, you have the power of foresight, you can see into the future, and you likely will have had to tame that, because no craft comes with no consequences.

It’s incredibly tough to tame. Headaches, hurt, all of it comes with taming being able to do something that bends the laws of physics, let alone chronology. It can flutter, fluctuate, and go all over the place, and requires work- work you have likely put in. It’s still really not perfect either. But through training (most of which is military), you can harness craft into a power that elevates your magical ability into something tactically critical. It’s a hell of a lot easier to charge a room when you can see every consequence. Or set everyone inside on fire, burning up their insides before you even fire a gun at them.

But as I say, consequences.

Please give it a funny turn. A shapeshifter that can only turn into a lion when starving? A pyromancer that can only produce flame that’s hot, but not really like napalm? A seer that can’t control how far ahead they can see in dreams, or through concrete? Able to switch places with enemies, but getting flooded by their inner monologue?

Not a debilitating “nerf”, but it’s something that means your Craft comes with an issue. The more powerful the Craft, the more serious your issue. The less powerful, like simply just being able to chain bolt lightning at people, means you’ll rely on a variety of other tricks, more diverse than singular, to survive but won’t have the same effect as someone who really fucks with it to a point where it is almost game-breaking, but will break them in turn. This is likely to be a recurring theme, and will, and your craft will also interfere with others, as well as your personal items. So your craft WILL, have an impact on other players in this RP. (Yeah, see this is the clever bit). Which we’ll get to.

Craft is sometimes derogatorily called “Bullshit” by many without it, particularly the very strong stuff. A very strong Crafter’s talent, if worked upon, is seen by even other crafters as “Bullshit”! Chronomancers seem to usually fit that mould because it really can’t be countered directly without a lot of effort.

It's a nasty term, so why then use the phrase, bullshit?

You ever seen someone turn into a Lion and maul someone to death in a firefight?

Or someone else see every option in a room before breaching?

In a modern setting with an AK-103 in hand, to pin each hostile in there before you've breached?

That’s the power of some absolute bullshit.

VESSELS

A vessel is an item that lets you do something different to your “main” Craft.

Typically, an operator might carry around dogtags, or an item in which their “Craft” is left behind on from another operator with magical abilities. Or you might carry a skull that was them. Or a neckerchief. Or, I don’t know, a smart watch they had? Basically, it’s something that gives your magical power another dimension.

A good Caster, who’s experienced in their particular trade knows what to have. A witch can’t go without a broom and the ability to carry some newt bones. Or an illusionist might find beyond making copies of themselves, they might like to go invisible via some eldritch powers. These are your "extras", the bits you get to have on top of your craft (which makes you more than just some guy in a wizard hat, and actually a multi-dimensional (optional) operative.

This might mean, say, someone who’s really good at transfiguration might have left a slice of what they can do, on the item. This doesn’t work in an “additive” method- it doesn’t stay with you, it stays with the item. But you can stack these. So if you’re a Wizard-seer who can see into the future, you can also create copies of yourself with a transfiguration, and use BOTH abilities to really fuck with people. It also means this could be transferred to someone, in a pinch, but the longer it stays with you, the better you are at using it.

Vessels tend to work best with those who have a Craft. While non-Craft users could use a vessel (Chapel have used this to make shields for riot policing that give non-mana users the ability to lock down areas), it’s usually not something that can be really used by someone without knowledge or instruction because it's so fucking hard.

Keep this in mind. It means that in the RP, dependent on bonds, you can give others your power, or at least, a slice of it. They can use this to an effect. But that bond relies on trust, and that object being given, and then, you get a slice into your fellow Wizard's ability. Want to send people to an eldritch gateway? While carrying around a pump-action shotgun? You can now make a portal wherever you want.

CHANNELS

A channel is what can be used to enhance or improve your character’s Craft, or otherwise, direct it. Channels take on many different types, but for most special forces operatives or mercs of your kind, that consists of their service weapon. And through DIY, or actually gunsmithed method, the staff, bullets, attachments or something else on it. Though want to fire bolts of lightning or energy at people and need something lighter? A wand might be handy for that with a pistol grip. You might want to put a sound suppressor on it though….alternatively, there’s other methods, depending on just what it is you do. A full-blown rifle might not be for everyone.

Confusingly - Vessels and Channels can be one and the same, or separate entirely. Some channels may direct your character’s natural ability, others are items you’ll use that are standalone. A rifle with a staff embedded in it that spits lightning? With the right ammo from a alchemist come gunsmith, that’s a channel, but if you’re already able to cast lightening bolts from a wand or short staff? That’s a war crime!

Channels can be used by those who have a Craft only.

FIREARMS AND COUNTER-BULLSHIT

Also, there are just guns.

To keep things simple, real-world, actual firearms. Use real ones (even if anachronistic) because this makes it easier to visualise, and well, they take on all their usual traits. Pick the guns that fit your class, a sniper carries....a sniper rifle, a pointman a shorter-barrelled rifle, a support specialist a light machine gun of some sort.

We're talking guns that you can load with 7.62 x 51mm and will, and if your target isn’t a freak, is going to likely kill them if you get a round o ntarget. You probably have a rifle, a pistol, or something to go alongside your usual loadout of a staff, wand, or whatever it is you use to inflict maximum blattage on some poor Polavian’s skull. Though if you bring RPG-7, I swear, you're actually getting punched in the face, but sure, why not

It’s not a bad idea to keep a weapon and it’s not hard to get one either. You’re in a post-Communist Eastern Bloc country with western, eastern and more guns than you could shake a stick at. The price of an AK is about that of a loaf of bread. And I mean, genuinely, at a gun market, you can pick basically anything you want, even Western stuff has started to hit the market and while pricier, it’s still comically cheap. The Polavian Police have struggled in their shift from a hardened paramilitary to a regular police, so finding an arms dealer is about as easy as buying a loaf of bread. This isn't an RP where I'm going to make you play some economy, you decide how much cash you have, or need to beg, borrow, steal for, and can actually afford that you realistically think you can get.

Point is, you’ll probably still want to carry a firearm, but you might be loading it with rounds that may, or may not, be magically affected. There are literally no ends of people who want you dead, so, maybe pack some heat given you’re a relatively talented mercenary who knows how to use a gun alongside spitting literal fire.

Most non-craft having people know if they're up against you their odds if they don’t have a craft of their own, and therefore, are willing to pack more heat than you’d like. Bullets will kill you. They wear armour, some maybe even more, and are enjoying the trade in mana and creatine-based enhancement activities (also known as the gym). So they'll take as much as they can carry. They might also bring fixed countermeasures to your Craft. Wards hooked up to EMP generators make some really scary counter tools that will strip you of your craft and leave you dependent on wits and a killer headache. They really aren't playing when they know you're en route. When they don't, well, hunting season?

Your bullshit is bullshit, but they’re catching on.

Other Arcane Tools

There isn’t just Craft, there are other magic-y, stuff. Usually, badly understood, but here are the main ones you need to know about.

Glyphs. These can be one-time use items, to teleport you out of a hot zone to a previous marker (Extraction Glyph), or everyone’s favourite, a Breach Glyph. Drawn on a door, it opens you up. About the same as about a few hundred grams of plastic explosive. They’re individually quite weak, but situationally, incredibly powerful. Usually your supply is limited to how much mana-enabled ink you have, and any good operator knows how to use it sparingly, given it isn’t usually for combat, but in support of said work.

Spells also exist, typically restricted to alchemists, witches and those who know how to fuck with a cauldron. Blood tracking, noxious smoke, are all features your favourite trackers, scouts and specialists might have access to that aren’t quite a glyph, craft or channel. These are usually something extremely specific, and should, and would tie into your general character’s aesthetic, usually bolstered by using grenades and the like.

You could just also throw non-arcane stuff. I dunno, throw drugs at people to disorient them, flashbangs, regular fragmentation grenades, knives and daggers too. Smoke bombs, especially with a smoke-o-caster (is that a thing? Smoke Witch maybe?) have the potential raise all hell, so they might even just be a channel for you too.

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Arcane stuff is maybe not as simple as "witch cast spell", but, it is at least a good framework for the reason, the items, and how you do what you wouldn't like unto others. The countries on the other world put all of that in context in how they exist as modern, or not so modern states around a large central ocean.

Countries of the World

This RP, in an alternate-world to our own, focuses on countries not quite like ours- but also, close in feel to ours that they should have analogues.

The Republic of Polavia

An ex-communist, newly capitalist, absolutely Eastern European ripped off country far across the warm Illyrian Sea south of Medil (to be explained shortly), Polavia really is the tinderbox for an ex-mercenary like you to end up in.

The way you know things changed is that the national anthem sounds significantly less like you want to depose rich people than it did once.

And weirdly, it still sounds like there are accordions.....

Also, lots of people who want to smuggle guns, drugs, WMDs, vodka, mana and bootleg DVDs, and usually, are involved in two or three, maybe all six illicit activities at the same time, if not more that you could dream of. The Scarlet Revolution turned this country from having the last remaining CCP this hemisphere has had into a democracy where everything’s for sale and nothing is apparently nailed down. Everyone had nothing, now, they’re finding out they can have more nothing, while others can make so much money it’s untrue. If there was a God, the last regime killed him, and the new one’s selling whatever organs he had left in his carcass to anyone who’s buying, but it isn't all gloom and doom. It's on the up, just, not everyone is seeing that yet.

The flag is a blue, white and yellow tricolour, with a Stag, the nation’s animal of pride, in (rampant, yet) dead centre.



Welcome to something Balkan, Baltic and Slavic, but despite all the magic in the world, it’s anything but a magical place. Imagine Yugoslavia, Poland, the Czech Republic and a bit of the old Soviet Union mashed together in a Ukraine-sized package, still feeling like it’s maybe in modern times, sometimes like it hasn’t changed since the early 90s.

Bordered by the Samiya Republic to the north-west only via a thin sandy isthmus at the border village of Yelen, Polavia is accessible generally by ferry or via air travel.



With a shore on the Illyrian Sea to the north-west that features beautiful rocky cliffs and golden sand beaches with turquoise water and resort hotels, it looks to the world quite pretty. To the east, a rocky, cliff-strewn shore hides long sandy beaches and very little beyond sleepy old farms on the Eastern Sea.



Polavia's second city on the north-eastern coast, Královec, is an important warm water harbour with the Druid Mafia’s Slavic cousins, the….uhh, it’s just the Druid Albani, taking a firm hold on the important import-export business in the once disputed independent city-state. They’ve turned selling cocaine into basically the main reason why the local construction industry builds so many villas out of the old Communist dachas, and are better run than most businesses in the “West” in how fast they’ll sell you a brick of mana-enfused drugs. There's law, there's order, but there's plenty of coke on order. It's a beautiful, medieval city, but it is also, full of tourists from the DSR trying to score Mana in this new world we are in given the above. There's a whorehouse on every corner, it's like Amsterdam with even more sleaze, outside of the golden coast, and is the face of the country beyond where actual business is done.



That coastline facade hides a deep, dark forested inland with mountains and hills that feel straight up from the Witcher. Hills and rivers, of which hide villages of drunk yokels and endless amounts of weapons dumps, vodka factories, abandoned nuclear power stations, strange looking huts in the woods with copious amounts of mana-infused magic mushrooms, former Polavian Security Apparatus blacksites…the interior of Polavia is not your usual countryside. People here think electricity is magic. Let alone a flatscreen LCD TV. You kinda seem normal here, motherfucker!



The main bit of civilization, with museums, culture, banking, everything like that, can be found in the capital, Novi Jork. Split by the Tala River in the shadow of the nation’s tallest mountain of Lysy, the city is undergoing renovation. It’s currently not sure if it’s a beautiful Medieval castle city (Stari Jork), a Brutalist concrete jungle with bloc architecture (Novi Grad), or a modern, glass-fronted financial hub bringing in DSR companies and money (Zloty Targ). It's sort of unsure, but basically, somewhere like Warsaw or Prague between 1991 and 2025 is about right.



Beyond the Carpaty Mountains that divide the land like a knife with jagged Dolomite-like rock and cracking dams and more Security Apparatus prisons, the “Pusty” coastline to the south, on the Antarctic Sea, is frozen cold with abandoned mining towns including Yarrow, a former radium and nickel refinery.



Like a tundra meets the Arctic- imagine way fewer Canadians, and way more drunk ex-Polavian Navy people who couldn't afford to leave and are locked into hazardous, horrid jobs working in freezing cold, toxic-air having shitholes. It thaws over every now and then for oil tankers and other bulkers to extract the mineral riches of the frozen south- and is littered with the old regime’s warships and rotting nuclear subs, as well as oil spills and squalor. Not on the tourist brochure, because it’s an absolute shithole.



A state in flux, Polavia feels distinctly Slavic, and you are a foreigner in a land far from wherever you called home. There’s order one place you look, drunk uncles in the other. You could call it paradise. Sometimes when you squint, it's a fairytale place, where the joke about huts made of butter and monsters in the dark forests seems true. You could call it purgatory, because those forests contain more toxic waste dumps and doomsday bunkers that you do not want to know about. Either way, it’s where you are right now.

Speaking of home, what about the other countries in the region you likely came in from?

Other Countries:

The main countries you need to know about are:

The D.S.R: A temperate, sub-continent sized state, the DSR has been the long-standing power of the region and a superpower militarily, as well as economically, producing the vast amount of media, manufacturing and people smoking dubious weed-filled Mana joints on street corners. Feels a bit like the United Kingdom or United States of America, to be honest, with rolling hills, a long coastline and lots of cool, cosmopolitan cities. (Even the police look like they’re British, and it rains a lot). A high-tech, highly advanced economy, the DSR is a bastion of culture, economy, productivity, high tech industry and quaint farmland, this is Tolkien-spec Shire with high rises, skyscrapers and motorways mixed in peaceful countryside.

The Republic of Liboli: A notionally “free” democracy, Liboli gives off the vibe of going on a holiday to a Mediterranean country, the state is also “notional” and it feels like most mercenaries love it, sketchy Blacksites included too. The state has a hand on most things in cities and big population centres, but there is a lot of desert, lemon groves and old dusty mountains that don’t get any overreach. Imagine a blend between southern Spain and northern Morocco, and you’re about right, with a desert and dry mountains inland and a Mediterranean coast with cute little villages with most people drinking in Tabernas. A great place to retire, really.

The Holy Nation of Kalan: An isolationist theocracy run by “Chapel” that will take too long to explain in full, but….well, they’re nutters, basically. North Korea meets the Vatican, with an actual religion where those who connect with their ancestors voices are finding that noise shattered by brutal theocratic authoritarianism. In all the worst ways. A ban on any “Craft”, with a belief that nobody like that could even exist having it means they repress and force people into the cult-like, repressive beliefs that only Chapel do have the means to Craft itself. Forcibly. Riot Priests in armour and with smoke flails convinced they have vessels bestowed upon them quell dissent (even if many truly are just pumped up bootlickers with no power at all behind the plexiglass)- but currently, the civil war between the Chapel forces and the Resistance is tearing that idea apart, and it’s a warzone. A peninsula that looks a lot like a tooth, the climate is halfway between Liboli and the DSR, a bit like northern France, with gothic-like church-inspired architecture and dark, dingy, industrial cities. A real shithole, with Kalan’s industrial relics and civil war being a terrible place for anyone, civilian or merc, considering the complications.

Republic of Medil: A small, thin strip-like island nation, Medil has a near perennially snowy inland area with tall, volcanic mountains and a thin coastline that supports agriculture and mining in the south, and the Druid Mafia’s activities in the north. They seem to harass the Jodassa Strait, like actually competent Somali pirates. Recently having re-asserted their council-formed democratic government, thousands in Medil are missing in the aftermath of a bloody Reactor-led invasion that has since turned tail and is the reason for your recent unemployment. Imagine New Zealand, or Chile. The teeny island chain of “The Breaks” is a quasi-independent area that feels more like the Caribbean states of St Lucia and Barbados, a holiday paradise meets banking hub, mostly impenetrable due to a cluster of active, nasty volcanoes, including Mount Doombar, which has been in constant eruption for at least the last hundred years.

Samiya Republic: A recently devolved nation that borders the DSR, it’s a bit of a backwater, with plains, corn, and very little else. Think Oklahoma, Iowa and maybe the more bland bits of Texas, rolled into one, it always feels like the “little brother” to the DSR’s teeming nature. Corn farms, lead paint factories, and weird roadside attractions in every small town.

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That's the specific nations in a nutshell! Onto a stranger note- this RP's definitely a bit more tongue in cheek, so I wanted to put a little time into how that might come about, not exactly a requirement, but it might put you in the "ethos" of where this RP goes for comic value.

Writing Comedy:

This RP is incredibly tongue in cheek. If you haven’t noticed, this RP doesn’t take itself too seriously, because wizards wearing Oakleys and tactical robes in MARPAT sand with assault M4s with a staff in it are….well, look, not going to work out that way. This isn't a die hard serious RP, and isn't dying for seriousness, even if some of the feeling of firefights have a tinge of it- think classic Pink Panther, high stakes, high comedy.

The main rule is to not take things too seriously without being completely stupid. If you can make me and the other players laugh, you have succeeded. That doesn’t mean slapstick, unless you really, really know how to make that work. Humour here is dry, witty, quippy, absurd sarcastic, and generally, all sorts of vile, dark, plays on magic in a modern fantasy, yet sometimes mundane setting. A very British or Eastern European sense, it's all about punching up, and then all over when drunk. This RP thrives on your character not just being able to cast, but having their own taste of comedy. My characters tend to play it down the middle- yours might not. This means while I won’t always prompt you to be funny, I will entertain it and that’s where the beauty of this RP comes in.

There are moments which will be dead serious, and you can giggle like you’re at a funeral.

There are moments that will be comic, yet will be highly charged, emotional and will likely be quite visceral and will come with drama and stakes that will, and are going to affect your character. They’re still a person, just in a bit of an absurd setting, and the absurdity itself is where the comedy comes in.

I try not to pull punches, and therefore, whilst light in tone, the characters, their struggles, and what being a magician does to them. It’s a dumb action thriller, with quips and all.

For inspiration, a lot of British comedy, as well as other international sources have been used as a baseline. It's an RP with wizards carrying Steyr AUGs in it!

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Right, laughs played up, onto how characters come together in this world- and how you are set to make them!

Character Creation Station

How your character works based on the above, and the character sheet.

Setup your Character:

Your character needs to be described in three words or less as a “headline”. See this as their “tag”- this is how I perceive your character as a GM (and also, focusses your character’s ability into a condensed point).

The funnier, the better. For example, “Navy Seer” works nicely because a good pun is always going to be funny if it’s military themed and somewhat magic-y. Your GM will appreciate this.You don’t have to be funny, but so long as it’s a summary of it in three words, I’ll know what I’m managing in a fashion totally not stolen from Dungeons and Dragons.

For example:

“Rogue Storm Witch”
“Elemental Breacher”
“Druid Assassin”

And some others I brainstormed:
“Bloodmage Medic”
“Wardbreaking Specialist”
“Witch Sniper”
“Illusionist Trickster”
“Engineer Warlock”
“Fire Support Mage”

It also means how your character looks or might be stems out of it. A “Navy Seer” is of course, decked out in Tier One operator fashion, digital camo robes, yet keeps a Wizard’s hat, because remember- we’re still playing in a reality that means it should….well, your character isn’t cosplaying a magician, they’re playing a mercenary that happens to be able to bolt people to floor and so therefore, seems to have bits of a magician to them. So your ability, history, and look should feel like it all fits together, perhaps three or four influences max rather than say, six or more influences. It means you get to be cool with your character and if you can’t find the art, just describe it or combine influences until you get there. Choose a pyromancer to make homebrew napalm? A gas mask, and other fire-retardant gear might be a good idea, as well as packing in armour if you really want to go all out on terror. An illusionist who thrives on stealth? Well fitting, low profile kit, night vision goggles, a few feathers of a bird of paradise for good measure. A witch who can fling kinetic shocks? Probably a classic witch’s hat, tactical cloaks, and a broom.

There aren’t any classes, but broadly, you’ll have heavier, more tactical fighting characters and lighter, more agile and cloak and dagger-style characters. Try not to make a character someone is making- declare it in OOC and it’s yours. I don’t want too many snipers, too many pyromancers, too many bog-standard wizards, but a range to provide a flavour to this RP. We can’t all be eating onions here.

The only restrictions is there are no other “races”, as broadly, your character is human (unless you’re shapeshifting, and I’m afraid as the GM I have stolen that one!). They don’t even have to be a de-facto wizard or witch (as above). The only thing I ask is that it makes sense that when bullets start flying, they can fight back. Within that realm though, go mad. A druid, a necromancer, a mage, a warlock, even just a typical Wizard with a staff and a hat or a Witch with a cat and a tactical broom. Mix and match, but I’d say keep to two to three “subclasses” at a max. Sort of like DnD, but also, not really I guess

The rule of cool truly applies, because while the Arcane is explained below, I’m not asking you any questions why a Druid has a questionable amount of houseplants that make noises, or a Witch has a broom. I mean, come on. You don’t ask a guy his salary, you don’t ask a woman her age, you don’t ask a wizard why he has a staff. You’ll have it, and I won’t ask any more questions because there’s *probably* a reason.

The only other aspect to mention is that, they’re likely proficient in firearms (to at least a moderate level), and as mentioned- they worked in Reactor, so they will know loosely of each other, or know each other already. This will help fuel the RP to begin with, and give your characters the best chance of surviving what is likely to be a long, windy adventure that will test them across Polavia and against a whole range of characters.

I’m not creative enough at current, but here’s some more ideas:
Chronomancers and Seers
Pyromancers and Alchemists
Illusionists and Mages
Druids and Diviners

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RULES

While this RP doesn't take itself seriously, we're gonna need a little here to make sure we're all on the same page. We do this, we all get to have wacky, fun characters and go for a thrill ride. If not, it sucks for everyone. Courtesy of SilverwindBlade's common rule set, please follow the following:

This is a modern to near-future fantasy setting. However, this ISN’T, and a setting hard and fast rule I have- a universe where everything else runs riot. Modern Fantasy like TBW’s setting relies on the grit of the world, and due to my want to control scope creep, given just how cool the lore of the world is, the rules of the world are generally focussed on humans and animals that I’d say are in our world. This means no dragons, unicorns, or fantastical animals, or other races including elves, dwarves (if you’re brave enough to make a joke about short people, holy hell that would be something) - it’s limiting but it’s by design to focus on specifically one type and how silly that is, rather than anything else which would distract. It’s not super futuristic either- while characters will come up against some bosses and elite characters with more fanciful and fantastical modern gear, they typically won’t do so. Treat it like the real world, and keep in mind there’s magic fluttered atop it that for now, I'll let you peek at.

Post length is expected to be Casual to Advanced- no one or two line posts, please. This means at minimum two paragraphs in a post- four or so being optimum to really flesh out your character's response and furthering of the plot. I don't prescribe a top end limit, but use your imagination on how much you can write in a single segment- if it's longer, feel free to write longer! I usually do, you do not have to!

Follow Wheaton's Law at all times. Don't be a dick- GM is God, and while this RP is very fast and loose, if you're asked to bring something into line, expect there might be good reason for it.

This RP will have adult themes, and romance is a part of that if you want it to be- however, nothing that the Gods of RPG wouldn't want on the public side when smut is concerned. If you want to go beyond, that shit goes off this RP into 1x1 if it is 18+ in any manner. Before that though, be my guest.

Equally, I have no bloody problem with a bit of fucking swearing, you bunch of cunts, but don't take it to excess, all right, fuckers?

A sense of humour is not optional. Please be good-natured and good-humoured to one another in the OOC.

Minimum post of one per week, per person. If you can't post, please mention in the OOC or drop me a PM. If it's unexpected - i.e. family emergency, your internet goes out, etc - then just let me know when you come back, and I'll catch you up. These things happen. It is not my job to chase you to post! If you're interested enough to be here in the first place, then it's up to you to post. If you're 'too lazy' to keep up, then I'm too lazy to chase your arse to get you to do it. It's a matter of manners and etiquette.

Don't talk down to people. I don't care how much knowledge of real-world weapons and systems you might have, or how much of an encyclopedia on legs you are about such things. If you're trying to be a smartarse because you've found a 'loophole', then you're not playing in the spirit of things, and you should probably leave. That's even with an admittedly loose playbook. Be kind, and the sort of person you would want to write with if you get something wrong, because nobody is perfect.

If I don't know about it, then it doesn't exist. You may have this amazing secret plot worked out for your character - but if you don't tell me about it, then it ain't happening. Because I've already got a storyline worked out, and if it doesn't fit, then it's not going in. Same with technology and whatever you 'think' it should be like- I am open to ideas, but tell me if you think it's something that makes you say "That might be too far out there".

No aliens, no anime, no high-school dramas either. Please respect the setting and keep it in mind- there's plenty of ridiculous and cool shit on offer, so play with that here- keep the other material to other RPs.

What you give, is what you get. Put in a lot into this RP, work with me in the lore, and I will make this pay off. Engage, play fair, and get to banter with your party-mates, because a great party relies on good vibes, and is for everyone, but to do that, you need to be real, be honest, not judge, and give yourself into the idea. This means if you really want to run riot, run riot and I'll basically give you the keys to do that, in that environment, with the detail you have. Within the line of the story, you have freedom to execute, react, interact, and play into the game how you want best, and I will always react to it, forcing you to change plans, and adapt. I'm investing a lot into this RP- I expect the same from players and while life gets in the way, I expect that if you're finding it hard to be interested, I prefer honesty over quiet, I really prefer being told if I'm doing something wrong than losing / tapering interest. Engagement for me is key because I will give it back for you!

That said, if you fob off the GM and other players, you will not enjoy it. If you repeatedly, refuse to engage, and want to do your own thing- go write your own thing. My RPs are self selecting, and I have a no assholes rule for that reason- I'm happy to listen to your ideas but also, don't be offended when I balance the RP for other players who also have theirs too. If you harm the fun of other players, I will also ask you to leave.

GM's word is final. I appreciate people wanting to help, but final approval for plot, lore, and characters comes from me. Though, by all means, please feel free to make suggestions and help others with ideas and information where possible, and point out if something isn't there or working when it should be, because that helps us all.

Lastly, and most critically- AI is fine for use in posts, but DO NOT post anything AI-generated that has not been flagged / marked up as such. This RP is meant to be a creative endeavour- and I don't want to see something put to generative AI tool if you can’t be bothered to write, as this hollows my reaction as a GM and will ruin yours, and other player experiences unless you make that clear that it was used in an assistive or responsible manner. Do not use generative AI text in creating your character, or writing without significant personalisation, modification and/or flagging where used. Use it for inspiration, lift stuff from it to help you describe something, use images (and tell me if so), but if it is found without reference, you will breach this rule. If this isn’t a rule you like, you can use AI to build you this RP in any generative tool, with all the detail copied into it, and you are welcome to play with it in your own time. Don’t make me, or other people who enjoy originally produced content read what you produce if it isn't your own.

One last thing- my RPs speak for themselves- I've got nearly two completed RPGs on the guild with over 15+ years of experience of RPG in the Guild, so you are getting a long term, highly-invested GM that will do the lore, hours, setup and plot that will provide you with a military-wizard-thriller-action-squatting-slav RP that exists like no other produced so far.

This an RP with at least 2.5 years + of content, and will be one that I hope that like Raven Squad, my headline military RPG before it, will provide you with many hours of entertainment. What you give, is what you will get- and as others who have written with me have seen, I will push your characters and the laughs up. There will be a Discord, so you can ping ideas across whenever you want to me and others. If you want a flavour if what that means, check these out for longevity and the flavour of such RPs:

Raven Squad (A Military, Near-Future, Over-the-Top RPG)

Delta Hyper (A Sci-Fi, Solarpunk, Semi-Random Racing RPG)

Interested? This RP hasn't got a cap on spots, but I'd like to launch it with a party of three, minimum. Post your interest in a particular character, and once I have a bit of interest, we'll launch this.

Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex (Military, Modern, Fantasy, Action-Thriller) INTEREST CHECK

An imminent threat requires an immediate response.

Baba Yaga is on the loose in a post-Communist arms bazaar with a weapon like no other.

In the hands of a rogue actor, it could spell disaster for the world.

Enter a legendary team of black ops, intelligence-agency picked, elite special forces soldiers. Tier One casters. The best of the best.

Physically proven, mentally resilient, and with more firepower and mana than anyone else in the game.

They’re conditioned to come from the shadows. Fall from the sky, watch, wait, and pounce. Turn chaos into order. Turn bad actors into nil factors.

You’ll never see them coming. You’ll never see them leave. You’ll never see them blast the light out of your eyes.

This is Fireteam Rav.....wait, fuck, sorry, wrong team, wrong story,...we've done this one already!

Then who did you mean?

Oh, shit, sorry, I meant this team. Fireteam Hex.

A roughly assembled fireteam in a bar at the The World’s End in rural Polavia, this, this particular band of unemployed, questionably sober, unlucky mercs is it.

A bunch of redundancy package having ex-Reactor PMC operators in various states of stupor. Drinking away their last paycheck. Another shot of vodka, and wait for all this to blow over.

And in a bad place, at a bad time....they're the best we've got against a world ending threat.

And they might not even have time to get sober.

(Please don’t narrate the entire thing in stage directions, that would be shit and cheap. Anyway, all Slice of Life RPs have done that already, and the GM is going to actually go postal if he has to keep this fourth-wall stuff up all RP, that would be mental!)

Fair.

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Welcome to Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex.

It’s the first RP I’ve span out of a more formal lore like-for-like (not that you need to know literally anything about it!), from the excellent indie title of the same name. A military, modern-fantasy RP that has tongue firmly in cheek with comedy, and continues to roll on the rule of cool and sarcastic social commentary that great, long-standing RPs like Raven Squad have established.

Never heard of TBW, but you’re still interested by the concept of a modern fantasy, military-thriller RP? Not really a fantasy person, but love military, or normally don't go for modern settings, but love a bit of fantasy?

You don’t need to know anything about it as I’ll explain below in this Interest Check, and by the end, you'll be armed with everything you want to know.

Because there’s only one condition if you’re keen on this RP.

Do you find the below images funny and / or intriguing?

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

If yes, this RP is absolutely your jam.

If not, then….sorry you read this far? I can’t do refunds for time, apologies!

So, with that in mind, welcome to a comedy, military, modern fantasy RP that is basically just that. This is a very silly idea played half seriously, and is highly quippy, and inspired by not just that game, but many other influences you’ll probably roll your eyes at. You play wizards, witches, warlocks, mages, necromancers, all sorts that basically bring magic into special forces grade mercenary wet work. Gameplay is a standard play-by post format, and works on reacting to posts, while I'll drive the spine of the RP forward, and the villains you face.

It starts with world building (the overall vibe of the world, and what I'm aiming for- think of it as a vision statement), then onto how your character got to the position above (with some wiggle room), how the Arcane works in this setting, a bit on comedy, how your characters might look when it comes to the OOC and then IC, and finally, some ground rules. If you're interested, drop me a PM or message below!

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The World Building:

Right, Tactical Breach Wizards’ (TBW) world is a Modern Fantasy setting, with emphasis highly on the “Modern” part, in an alternative world. This isn’t, and I stress this, an RP that is Magic-First, it’s very much an RP that should, and needs to feel tangible with the magic as a comical afterthought. It’s a world that feels, looks, sounds and smells like ours though, because for the most part, magic is rare, not prominent, and doesn’t run anything. It’s often not that useful. Tech might be a little bit more advanced, but for the most part, it’s 2025. Planes, internet, phones, awful social media, cars, skyscrapers, politics, punk fashion, EDM, non-alcoholic IPA, all of that lovely stuff. This means that while tongue-in-cheek references might be made, for the most part, magic isn’t really talked about, or used by most, so instead, we have all the miserable problems of a modern world with corporate interests and crooked politicians.

It is for all intents and purposes, a modern world. That means relevant to us militarily, tanks, fighter jets, rifles made of composite, kevlar and titanium body armour, maybe a few little bits of some more extravagant and fanciful tech here and there to spice it up, but honestly, it’s close enough. Magic hasn't changed anything fundamentally in how our world operates, bar a few funny little exceptions that pop up here and there that we'll cross when we get there.

The setting, as a variant from TBW’s mostly western and Middle East-set world, is a homage to Eastern European settings like The Witcher, Kingdom Come Deliverance, Stalker, and basically no end of Central / Eastern European folk and stories. Your character is probably gonna be more western, mind, and there will be trips to other countries, but focuses on a new country, that has distinctly janky, post-Soviet feeling structures in a modern fantasy. You should feel like a foreigner- but of course, I'll always listen to characters with a pitch that links to Polavia, but bear in mind- as an Eastern European with a sort of worldbuilding specialist onboard who is also Eastern European, we'll secretly judge ;)

Polavia shares a lot with the rest, but it's Eastern Europe in a specifically vague time. That means Ladas, the remains of Communism, the wreck of shock-Capitalism, gulags, nuclear reactors, dense woods, more corruption than you can shake a stick at, and a world that for mercenaries like you, is your bastion.

The magic bit though is a bit more complex. We will explain that later.

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Right. That's the world, and while there is some more actual lore, history, stuff going on, I will skate over that. For now, we'll play it down what you were specifically into, as geopolitics, much like the real world, is incredibly fluid and messy and far too much hassle to summarise (for now). How did you get to a rural tavern in Polavia drinking with toothless yokels?

A Shared History Of How Your Character Got to the Above: The P45, or your blood-stained 401k Redundancy Package to Current Day:

Your character, let's just say "you", generally, were an ex-operator of a Private Military Company, called “Reactor”. Like our world’s Blackwater, but somehow, more evil. Maybe not like Wagner PMC though, I mean, you’re not drinking Rakja with Satan himself, fuck, you’re not THAT bad, unless you were just really good at hiding it. Most in the rank and file are just normal operatives, with a bit of something about them, a lack of morals, or just an insatiable greed for hourly contractor rates, but….not you.

You got paid more than others in your discipline, motherfucker.

Reactor Private Security Services Limited, with the tagline of “Special Defense Solutions” were hired by anyone, and everyone to do peacekeeping and private security work. Keep guns pointed at bad people so good people could go about their days. Nothing like privatised defense in third world countries, even in the first world. A D.S.R based company, they’re a magnet for people who can shoot first, ask many paperwork questions later, given the undercut they make on larger militaries and security forces worldwide.

Before choosing a significantly better financial package due to…reasons, you were probably a police officer, an elite soldier, or even just a lifetime soldier of fortune. Reactor promised, then made sure the medical benefits were great, the pension was amazing, hell, even the work balance was significantly better than your old job. It was a really good place to be.

Well, if you ignore the rumours of mercs in tubes being force-fed Mana and turned into chronomancer-like supersoldiers with cancer (we’ll get there later) to try and even emulate your craft. And the fact the CEO actively did not pay interest to local politics and thus justified an armed mercenary group’s presence wherever he deemed fit, with “shareholder value” in mind, to say the least, those bits weren’t so…fragrant. And they didn’t keep up pay with inflation. And shore leave got interrupted with overtime. But you didn’t say no. You had a….thing? Other half? Family? Something else?

You were pretty good at what you did, bringing your little slice of crafty magic to a fireteam that was otherwise dryer than plasterboard. You killed people. Incapacitated a lot more. And probably, built your little nest egg somewhere you’d like to go back to.

Fuckin A'.

It WAS a really good place to work, mind you.

After a series of events that led to Reactor PMC being “financially insolvent” in the last few months due to…..events like the CEO getting impaled by a poisonous vine in an “accident” and a massive venture in Medil that went badly wrong and left dozens of your colleagues dead in the midst of a civil war with Reactor chasing Mana like some cartel would, you’re wondering if you’re maybe in the shit. You might, or might not have been there when it all went bad- Reactor was driven out by the locals, and it all went badly wrong, despite your seemingly overwhelming advantage against the rebels.....things went south. But you survived that to your performance review.

So due to some not so hush-hush discussions stemming from “poor performance”, they’ve had to make a lot of “hard business decisions”, something about “optimising our team”. You might have been good, but you weren’t “core to the business” or some increasingly corporate bullshit that irrespective of how good, or bad you were, happened to you.

All of that’s code for, you were made involuntarily redundant. An ex-something, made ex-mercenary, and given a fat stack of cash, and told to go away. Not make too much fuss and leave. And it’s not like the economy globally is good either. Who’s going to hire an ex-mercenary who’s talents are seeing the future or something like that? You can’t exactly keep yourself entertained flipping burgers when you’re flipping targets.

Oh, and as it turns out, due to Reactor’s activities being now illicit in at least four different countries, you’re now wanted for questioning by just about all of them.

For war crimes.

Not a great start to unemployment, but hey, could be worse. You didn’t actually do them. Defenetration definitely doesn’t count, right? And, you’re breathing, so that’s not too bad. And have a craft that might be handy, too.

But if someone finds out you worked at Reactor, again, you’re going to be asked questions at a tribunal with little hope of being able to afford a solicitor when your bank assets are frozen.

Your last day at Reactor was a week ago, but because of how it all went down, you ran away with your gun, all of your vessels and channels you could carry, and ended up in Polavia, hoping to lie low. (How you did this, I mean, it’s up to you, I’m not going to hold your hand here in international smuggling, use your imagination!).

Ah, Polavia. Land of milk and honey for ex-mercenaries and adventure capitalists, right? And maybe get a fake passport, let this blow over, get your cash out, back to whatever that thing was that you said you loved.

Something like what a friend said on what to do in this situation.

Even if you don’t drink, you have to admit, they have a point.

So, naturally, we start at the end of quite a shit week. The bottom of the (beer) barrel (or non-alcoholic Liquid Death can) is upon you.

And like literally any stereotype of Dungeons and Dragons, of course you’re going to meet other unemployed mercenaries with little to lose in a bar with you.

Like any great adventure would ever start.

You have something in common. A past you ran from. A collective agreement you want to go back. Or at least, not be a fugitive.

It's worth saying, this means you don't start as the "good guys". You're sort of morally grey, and like any great party, anti-heroes!

That said, even that idea of being an anti-hero in a world of cash, AKs and mana isn’t going to last you.

Because you and your new fireteam, are maybe all that is left against a threat even greater than you could have ever imagined.

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Right, enough of how you got to that bar, time we finally do the magic and explain that bit! I'm not used to writing it as a GM, so go gentle, so this works off a system formed from the world of TBW more than anything else, and then fills in blanks wherever we can. It isn't always going to be systemic, but generally, *tries* to be where it can.

Explain the Arcane:

Magic in this world works a little differently than just being able to cast fireballs on poor bastards. You have plenty more up your sleeve than that, yet limitations.

We'll go into main sections- how your character wields it, their main attached trait, bits that help / add to it, and bits that allow them to point it at mostly bad people who are drunk.

Casters

People who can use magic in combat are typically called “Casters”. Because you know. They…cast things that aren't exactly bullets. And they don’t catch fish in the process.

Those Casters, individuals with inherent magical ability are usually locked up by the government, or gently convinced to serve in the Armed Forces or straight up killed…..or find work in criminal gangs or cartels…and/or, maybe if they’re lucky enough, able to keep it to themselves. And mildly annoy people with it in society without causing too much fuss. Pick how much your state of origin polices it, but most strike a balance between acceptance, anarchy and beating you to death over it, with Casters serving time in the military, before leaving with a nice retirement that comes with a bespoke set of skills. Talents like those are far, far too good to pass up, so, if you Cast, you likely know how it goes. You could be an incredible detective, a really good surgeon for billionaires, even just a great contract killer, or Street Mana dealer. A very particular set of skills can make you a bit extra.

As such, magic isn’t some “well spread” or understood thing, even if society has it in the background. A lot of it is vibes, with broadly understood undertones like how a Vessel might work, or a Channel holds power, yet it makes about as much sense to most as quantum physics.

While punks in the street might take straight up “Mana” (luminescent glowing blue powder), maybe cut it with cocaine or ketamine to get “Street Mana”, making them believe you’re able to run through a wall, it doesn’t really come the same as actually being activated, because….well it doesn’t really work at all. Like how cocaine might make you chat bare, mana is that special sauce that for most, doesn’t do anything. Actual mana, the kind that’s inside you if you’ve got this ability to cast, actually makes you capable of doing the arcane for real.

So, the remarkably few that even have magical abilities are rather useful to those who might need them. And when I say few, I mean, we’re talking, maybe thousands, in a world of billions. If you have it, and are up against other people with a gun, you almost certainly are the only person in a room with that power, so keep in mind- you're sort of a weird, poorly understood operator. Like I dunno, Airborne Pararescue, people in the Coastguard, the guys who do JTAC, you mysteriously make really crazy shit happen.

Wow, how special.

And in a fight, nobody cares if you can spit fire when they’re casting lead at you. Your bullshit opinon on power doesn’t make you immune to reality.

Best keep your options open, yeah?

Oh, and one last thing. It’s called bullshit by some. When you realise what it can do, it sort of is.

CRAFT (BULLSHIT)

Your Wizard, or Witch (or Warlock, idk) has a “Craft”. This is your main, signature ability. The ability to shapeshift into a Lion? The ability to see seconds into the future? The ability to reverse mistakes you just made? Peel concrete from walls to create walls of temporary cover?

CRITICALLY, you got this craft because you NEEDED IT, not because you would “like” to have it as an ability. You didn’t choose this. It happened to you. It might tie to you by coincidence, might have been something you ran into, but probably, it’s a chance that your chraacter is now very much defined by this.

This means historically, something traumatic, or serious happened to your character that forced that “emergence” in you that might have otherwise killed, or seriously injured you. The degree of which it did that to you, is likely to play proportionately to how strong it is.

Craft is, however, the core of your character’s gameplay. It’s what makes them who they are, and likely, spirals the rest of your character out. It is likely that this is the core of your domain, and your personal journey. Saw a bomb that was going to cut off and cut a wire and might have seen it was the wrong one? Congrats, you have the power of foresight, you can see into the future, and you likely will have had to tame that, because no craft comes with no consequences.

It’s incredibly tough to tame. Headaches, hurt, all of it comes with taming being able to do something that bends the laws of physics, let alone chronology. It can flutter, fluctuate, and go all over the place, and requires work- work you have likely put in. It’s still really not perfect either. But through training (most of which is military), you can harness craft into a power that elevates your magical ability into something tactically critical. It’s a hell of a lot easier to charge a room when you can see every consequence. Or set everyone inside on fire, burning up their insides before you even fire a gun at them.

But as I say, consequences.

Please give it a funny turn. A shapeshifter that can only turn into a lion when starving? A pyromancer that can only produce flame that’s hot, but not really like napalm? A seer that can’t control how far ahead they can see in dreams, or through concrete? Able to switch places with enemies, but getting flooded by their inner monologue?

Not a debilitating “nerf”, but it’s something that means your Craft comes with an issue. The more powerful the Craft, the more serious your issue. The less powerful, like simply just being able to chain bolt lightning at people, means you’ll rely on a variety of other tricks, more diverse than singular, to survive but won’t have the same effect as someone who really fucks with it to a point where it is almost game-breaking, but will break them in turn. This is likely to be a recurring theme, and will, and your craft will also interfere with others, as well as your personal items. So your craft WILL, have an impact on other players in this RP. (Yeah, see this is the clever bit). Which we’ll get to.

Craft is sometimes derogatorily called “Bullshit” by many without it, particularly the very strong stuff. A very strong Crafter’s talent, if worked upon, is seen by even other crafters as “Bullshit”! Chronomancers seem to usually fit that mould because it really can’t be countered directly without a lot of effort.

It's a nasty term, so why then use the phrase, bullshit?

You ever seen someone turn into a Lion and maul someone to death in a firefight?

Or someone else see every option in a room before breaching?

In a modern setting with an AK-103 in hand, to pin each hostile in there before you've breached?

That’s the power of some absolute bullshit.

VESSELS

A vessel is an item that lets you do something different to your “main” Craft.

Typically, an operator might carry around dogtags, or an item in which their “Craft” is left behind on from another operator with magical abilities. Or you might carry a skull that was them. Or a neckerchief. Or, I don’t know, a smart watch they had? Basically, it’s something that gives your magical power another dimension.

A good Caster, who’s experienced in their particular trade knows what to have. A witch can’t go without a broom and the ability to carry some newt bones. Or an illusionist might find beyond making copies of themselves, they might like to go invisible via some eldritch powers. These are your "extras", the bits you get to have on top of your craft (which makes you more than just some guy in a wizard hat, and actually a multi-dimensional (optional) operative.

This might mean, say, someone who’s really good at transfiguration might have left a slice of what they can do, on the item. This doesn’t work in an “additive” method- it doesn’t stay with you, it stays with the item. But you can stack these. So if you’re a Wizard-seer who can see into the future, you can also create copies of yourself with a transfiguration, and use BOTH abilities to really fuck with people. It also means this could be transferred to someone, in a pinch, but the longer it stays with you, the better you are at using it.

Vessels tend to work best with those who have a Craft. While non-Craft users could use a vessel (Chapel have used this to make shields for riot policing that give non-mana users the ability to lock down areas), it’s usually not something that can be really used by someone without knowledge or instruction because it's so fucking hard.

Keep this in mind. It means that in the RP, dependent on bonds, you can give others your power, or at least, a slice of it. They can use this to an effect. But that bond relies on trust, and that object being given, and then, you get a slice into your fellow Wizard's ability. Want to send people to an eldritch gateway? While carrying around a pump-action shotgun? You can now make a portal wherever you want.

CHANNELS

A channel is what can be used to enhance or improve your character’s Craft, or otherwise, direct it. Channels take on many different types, but for most special forces operatives or mercs of your kind, that consists of their service weapon. And through DIY, or actually gunsmithed method, the staff, bullets, attachments or something else on it. Though want to fire bolts of lightning or energy at people and need something lighter? A wand might be handy for that with a pistol grip. You might want to put a sound suppressor on it though….alternatively, there’s other methods, depending on just what it is you do. A full-blown rifle might not be for everyone.

Confusingly - Vessels and Channels can be one and the same, or separate entirely. Some channels may direct your character’s natural ability, others are items you’ll use that are standalone. A rifle with a staff embedded in it that spits lightning? With the right ammo from a alchemist come gunsmith, that’s a channel, but if you’re already able to cast lightening bolts from a wand or short staff? That’s a war crime!

Channels can be used by those who have a Craft only.

FIREARMS AND COUNTER-BULLSHIT

Also, there are just guns.

To keep things simple, real-world, actual firearms. Use real ones (even if anachronistic) because this makes it easier to visualise, and well, they take on all their usual traits. Pick the guns that fit your class, a sniper carries....a sniper rifle, a pointman a shorter-barrelled rifle, a support specialist a light machine gun of some sort.

We're talking guns that you can load with 7.62 x 51mm and will, and if your target isn’t a freak, is going to likely kill them if you get a round o ntarget. You probably have a rifle, a pistol, or something to go alongside your usual loadout of a staff, wand, or whatever it is you use to inflict maximum blattage on some poor Polavian’s skull. Though if you bring RPG-7, I swear, you're actually getting punched in the face, but sure, why not

It’s not a bad idea to keep a weapon and it’s not hard to get one either. You’re in a post-Communist Eastern Bloc country with western, eastern and more guns than you could shake a stick at. The price of an AK is about that of a loaf of bread. And I mean, genuinely, at a gun market, you can pick basically anything you want, even Western stuff has started to hit the market and while pricier, it’s still comically cheap. The Polavian Police have struggled in their shift from a hardened paramilitary to a regular police, so finding an arms dealer is about as easy as buying a loaf of bread. This isn't an RP where I'm going to make you play some economy, you decide how much cash you have, or need to beg, borrow, steal for, and can actually afford that you realistically think you can get.

Point is, you’ll probably still want to carry a firearm, but you might be loading it with rounds that may, or may not, be magically affected. There are literally no ends of people who want you dead, so, maybe pack some heat given you’re a relatively talented mercenary who knows how to use a gun alongside spitting literal fire.

Most non-craft having people know if they're up against you their odds if they don’t have a craft of their own, and therefore, are willing to pack more heat than you’d like. Bullets will kill you. They wear armour, some maybe even more, and are enjoying the trade in mana and creatine-based enhancement activities (also known as the gym). So they'll take as much as they can carry. They might also bring fixed countermeasures to your Craft. Wards hooked up to EMP generators make some really scary counter tools that will strip you of your craft and leave you dependent on wits and a killer headache. They really aren't playing when they know you're en route. When they don't, well, hunting season?

Your bullshit is bullshit, but they’re catching on.

Other Arcane Tools

There isn’t just Craft, there are other magic-y, stuff. Usually, badly understood, but here are the main ones you need to know about.

Glyphs. These can be one-time use items, to teleport you out of a hot zone to a previous marker (Extraction Glyph), or everyone’s favourite, a Breach Glyph. Drawn on a door, it opens you up. About the same as about a few hundred grams of plastic explosive. They’re individually quite weak, but situationally, incredibly powerful. Usually your supply is limited to how much mana-enabled ink you have, and any good operator knows how to use it sparingly, given it isn’t usually for combat, but in support of said work.

Spells also exist, typically restricted to alchemists, witches and those who know how to fuck with a cauldron. Blood tracking, noxious smoke, are all features your favourite trackers, scouts and specialists might have access to that aren’t quite a glyph, craft or channel. These are usually something extremely specific, and should, and would tie into your general character’s aesthetic, usually bolstered by using grenades and the like.

You could just also throw non-arcane stuff. I dunno, throw drugs at people to disorient them, flashbangs, regular fragmentation grenades, knives and daggers too. Smoke bombs, especially with a smoke-o-caster (is that a thing? Smoke Witch maybe?) have the potential raise all hell, so they might even just be a channel for you too.

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Arcane stuff is maybe not as simple as "witch cast spell", but, it is at least a good framework for the reason, the items, and how you do what you wouldn't like unto others. The countries on the other world put all of that in context in how they exist as modern, or not so modern states around a large central ocean.

Countries of the World

This RP, in an alternate-world to our own, focuses on countries not quite like ours- but also, close in feel to ours that they should have analogues.

The Republic of Polavia

An ex-communist, newly capitalist, absolutely Eastern European ripped off country far across the warm Illyrian Sea south of Medil (to be explained shortly), Polavia really is the tinderbox for an ex-mercenary like you to end up in.

The way you know things changed is that the national anthem sounds significantly less like you want to depose rich people than it did once.

And weirdly, it still sounds like there are accordions.....

Also, lots of people who want to smuggle guns, drugs, WMDs, vodka, mana and bootleg DVDs, and usually, are involved in two or three, maybe all six illicit activities at the same time, if not more that you could dream of. The Scarlet Revolution turned this country from having the last remaining CCP this hemisphere has had into a democracy where everything’s for sale and nothing is apparently nailed down. Everyone had nothing, now, they’re finding out they can have more nothing, while others can make so much money it’s untrue. If there was a God, the last regime killed him, and the new one’s selling whatever organs he had left in his carcass to anyone who’s buying, but it isn't all gloom and doom. It's on the up, just, not everyone is seeing that yet.

The flag is a blue, white and yellow tricolour, with a Stag, the nation’s animal of pride, in (rampant, yet) dead centre.



Welcome to something Balkan, Baltic and Slavic, but despite all the magic in the world, it’s anything but a magical place. Imagine Yugoslavia, Poland, the Czech Republic and a bit of the old Soviet Union mashed together in a Ukraine-sized package, still feeling like it’s maybe in modern times, sometimes like it hasn’t changed since the early 90s.

Bordered by the Samiya Republic to the north-west only via a thin sandy isthmus at the border village of Yelen, Polavia is accessible generally by ferry or via air travel.



With a shore on the Illyrian Sea to the north-west that features beautiful rocky cliffs and golden sand beaches with turquoise water and resort hotels, it looks to the world quite pretty. To the east, a rocky, cliff-strewn shore hides long sandy beaches and very little beyond sleepy old farms on the Eastern Sea.



Polavia's second city on the north-eastern coast, Královec, is an important warm water harbour with the Druid Mafia’s Slavic cousins, the….uhh, it’s just the Druid Albani, taking a firm hold on the important import-export business in the once disputed independent city-state. They’ve turned selling cocaine into basically the main reason why the local construction industry builds so many villas out of the old Communist dachas, and are better run than most businesses in the “West” in how fast they’ll sell you a brick of mana-enfused drugs. There's law, there's order, but there's plenty of coke on order. It's a beautiful, medieval city, but it is also, full of tourists from the DSR trying to score Mana in this new world we are in given the above. There's a whorehouse on every corner, it's like Amsterdam with even more sleaze, outside of the golden coast, and is the face of the country beyond where actual business is done.



That coastline facade hides a deep, dark forested inland with mountains and hills that feel straight up from the Witcher. Hills and rivers, of which hide villages of drunk yokels and endless amounts of weapons dumps, vodka factories, abandoned nuclear power stations, strange looking huts in the woods with copious amounts of mana-infused magic mushrooms, former Polavian Security Apparatus blacksites…the interior of Polavia is not your usual countryside. People here think electricity is magic. Let alone a flatscreen LCD TV. You kinda seem normal here, motherfucker!



The main bit of civilization, with museums, culture, banking, everything like that, can be found in the capital, Novi Jork. Split by the Tala River in the shadow of the nation’s tallest mountain of Lysy, the city is undergoing renovation. It’s currently not sure if it’s a beautiful Medieval castle city (Stari Jork), a Brutalist concrete jungle with bloc architecture (Novi Grad), or a modern, glass-fronted financial hub bringing in DSR companies and money (Zloty Targ). It's sort of unsure, but basically, somewhere like Warsaw or Prague between 1991 and 2025 is about right.



Beyond the Carpaty Mountains that divide the land like a knife with jagged Dolomite-like rock and cracking dams and more Security Apparatus prisons, the “Pusty” coastline to the south, on the Antarctic Sea, is frozen cold with abandoned mining towns including Yarrow, a former radium and nickel refinery.



Like a tundra meets the Arctic- imagine way fewer Canadians, and way more drunk ex-Polavian Navy people who couldn't afford to leave and are locked into hazardous, horrid jobs working in freezing cold, toxic-air having shitholes. It thaws over every now and then for oil tankers and other bulkers to extract the mineral riches of the frozen south- and is littered with the old regime’s warships and rotting nuclear subs, as well as oil spills and squalor. Not on the tourist brochure, because it’s an absolute shithole.



A state in flux, Polavia feels distinctly Slavic, and you are a foreigner in a land far from wherever you called home. There’s order one place you look, drunk uncles in the other. You could call it paradise. Sometimes when you squint, it's a fairytale place, where the joke about huts made of butter and monsters in the dark forests seems true. You could call it purgatory, because those forests contain more toxic waste dumps and doomsday bunkers that you do not want to know about. Either way, it’s where you are right now.

Speaking of home, what about the other countries in the region you likely came in from?

Other Countries:

The main countries you need to know about are:

The D.S.R: A temperate, sub-continent sized state, the DSR has been the long-standing power of the region and a superpower militarily, as well as economically, producing the vast amount of media, manufacturing and people smoking dubious weed-filled Mana joints on street corners. Feels a bit like the United Kingdom or United States of America, to be honest, with rolling hills, a long coastline and lots of cool, cosmopolitan cities. (Even the police look like they’re British, and it rains a lot). A high-tech, highly advanced economy, the DSR is a bastion of culture, economy, productivity, high tech industry and quaint farmland, this is Tolkien-spec Shire with high rises, skyscrapers and motorways mixed in peaceful countryside.

The Republic of Liboli: A notionally “free” democracy, Liboli gives off the vibe of going on a holiday to a Mediterranean country, the state is also “notional” and it feels like most mercenaries love it, sketchy Blacksites included too. The state has a hand on most things in cities and big population centres, but there is a lot of desert, lemon groves and old dusty mountains that don’t get any overreach. Imagine a blend between southern Spain and northern Morocco, and you’re about right, with a desert and dry mountains inland and a Mediterranean coast with cute little villages with most people drinking in Tabernas. A great place to retire, really.

The Holy Nation of Kalan: An isolationist theocracy run by “Chapel” that will take too long to explain in full, but….well, they’re nutters, basically. North Korea meets the Vatican, with an actual religion where those who connect with their ancestors voices are finding that noise shattered by brutal theocratic authoritarianism. In all the worst ways. A ban on any “Craft”, with a belief that nobody like that could even exist having it means they repress and force people into the cult-like, repressive beliefs that only Chapel do have the means to Craft itself. Forcibly. Riot Priests in armour and with smoke flails convinced they have vessels bestowed upon them quell dissent (even if many truly are just pumped up bootlickers with no power at all behind the plexiglass)- but currently, the civil war between the Chapel forces and the Resistance is tearing that idea apart, and it’s a warzone. A peninsula that looks a lot like a tooth, the climate is halfway between Liboli and the DSR, a bit like northern France, with gothic-like church-inspired architecture and dark, dingy, industrial cities. A real shithole, with Kalan’s industrial relics and civil war being a terrible place for anyone, civilian or merc, considering the complications.

Republic of Medil: A small, thin strip-like island nation, Medil has a near perennially snowy inland area with tall, volcanic mountains and a thin coastline that supports agriculture and mining in the south, and the Druid Mafia’s activities in the north. They seem to harass the Jodassa Strait, like actually competent Somali pirates. Recently having re-asserted their council-formed democratic government, thousands in Medil are missing in the aftermath of a bloody Reactor-led invasion that has since turned tail and is the reason for your recent unemployment. Imagine New Zealand, or Chile. The teeny island chain of “The Breaks” is a quasi-independent area that feels more like the Caribbean states of St Lucia and Barbados, a holiday paradise meets banking hub, mostly impenetrable due to a cluster of active, nasty volcanoes, including Mount Doombar, which has been in constant eruption for at least the last hundred years.

Samiya Republic: A recently devolved nation that borders the DSR, it’s a bit of a backwater, with plains, corn, and very little else. Think Oklahoma, Iowa and maybe the more bland bits of Texas, rolled into one, it always feels like the “little brother” to the DSR’s teeming nature. Corn farms, lead paint factories, and weird roadside attractions in every small town.

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That's the specific nations in a nutshell! Onto a stranger note- this RP's definitely a bit more tongue in cheek, so I wanted to put a little time into how that might come about, not exactly a requirement, but it might put you in the "ethos" of where this RP goes for comic value.

Writing Comedy:

This RP is incredibly tongue in cheek. If you haven’t noticed, this RP doesn’t take itself too seriously, because wizards wearing Oakleys and tactical robes in MARPAT sand with assault M4s with a staff in it are….well, look, not going to work out that way. This isn't a die hard serious RP, and isn't dying for seriousness, even if some of the feeling of firefights have a tinge of it- think classic Pink Panther, high stakes, high comedy.

The main rule is to not take things too seriously without being completely stupid. If you can make me and the other players laugh, you have succeeded. That doesn’t mean slapstick, unless you really, really know how to make that work. Humour here is dry, witty, quippy, absurd sarcastic, and generally, all sorts of vile, dark, plays on magic in a modern fantasy, yet sometimes mundane setting. A very British or Eastern European sense, it's all about punching up, and then all over when drunk. This RP thrives on your character not just being able to cast, but having their own taste of comedy. My characters tend to play it down the middle- yours might not. This means while I won’t always prompt you to be funny, I will entertain it and that’s where the beauty of this RP comes in.

There are moments which will be dead serious, and you can giggle like you’re at a funeral.

There are moments that will be comic, yet will be highly charged, emotional and will likely be quite visceral and will come with drama and stakes that will, and are going to affect your character. They’re still a person, just in a bit of an absurd setting, and the absurdity itself is where the comedy comes in.

I try not to pull punches, and therefore, whilst light in tone, the characters, their struggles, and what being a magician does to them. It’s a dumb action thriller, with quips and all.

For inspiration, a lot of British comedy, as well as other international sources have been used as a baseline. It's an RP with wizards carrying Steyr AUGs in it!

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Right, laughs played up, onto how characters come together in this world- and how you are set to make them!

Character Creation Station

How your character works based on the above, and the character sheet.

Setup your Character:

Your character needs to be described in three words or less as a “headline”. See this as their “tag”- this is how I perceive your character as a GM (and also, focusses your character’s ability into a condensed point).

The funnier, the better. For example, “Navy Seer” works nicely because a good pun is always going to be funny if it’s military themed and somewhat magic-y. Your GM will appreciate this.You don’t have to be funny, but so long as it’s a summary of it in three words, I’ll know what I’m managing in a fashion totally not stolen from Dungeons and Dragons.

For example:

“Rogue Storm Witch”
“Elemental Breacher”
“Druid Assassin”

And some others I brainstormed:
“Bloodmage Medic”
“Wardbreaking Specialist”
“Witch Sniper”
“Illusionist Trickster”
“Engineer Warlock”
“Fire Support Mage”

It also means how your character looks or might be stems out of it. A “Navy Seer” is of course, decked out in Tier One operator fashion, digital camo robes, yet keeps a Wizard’s hat, because remember- we’re still playing in a reality that means it should….well, your character isn’t cosplaying a magician, they’re playing a mercenary that happens to be able to bolt people to floor and so therefore, seems to have bits of a magician to them. So your ability, history, and look should feel like it all fits together, perhaps three or four influences max rather than say, six or more influences. It means you get to be cool with your character and if you can’t find the art, just describe it or combine influences until you get there. Choose a pyromancer to make homebrew napalm? A gas mask, and other fire-retardant gear might be a good idea, as well as packing in armour if you really want to go all out on terror. An illusionist who thrives on stealth? Well fitting, low profile kit, night vision goggles, a few feathers of a bird of paradise for good measure. A witch who can fling kinetic shocks? Probably a classic witch’s hat, tactical cloaks, and a broom.

There aren’t any classes, but broadly, you’ll have heavier, more tactical fighting characters and lighter, more agile and cloak and dagger-style characters. Try not to make a character someone is making- declare it in OOC and it’s yours. I don’t want too many snipers, too many pyromancers, too many bog-standard wizards, but a range to provide a flavour to this RP. We can’t all be eating onions here.

The only restrictions is there are no other “races”, as broadly, your character is human (unless you’re shapeshifting, and I’m afraid as the GM I have stolen that one!). They don’t even have to be a de-facto wizard or witch (as above). The only thing I ask is that it makes sense that when bullets start flying, they can fight back. Within that realm though, go mad. A druid, a necromancer, a mage, a warlock, even just a typical Wizard with a staff and a hat or a Witch with a cat and a tactical broom. Mix and match, but I’d say keep to two to three “subclasses” at a max. Sort of like DnD, but also, not really I guess

The rule of cool truly applies, because while the Arcane is explained below, I’m not asking you any questions why a Druid has a questionable amount of houseplants that make noises, or a Witch has a broom. I mean, come on. You don’t ask a guy his salary, you don’t ask a woman her age, you don’t ask a wizard why he has a staff. You’ll have it, and I won’t ask any more questions because there’s *probably* a reason.

The only other aspect to mention is that, they’re likely proficient in firearms (to at least a moderate level), and as mentioned- they worked in Reactor, so they will know loosely of each other, or know each other already. This will help fuel the RP to begin with, and give your characters the best chance of surviving what is likely to be a long, windy adventure that will test them across Polavia and against a whole range of characters.

I’m not creative enough at current, but here’s some more ideas:
Chronomancers and Seers
Pyromancers and Alchemists
Illusionists and Mages
Druids and Diviners

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RULES

While this RP doesn't take itself seriously, we're gonna need a little here to make sure we're all on the same page. We do this, we all get to have wacky, fun characters and go for a thrill ride. If not, it sucks for everyone. Courtesy of SilverwindBlade's common rule set, please follow the following:

This is a modern to near-future fantasy setting. However, this ISN’T, and a setting hard and fast rule I have- a universe where everything else runs riot. Modern Fantasy like TBW’s setting relies on the grit of the world, and due to my want to control scope creep, given just how cool the lore of the world is, the rules of the world are generally focussed on humans and animals that I’d say are in our world. This means no dragons, unicorns, or fantastical animals, or other races including elves, dwarves (if you’re brave enough to make a joke about short people, holy hell that would be something) - it’s limiting but it’s by design to focus on specifically one type and how silly that is, rather than anything else which would distract. It’s not super futuristic either- while characters will come up against some bosses and elite characters with more fanciful and fantastical modern gear, they typically won’t do so. Treat it like the real world, and keep in mind there’s magic fluttered atop it that for now, I'll let you peek at.

Post length is expected to be Casual to Advanced- no one or two line posts, please. This means at minimum two paragraphs in a post- four or so being optimum to really flesh out your character's response and furthering of the plot. I don't prescribe a top end limit, but use your imagination on how much you can write in a single segment- if it's longer, feel free to write longer! I usually do, you do not have to!

Follow Wheaton's Law at all times. Don't be a dick- GM is God, and while this RP is very fast and loose, if you're asked to bring something into line, expect there might be good reason for it.

This RP will have adult themes, and romance is a part of that if you want it to be- however, nothing that the Gods of RPG wouldn't want on the public side when smut is concerned. If you want to go beyond, that shit goes off this RP into 1x1 if it is 18+ in any manner. Before that though, be my guest.

Equally, I have no bloody problem with a bit of fucking swearing, you bunch of cunts, but don't take it to excess, all right, fuckers?

A sense of humour is not optional. Please be good-natured and good-humoured to one another in the OOC.

Minimum post of one per week, per person. If you can't post, please mention in the OOC or drop me a PM. If it's unexpected - i.e. family emergency, your internet goes out, etc - then just let me know when you come back, and I'll catch you up. These things happen. It is not my job to chase you to post! If you're interested enough to be here in the first place, then it's up to you to post. If you're 'too lazy' to keep up, then I'm too lazy to chase your arse to get you to do it. It's a matter of manners and etiquette.

Don't talk down to people. I don't care how much knowledge of real-world weapons and systems you might have, or how much of an encyclopedia on legs you are about such things. If you're trying to be a smartarse because you've found a 'loophole', then you're not playing in the spirit of things, and you should probably leave. That's even with an admittedly loose playbook. Be kind, and the sort of person you would want to write with if you get something wrong, because nobody is perfect.

If I don't know about it, then it doesn't exist. You may have this amazing secret plot worked out for your character - but if you don't tell me about it, then it ain't happening. Because I've already got a storyline worked out, and if it doesn't fit, then it's not going in. Same with technology and whatever you 'think' it should be like- I am open to ideas, but tell me if you think it's something that makes you say "That might be too far out there".

No aliens, no anime, no high-school dramas either. Please respect the setting and keep it in mind- there's plenty of ridiculous and cool shit on offer, so play with that here- keep the other material to other RPs.

What you give, is what you get. Put in a lot into this RP, work with me in the lore, and I will make this pay off. Engage, play fair, and get to banter with your party-mates, because a great party relies on good vibes, and is for everyone, but to do that, you need to be real, be honest, not judge, and give yourself into the idea. This means if you really want to run riot, run riot and I'll basically give you the keys to do that, in that environment, with the detail you have. Within the line of the story, you have freedom to execute, react, interact, and play into the game how you want best, and I will always react to it, forcing you to change plans, and adapt. I'm investing a lot into this RP- I expect the same from players and while life gets in the way, I expect that if you're finding it hard to be interested, I prefer honesty over quiet, I really prefer being told if I'm doing something wrong than losing / tapering interest. Engagement for me is key because I will give it back for you!

That said, if you fob off the GM and other players, you will not enjoy it. If you repeatedly, refuse to engage, and want to do your own thing- go write your own thing. My RPs are self selecting, and I have a no assholes rule for that reason- I'm happy to listen to your ideas but also, don't be offended when I balance the RP for other players who also have theirs too. If you harm the fun of other players, I will also ask you to leave.

GM's word is final. I appreciate people wanting to help, but final approval for plot, lore, and characters comes from me. Though, by all means, please feel free to make suggestions and help others with ideas and information where possible, and point out if something isn't there or working when it should be, because that helps us all.

Lastly, and most critically- AI is fine for use in posts, but DO NOT post anything AI-generated that has not been flagged / marked up as such. This RP is meant to be a creative endeavour- and I don't want to see something put to generative AI tool if you can’t be bothered to write, as this hollows my reaction as a GM and will ruin yours, and other player experiences unless you make that clear that it was used in an assistive or responsible manner. Do not use generative AI text in creating your character, or writing without significant personalisation, modification and/or flagging where used. Use it for inspiration, lift stuff from it to help you describe something, use images (and tell me if so), but if it is found without reference, you will breach this rule. If this isn’t a rule you like, you can use AI to build you this RP in any generative tool, with all the detail copied into it, and you are welcome to play with it in your own time. Don’t make me, or other people who enjoy originally produced content read what you produce if it isn't your own.

One last thing- my RPs speak for themselves- I've got nearly two completed RPGs on the guild with over 15+ years of experience of RPG in the Guild, so you are getting a long term, highly-invested GM that will do the lore, hours, setup and plot that will provide you with a military-wizard-thriller-action-squatting-slav RP that exists like no other produced so far.

This an RP with at least 2.5 years + of content, and will be one that I hope that like Raven Squad, my headline military RPG before it, will provide you with many hours of entertainment. What you give, is what you will get- and as others who have written with me have seen, I will push your characters and the laughs up. There will be a Discord, so you can ping ideas across whenever you want to me and others. If you want a flavour if what that means, check these out for longevity and the flavour of such RPs:

Raven Squad (A Military, Near-Future, Over-the-Top RPG)

Delta Hyper (A Sci-Fi, Solarpunk, Semi-Random Racing RPG)

Interested? This RP hasn't got a cap on spots, but I'd like to launch it with a party of three, minimum. Post your interest in a particular character, and once I have a bit of interest, we'll launch this.

DELTΔ HYPER (Anti-Gravity Racing, Cyberpunk/Solarpunk RP)

Sunday August 20th
Moa Tempesta Circuit, Kanaloa Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
1500 HST

Vulcan

Jenny Lowry

The afternoon sun hung among clouds following the mid-day rains on Kanaloa, but this was no less a tropical paradise. Aside from the continuous smoke pouring out of the massive spire-like volcano at the top of the island, the green paradise that made up the rest of this new earth.

Four, Three, Two, One.

Soundtrack: State of Mind - Sun King

Pulling away, things stayed smooth into Turn One, Amy immediately diving into Kais and forcing him to yield, before losing the position, but Jenny was clear of Han. Just. The Zygon ship was now an absolute burner of an all-rounder, and while it might not have dominated on the very fastest circuits, it was clear that it gave the Silver Apex ships a good run for their money. Whatever they had done was paying off, but Jenny wasn't letting go of the fact that there was still an option to stay ahead here, and make the hungry Han overplay her hand early. Through the lava tunnel, the climb forcing Jenny to defend, Turns 4 to 7 at the complex giving Jenny a chance to feint, before pulsing more ELS to boost her out of where she needed to go, back into the valley and into the greenery, the hard pivot at Turn 9 and 10, the ships lateral if not corked at the overhang, before spiralling into Turns 12 at the waterfall and Turn 13, no eyes back, just focussed on time.

At the end of the lap, Jen realised the delta hadn't climbed anywhere near like she expected. Han was finding stuff on her, and the leech was imminent. Jen kept defences up, but every time she had to hold back that leech, she was bunching everyone else up, she was forced to take lines she didn't want to get the energy back and then defend much more wildly. It was anyone's game, but unlike Spa, where it felt like a fight that was going to go on forever until one pilot cracked, this felt more like Han was trying to force Jen to crack.

"Two-tenths, keep her at bay, Jenny, we can't burn too much ELS right now...." The voice in Jenny's ear sounded like it was another echo in her brain, because she was so focussed, so on rails through corners.

"Yeah, copy Cal, not so fucking easy!" Jenny replied, feeling the heat breathing down her neck. She was normally ice cold, frozen even, but part of the pilot suit she wore had a coolant failure, and it was heating her right hand side up like an oven. Because her brain was being more or less run to 100%, that meant she was not enjoying sweating like a pig, especially on a circuit with this many demanding turns. If Nordschlife felt like an exercise in memory, this felt like an exercise in bravery- especially when the circuit inverted and went from a two dimensional simplicity to a 3D, mind-fuck of a playground.

Jenny's heart rate pounded. This must have been what it was like to be Bea and Paul, but more than any other fight she had before, it felt like she was blending into the ship, dissolving almost into the track, everything fading into focus. She was getting good delta in Sector Two and Three, but every time, that ELS on that Zygon ship just sprinted forward before trying to leech again, which forced Jen to defend, not attack.

Until it all came falling apart at Turn 1, where Han tried to make a move, and Jenny, unrelenting, didn't let go, as Han tried to force a move, a move that Jen's inexperience couldn't halt and yield for now. She could have let her go, then leeched back, stayed in front of Dorian and known he wouldn't have the pure speed to make the moves. But she hadn't.

It was a poor crash, the kind that shouldn't have happened, but by sheer luck, Han had actually held onto her position, the Silver Apex ship thrown off circuit, but limping back in. Jenny was dropping back, her ship hurt, her feeling hurt inside, but still, keeping a tough lip to make sure she could hold onto as many points as she could. She was cursing, angry, steaming with rage, anyone overtaking her or going past could see that, but with a compromised ship, there was little she could do.

That action was one that that Dorian made Han pay for. It wasn't long until the Valkyrie ship was in position, and Dorian did what he did best. He executed, with a solid push through Turn 4, and well, that paid in every single corner after. Dorian didn't care. He had the ELS, he had the pace, and unlike what many thought about the veteran, a circuit that he knew versus a pilot that didn't, meant he could play the fiddle all the way to the end.

Meanwhile, Jenny was now falling back, Harrison past her, then Kais, then Amy, who was hunting Kais like an animal. Her team-mate got a solid steal of ELS from her as she fell backwards, but with a damaged ship, Jenny aware that there was a minor hydraulics leak that forced her off airbrakes and the chassis felt like she had a few ribs of her own removed, all she had was to try and hang on in there and keep the points haul going. It felt horrid, watching then Ava, and then Cassie go past.

---

The tropical, volcanic island made for a hell of a spectacle, a place where no other form of motorsport, maybe outside of Rally Raid, and yet not even that could really make advantage of the natural features that the circuit went up and down through, on metallic platforms and MAG-enabled features that snatched ships upside down and on their side to the floor, the speed of how fast ships turned and accelerated on full display.

The rest of the fight on the track was of note, with Paul Mulder losing out to Hamid, who was absolutely rampant, Astrid being chewn up by the rookie Al-Saqr pilot who with his wings lit up via the speed update, was able to simply outstrip Paul on the lava tube straight out of the first few turns. Despite his ship seemingly looking temperamental, he was learning a little from his team-mate's approach to just send it as hard as he could. And send he did, as Nora, who was out of the points after a poor qualifying session given the new spec of the ship in stability, was learning.

Nora didn't mess around, but while Paul was making her work for it, Nora just lunged in Sector 3, while upside down, and at the waterfall, finished the move, stealing the last point away from Paul in the death. It would have been heartbreaking, despite everything done, but it was just the cold reality of it. Nora was played a bad hand in qualifying, but if she wanted to take that top step, every fiber of her, every neuron was going to pull her past Paul, and when he came to counter, Nora gave zero quarter. She was unrelenting, brutal in every defence, playing right to the serif of the rulebook to keep her back when she burnt through her ELS.

Behind though, Florence and Bea were having a fight, the former's attempt to make Paul's day even worse stunted by the arrival of the Carrera ship wanting to get points.

"What a fight in the last few laps between Ward and Mason, wow, a young prodigy up against a veteran, we're seeing quite the fight!"

That fight from Florence's enhanced ELS had made a serious ding on a circuit like this, but it just wasn't enough to propel the NOVA ship into the points. Instead, it made Beatrix more than likely pissed off that she couldn't make any inroads. It would have certainly felt suspicious, but then again, Florence was a maestro at making this sort of thing work. And while the gambit hadn't paid off, in fact, she'd gone one place backwards, it had been enough to make her punchy enough if Beatrix hadn't have turned up to have gone after Paul.

A VSS interrupted that fight as Bjorn Waldgard crashed at Turn 15, after an attempt on Max, and the ship skidded off circuit. He then proceeded to top Fernando Alonso and Oscar Piastri's chair moment by basically breaking Delta Hyper's social media and told the recovery van to go away. So sitting at the beach, helmet off, basking in the sunshine as ships roared past, completely done with this bullshit, another day of poor results, and well, if he was in Hawaii, he wasn't going to go back to the pit to be told "don't feint on Max Wedgewood and expect him to play along", so instead, the blonde, long haired Swede was mulling his life choices in the afternoon sun.

But the race was restored once the debris was hoovered and peeled away. The two Brits were at each other again, Bea likely furious that she couldn't break through to attack Paul and ultimately Nora to get a point at least from her poor start. She was clearly on fire with the ship in her morale, but today, that volcano-like blaze was getting pissed on by the blue streak of Florence's ELS. But Bea got the move done, but far too late to make her charge on Paul.

"Yes, and despite their mismatch, it has to be said, Florence has frustrated the rookie Beatrix Ward in getting up the grid. And they have a train behind them..." The commentary from Rory continued, watching as it was going on, and on. And didn't really develop from that, really. Kais had been overtaken from the second from last lap as Amy prodded, and eventually, dumped ELS and roasted past, leaving zero recourse for Kais to manage it out. He was patient, smart, but Amy was experienced, and knew the Meteor didn't want to throw away the position, not here where they needed points. And on the other end, Dorian had cleaved a gap from Han, using his ELS smartly to break from her damage, use her as a roadblock from the rampaging Harrison, and pull off a smooth, easy race.

"And wow, what a result for Valkyrie, they must be chuffed with that!" The chequered flag dropped, as Dorian took P1, ruthless in the way he had taken charge, and the comms of the broadcast shifted to his engineer and him.

"That is P1, Dorian, P1, what a result!"

"Yes! C'est magnifique, what a win! Wow, great job, handling setup was just perfect, we didn't have the speed but who needs that when the ship just ropes through the jungle like it's Tarzan! Wow, moments like these....they are so special, what a run!" Dorian chuckled over the radio, whooping, absolutely gleaming as the commentary came back in.

"What a win for Hornfleur, and well, Han has managed to get it over the line five seconds back, and while she'll be gutted they couldn't do beter, they held back Makara all race, with Stirling charging past Kais Zenix right in the dying light of the race. He's followed by Villarosa, who performed admirably and kept it clean, holding off a rampant Cassie Neves who just seemed to make too many mistakes in Sector 3 towards the end of the race, Jen Lowry, who pulls across the line a wounded looking Silver Apex ship, and then Hamid Atlassi, getting his first points, and finishing off the top ten, Nora Kelly, who has punched her way through backmarkers to get the last point. Rory, what are your feelings on how that went down?" Rosie asked, as the ever present Rory gave analysis.

"Well, Rosie, that was a spectacle. With a shuffle of the grid caused by that damage to Jenny Lowry's ship, I think it all got a bit tense so it could have been anyone's game, but cooler heads prevailed in the heat of the volcano. Dorian just knew he had to keep it tidy, and you can tell, he just had everything there for him. The fight for fourth, as well as the last points positions was quite something too, and shows that Amy isn't willing to let go of any point advantage she can make on Makara and Kelly. It's clearly hotting up in the championship, and while Amy is likely breathing a sigh of relief that her biggest rivals couldn't pull out as many points as they hoped today, I think the pressure is still on her to deliver in Singapore and beyond. But wow, what a result for Valkyrie, and Dorian Hornfleur, who proves that age is just a number, and he still has what it takes."

"Absolutely, and do you think that his retirement could be coming too soon? He still seems to be loving the sport, just look at him and his team, he seems to be immersed!"

"Yes, he really has been such a talent in the sport and a longstanding member of Valkyrie, and while his performances this season have been suspect, at Hawaii, a circuit I know he loves, he clearly made the most out of the results."

"And what about further back in the grid?"

"Well, a crushing shame for Paul Mulder, who no doubt is kicking himself, just wondering what he lacked that Dorian made work today. The younger pilot has proven to be a beacon in that team, but it seems like in the close quarters, he still has a lot to learn, especially against rivals like Kelly and the new Atlassi, who are keen to make their mark and get points on the board. And then what about Beatrix Ward and Florence Mason, wow, what a fight that was. It was like watching Mason and Hornfleur fight back in 86!" Rory chuckled, as Rosie nodded, cutting to footage.

---

"P8, Jenny, not our day, but well done for clinging onto points. Let's review when we get in and let's go from there, nothing you could do." Cal's voice came through in Jenny's helmet, as she dwelled on that.

And didn't want to the more she tried to play any angle of it that was constructive. Nothing broadcastable.

She didn't give it a reply, breathing out hard, before yelling, screaming in frustration, all the constant focus finally settling in, swearing plenty, an uncharacteristic outburst, but absoltuely livid. As the ship cooled below her and she pulled back into the paddock, she opened the canopy and sat there for a moment, drenched in her own sweat, just gutted, in her own static shock.

Cal understood, this wasn't like Jamie, this was P1 snatched away, the most painful kind of loss, to have it sown and then to get involved like that. Han kept her P2, but she was just on the wrong side of it, wrong time, and now, not in the best mood. It would go away, but it would fuel more hunger for Singapore, more want to go out and put the ship on pole, and go win that race, no matter what.

Qualifying Results for Moa Tempesta:

docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1qF6cn…

---

Cooldown Room

Dorian Hornfleur

Sitting in the cooldown room, it felt strange without a Kais, Paul, Nora or Beatrix. But such was the way that things fell in racing. It wasn't always a story that followed a dream.

"Nasty hit there." Harrison observed, looking as Han almost scowled at it, Dorian making a mental note not to get too chatty with her over this.

"Yeah....racing incident. My ass." The mumble could be heard, as Dorian made a note not to add anything more when he sniped her out of the corners in Sector 3, absolutely blitzing by, and holding first for the rest of the race as Han struggled. Harrison's own little fight with Han showed him struggling to get past, while Amy's blitzing of Kais towards the last laps was no doubt gutting him too, given their focus on data for Hawaii.

As they were called out, Dorian wondered if this was it. The last hurrah. The last raise. Hawaii was one he enjoyed, as strange as it was, but to win here? Well, that was quite something, and no doubt that despite the difficulties for Paul, getting P1 here felt like a lift to the team's continued efforts to try and punch into the top end of the constructors.

---

Post-Race Interviews

By the massive waterfall that sat at Turn 12, the pilots were getting interviewed, the tropical feeling still present in the brand new rainforest under the volcano. Lei's had been given out to the pilots, as well as bespoke wooden trophies made from the new forests here to the pilots who took victory, a one of a kind style given most others were ceramic or metal.

"Paul, it just didn't play out the way you expected! Despite a solid platform, how did the positions slip?" The question was not going to be nice, but then again, the result was definitely not one that was one to cheer about.

"Kais, a positive result for the team on a circuit that you surprised everyone on as you hunted down Harrison, but in the last laps, lost out to Amy Stirling. How does it feel duelling with her, given your previous experiences at Silverstone, do you think you have an understanding?"

"Bea, a rapid push right through the backmarkers, but you just couldn't get into the points today. How did you find duelling Florence, and do you think her experience tripped you up?"

---

The other interviews took place somewhat before and after the others, intermingled, other pilots getting to mix in them.

"Honestly, so gutting. You heard me on the radio, I was yelling, proper annoyed! But yeah, we'll go again in Singapore. The ship is great, just couldn't hold onto first, and well, what happened with Han I can't really....yeah!" Jenny spoke, keeping it short.

"Yes, it was brilliant to come out on top! I was lucky, I will admit, but you make your own luck, no? Good qualifying with a ship setup that maximised our advantage, and the boss had full confidence in the strategy." Dorian replied, professional, but not hiding his excitement as the man accelerating into what used to be once middle age seemed to still pick up victories, the yellow and grey pilot-suited champion relishing in all of this.

"Well, Kais is....turbulent, he gives it everything, but I still found a way through. A fun fight though, and yeah, at Singapore I hope me and Jenny can bounce back onto the podium!" Amy chirped, knowing that Kais was reeling from that.

"Well, Bea did well to recover, but she was always going to tear it up on this track! I mean, you give her so much hassle for being Hawaiian....she just wanted to avoid more of your questions I guess!" Ava joked, and for half a second, Bea might have wondered if her team-mate was actually beginning to have her ice melt into slush...

"Han did well considering the circumstances, and while I couldn't push on Ava, honestly, happy to post a good result as we're charging towards Valkyrie. We have a lot of work to do this season but it's paying off now. And on what happened? If I speak, I'm in big trouble..." Cassie channelled peak Mourinho, the Scots-Lusitanian definitely going fully on her Portuguese side on the last bit.

"Well, a sh*t result. Just fell backwards. Not our track." Astrid was in and out of frame as fast as she'd arrived.

"Yes, over the moon! I am so, so happy with getting more points. A bit of a weave past Astrid, and Paul too, but the ship is so fast, so quick, it feels like we can make up for even our deficiencies. Bring on the speedy circuits, we'll be lightening bolts!" Hamid grinned, in the way that his growing popularity got a positive reply, the once cyborg-like Layla who ruled the airwaves with her cool aesthetic and wavy feeling replaced by a warm, almost child-like Hamid that seemed almost to leap into things more than he had before.

"Yeah, nice to be back on the podium, and honest, have been missing that for a while. We need to push on and keep pressure on Silver Apex, so that's what we'll do, and headed to our hemisphere, I hope we can give our local fans something to cheer about, especially in Aus, we have one hell of a showcase there!" Harrison stayed positive, gutted he couldn't get past Han, but glad at least to not be dwelling in the bottom end of points today.

"Bea is definitely capable, but well, we don't give positions up that easy in Formula AG! Our ship just had the right ELS setup, what can I say, we had it all, tried to risk it going for points, and holding up a train isn't fun, but like Dorian did, he took advantage of the trip up on Jenny, and just made it work. Sometimes, chaos just happens and you just have to play strategy!" Florence commented, the dark arts from the otherwise positive, happy-go-lucky pilot showing that a champion in a lower-tier ship was still a wolf in green and yellow pilot-suited clothing.

---

@MrSkimobile

Saturday 20/8/2094 21:20 - To Kais Zenix (Salt Bae)[Batt: 98%]

———— Today ————

AStirling Damn you put up a good fight! But that's payback for Silverstone ;)

---

@LadyAmber

Saturday 20/8/2094 21:32 - To Paul Mulder (Belgian Waffle) [Batt: 69%]

Wedge Yoo, just wanted to check in with you as we're team-mates next year! Got a quick question- how the fuck is Dorian still that fast despite being 40? Just checking, he isn't a cyborg is he, cos I'm gonna need to adjust to that ship?

Also, pls make sure you ask the canteen to stock schnitzel, I've becoming uncannily addicted for it in my protein allocation while in Lucerne after the Nürburgring interviews, thanks :) (I'll find something better than Hersheys to bribe them with because I know you hate it and think it's an affront to God despite it being the best thing on Earth)

---

@Starlance

Saturday 20/8/2094 23:32- To Beatrix Ward (US-Bea) [Batt: 52%]

Jen Lowry How much brick / plywood / plasterboard / composite wall do you think you can punch through with prosthetic limbs? I'm configuring a rage room in London just asking for a friend

No that wasn't totally bullshit and she should totally not get a penalty for a move that was clearly too aggressive, and write off yet another chassis with a hit that felt like losing teeth

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

Vulpine Space Command Centre, Île de la Tempête, Reunion

1000 Hours

Adam Kajtanowicz, Sophie Keller, Tahlia Harris

Soundtrack: Hans Zimmer- Estate Betrayal

The noises inside the Control Room were mostly anxious ones. Positive that the team got there. Negative that nothing came back, due to what was suspected to be a jammer.

"Oracle, this is Wilk, send traffic?" The voice cut through, Imran wanting to know exactly what the hell was going down. It was silence, nothing but that since the team had left the Arianne, in EVA and in a comms jammer. Their statuses were being pinged poorly, but audio was garbled, and broken. The signal jammer on the space station perhaps working its magic Adam had seen it all unfold, albeit from the remote feed of the observatory looking at it, in far less definition, but only one thing coming out of it truly to observe. The space station was being detonated.

"Station's been observed as dead. Awaiting confirmation." Adam replied, looking over Keller's shoulder, looking at the traces of team.

"We have contact. Two shuttle ejections. One looks to be leaving orbit....with a collision course onto the Sun? The other is coming down. Impact zone, predicted to be....coast off Esbjerg, Denmark." Keller commented, as Adam broadcast.

"Oracle, we need a QRF, Esbjerg, Denmark is the crash zone. Still awaiting confirmation, standby." Adam relayed, the comms from Oracle minimal, as he turned back to Keller.

"They got the canister away. And everyone else out. Though....the main rocket hasn't had its return come back. The station's in pieces. Fuck. Queen do you read?" Adam asked, as the realisation began to hit. The comms got more panicked.

"Got signal back. Patching you into the rest." Keller added, checking signals, realising Ark Angel must have bene jamming signals. "I can't hear anything from her." Keller replied, as Sophie pitched into the comms.

"Negative, life signs are....oh, oh fuck. Adam, it's nothing."

Adam looked in, and gave an comment to any of them.
"Team, what the fuck is going on? Can you confirm, is the threat eliminated?" He asked, as Keller looked to the screen.

"What the fuck is going on with the rest of the space station? It's like....oh, they fashioned something to renter. The hell?" Keller didn't have words, even at the end of the world, to believe what she was seeing.

---

Later That Week....

"And in other news, rumours of the Ark Angel space hotel exiting orbit, a space station launched by Vulpine Space, have been confirmed. A spokesperson proposed that the space station was not capable of sustained orbit following a malfunction, and deorbited safely into the North Sea. In an unrelated incident, Vulpine Space have proposed that People's Liberation Army activity at their launch facility was "unprecedented" and "sought a peaceful resolution to a confusion of our operating capabilities.", although tensions appear to have cooled after the attacks of last month." The voiceover played, as Laura shook her head, chained at the arms and legs, the armed guards outside making it clear if she wanted to hulk out today, she'd be getting plenty of bullets to the head inside of the secure cell. She didn't actually know where she was, she guessed somewhere in the Netherlands based on accents.

"In other news, the billionaire Pavel Andros was arrested earlier this morning for fraud and acting a sponsor of terrorist activities in the Asia-Pacific region. Andros, who denies all wrongdoing, says he has been "framed" and that it is a "misunderstanding". The billionaire's recent successes at Vale have been mired by his endeavours, including the recently destroyed Ferovia Two geoengineering facility, the Southern Cross Observatory in Chile and La Jardin Villeneuve in Marrakesh being destroyed. All of which have shrouded the billionaire in mystery, leaving many speculating that his affairs were far from clean. In sports...."

"Worth it to flaunt on Freya, though." Laura grinned, stretching out, getting looks from at least two of the guards on her cell.

---

Epilogues: Those Who Serve

Somewhere near Babia Gora, Tatry, Poland

One Week After Return, 1900 Hours Local

Adam Kajtanowicz

Sitting in the chair in the old, stone-walled mountain hut, Adam stared daggers at Oracle. He'd asked to visit. Another NATO team was in Raven's place, and for now, they were off duty. A debrief had happened. Faacts trickled out, and the team realised it. It was a cold, horrid feeling. Knowing Skye was dead, well, it left a sour taste. And it hurt each of them. All that had gone down, every detail of it, examined, and then....

Silence.

No formal thank yous. Nothing at all. No recognition for what they'd done. Behind the covers, there had been plenty of cheers. A silent nod of approval. A silent agreement that the future was left open to the team. In a game that usually meant you couldn't leave, there was a feeling you didn't talk back to the people that saved the world.

Adam took that as a sign that things were significantly more complicated behind the scenes So when Oracle called, Adam told him to come here. He wasn't coming out to him. Not on his turf. If an apology was coming, then it would. Some small talk had passed. Adam cut to the chase, the green-shirt wearing, jeans having Pole having his beard grown out long, his head firmly bald.

"So, by the fact you're here, you want something. Debrief wasn't enough. You got second thoughts."

Oracle sighed, nodding, the Sikh, MTP-wearing commander knowing this was a hard one to breach.

"Yep. Look, about..."

"You wanted us to take in one of the most difficult pieces of shit we found. Zhao straight up would have given you the key to something that produced Rose. What the fuck is wrong with you? Now we're off that record, yeah, we all said it straight to keep you in your job. Now you want more?"

"Playing every card we had. Or are you just a trigger happy cold bastard that can't follow orders? With feelings for her?" Oracle leaned in, Adam staring back.

The sentence stopped, as Adam stared daggers.

"A realisation you were happy to repeat past mistakes. With all due respect, I think you've got some balls, but you needed more to tell them to fuck off. Yet now you're here. You walked in here, and expect anything less than for me to take that tomahawk and mash you in? You were good, Imran, once upon a time. The very best. But you're an old man preaching morality. So what are you trying to get at? Redemption for you? Or that I'm expendable?" Adam asked, knowing he would cut to the chase. Oracle didn't like being talked down to, but in this instance, he knew he had little recourse himself. He'd shielded his team from the wave of shit, quietly agreeing, but knowing deniability was how the game worked.

"Artemis is dead. All but wiped. You saw the news. Pavel Andros got arrested. And you have our eternal thanks, given how close we were to the brink. But...." Imran began, as Adam leaned forwards.

"You still need someone." Adam cut him off, as Oracle slid a document across the table.

"I need you back. There's clean up work. And what I said to the team about indefinite leave is no less true. But there's going to be other threats. Jihadist groups in Iraq that want to stir more shit than anyone has any reason to know. There's a cartel in the Caribbean who are filling the vacuum of the cocaine groups that you dismantled, and they'll come across the idea of making biological weapons of their own. And Spectre is still loose. Finding whatever alliances he needs. We need to kill it at the root before the weed spreads." Imran added, knowing Adam had been wanting to lead the team for years. And yet, been in quiet waiting, for that moment.

"We save the world, and yet it still spins for you fast?" Adam replied, as Oracle, or Imran, nodded.

"Sometimes, Adam, that's just how it is. A bit more boring. But it spins." Oracle started, the document open. "You'd be in charge, and given any resource you need. Same as Skye did. Run it your way. You told me you wanted that a long time ago. Here's your chance." Oracle began, as Adam pushed the document shut.

"I'm not interested. You know, Skye was right. I am too intense. Too addicted to this. But...I know someone who would." Adam leaned forwards, flicking through, finding a face in the dossier.

Looking at the face, eyebrows raised, as he looked back up.

"You think she's ready for it?" Oracle asked, Sam's face in centre.

"Worth an ask. If not, then I know the team's on indefinite leave. And that you agreed we could walk away considering the shit that went down. She might not want it though. Maybe because of the same reasons as me. But maybe, you could convince her. Let her get her affairs sorted first." Adam replied, as he shrugged, knowing that could go either way. "Xander is too wild. But he might come back if you can give him some ADHD shots. Ogre, Jaguar, Boxer. Maybe even Tiny Nord could give you another team that gives you another angle. But who out of those I would have leading....well, I see why you came to me if you couldn't." Adam stated, knowing the old Raven roster, and why Imran was here.

Oracle sighed, knowing it was worth a punt, having a response to earlier.

"You know I didn't have a choice. Ebrima was smart enough. Smart to realise what he did when the cams were reviewed by everyone from Washington to Brussels. If he hadn't....I'm pretty sure he'd be flayed. Same with Sam. Smart cookie, that one. You'd almost call it malicious malcompliance. Smart enough to keep me out of the shit, too." Oracle mentioned, Adam chuckling.

"That's very funny. I'm not sure how much you know Ebrima, but he'd take platoons with him if they tried. Sam too, she.....easy to underestimate, but she knew what was at stake. So leave that to us, a bunch of deniable operatives mean you get to deny anything, right? Besides, revenge is a fool's game, especially when you're dealing with operators at our level that don't care how it ends. We're stubborn enough not to die. Ebrima, most of all." Adam chuckled, sipping down more coffee, as Imran leaned back in the chair.

"Perhaps. Maybe like you." Imran poked back, Adam shrugging.

"Touche." Adam replied, as Imran finished his.

"Skye was extraordinary. Lay my cards out, no fucking wonder Rose went as wild as she did. And much as I'd like to say there's a thread....there is nothing left. The Project that spawned her, everyone of the management team got killed by Rose, all the way to the top. She got her justice. But yeah. It left a lot of people losing their minds. Intelligence community's been a hive over this."

"No shit. Have fun unpacking it. That, is why I'm not so keen." Adam added, the Pole standing, as Imran turned in the wooden stool.

"I suppose the rest that remains is what next for you. Going to continue living this life, quiet? Someone of your skills?" Imran quried, Adam shrugging as he was grabbing another bit of water from the boiling kettle, pouring it into another mug, Imran's as well.

"Enjoying this. Until you phone me telling me that things are about to end and your team leader's fallen out of the sky again. Sure. But maybe I've learned that there's a reason we fight the wars in the dark for you, and your job is to make sure the wrong people, on our side, don't take advantage." Adam wryly commented. "I imagine you learned that we aren't so fucking stupid. So for now, I think I have some other affairs to get in order. I see what you're getting at. So. Got your answer? Happy?" Adam started, knowing it wasn't going to smooth things over with him, but in his own particular way, get back to the point. "One thing might sweeten the deal though." Adam came out and asked, as Imran nodded, in agreement, pouring sugar into his own coffee, then Imran's.

"Name your price."

"I need some details on a certain militia in Tennessee. I need intel. There's never a last job. But there are things you give your team, even when they leave. Commitments that Skye made that I suppose, pay her back by me keeping them." Adam stated, as Imran nodded, realising what he was alluding to.

"Oh, them. They're....well, they're low in the priority list. On the Richter Scale in the community, a blip. One HVT sticks out. A former US Marine Colonel recently moved ranks to them. Putting even one of you to the task would be like taking a stun gun to a fly though." Imran added, as Adam smiled.

"Oh....I think this might work very mutually for you. Well. We'll talk on that." Adam stood again, yanking the axe out of the wood he'd been trimming, before throwing a couple of logs into the fire, thinking that over.

He knew the reality of Imran's position. He just wanted to see how he'd take it. A fair bollocking, but then again, Adam knew as a disciplinarian himself, he'd have done the same. Zhao was too valuable to let go.

"And how about you?" Adam asked Imran, as he sipped down more coffee, hands open.

"Same shit, different day. I'm clearly not retiring soon. If you weren't such a rude cunt, you'd do better in management. Maybe mine. I would have probably let that go to someone like Skye, in time." The tall Sikh replied with a sigh on that thought, Adam cracking a rare smile, coming back over, grabbing his coffee.

"Yeah, well it turns out speaking your mind's, it's a dangerous thing in the intelligence community. I'll pass. I suppose you got to live being a bastard, but hey. We worked it out, didn't we?" Adam replied with a little sarcasm, as Imran chuckled, getting a smile out of him, it dawning more and more.

"Yeah, point taken. Point, bloody, taken. Fuck me. What a mess that was." Imran sipped the coffee away, as the scene cut to the hut itself, the smoke stack with gentle white puffs coming from the logburner, and the quiet pine forest revealing the solitude.

"I wouldn't call her a mess. Just everything that happened to her. But she came good." Adam noted, as Imran nodded.

"Always did."

---

@Rhona W

Porto Montenegro, Tivat, Montenegro

Two Weeks Later After Return, 2100 Hours

Tahlia Harris

It felt strange. The dying of the light, and the ultra-ultra luxurious private yacht marina in front of Tahlia's scope, sitting perched within the luxurious loft-like pad that sat on the harbourside, thermal optic on, bolt-action, sub-sonic MacMillan CS5, chambered in .308 Winchester subsonic, the black sniper rifle so compact it fit in a large suitcase, but right now, expanded out into Tahlia's shoulder.

A posh little place, costing at least half a thousand euros a night, but a perfect place to base herself in, the Kiwi in a tight-fitting vest, prosthetics at stumps, and rifle stationed in against a ground-anchored mount. Nothing on the wealth in the harbour, there was an absolute flood of various mercenaries, of whom barely weeks ago, Rose would have happily let die. Spectre had pulled himself from his hide hole to here, trying to broker deals. Save his skin, that was thoroughly, truly fucked. And Oracle's little tip off had worked rather nicely for herself, and for Eloise to get to work.

"Archer, you copy?"

Adjusting the rifle, the Kiwi watched as she got to work, knowing Eloise preferred quiet, but she'd get at least an acknowledgement.

"Path's clear. We've got Christian Hansen, Spectre himself on that super yacht....The Scalpel. Former Artemis bigwig for the taking.....and your friend. Spectre's going to need a bullet, arrow or knife. But if you want your acquaintance, he's there. I'll let you decide what his fate is." Tahlia simply uttered, as the headset buzzed with another frequency.

"Hey, Tahly. Is she on the job at the moment?"

"Yeah, sorta. Can't really speak." Tahlia replied, as the voice excitedly returned.

"Okay, cool. Just let me know when." The voice replied, as Tahlia watched Eloise move, smooth as ever, losing her in the Marina, back on another comms channel.

"Viper's sorted out the CCTV. I'll keep a coffee free for you both when you're done." Tahlia snickered, watching a guard move towards Tahlia, a silent shot splatting the man's head and him straight into the water, sinking as salt water filled hole in skull.

"Clear. All you, Archer. Show me how a professional does it."

---

Somewhere on Hvar, Croatia

Two and a Half Weeks After Return, 1000 Hours

The beach had lapping waves, aquamarine water, and an unusual peace.

Calming, quiet. It was silent, empty, the tiny village on the Adriatic coast having a few boats in the harbour, a Taberna that was off the beaten track, and amazingly, no tourists around. The Croatian island was paradise, and this beach in particular had to be known to someone to get them there.

It was a perfect place to relax, and Eloise had gotten the recommendation from Tahlia. The Kiwi sniper was unable to join, instead flying home, off to see her dad, and spend a moment off things. She'd been so zoned in, so focussed on looking after Raven, that she was the first to go when things stopped. On the job so much, so in the cobbled Kotor, she said goodbye to Eloise, and Purna did too after a lovely brew and a round of greasy Italian food. And headed home. Home to her dad, Andrew, and the farm, the beautiful valley in rural Otago with deer, sheep, dairy cows and chickens the life she realised she was beginning to miss. Firing a gun felt satisfying, it felt like service, but now that service was done. And well, she owed Skye that much. Live a quiet life, back to herself.

Purna had been happy to stay, but a job had come up. And so he was off too, but he'd be happy to work with Eloise whenever needed. For some weird reason, as much as he didn't like having a partner in the game, he knew she was more than capable of being that backup. The game was clearly evolving, and there were always targets that needed removing from the chessboard. Between them, Purna knew they'd be ready when those days came.

After saving the world, it must have felt strange, but Eloise had the world in her palms. But she was here, the few chaises on the beach, and after all of the talk of the team, was now alone once again.

Not for long though.

Spotting her, the giantess grinned, the waves carrying her in as she emerged from the water, as she stood above them crashing into shore like a column, her brisk swim across the bay giving her a chance to dive amongst old Yugo shipping wrecks, the pocket rebreather hanging out of her mouth, goggles peeled around her neck.

Athena cast a shadow, the teal blue bikini hanging on for absolute dear life contrasting with her mane-like wet blonde hair, left to run riot, like an exploding mirage past her shoulders, bruised, battered, but recovering. Yet that was barely a stain on the statuesque, bronzed, carved as if from marble skin, water falling from her as she cleared what seemed like a big gap to absolutely nothing to reach where Eloise was on her chaise. She whipped her hair, salt water brushing out like some sort of retriever, although of course, Athena knew *exactly* what she was doing, looking at the smaller, black haired infiltrator she wanted to spring this surprise on.

"Well, hello you. Fancy seeing you here!" Athena giggled, holding back her own excitement, though turning into a light jog that seemed like she was clearing yard with her long legs.

"I mean, I thought I'd just take a teeny, tiny, little break from social media....I mean I can see why you thought I was dead! Did you think I was off grid forever?" Athena grinned, barely needing a stride more to bring Eloise into her arms, in an embrace, lips locked, the smaller girl squished into the endless volume of chest, both heartbeats almost wanting to bounce out of her ribs into Eloise. It felt like the smaller girl's was about to leap into Athena's.

"A little bit of space dust, aren't you?" Athena softly giggled, her Mid-Atlantic voice, usually booming, loud, overwhelming, turning into a tantalising, almost crawling whisper, holding her tight still. And still talking.

"You know, nearly dying in that....thing, it made me re-evaluate things. Going a bit quieter. I appreciate you waiting for me. Tahlia did well getting that cryptic letter to you to come here and expect something special....I'm glad you're enjoying it." Athena grinned, putting her down at last, casting a shadow over the tiny infiltrator, walking towards the chaises that sat on the beach, Eloise at an eye level where she'd likely realise where Athena's sister had some envy walking behind. Lifting for a twin-hearted giantess, and carrying the Warhawk around meant she frankly had legs that looked like they were chiselled from Carrara stone, let alone flesh.

"So, we saved the world. You did. And here you are, being all quiet. How have you been? And well, what plans now? Because, I think it's time I stop being so busy and smell the flowers." She teased, looking down past her shoulder and her breast, bra barely able to keep up with the crackhead energy that she had, as they got to the chaises, setting down, Athena back to Eloise's level but her body sprawling out. She actually kept her trap shut, listening to Eloise, knowing the usually shy, quiet admirer had suddenly pulled her attention.

Plenty were envious of Athena, but if anything, she learned something strange. Her beauty brought in the faces to Blue Sword, all eyes Athena, she was a little narcissistic yet knew what her confidence did. And now, she realised that who she wanted, she didn't see the appearance, she didn't want some burly man, she didn't want someone who would worship her. She wanted someone who loved her for what she represented, and more than all, she wanted that quiet, sweet, small love in a world that from her own viewline, was bigger than life.

It was something she appreciated, because while she'd come back, louder, bigger than ever before, the gym calling, she had enjoyed a bit of quiet. Spending time with Freya in that final moment, so she thought, made her realise that. Crash landing into the North Sea and washing up in Denmark, the wreck was one sis was proud of, but Athena was just glad they'd survived. And glad they'd gotten a ride back out of, Athena letting her mother take over work for a little bit for her to unpack the much, much more terrifying near death experience she'd had. Even compared to having RPGs fired at her, that uncertainty had made her feel alive, and the adrenaline in her had been plenty used up by that. But it would be back. And #AdrenalineAthena was going to make her name known once again. Except this time, behind the biggest of names, would be someone she'd give all of her to.

Turning over, Athena giggled, shaking her head, head rested on the pillars of forearms she had, her heart-shaped face over her shoulder looking to Eloise, longingly. She'd been quiet for more than five minutes.

"Uhhh...are you just going to sit and ogle like everyone else? Let me turn bronze like I belong on Mount Olympus? Or are you gonna put some sunblock on me? Because I think I only need one squirt and I've got you covered. Me? You're gonna need the rest of that bottle. You looked up at that blimp of mine with some envy.....how about you get to see what that blimp feels like. No small gestures anymore." Athena grinned, a deep, broad smile, as if for a moment, work was left behind. The constant pressure to impress, show herself off, and yet on this private beach, of all the people that perhaps would have landed hands of sun-tan lotion on Athena Kaantario's back, and maybe beyond, she certainly wouldn't want anybody else.

---

@Starlance

Somewhere in the Australian Outback, Perth, Australia

Two Months Later After Return, 0300 Hours

Purna Gurung

The Chinook drummed, as the recruits lept out of the back. The bear pitch darkness made it impossible, but using the limited starlight they had, the recruits had a target on their backs.

A pretty big one.

In the early morning of the outback bush as the orange haze lit the horizon, it wasn't just all of Australia that wanted to kill them, but hypothetically, two Blue Sword instructors. Beasting them had been one part of it, weapons training, infil/exfil, dealing with a variety of threats, so far, the operatives were the alpha predators. The modern battlefield demanded it. Now, they were the hunted.

An hour later, the stoppage of the electric quad bike made it easy to crawl through the bush.
"So, we hunting game? You got Team A, I have B?" Purna asked, chambering an AR-enabled dummy round into his Mk14 from the rack on the front of the quad, picking up the first group.

"They're working together. For now. Shall we see how they fare by dawn? Then execute a sweep?" Purna asked, rifle in hands, the boonie-hat wearing, MTP fatigues wearing infiltrator aware that he might not have been the original best pick for an instructor, but a contract was a contract. Blue Sword offered him something to tide him over, and between jobs, and after it all going down in Porto Montenegro, Purna wondered if Ebrima making the choice had brought him here as well.

It was strange, to call someone he wanted to slice open a friend. Strange even. But life changed. And Tahlia was right. It was worth literally, burying the Kukri in this one. Ebrima had more than earned it killing Rose, and in a strange way, he had little to lose being here. Buying time to think of his next move. Family always enjoyed the remittance, especially with the bulk up in pay from Blue Sword, cousins building houses, significantly improving things from their near silent benefactor. But he needed to see them again. Remind himself of his roots. He was getting comfortable, far too much so, but Purna knew that life wasn't about suffering and hurt. Even if living it was comfortable, he was ready to carry on. There would be plenty more private contracts, and his unique set of skills would be getting plenty more use in time.

It was a job he'd been unsure about, but somehow, he enjoyed teaching. Maybe Skye made him realise that. And Eloise too. He was a good mentor, a rough, but fair person to make sure others delivered to the top of their game.

For now, it was time to hunt some PMC candidates, and put them through their paces.

---

@LadyAmber

Somewhere in Ouray, Rocky Mountains, Colorado

Two Months Later After Return, 1000 Hours

Adam Kajtanowicz

The small, old mining town sat as a tourist trap nowadays, sitting at the foot of the Million Dollar Highway, with lots of quaint and beautiful shops, cafes and souvenir shops before the road span south into the deeper Rockies, away from the hustle and bustle of society.

Near ski resorts like Telluride, but far enough out of the way for someone who was waiting for the doomsday to hit within the continental US.

Moving Aviators off face, the rustle of the large pickup truck in the distance made him perk up, putting coffee down, walking across to the window, out of the cafe, knowing that the two passengers. Adam knew it was likely surprising he'd done this for them, but then again, he was a man of his word. A tight-arse, but loyal to Skye's choices. A payback he gave to Ban, letting him settle scores in Japan.

"Good to see you again." Adam's eyebrows raised at the big man, the former Raven operator clambering open the rear door, looking across to Chuck and Sam, tablet pushed forwards. Out of sound, out of sight as the door shut.

"Recovering okay? Good to have you back, Chuck." Adam asked, the larger man's seat all the way back, as even Adam had to keep to Sam's side, knowing the situation.

"I found what you were looking for, Sam. Looks like who you were looking for....they're best friends with Chuck's old CO. Colorado cell is....was a goldmine. Up in the Mount Hayden wilderness. They had a cabin. And they left intel lying around. And about five guys, including a former US Marine Major. They're good. But you'll do better." Adam tapped the tablet, breathing out, knowing what this had come to.

"Everything on there that you needed. Convenient that you get to...how do you say in English, kill two birds, with one stone?" Adam chuckled,

"But if you decide not to, then turn it over to the FBI, NSA, and I'm sure they would like to look at it. Though I mean, between us...I think you both would go through them like tissue paper. Oracle owed me a favour to let me get some justice done. He has the same for you. Perk of the job." Adam added, as he slid across his FiveSeven onto the centre console, silencer attached.

"Skye trusted you, believed in you, needed you. You don't trust Oracle. But after this, if you're looking for that life, it's still there." Adam added, breathing out as he leaned back.

"You're right to trust nobody. But there's a family beyond this. Keep in contact. No matter what happens, Sam Dalton. And you too, Chuck. Freya will do right by you. I have a free calendar, so when we need to sort out your pre-wedding drinks....we shall make it like old times." Adam's polish rang out, as he chuckled, opening the door after their replies, looking in.

"Happy hunting, both of you. Go show them they made the wrong enemies." Adam gave a smile, before shutting the door, and like that, disappearing off.

---

Camp Hannula, Poysjarvi National Park, Finland

Two Months Later After Return, 1500 Hours

Sophie Keller, Vincent Cisse, Javi Garcia, Raphael Cohen

The slow shutdown meant that the support team were packing away a lot later than most,

It had been hard for the team. Stuck in Hannula, winding down with reports, documents and work, but they'd been getting leave at least, before then returning back to help the packup.

The rapid mobilisation left a mess.

Sophie in particular sat in the Doctor's mess. Putting her bits and pieces into her medical bags, a part of her always wondered what on earth Skye meant about this whole system. Many higher ups had told her to stop. And from the fact she'd died for it, maybe that was best. Some stories didn't need more digging. The medical reports were all stripped out of the system, and Sophie wondered if somewhere, someone had wanted to look inside Skye Rosalind Lyons. They likely had bodies of her still. It hurt thinking about that. But then again, she'd volunteered. And knew that Skye, somewhere up in that blue oblivion, had died in service of humanity, of a greater whole. And that was something Sophie knew was part of who her boss happened to be. She'd saved her life, so perhaps in that way, Sophie realised she owed it to Skye to live hers.

She wanted to go home. A lifetime of working as a field surgeon and doctor was taking its toll on her mentally, and she was ready to go home. Back to a quiet clinic in St Moritz, a private one where she'd be working on skiiers and rich billionaires more than anyone else. She took the bags, and with it, took one last glance, breathing out an exhale in the summer heat at where Freya had rehabilitated her arm, Ebrima had been medicated up, and half the team had come in hurt, wounded or feeling under the weather, and she'd put them back together, through the power of everything she could give.

Vincent had been thinking about what next. Blue Sword had offered a contract, flying V22s again for a living, but he still wasn't quite sure. He fancied a break, given how intense everything had been, go travelling, see the world a little. The world nearly ending put things in perspective for him, and as wild as the journey had been, he wanted to go home, hug his parents hard, and see his cousins, nieces and nephews. And then he'd figure it out. Losing Skye hurt him a lot. But family, that mattered and he was grateful for what was to come. A well earned break. Packing his last bags, Peltor headset away and gone, he knew that piloting was off his radar for a while, but would come back when he felt that burn for close fire support.

Javi in the meantime sat fixing the Toyota Hilux that had served them for trips out into the wilderness, caused by Antti. With the leak pulled, his future was similar to Vincent's. A job back in Blue Sword was interesting, but he worked best at the edges of things. He'd go where Raven went. He wasn't leaving. He was staying, and the replacement team already needed a vehicle tech. A site in the Azores, at Lajes Airbase. He wondered how they would compare to the redhead's fiery demands, and the rest of Raven. He was missing them already, but back home, there was nothing he wanted to go back to. Nothing that wouldn't leave him facing demons he didn't want to live by. Even at the end of the world, an event nobody outside of Raven's tiny management and team knew about, things had altered.

Raphael had the same, the data from Raven's systems requiring a comb. He followed Javi, loading his bag into the back of the pickup truck, knowing that Enri still gave him evil eyes, but well, they'd at least amicably agreed that once the work was done at Reunion, they could call it half-even. They'd never be the same, but at the least, Raph left Enri on better terms than they'd arrived to, knowing she'd likely leave behind all of this. For him, going to see family wasn't so tempting, and while it would be nice to catch up on affairs, the state of the world's chaos never seemed to sleep. He had enjoyed the break, the slow packdown, but it was time to start a new project. Maybe even get a new team so he could focus more on the strategic side of things. The satellite weapon that Artemis had commissioned had been knocked out given their actions in Chile, but Raph knew he had plenty to do to make sure it never could be reactivated, and that was his project for the foreseeable, one of the few that could be trusted to delve into it.

With the pickup truck fired up, Sophie, Vincent, Javi and Raph were ready to leave, and prepared for the journey ahead, on their various paths.

Antti Järvinen

The air felt a little tricky, as sitting inside of the Raven's Rock, Antti realised he was nearly the last person left. Until he had heard the large Russian wonder over, if not a tectonic plate moving.

Natalie, Natalya, Natalia, whatever spelling some poor bastard had decided to use that would offend, stood almost regal, her red blouse and tights screaming under the sheer amount of Russian mother that they had to deal with today. Athena got it from her, but so did Freya. Shorter, of course, and in age, fighting harder to stay like this, but she aged as gracefully as the Alsace winery she seemed to breathe out.

"Antti. I wanted to say thank you." Natalie almost felt like she was ordering, as Antti shrugged, barely phased by the half Russian, half Frenchwoman's pleasantry. Not because he was rude. But because he was Finnish.

"A pleasure, Colonel. The team did what they had to. We're packed up. Did you keep any of the Raven team?"

"Yes. Purna and Ebrima stayed on, as contractors. Helpful for training. And given my daughters wanted a break. Silly girls. They re-enters the atmosphere, and thinks that business will stop....I thought I raised better children. At least Jamie still gets to work. And you work hard, Antti."

"That's why you hire me, Boss. Are you not happy they are alive?" Antti got a rare chuckle out of Natalie, as she leant in, the Matriarch leading the way still, wanting to keep conversation with the Finn.

"Me and Victor didn't raise weaklings. And did not skimp on the heat properties of their titanium. Yes, as always, I am right to hire you. I have a wedding to go to. My oldest daughter has decided she has wanted to take the hand of another giant. And my husband thinks this is a good idea. Hah. I feel sorry for him already. Freya will never bend to any man." Natalie chuckled with almost an evil intent, walking through the armoury, her heels clicking on concrete, before talking in the Finn's quiet.

"What about you, Antti? What will you do?" Natalie asked, as Antti took a moment to think that over. What wouldn't he do that any Finn would?

"Fish. Hunt. Drink. Enjoy retirement. And come back when you need me. And you, Mrs Kaantario?" Antti simply stated, keeping it simple, as Natalie appreciated that plenty.

The armoury doors opened, as Natalie walked on in, looking back to Antti over her shoulder, shrugging.

"I came here for a fitting. Because now one daughter is engaged, and another is....enjoying herself, and my son is now alone. I think it's about time I check he has help. And I'm not talking about the wedding dress for my eldest daughter. Leave a woman alone, would you?" Natalie chuckled, as Antti looked confused, holding before the door where the Heavies had geared up, hearing nothing but a quieting voice, as heels came off, blouse dropped as Antti let the matriach keep her modesty, albeit her voice didn't stop even alone in her little temple.

"Now, Miss Zeiss. I suppose because my youngest can't be bothered....I shall enjoy the fruits of your labour a little." Natalie seemed to almost revert to a historical state, and with it, gave a hearty laugh, the bare feet on floor turning into an ocean of grunting. Followed by the sounds of strapping boots on the other end and an awful lot of rustling.

Standing outside, he sent an archaic encrypted message as he leant against the wall, smoking a cigarette, finally loaded from the server that he'd been responsible for dismantling.

Antti had thought about this a while. He was normally loyal, obedient, to a point, and blunt. A well earned rest was on his mind. But even in the short period they'd spent here, he wanted to make sure he paid back the team what was owed. Skye had bonded well with him, away from the rest, and through Tahlia, he understood full well what that meant. So, he left a final message, while the boss was busy clearly trying to fit into something that was made for a very different giantess.

"I found Skye's last messages on the server. She tagged them for you. Sending it across. Good luck, Raven Squad. You are always welcome for tea, sauna, and sausages on a stick."

That send was pinged, as he looked out at the green forest out of the armoury door, before looking back and up to see Natalie in that THICC suit of Laura's, an earth-destroying grin on her face.

"Perfect fit. Victor's going to want a divorce when he finds out, but I think....when he sees it he might change his mind. This was what I came for." Natalie gave a playful flex, chuckling. Any slowness stopped because it was exactly where it had left off. A muscular-based exoskeleton in the hands of a 50 year old? It was like the years rolled back. And well, Laura's bust was not far off Natalie's....and she was absolutely back to feeling like she was in her younger days again. And she felt incredible doing it.

"Make sure to bring a helmet. A sniper will get you." Antti pointed out with barely a crack or grin, though Natalie knew that full well, and would riff on that.

"Field generator will cover that. I prefer the improved vision....this new fangled technology, I think...it would be rude not to try. Thank you Antti. I'll leave you to it." Natalie smiled, walking away, indulging in just how silly this thing was, like her old armour but turned up to 11, and well, it brought out everything just how she wanted. Both her daughters had nothing on this.

With her phone buzzing inside one of the pockets, linked to the suit's network, she picked up, Antti watching on at the base's new quiet, but the quietening. Now this was something she hadn't done in years. And my....the years just disappeared in that moment. And Victor would soon be won around. When she saw his wife's figure in this thing. Shit, maybe this was why Laura was so crazy....even Natalie had to admit, this made a siren of her, if that siren had six inches of liquid armour, titanium and dragonskin plating. The voice from Antti's perspective quietened.

"General Lawrence. Yes, I'm aware. I thought you might ask, but my daughter is unavailable. But we can deliver on that contract. I will see to it personally with my son. Yes. No, no, Victor...he's tied up with some other affairs for now, and he'll understand. And so will my other daughter. But we're a company of our word. I'll talk when we have it bagged and tagged...."

The voice tailed, as Antti looked at his phone, knowing it had been received by the team, as the message pinged.

The voice in the distance changed, with a barrelling laugh as she connected another call.
"Freya! Oh, you'll never guess what your mother found...."

---

Sometime Before Reunion

Sitting at the laptop, Skye sipped down her coffee, looking at the deployment regime, following the EVA training for Ark Angel....if it came to that. Skye hoped not, but then again, best to cover Rose off if she was trying something.

Another fucking horrid day of it. For them. She'd already put herself through that usual hell.

She updated, a few things, checking her phone's private calendar once again. It was that time again. She didn't like ever doing this. It felt a bit archaic, but then again, things with Rose had made her go on edge a little more.

So, she cleared her throat, and with it, set up the camera. She had a few more things to say.

Soundtrack: Ed Sheeran- Fire

There were other clips in there. But the first was the most recent.

"Hey. I guess I'm not really meant to do this....and given I'm a ghost I suppose I usually kept the same. Given I'm not really a person anymore either, after all of this, maybe this is stupid. But we will kill her. We will end this. Whether or not I end up on that other end. If you're hearing this, there's a good chance I didn't. Fuck, I've tried to record this a few times already. So, it's hard to know what to put into words." Skye stopped, looking down, almost as if wondering what the point was, her words confused.

"And if so....I guess this overwrites my usual message. That I expect to die in this game, that one. And I know all of you have that message too. But given we're at the end....well, of perhaps what Rose, a sister wearing my face has done, seen things, done things that none of us could ever be trained for, I suppose I may as well alter what you hear." Skye's voice seemed stoic, yet drifting in thought, in memory.

"I didn't deserve anything special. My usual message would tell you to bury me at sea. Forget I existed. Remove the slate....because I've just been a tool in the service of the team I work with. And it always was there. Nothing else. Makes things easier for you to move on with your lives." Skye started, as she sighed, breathing out, her thoughts wild on this before the trip to Reunion. "But I thought about it. About her. About all of it. And....to be human is to die and know it." She added, as she leaned back, eyes up, before looking back at the camera.

"So, given how things are going, the mission being kill her or humanity dies...if something were to happen to me.....there's a quiet alcove in the Isle of Skye. In a place called Fairy Pools, under the Black Cullin, you'll find a braid off the footpath from where the stream's waterfalls pour under the mountain at a blue looking rock. It goes through a rocky braid of the stream, up a teeny little wee valley. You can't really miss it. And behind that, there's a small tuft of wildflower, almost a strange looking circle of grass, with a stone circle. I'd like my fiddle left there at the front of it, and a rock with my name on it. I never had a request before, for any of this. But if this is the one that kills me, knowing that you lived to kill Rose....I'd like solace to know I existed." Skye started, knowing it was a strange request.

"My dad took us there once, and I remember it just being special. So, I suppose if I don't get to show you there myself....I'd like you to leave the memory of me there." Skye stopped, the serious face turning to a chuckle, shrugging her shoulders. "I understand that's something from The Big Lebowski, but....I'd appreciate it." Skye added, exhaling, thinking hard about what she wanted to say next.

"This world is flawed. But if you're hearing this, it means you're capable of going back to it and doing some good, beyond all of what you just saved. There won't ever stop being threats to everyone, people who want to take away everything from good people. But that's why you're here. And even if you don't stay....know that it was a pleasure, and you'll do the same beyond Raven. If you're getting this at all, it's been a few months. Antti probably held onto it, and I'm hoping that he got told by me to delete it when we get home. And I made sure you all got some well earned leave, from me, from Raven, from saving the world. But if not.....and if there's an afterlife, or...well, I suppose pragmatically, a better place to put an overpriced instrument than my office, I'd appreciate it. One last memory I can leave you with. Thanks, team." Skye signed out, cutting the recording, breathing out.

"Fuck me." She said to herself, tapping the desk. "Fuck me sideways. What was that....getting bloody emotional shit." Skye chuckled, shaking her head, still unsure why she'd done that. It wasn't to be thought about much. The redhead adjusted her hair, closed everything down, and shut her laptop off, standing out of the desk and looking at the evening, hearing the noise of the team below through the partially open door. She took a deep breath in, and headed back out, knowing she best not miss dinner again with work.

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

Ark Angel, Lower Earth Orbit

The Final Roar

A Collab with @LadyAmber@BigPapaBelial@Rhona W@Starlance

For the second time - at least - in the short span that he’d served with Raven, Ebrima found himself wishing he hadn’t been raised not to swear in order to properly describe the situation he had found himself in. This was absolute bovine manure. An unimaginable pile of it. What choices did he make in life that led to him being in space, literally alien to humans with no reliable natural way of telling how far anything was when they were moving, much less actually fighting in it?

Still, one must adapt, he thought, using the provided grapple to quickly get behind some solar panels. Not like it was any cover, concealment at best, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. According to one of the small pile of materials provided in preparation for the mission, it took on average 14 seconds for a human exposed to the vacuum of space to pass out - assuming the decompression was long enough to not rip up one’s lungs. Thus, he decided double taps were the name of the game, hard to imagine anyone managing to patch up two holes in the time afforded to them.

Eventually he found something approaching solid cover - the control moment gyroscopes by appearance - and could finally stop darting around like a rag in the wind and actually aim, having hooked his foot under a handhold and started putting in work when Rose decided she was in a chatty mood.

He held his tongue. For one, people like her were not worth the breath - literally in space, where it was a limited commodity - and two, the only retort that he could come up with involved having had parents at all as opposed to a serial number, which would’ve involved a degree of friendly fire. Although Rose’s transmission had clearly had an effect, if the image of a grapple cable flying toward an Artemis position, followed by the cable pulling back with an Artemis merc with the hook impaled through the helmet’s visor was of any indication, it didn’t have an effect Rose would be happy with.

Eloise had propelled herself in the same direction as the others, keeping herself oriented on the station as a fixed object. As the hostile mercs had made their way toward them, she’d likewise driven hard for the cover of the station and it’s various jutting peripherals.
Much like Ebrima, she struggled to reconcile the distances; there were no cues. No sound, no breeze, no normal shadows. Just stark light and dark, and objects swimming in a sea of it. She hooked herself around the support of one of the shimmering solar panels, and hand-over-hand ‘climbed’ down it toward the station’s exterior hull. Vibrations came through her boots and gloves as she made contact with the station; almost reassuring to have some other sensory stimulus beyond her own self-contained environment in the suit.

When Rose came over the radio to waffle and monologue, Eloise essentially tuned it out, though mentally made a mark to give her a boot up the ass for the personal remarks - though, she figured Skye likely had that as covered as the rest of them did.
Oh, those mercs were getting awfully close… well, in relative terms, anyway.

Short lived sparks showed the muzzle flashes of her friends and allies gunfire, and likewise from the mercs. But lack of snap and pop of gunfire and of ricochets was unnerving. Nonetheless -
She unstrapped her SMG, and took careful aim, the bulky suit hampering it somewhat, before she squeezed off rounds, the bulky gloves likewise making it difficult. The shot translated as a thudding drum of vibration as the rounds sliced out through the vacuum.

“Copy, Chaos. Me and Boaro got you covered.” Skye called back, watching as the grapple smacked the merc in a mist that made Boaro’s response to Skye’s call a rather stark one. She moved through the field of solar panels, providing cover to the Cameroonian, dumping the magazine into another merc moving out around the station, before latching into cover on a hardpoint, another loaded, charging handle peeled through the thick gloves of the suit. Eloise was keeping close, quiet, but no less lethal.

There was no denying this was not in their comfort zone, but then again, Skye knew it wasn’t in the foes they were facing either. But knowing Rose was inside, or at least, towards the centre gave a bit of solace. A point. A direction to go and charge into.

Athena laid out a bit more fire, following on her sister, laying out accurate, guided fire on the mercs on the far side of the solar panel field, clipping two into a bloody mist.
“Yeah, me and Frigga have the rest as well! Get after it!” Athena called back, as Skye peeled a look, before coming back down, seeing the airlock begin to open, the insides all decompressed and opened out as they were.

Moving down, Skye peeled a look upside down from where Sam was, looking out towards Ebrima and her team, bar Freya and Athena, were located.
“All ready? We’ve got canisters to find, and a Rose Lyons to frag. Eyes forward.”

Seeing the heavies had the situation outside under control, Ebrima pushed off from his position, floating toward the airlock to take up position in the stack behind Skye. ”Tight quarters. Exactly where I’d put a mine.” He noted, seeing the corridor leading deeper into the station.

Samantha smiled as she heard the reassurances from the rest of the team. She grinned as she thought, they might not be blood family but they were found family. She grinned as she went back to work on hacking the door. Rose had layered her own security over the top of the standard protocols but she had not changed them. She was probably worried that she would accidentally delete the wrong security protocol and end it all by doing something stupid. The rare mistake gave Chaos a way to bypass the initial layer of security. She focused on the next line of code as Bob and her worked as a team to hack past the first layer.

Chaos’s work was interrupted as the guy who had fired on her from above took another potshot at her. Just like he was using the station as a shield, so was she. She used the tether to lean back away from the station and aimed her shot at his helmet. She nailed him and saw his helmet crack and he pulled back. She didn’t think he was out of the game yet but it bought her more time.

Chaos muttered angrily under her breath. “Damn mindless spunk for brains minion. He needs to go away. Damn interruptions.”

Chaos continued to work on getting past Rose’s security so she could access the station’s emergency protocols and standard commands. She was typing as fast as she could even as she was losing some feeling in the arm that had taken the bullet. She had managed to wear her undersuit under the space suit. The medical unit kicked in and put a tourniquet on her arm to control the bleeding.

Bob’s automated mechanical voice told her “We have bypassed the outer layer of security. They know we are here but we have control of basic systems. The station is responding to standard emergency protocols.”

Chaos’ voice was a little breathy as sweat rolled down one side of her face even as a chill rolled down her spine. “Queen the good news, I have access to the emergency protocols on the station. I can get us in. The bad news is they know I am in their system. I can tell that there are sections of the station that have been removed from the ordinary protocols. I won’t have access to those areas. They are running a gap system , probably for safety. The airlock entrance is rebooting. I will have access in 5 minutes.”

Chaos let the team know about the airlock. They had their way into the station. She pulled herself close to the station as the airlock finally began to cycle to allow the team inside.

The Scot replied back to Boaro's comment, then Chaos's. “Aye. But I think I know why she didn’t. And affirm, Chaos.” Skye uttered, pushing through the aperture, turning left, two more contacts in direct view as she dived immediately into cover, bullets flying past as Skye used her grapple to literally send one of them past her helplessly into the path of the other two, whilst eliminating the other, moving around elegantly, getting fast used to this. And in it, there was the atrium. Something of a larger room, but as Skye pushed in, she opened her jaw.

Body after body, in plastic bubble, she had to guess this was the rough area that it would be stored in, but it still didn't really still compute. Hers. To be specific.....
“Fuck, this is where she was…..yeah, peeling the poison out of those bodies. Literally. Christ.” Skye added, barely a moment too soon as more hostiles rushed into the room, Skye moving up and around a bulkhead, ducking out of the way as bullets flew down range.
“More contacts!” Skye yelled, as she flicked a new magazine in, aware that Eloise, Ebrima and Sam were holding the vanguard here with her. They had a bit further to go, but they’d get to where they were going, through a determined, hardened group of hostiles that seemed to get the hang of moving through a vacuum a bit better than their dead compatriots outside, their black spacesuits showing they were a little more readied for this.

Eloise’s rounds had either driven off her targets, or dealt with them in ways she didn’t care to consider; either way, they’d opened the way for her to advance, and catch up with Skye, Ebrima and Sam. They moved into the station’s interior, and it was… eerie. Bodies racked up in tubes, like something literally out of a sci-fi movie, given the surroundings.
“This is… incredibly unsettling,” she had time to quietly comment as she unstrapped her acquired crossbow and propelled herself through the interior, pushing off of and pulling along the machinery and furnishings of the interior.

”It’s like a mass grave, only somehow worse.” Ebrima agreed with Eloise’s assessment of the sight around them. After uncovering some of Luisa’s in Colombia, he thought he’d seen the worst humanity had to offer. But Skye Lyons’ Traveling Freakshow always goes to interesting places.

‘Different space suits, easy to tell from allies.’ Ebrima grined behind his helmet as the new contacts arrived. The grapple had another great use to it - the moment a hostile peeled out of cover to shoot, Ebrima could simply latch onto him or her and yank them out into the open for the others to deal with hassle-free, with the secondary effect of the other Artemis fighters growing reluctant to expose themselves lest they fall prey to a possibly deranged, bleached Scorpion.

As the bullets started flying, Eloise silently cursed and ducked behind one of the many pods, giving a grim smirk at Ebrima’s words.
“Black for baddies, that’s very gauche”, she replied, before leaning out and taking careful aim, letting fly with one of the razor-sharp bolts through the faceplate of a hostile, and quickly taking the moment to advance as she pulled the string and racked another bolt as she dived into more cover.

Samantha shivered as she kept up with the team. The sight of all those bodies in the tubes had her sighing. Rose had all she needed to make the Sol Hestia. She shook her head and kept silent. She tried to stay alert as she pulled out one of her knives. She didn’t like the idea of firing a gun inside the station.

Outside the station, Athena clipped another group of hostiles at the far end, moving through the end of the panels, the the armoured titaness still not quite sure of how the fuck this was playing out.
“Queen, we’re capping off the other end of the space station. I think I have eyes on a launch tube. Looks like the way they're launching the 'Hestia from this. Frigga, can you cover me, I’m gonna see if I can get to the end of it?” Skye heard, as she pulled out of cover, peeling bullets past a version of Rose #187, she humorously pondered to herself, also thinking about the fact she *was* partly one of those things. Which made even less sense. Laying down fire, she kept the bullets going, the space station’s integrity not a priority given it was all a tin can with plenty of zero oxygen inside of it.

“Affirm, Valkyrie! Boaro, Archer, I have you covered, keep moving and see if you can get through the next sector!” Skye called back, keeping accurate fire down, suppression at the very least on the flat level, realising she was at a different angle entirely in a 3D realm to the other two, who were virtually upside down, but across from here.

Frigga pushed off a surface and caught another surface with the claw of her line launcher, she couldn’t bring Starbreaker along, too big but she did have the claw. She fired it attaching herself, and called to her sister, “I’ve got you Athena!” She stood up on the cooling spire, looking like a grey sentinel upon the spire, “Ladies and Gentleman, the power of the Sun!” A blue-white lance, hit a merc right in the chest. When they say they can’t hear you scream in space, it’s mostly true.

Her claw growled at it came loose and she threw it forward again, pulling herself along in Athena’s wake, grabbing another anchor point, securing herself, and bracing, her AEW shifting, this time a pin point pen thin blast, a hiss…and a mercs armor explosively decompresses, “Who knew a Physics PHD would come in handy during space combat.” Another crank and she pushes off again keeping up with her sister.

Landing a third time, “Oh you think that will save you?” As some mercs knelt behind a large thick plate of something.

Clack…click…BZAAAT!

The Lightning Gun crackled, conducting along wire and materials, slagging the cover, sending the mercs scrambling and into her friends lines of fire.

With an almost evil chuckle she deployed her claw again to catch up to her sister.

Eloise tensed herself and sprang out from her cover, shooting while on the move. The bolt hit, center mass this time, and the target flailed in agony.

“Mmmhh… this this is effective, but it takes too long to reload,” she growled, instead pulling her Jericho from its’ sealed holster and blazing off a volley of shots as Ebrima yanked another hostile into the line of fire. Reaching her impaled target, she met his chest with both boots and coiled, crouching against him and putting a shot through his visor, before kicking him back down the length of the module.
“Keeping them pressed back; but it’s hard going,” she called out over their radios, as a round ripped through the interior of the module and whacked something on her helmet, forcing her into a spin she had to correct in the Zero-gee environment.

With cover from the rest of his teammates, Ebrima could leverage a bit of mobility for a change, making a series of quick, grapple-assisted bounds between pieces of equipment that looked more solid than others, rapidly closing the distance as the Kuri left its sheath. In a flurry of movement, flashing steel and manoeuvres only enabled by the thruster pack that nearly made his inner ears give up and go home, the Cameroonian’s path slowly became marked by droplets of blood streaking from ruptured suits, coalescing into tiny spheres that drifted aimlessly until striking a surface, adding sparks from short-circuiting equipment lining practically every surface in the room into the carnage.

Skye exploited the chaos the two made, pushing past a group of bodies, clattering two more hostiles with a double tap to each, using her grapple to shoot across the room, clattering into side by the pair, magazine unloaded and another slid in.
“Right. Through here. Eyes open on any killswitch. Valkyrie, you in position?”

“Affirm, I’m on the other side, no windows though, so I can’t see inside!” Athena’s voice sounded back, as the Scot looked through her visor to the other two, breathing out a hard exhale, this particular move not one she ever wished on any of them. She didn’t let them lead. She went herself, and pushed forwards, peeling through, the taller module as wide as the one before, but revealing nobody inside.

Apart from her.

With Rose cornered, rifles were raised, as Skye floated through, hearing the static kick in once more. A similar suit, but a little more on her backpack. A contingency, no doubt. She seemed

"Raven, how lovely to see you up close. I wouldn't do anything stupid." Rose waved around the clacker, the DMS hooked up against her hand, the pudgy thumb latched against the pressure plate, as Skye kept rifle raised, shaking head.

Ebrima was about to shoot, only stopped by the realization of three other people on board and two just outside. The old adage of ‘Hostages only matter if the other side cares about their survival’ got thrown out the window - well, airlock - if the hostages were the rest of the team.

Eloise had replies swimming in her head about how this was already stupid; gunfighting in a soda can with inevitable death a fanny hair away, but she held her tongue and kept her cool, the muzzle of her gun still pointed in Rose’s direction, but finger out of the trigger guard. Her haunting eyes firmly fixed on the other woman as she listened - and waited.

"No fucking chance. We've got a heavy against the release. You hit it, Athena redirects it. Give it here. And you might get a chance to live. I'll see to it that you don't end up getting someone pulling you apart. Every fibre in me wants to. But for the good of everything that's fucking sane, give it to me, and let's end this."

"It's a tungsten covered, rocket-assisted canister, Skye. It's sealed, so you puncture it, that thing makes a racket. And she'll go with it, if I release. First on the list. Then about a billion. Want to risk that?" Rose replied, as Skye kept rifle high.

"I suppose we didn't really get to know each other, did we, Raven? You know....Skye's something of an enigma. When confronted with all the horrors. She told you she'd help you with all your problems. Be it prison, being an orphan, losing loved ones, comrades, family, the things you can't outrun. Give you a purpose and let you live. But she picked you because she knew you'd never go anywhere else. Just like her. You didn't really have a choice. And then she made you into machines that can only kill. At least the people I pay chase greed. But you....you all chose this because you can't help yourselves. So you killed everything in your way, and here you are, told you're saving the world. With all of its corruption, with everything it took from every one of you, and you want to keep it, rather than take a chance it might be better." Rose said, keeping an open tone to everyone, knowing they'd hear.

Make their judgement. In whatever twisted way she saw fit. Skye kept her SIG pointed at her doppelganger, knowing that in this moment, it was not exactly like they had much leverage, but they had to talk her down. A DMS meant all sorts of shit. Explosives, retro-thrusters, anything, beyond even just that WMD in her hands.

”Fixing a problem does not necessitate a clean slate.” Ebrima simply replied to the posturing madwoman, ”Boss, what’s the call?”

“People like you made me into a machine to kill long before Skye was on the scene,” Eloise replied in the hushed, soft tone she always held. “And they lied to me about it, with elegant, big promises and visions like yours. Stepping over bodies to get to them and using me to do it was all part of their vision” she shrugged - the motion muted by the suit, and shook her head. “You’re just the latest in a long, long line of maniacs with grand ideas and flashy toys. There’ll be others like you, either way this ends. You’re not as special as you think you are; just another butcher in the history books, but with a more fantastic plan. I don’t care what you think of me, or why. Skye, Purna… Athena…, all of them have done and said more in this short time than you’ll ever do. You’re just a target waiting for a bullet or a blade”.

Skye stayed quiet, letting them talk, as Rose spat on her visor in response to Eloise.

"Because I'm done pretending we can't change the world and that long line exists! You think I like this? Love the idea of what we're doing? The fucking world is falling apart, it's a lie, we're consuming, using, destroying, and it'll all end now, shit, at least I give an alternative! It's a necessary evil. I told Skye that. You could live in that. You and your team. You had first refusal. And now you'll take them with you." Rose replied, her English-accented voice bitter, and the face, uncannily like Skye’s now, as she no doubt, was putting her impression on Eloise in that moment.

Skye thought for a moment on that exact ponder before she replied.

"This…..the body transfer, it's in my head too. Integrated. You know, you're not special. I went from a body to another like you." Skye uttered, the redhead knowing that fact in the last few hours had just sunk home, dropping into

"Bullshit." Rose barked back, as Skye chuckled, almost as if to drive it home, knowing she'd caught a line in Rose's heart with that one.

"Fucking look at me! No warpaint, Rose! No tattoos. Nothing. And no node sticking out of me. I'm like you. Not even metaphorically. And on my last life. And I don't want to commit fucking genocide. So don't think you're anything more." Skye almost seemed pleading, yet lost herself. Putting herself at that level. Hoping Rose could get that.

Rose stared daggers.

"All of it so he could pull the rug at the end. Zhao...he just wanted what I feared. A product. No more." Rose uttered, shaking her head inside the helmet, looking back. "So you know what it's like then. And you don't think this is any special?"

"We're just people, Rose. And we're at the end of this whole thing. Let's give this up."

Rose looked on, confused, but realising. Zhao had realised what was coming. And no doubt, that was the reason the rocket was intact. In that final moment, he realised cutting that deal had been his lifeline. One that she hadn't known if it had worked, or not.

(one last one)

”She speaks the truth. The Skye you tried to kill in Japan stayed on the island” Ebrima simply stated a fact, hoping his reputation for brutal honesty would help drive the point home. ”That’s the problem with grand causes. In the end, nobody cares what you want, only what they can wring out of you. I’m just surprised it took you this long to realize.” His tone actually approached something akin to pity, though whether it was real or not was anyone’s guess.

Eloise, shook her head again, giving a simple shrug. “Life is a balance of red and black. Don’t you have enough red on your hands? Maybe it’s time to try something else, while you still can”, she said with a hesitant, hopeful tone in her voice. Quiet, encouraging, but not quite pleading.

Sighing, Rose kept herself against the titanium door, gently stepping off, with the prose of a ballerina, into the centre of it.

"I'll give you the DMS. Only to you, Skye. We'll go up. The door’s open above. And talk. Alone. Cut the comms and call it a day." Rose asked, as Skye didn't hesitate. She moved forwards from the rest, knowing this was it.

There wasn’t much to it, but she had to, in a moment of perhaps clarity, take Rose at anything. And trust her team had her back.

With the DMS in hand, Skye came closer, separating away, going up, or down, whichever way the airlock in the cavity was facing, away as the line stayed open for one last moment.

"Work something out, team." Skye’s words almost seemed fleeting, escaping. Almost hopeful, yet knowing whatever happened, hoping to hold her cool.

And with it, Skye floated up, and towards Rose, hearing the comms channel adjust.

"We don't have to do this, Rose. Come on." Skye uttered, as Rose shook her head, DMS clutched tight.

"What was it, Heroes, by David Bowie? You remember that memory?"

"Yeah." Skye replied, the redhead looking the other in the eye, coming close, close enough to look the speck in Rose’s Earth-reflecting eye.

"It's the last time I felt human, Skye. Last moment I had. And, I wish I could go back to it every time. But everything else...there's no humanity left. And not down there either. And there wouldn't be in you either." The other voice sounded almost remorseful, confused tangled.

"Come on, Rose. There is. In you. You can still stop. Still be normal. I know how much it hurts. I know why it did. But I can't undo any of it. We can't keep going like this." Skye replied, knowing this was risky. It was stupid, dumb, Rose was unpredictable, but almost a turn in her eye had come to give it up. Realise she was outplayed. Outmanned.

"I'll let you feel that weight. You're right." Rose put her hand out with the DMS, and offered it forwards.

And into Skye’s. The trigger rested, pushed against the firm gloved palm of Skye.

The Scot not letting go as Rose released quickly, glancing one look. Into eyes that mirrored her. Uncannily. It was her, alright. A mirror with a physicality to it.

And Rose pulled her left hand in, up onto Skye's shoulder.

And fired her grapple. Skye immediately blew back, the hook smacked through her visor and straight into her skull. The DMS unwound as it fell out of Skye's lifeless hand, the impact of the pointy hook near instantly ending it, the vacuum finishing any remaining neurons.

There weren't any final thoughts to be had, bar one.

Rose wanted her to make her feel that release, that loosen of hand, helpless, absolutely. In the end, even if involuntary, it had been her own doing. As if the final laugh was with Rose. The black of the view beyond her fading light left nothing. In the end, like all those she'd killed.

Rose shoved the lifeless body of Skye back at the team, cable pulled out of her dead counterpart, and used her MMU to separate her from Skye, keeping her other body between her and the team, who were seeing Skye Rosalind Lyons rotate towards them in a method that didn't befit her dying valiantly at all.

Soundtrack: David Bowie- Heroes

In this line of work, no such thing existed. Rose preyed on fear.

Because when you had a field-generator equipped spacesuit, getting shot at wasn't the worst issue for a moment, but she could absolutely give it back. And while offense was the best defence, she had her mercs left inside the Ark Angel to help with that, bullets flying to no avail.

And suddenly, violently, the canister released from inside the space station, the plume of the pre-stage bursting, and smacked into Athena's shoulder, who pushed as hard as she could, her legs bolted against the station, feeling it spike. The rocket fizzled out, but the canister was loose. And the only thing stopping it from plopping out of the side of the space station was an overexcited twenty-two year old, who inadvertently, was now holding back certain death for an incalculable amount of people.

Athena screamed, feeling the canister rustle against her side, using all her energy to keep it in spot.
"Fuck, canister is loose, team, Fuck, we need to do something, fast!" Athena's voice actually broke in panic, as she didn't even yet clock the HUD alert of Skye's lifesigns being altered. But more importantly, Rose closing distance.

She hadn’t gone back down to Ebrima, Sam, Eloise. She’d moved further along, and out of the way. With a group of mercs to clean up the job, and her, seemingly, unable to be hit.

"You know I'm coming, Athena. Sisters who live together, die together, you can't stop the inevitable. You and your privileged fucking type. Your egos would do the same, but only for yourselves and your fucking stupid popularity." Rose taunted, knowing she was being hunted. Five to one. Terrible odds, but then again, Rose Lyons was everything Skye was, and now the latter was dead, those odds were a hell of a lot tighter. Especially when Rose seemed to not be capable of being shot.

The canister still thrusting away, Athena was not exactly in a comfortable position, rather, a stress one in more ways than literally one.

"Shit, I can't hold this! This thing is going to fucking go through me!" Athena yelled, yanking forwards and punching the propellant, killing the thing there and then, but leaving the canister still in the void with a push from the secondary that threatened to rip her away. She had to hold the canister now. Still one hard push away from doing a lot of damage, because Athena couldn’t let go.

Rose knew that.

Turning, Rose waited from a blind spot in the space station, underneath a pair of fuel tanks in the next atrium and burst forwards, knocking into Ebrima like a skittle, dumping the rest of the mag in their general direction, panicking, but almost certainly, not out of it yet.

"Maybe I'd respect you Ebrima, if you just pulled your head out of your arse and realised what they did to you! They fucking imprisoned your only friend, your only reason, made you a fucking slave, made you a fucking sock puppet!" Rose yelled back, darting around, coming into Eloise, darting around her trying to cut her route off, Rose aiming and firing another burst where she was at a moment.

"And you, I don't even know your fucking name, but I'm sure you won't be missed either!" Rose kept the fire up, Eloise lucky to get out of the way, or else she'd have caught rounds too.

Rose wasn’t seemingly able to take damage.

But, if there was ever a moment the team needed to get together, it would have to be to find a way to take out a field-generator having, equivalent to their team lead who was more than happy to find a counter to every single one of them. That, and the few mercs left in the way. Bullets wouldn’t do the trick. Freya’s AEW might, but that wasn’t going to do anything more than simply take the shield out, at best.

Ebrima caught the movement with the corner of his eye, barely ducking the spray in time. But he’d seen this before. He’d killed Luisa, he fought beside Adam. ”Repulsor field.” He cautioned Eloise over comms, hastily checking that he hadn’t been hit, all the Artemis blood staining his suit making that job a lot harder. ”Close range shots or melee.” He followed up with what had worked for him, leaving the part about a point-blank flashbang detonation while it was still in his pouch out of it as he let the rifle hang on its sling and drew the kukri once again and pushing of the wall in pursuit. ”I’m still breathing for a start, more than I can say for you in a few minutes.” he replied to Rose.

“We’ll see.” The response from their nemesis was blunt on the open comms. She wasn't halting, her next turn in the space station's small maze running her into another operative.

Coming to Sam with a grapple along the walls, Rose bolted through the insides using it like a rat-run, finding her there, knowing her team had them covered, at least, for now. She wanted this one to be personal, because seeing Sam at work.
"You again. Her worst creation. Well, no point making the same mistake twice, now that you're a gullible shit." With it, she pointed the barrel of her rifle, point blank at Sam, and as she went to pull the trig.....

Sam’s martial arts training kicked in. She pushed the barrel away from her as she stabbed Rose in the chest with the knife in her hand. She wrestled with Rose for control of the rifle.

The knife pushed against metal plate, but as Rose peeled back, going forward, the explosion from a mini missile tore through the inside, and ripped apart the space station itself, creating a split, from where Athena had anchored herself.
"Fuck you, Rose! Team, finish this mess, she's got a field generator so get closer, Frigga can probably kill her shield, but you need to find a way to flank her! Sam, find a fucking way to deactivate this fucking canister, I'm taking a lot of fire here!" Athena yelled, other mercs massing on her, and in a hysterical turn of fate, probably of all of the people that should have been like Atlas in this moment, it really, actually, had to be her…..

Eloise clamped down on any feelings; they could come later - other than her anger and her rage. But she caught them, shaped them, and turned them from a hot, fiery thing that threatened to boil over into a sharp, clear point; like the arrowheads she wielded. As Ebrima spoke, she considered his words carefully.
“The field; does it depend on velocity of the projectile?” she asked firmly and insistently. “Because if melee works, then…”
She looked over to him with meaning as she pursued Rose through the interior of the stations’ cluttered modules. Twisting as she moved, and drawing her SMG to blaze at the mercenaries.
“How many of these guys does she have?” she spat as she shot at them, weaving and ducking as best she could. “Is there a machine spitting them out somewhere?!”

”I figure magnetism. Light things are easier to affect, but at close range bullets are too fast to be diverted in a meaningful way in the time available.” He gave Eloise his best guess as he chased after Rose like a rabid dog, guessing what had happened in the airlock from the fact that Skye wasn’t right on Rose’s heels.

”I can still fucking hear you, or are you all a bunch of fucking morons!” Rose yelled back, almost cartoonish in her inflection, because now, she figured she had it personal. A real test. She’d killed so many, in the name of….well, something, died so many times, given it her all. But in this, well, she wasn’t giving up that easy.

Samantha managed to get away from Rose. She darted away, an asset in this situation. She needed to get away from the suicidal lady so she could see what their options might be for stopping that damn canister. Chaos “Gee monologue much? How stereotypical villain of you.” She raced off and around the corner as she had Bob pull up the feed from Athena’s helmet and suit. “Athena talk to me. I am looking to see if I can hack the guidance system on that damn rocket canister.”

Samantha spoke into the comms to Athena. “Athena do you see any panels on the outside of the rocket? You might be able to use a taser or electrical attack to short out the guidance system manually. It will be even more effective if you can apply the charge directly to the circuitry. The case has probably been hardened against such attacks.”

Samantha began working on a plan B. Would Athena have enough strength to redirect the rocket’s thrust to throw it off it’s trajectory somehow? Could they somehow manually reroute it to deep space?

A few more mercs made the split between her and where Athena was, Rose peeled herself into cover, laying down fire from a M249 she’d managed to blag off one of her men in a supply crate, pinning down the team from one angle, knowing she could keep pressing towards Athena.

And then who knew she she’d be able to do. Freya was moving in closer, maybe able to take out that field generator, but then again, she wasn’t going to be able to stop her. Rose had countermeasures for that. And her fire was getting more, and more precise. Enough for her to get more mercs between her and Raven.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Eloise snapped at Rose, shooting her grapple with one hand to stabilise herself and winching herself into cover, snagging the toe of her boot under a wall strap. She loaded the crossbow, letting the SMG hang by its’ wrist strap in the zero gee. Time to test a theory. Buddha, Spongebob, Princess Celestia, whichever one of you is listening; let this work!

She let out a breath and sighted on Rose’s suit and caressed the trigger of the crossbow - if velocity or magnetism were a factor - well, maybe the mostly composite bolt, travelling at a lower - but still quite deadly - velocity might have a different effect…
She didn’t have long to check, as the hail of return fire coaxed a squeak out of her and she ducked behind some chunk of machinery, reloading, her little SMG and the crossbow alike, before darting out and snapping off a short burst at one of the mercs in the way.

”Oui, oui, riez tant que vous le pouvez.” The Cameroonian grumbled, too preoccupied by a chase with murderous intent to bother with the radio. Not like it would matter. The station was too small for her to run, even to hide, and what Raven’s goal was clear as day. With more mercs coming out of the woodwork - well, figuratively - he had to stop and the rifle came back into play. He also had time to set Rose to a secondary channel so he could speak to the team without being everheard. ”Only one place here she’s going: The launcher. Double back to the other airlock, help Athena and head her off. I’ll push through this way.” Sure, he had no authority, but in the absence of anyone else making a plan, he slipped back into his old ways.

As Ebrima’s voice came through on the other channel, Eloise switched to it as well. She moved herself over to his side, taking ahold of his suit with one hand and shooting with the other, switching off her radio a moment to let the vibrations carry her words to him privately.
“Listen; I’ve got an idea. That toxin - if it needs an atmosphere to be deadly - won’t exposing it to the vacuum render it useless? Can’t Athena just… destroy the projectile? Or if that fails - we launch it off on a trajectory away from Earth. Strap it up with a pressurised cannister or as many as we can get hold of - and then puncture them to give it acceleration. It’ll be long-gone before anyone can reach it!”

”Somehow I doubt she’s stupid enough to not have the canister fitted with its own guidance system.” If that had been the case and Rose was some kind of an idiot, they wouldn’t have had to go to space in the first place. But where he lacked in actual engineering knowledge, more than a decade of model building came to the rescue. ”Maybe if she can hold onto it, she could destroy the thrusters in flight. Make sure it won’t reach the planet at all. Chaos should know.”

Athena felt more rounds come in, as she held the canister in one hand and the M2 in another, fragging another group of enemies coming in, floating back. Panicked, she heard Sam’s comment but was too busy in her own realisation to come back.
“Shit, Chaos, the thruster unit’s burnt out, risk is, we expose it to the vacuum, it’ll fuck any chance of us going home! I've got nothing here, it's just a sealed tungsten bloody tube!” Athena yelled in stress, knowing full well that the toxin would probably die in a vacuum- but if it stuck to any part of her, or the team’s suits, then it would come back to Earth with them.

Samantha gave a relieved sigh. “Athena if the thruster is burnt out at least it can’t reach Earth without help now. Let’s think about this. We know the toxin exists. We need to be careful to decontaminate everyone and the equipment. We can do that before going back to Earth. This damn Space station has a lab. Didn’t we bring some of the antidote with us? We can destroy the capsule by setting it on a course to be pulled into the sun. That will destroy it nicely.”

Which was a crude way, Athena realised, that Rose had made sure that if they were going to die, they were dying with Rose. Unless, and only unless, they worked something out. Something Athena hated the idea of more and more.

“There’s jack shit for now, there's nothing I can touch to even try and force a cure into it….fuck, you need to stop Rose getting here first!” Athena barked back, giving no helpful answer at all.

Rose had of course, made tracks, the field generator pinging off stray bullets, getting towards the end of the space station, the bolt pinging off without a harm. A fruitful attempt, but Rose almost called it out, as if she was making it personal.

“You’ll need more than that, Eloise!” She taunted, laying out fire towards her direction, the number of mercs between them both now diminishing.

“So, what’s it going to be, were you just being carried by her? Or are you actually still thinking about her? It makes you weak!” Rose gave even more shit, moving out of the way, a few more mercs laying down fire past another solar panel group, as she moved in and out of void, knowing they’d lost sight.

She managed to in fact, get a flank going, and with her mercs making a move, Rose, now off the radar of the team, managed to get straight into Ebrima, kicking him straight into Eloise and Sam.

And weapon pointed, knew she had the distance to take them out.

Well, close enough but Rose had made enough of a nuisance, knowing she’d thrown them, and well, gone all over the place. A Skye level trick. She ducked out of the way from the response, grappling and moving fast, faster than they’d likely expect someone like her to move, and was keeping up the fire.

Samantha found herself once more grappling and defending herself against Rose. She didn’t want to fire a gun just to have the bullets deflected. Instead of getting away from Rose she tried to get closer. Maybe she could see how to override her system. To give them a chance. Rose was fast and good but Samantha didn’t let that stop her. She let her anger and fury with all that Rose had done fuel her sparring with the evil woman. She tried to hold her in place by engaging her. “Freya! Try overloading her shield with your weapon!”

Ebrima scrambled to try to make use of Rose closing the distance, his grapple fired too late to hit even if it would have likely been unperturbed by the field at that range. ”Briefing on the station mentioned multiple escape capsules.” He spoke on the team channel, ”Could we use the thruster on one of those to vaporize the thing?”

Rose got out of the way, before laying down more bullets, knowing Ebrima was good….but well, one on one, she could fight back, knowing the two had to get out of the way from her closing in.
“Run, you fucking coward! Like you have from everything, family, your boss, how many!” Rose yelled at him, spraying fire towards Sam, before using her own grapple to flip on the other side of the station’s outside, the confusion of fighting in an extra dimension stomach-churning, almost impossible to follow.

As Rose kicked Ebrima and Sam into a pile with her, Eloise yelped as the wind was smushed out of her. Only a slight, small woman, she was winded by the two other people and the impact with the wall of the module and its’ uneven surface. Getting untangled and getting her breath back gave Skye’s doppelganger long enough to rub more salt into the wound and taunt them further, and to get out of her range before she could even think about making a move.

Samantha had been thrown into Eloise as Rose sprinted away. Samantha growled and popped up just in time to be a target for Rose’s gun. She pushed off hard for the ceiling hoping to get out of the way of the gun. Samantha’s back hit the ceiling of the hallway momentarily knocking the breath out of her. “Don’t let her have control of that canister but we can deal with that after we stop Rose.”

Because Rose was already moving out of the hollowed end of the space station, Athena turning her .50 on Rose, as the field generator violently dunked away the rounds, and simply put, slapped away when Rose clattered into the side of Athena’s embrace against the station, holding it in from letting the loose thruster do its work, the hit from Rose hard enough to dislodge even the heavy’s grip. Canister loose into the void, Rose used an M320 on her side, the 40mm to blast directly at Athena, making the heavy seem almost helpless, completely pushed back, pushing forwards on the canister itself, making chase. Thrown back, the station with another hole, but with Athena pushed back.

And headed back like some stupid game of tag back around. Like she was off to somewhere else with it, on the outside of the station now, while the others moved around the half-in, half out segments.

Samantha pulled Eloise away from the wall. “Come on! We need to go after her!” She began to chase after Rose. A minion or two popped up from side corridors along the way. She didn’t waste any time. She simply slashed at their space suits to open them up to the elements on the way by and deliver a kick or a punch. Samantha’s experience with street running was a blessing here as she ping ponged down the corridor bouncing off walls, doorways, and people as she gained on Rose.

The diminutive stealth operator followed and moved along with Sam, mirroring and marvelling at how she moved. It was similar to her own movement style; using the terrain and surroundings for agility and mobility; propelling herself off of the surroundings and hostiles in their way as they gained on Rose.
“Sam”, she panted between motions, the exertion wearing on her, especially with the bulk of the suit around her. It sounded even more chaotic; her own breathing amplified and every movement clunky and awkward.
“She’s fast, but maybe together - we can catch her up!”

“Shit!” Athena yelled out, realising she couldn’t open fire on that. Not with the torpedo in hand. Not without killing them all.
“Fucking get that canister out of her, get close in, Freya can kill her field genny, then you need to get up to her!” Athena yelped, alive after that hit, but checking all over her suit, before coming to senses, feeling the damage to her thrusters and EMU unit, but trying to make do as best as she could.

As if summoned Freya arrived where everyone was gathered. Her claw closing around a hand rail, and securing her to the position. She drew a tomahawk and looked around, then started to take in the situation. She took in the shield generator and snarled, “The fuck!? That’s almost my tech! Who the…I’m gonna scalp who ever let that out before it was ready.” She hummed, looked at Sam then at Athena, “Wait…wait…yes…okay. I think…” Hearing the idea for her to overlord the generator Frigga nods, “Give me a second.” She detaches her claw, and drops to the deck. Crouching in cover.

And cracks her AEW open and before god and all it almost sounds like the weapon lets out a pained cry, “Sorry baby….I’ll rebuild you brand new later…” On the fly and in the field Frigga reconfigured the AEW, pushing pieces up, around, into different places, pushing a catalyzer out of place, a power shunt up the energy line, splicing all the power lines together.

When she swings back out of cover, attaches her claw and aims at Rose, the AEW looks like a Franken-weapon taken to outrageous degrees. The Lightning Gun dish fully extended with the AT array and Sniper attachment molded together, and all the powercells mashed together, “Creator I hope this works!”

For the first time since she joined Raven, the AEW lets out a whine.

A kind of Whow…whow…whow. Speeding up before it dumps all the powercells into a beam of electro-magnetic static, coursing over the shield, hammering it…

And blowing the capacitors and generator like a firework.

And the light hit Rose, smacking her out, throwing her from the “underside”, at least, the side facing the Earth, hands released.

The shield dead, Rose let the canister go adrift so she could focus on the task at hand given how much it had fried her electronics and her with it, before spraying fire, cursing. The suit had integrity, but the generator, and her hold had been released on that canister.
“Bitch! You still want at me? Come on then, I’ll have fun deciding which one of you I send to Skye’s place first!” Rose yelled out, the taunt no doubt her knowing she was coming after all of them. Alone, and with no more goons, she’d just fire on the first person coming to her.

“Not if you go first!” Athena yelled back, changing to the internal system. "Everyone, don’t go straight for her, take her from every angle, get in close, and overwhelm! Do not let her pick you off one by one! And then get that canister, fuck, we can't let it go!" Athena yelped out, knowing she was no help drifting away, trying to make ground back towards the space station, hoping the thruster would hold out.

Samantha hears and takes Athena’s warning seriously. “Guys I have an idea. Keep her busy while I alter one of the life support pods. Then let’s try to trick her into it. I am going to reprogram the pod to take her and the capsule on a one way trip into the sun.” Samantha takes a sudden left turn before exiting the space station completely. She heads over to the closest escape pod. She begins ripping apart control panels. She plugs in Bob and asks him to do something that is against the station safety protocols. “Bob, I need you to erase the escape pod’s safety protocols. I want to set a collision course for the sun. It will only have so much thrust so we need to calculate the best angle and the burns for it. Please include the weight of the capsule and one passenger.” Bob’s voice was immediate “Chaos this is against the safety protocols for this device. It was not intended for this. The passenger will run out of food and air. Not to mention the pod and everything in it will burn up in the sun.” Chaos was already overriding the safety protocols and laying in the malicious code that will take over control of the pod. She digs into her toolkit and begins disabling all the controls and damaging them beyond repair. Once launched there would be no way to reprogram this pod. “Bob, just do it. We cannot let this loose on Earth.”

Eloise likewise heard Athena’s urgent warning, and acknowledged it with a rapid click of her microphone. She followed Sam outside, but instead made her way over the hull, mind racing as she attempted to come up with something - before one of the drifting bodies, still hanging close to the station sparked an idea.

She grappled the corpse close to her, then another and another as she passed, gathering a morbid troupe of followers. As she was about to round the curve of the hull to where Rose was attempting to face off with the rest, she started a deliberate spin, tucking her knees up to her chest, making sure she was aware of her orientation to Rose and the others.

Her center of gravity shifted, she started to accelerate, her ‘passengers’ pulled along with her. On the third or fourth spin, she launched one off in the direction of Rose. Then the second a few moments later, then the third; and on the final spin, fired her MMU, just a brief puff, to send her in the same direction, cannoning toward the maniac twin of her friend as one of a string of projectiles in order, them blocking the view and adding more to confuse and block her view, and giving Eloise a chance to get in close, or allow her friends and allies to do the same.

That, that was a beautiful shot. Chuck’s taste in women was impeccable, Ebrima thought, a malicious chuckle growing in his throat. ”Apologies, Purna. The tongue isn’t happening.” He muttered to himself. Anchored near a shattered husk of a solar panel, he understood the task: Buy time. To do the most visible thing he could, he raised his arm, guesstimated the range and lead and fired the grapple. If he missed, it would at least make Rose flinch, look and create an opening for the others. If he hit, she’d be like a puppet on a string. He loved shots that didn’t have a bad outcome.

Frigga sighs and hangs the AEW on her back, “Sorry about that baby.” She says to it. She’d been really rough with it, and hated to damage the things she had made. Sure it’s inevitable, but the AEW is one of many favourites.

So she channels that into violence.

Grabbing her source of cover, and she pulls, while throwing her claw forward, “Oh Rose!” Her claw winch growled as it pulled her forward, the claw opened as she flew past where it had anchored, “I killed you once before! I’d like to try again if you don’t mind!”

This time the claw shot at Rose herself. And just missed! The claw crunching into the wall behind her, “Ah damn I can’t pretend to be Scorpion.” A yank and Frigga soars, her free hand unsheathing a tomahawk, “I’d really like to…ah!” She’s tackled to the side by one very brave Merc, she tumbles and slams into a wall, a big muscled woman wailing on her poor assailant, “Jævla! Du kunne ikke ha ventet! Jeg kunne ha fått henne! Din drittsekk i en tutu!” Oh good she’s gone into speaking Norwegian.

Rose watched as the grapple flew towards her, turning and throwing herself away, and instead of away from the body flying in fast towards her, INTO, instead, Ebrima, before clattering into one of Eloise’s bodies that had been pushed in the way, perhaps, in an insanely cruel irony, her own use pushed against her before she had a chance to open fire on Ebrima, and then there was Freya. Barely stopped by a merc, who got clotheslined and turned into a pulp in what was, probably the most pointless, stupid attempt at stopping a freight train, but enough for Rose to breathe.

Enough for her to be pushed back into more void, against the underbelly of the station, and for a momentary bit of chaos, produced by all of the team throwing everything at her, unable to pick one target. But trying to fight all of them. She'd pulled every trick. Made almost a last gambit. But now she knew she needed luck. And that was thin.

As Eloise saw the merc-sicle hit Rose after she bounced off of Ebrima, she thumbed the button on the remote detonator she’d pulled off of their belt. The poor, misbegotten dead man immediately turned into a silent cloud of gory shrapnel, adding to the confusion, before his friends joined him. She swivelled about her center of mass again, keeping her velocity and direction - huh, I’m almost getting the hang of this - and raised the crossbow to her shoulder, letting fly with a bolt, aiming for the suited figure’s general direction as she was pushed back against the belly of the station, trying to pin her in place by the fabric of her suit against the hull.

Seeing Rose hesitate, as if trying to decide which threat to address first, Ebrima started reeling the line back in, already on the move as he did. Launching the grapple again, this time aiming for an inanimate structure past Rose that wouldn’t dodge, he put the thruster pack, grapple reel and his legs into the charge, flying toward the clone psychopath with the kukri drawn, a stab aimed at her faceplate as he came sailing past at breakneck speed. Or at least breakarm speed, if the crunch in his left arm he heard upon slamming into the wall the hook was attached to was any indication. It wouldn’t matter if he hit, and if he missed, Rose would still have to content with getting clotheslined by the line he dragged behind him, now rapidly approaching her feet like a loose line on a ship.

Samantha was working furiously to alter the escape pod to carry the tank of poison into the sun. Even if they did just kill Rose, she didn’t trust the secrets of Sol Hestia to anyone she knew. She didn’t believe that any of the governments should have it either. It was simply too deadly. It needed to be eliminated forever. If she had her way, all the dead bodies and research would be destroyed too. They couldn’t leave any of it behind. This threat to humanity had to end here. She didn’t think the government would appreciate them blowing up their very expensive space station though. Then falling debris would be an issue for people on earth. Samantha checked in with the team. “Almost there. How is the fight going?”

Frigga finally got loose of the merc who knocked her off course, her claw hissing and as it rewound into the launcher. She pushed up and tried to catch up with her friends and coworkers, “Someone pull me closer I want to hit her with my axe!”

But as she goes she slows, and looks around, where’s Athena…

“Sis?” She looks around, trying to spot Athena, “Sis?” Okay big sister energy time, she spins, looking up around back and forth trying to get an eye on her sister. No no no, where did she go? Not happening!

Rose felt the pin deep in her lung smack through inside and out of her again, thrust her into metal, as she turned, pointing the M249 towards Eloise as a last ditch to reply, about to fire when suddenly, Rose realised in the corner, that Ebrima was sailing towards her like a missile.

And there was no turn she could make, not with the air punctured out of her lungs, no amount of resistance to pain could stop this. Ebrima frankly splintered a spiderweb of her visor off and pushed her gruesomely out of the impaled bolt against the station's composite skin, the suit punctured, and the knock pushing her away, gasping, screaming into the void, blood pissing out of the suit with her gargling, the line smacking her away and lifeless, limp, as there were no final words. Eloise’s bolt, Ebrima’s force and the team's collective fear had literally torn her out and away.

No final things to say. In space, nobody could hear you quip some bullshit about proving people wrong.

But, the team, of course, could. They had a canister to get rid of in an escape pod. Then, themselves, as the space station’s rupture started to widen, blurring the lines between outside and in. Which, at this point, was getting more and more like an outside. Time for an Irish Exit? Probably not the worst idea…

Eloise saw Ebrima’s attack, and felt a thrill of triumph as the glittering shards of glass caught the cold light of the sun as they sprayed out in an arc, and the droplets of red crystallised in the cold.
Sam’s words came over her radio, and she replied in a firm, stern voice.
“I think she’s about done; is the pod ready? Can you get clear?!”
As Rose’s body drifted away, Eloise sighted onto it and launched her grapple, drawing her in close and shifting her orientation to line up with the EVA pod.
She touched her helmet visor to the remains of Roses’ no idea if the dying - or dead - woman could hear her as she spoke in that coldly musical hush of hers.
“You know; I wasn’t here for all the rest of what you did. I didn’t have the same fight against you as the others, the same… drive built up to beat you. But the one thing you did that I can’t forgive? Wearing the face of my friend and using it for terrible things. But you know what; we’ll all remember the good things she did… and you like this”.
Reeling back, she planted both boots in Rose’s middle and booted her in the direction of the pod, looking back… and then a icy hand of fear gripping her chest as she heard the next words.

Athena in the meanwhile drifted, checking her comms, hearing Freya panic.
“Frigga, the….the MMU’s dead. Listen. Get them in. Get to an escape pod. And the canister out. Then go.” Athena never said words like that before, almost as if for a moment, it dawned on her what the facts were.

“Just….fucking hell. Get on with it, would you? Just get them pushed out!” Athena asked, cobalt in her tongue, drifting now nearly helplessly, looking around. She knew the team had to move. And she was dead weight. She didn’t want to say the quiet part out loud, but the fighting had moved them off from their launch, and well, the station didn’t have enough pods, at least, not from here to reach while things were going to shit.

She was staring into the void, the black, the infinite cold, and realising this was what it was about. This was the fight. Everything to save them. And it all clicked, there and then.

So, for a moment, she was reliant on Freya. And even that was a realisation. She wanted her to live. So much potential, so much, and in her own self-sightedness, the addiction to her image, her brand, everything…she just wanted Freya out of harm.

But Rose was dead. And with it, she knew the team had to make their way out.

Freya bounded up and onto a platform, scanning the open area, “No no…don’t you dare say that.” She scanned the dark then saw a glint.

“Hang on sis.” She planted her feet and spooled out some of her claw line. This is where both strength and physics comes into play, she started to whirl the claw, getting some force behind it, “You listen here you great big, air headed…I’m not leaving you behind! I still need you to be my maid of honor. I need to see you with a chance with the one you got eyes on. Now…”

She heaved the line, the claw sailing, “Get…”

No sound in space but the claw burred like a freight train.

CRACK….Crank….

Closed around a boot, “Back here!”

Freya hit the retract button and pulled hard, watching her sister pulled back into the light of the station, “Are we missing anyone else?” She shouted as she braced to catch Athena’s return.

Samantha’s work on the pod was wrapping up. “I need someone to bring me that canister so we can launch it into the sun. I don’t want anyone trying to find it in the wreckage of the station.” Samantha turned to Bob. “Bob, did we manage to erase all the files on Sol Hestia on the station? Do your best to complete that while I finish getting this pod rigged for deep space.” Bob’s mechanical voice filled Samantha’s ear. [color-fff200] “Chaos, station integrity is down to 50% by my calculations the space station will implode and break apart in the next 15 minutes. The team needs to get off this station. I recommend using the escape pods.” [/color] Samantha swore under her breath. “The space station is breaking up. We all need to head for the escape pods.” Samantha had been listening in on comms and was very confused. What the hell was happening out there? It sounded like Freya was retrieving Athena. Eloise’s report was vague but encouraging at the same time. Samantha began pinging everyone’s comms in an effort to locate where they were on the station.

“Oh shit, yes. The thing we came here to destroy,” Eloise cursed scanning the area frantically with turns of her head, before spotting the torpedo-like object in a lazy, slow spin in the shadow of the station’s solar panels.
“I have eyes on it!”

”Can’t help with that, I’m afraid.” Ebrima all but apologized, having broken the arm that had the grapple attached to it and due to the lack of an exoskeleton, pulling on a broken humerus was the last thing he wanted to do now that there was hardly any rush. Instead, he set about making a careful way to the escape pods, having taped his arm to his chest with the vac tape to stop it from moving around, finding a hole in the station close to the escape pods and holding there to guide Eloise in once she had captured the canister.

Reeled in by Athena, the younger sister to the other armoured up Kaantario captured a hand on the station, calming down, breathing out as best as she could, looking over to her, a moment, Athena getting words out.

“We really, really…..” The noise suddenly creaked, as the space station, already at poor integrity, detonated where the fuel tanks had ruptured, blasting the side where the bodies had been apart, sending the whole thing rotating, and beginning to shit on many a laid plan.
“Really need to go! Station's far more fucked than that, Sam! Fuck, Eloise, we need it in, you need to hurry!” Athena was in total flight or fight, aware she couldn’t help either.

Quite literally, the entire fate of where they were over now, which from a third person view, outside of the entire panicked party looked like……Sweden? Poland ish? Hard to say, but indeed, that whole cluster, was in the hands of Eloise. And with Ebrima crawling to an escape pod, Athena pulled on the outside, hoping Freya had the initiative to help along, and get to one of them to help. And Eloise could make that move.

With the station destabilising, she was going to have to give it everything.

“I’m on it,” Eloise replied in a voice that hid any trace of the slowly creeping fear she felt, as she realised how close to the wire things were getting. She zeroed in on the canister, checking her wrist for the level of reaction mass left in her MMU - and cursing every word she could think of, as the warning level was blinking low.

Her mind raced, and she triggered the unit, propelling herself toward the canister, matching her spin, and reaching its surface, wrestling with it even more than Athena, who was almost twice her size, had.

All right, step one: you’ve reached the horrible WMD, she thought to herself, as she straddled it and spun along with it. Her MMU’s readout flashed frantically, telling her there was nothing left but wishes and good intentions. She took stock of everything she had, and hatched an insane, but brilliant idea. Shuffling around on the body of the weapon, she drew her handgun - and fired in the opposite direction of the spin, blazing a magazine’s worth of rounds away, until the spin slowed… and then stopped.

She checked her direction - yes! There were the lights of the escape pods ahead, and the ones of her friends’ suits, moving in the right direction…

She took a deep breath; this next bit was going to be really hard.

“I’ve got the canister, and I’m pointed right at the pods. I’m coming in, but… I’m going to need you to be really ready to get me, because… this is going to really fucking suck.”

Prepping the open door, Athena looked out on Sam, opening the other with brute force, exhaling hard.
“You to get in. All of you!” Athena hyperventilated, looking back at Ebrima, helping the injured Cameroonian in a more brutal fashion than he would have liked with a shove across towards the escape pod..

Samantha tried to reassure Freya and Athena over comms. “Freya and Athena, you will fit inside the escape pods. It will be tight but the escape pods are meant to hold up to four people. I am headed to the nearest entrance. I need that damn canister!” Samantha was focused on getting the Sol Hestia into the rigged pod and on its way to the sun out of the reach of anyone who might come and inspect what was left of the space station.

Freya kicked over to get a look at the pods, she stared at them, “I am 7 feet and change inches tall, about two and a half times as wide as any of you, I’m not fitting in that!” She points at one of the escape pods in honest annoyance, “No way, no how.” She begins to look around, bracing herself as she sees a spar of the station sheer off. She looked up…around…down then, nodded, “Okay…Thena…do you trust me?” She looked over at her sister, “Because look if I can’t fit in one of those things, you’re wide ass won’t either.” Ahhh sibling love.

She looked around, “Physics…science…I can do something…the plunge won’t be pleasant…and the landing won’t either. But I think I can do something here.”

Athena couldn’t nod, or show it, but gave that response.
“On you.” Athena replied to her sister, realising that Sam needed to get the canister away, and while she was coming back, Eloise was coming in hot. And coming in fast, needing to regroup.

Eloise needed to get to the pods, Sam needed to get that pod loaded, and like haste, because the space station felt like it was falling more apart than ever before, they needed to go. The Arianne that had taken them here was a fading light, and any hope of getting back to it had gone to shit. Not with the MMU fuel they had left, not with how messy the fight had gotten and with the space station beginning to slowly, gently nudge itself out of orbit.

And Athena knew that Freya was right. In this moment, there wasn’t a chance they were coming down with the team. Sam was optimistic, but for a rare moment, the golden retriever that had seven and a half foot of pure crackhead energy in her now realised that they had to leave.

None of what had happened had sunk in entirely. Not letting a lot of people die, and then having to kill Rose specifically, let alone Skye….that was starting to trickle, was really there right now.

Just getting home alive was. And Athena realised she had to trust Freya, completely. She was out of ideas. Out of thrust. Out of her mind. But if dying was worth saving the world, for a glimmering, strange moment, she knew this was all there was. And moving to the hole in the space station, ready to help receive the canister, Sam, Eloise and Ebrima.

Eloise adjusted the controls on her suits’ chest panel, and increased the pressure. It was almost at dangerous levels, She secured her grapple line around the body of the canister, attaching it to herself, and…
She took her knife, and with a deep breath, stabbed a hole in her right glove. The jet of air that shot out acted like a jet, propelling her forward. Pressure on her thumb over the pinhole gave her just enough control, to aim, and slowed the leak down just enough that she wasn’t losing air quick enough to immediately freeze or suffocate, and she focused on those rapidly growing blips as her eyes got misty and vision wobbly, the cold creeping up her side.

Samantha was headed towards Eloise to help her. She had a tether secured to the handrail next to the station entrance. She pushed off and aimed towards Eloise. She waited till she was closer and then used the maneuvering jets on her MMU in an effort to help catch and slow Eloise down. Samantha could see Eloise coming in quickly. Her path was beginning to be a little erratic. She lunged towards Eloise who was tied to the canister. Samantha almost missed but managed to snag the infiltrator’s foot as she shot almost past her position. She yanked hard and pulled her closer to get a better grip on her. Then she attached a carabiner from the tether to Eloise and began to haul them back to the station as fast as she could go. She could feel time ticking away even as she tried to find out what was wrong with Eloise. “Archer what’s wrong?” She shook Eloise trying to wake her up. She didn’t have time to stop and check on her as the clock was against them. She tried again. “ARCHER!”

Eloise slurred and spluttered back, her words and motions transmitted through the body-to-body contact. “Mm–uhh, T-The Martian, Matt… Damon… Glove thing”, she managed to mumble out, holding up her hand, thumb still clenched fiercely against the puncture in her suits’ right hand.
“Guess I really am the rocketman…”

Freya looked back to make sure everyone is where they need to be, she then pushes off, back into the collapsing station. “Okay I need this..and that…” She uses her claw to pull things towards her. A torch kit, welding line, bracings, cushioning sections from the walls. Great heaping huge pieces of the titanium walls and heat resistant tiles, “I can do this…this is what I wanted. I’ve always wanted to build a space ship, this is almost as good!”

She’s like a frenzied Gadget Hackwrench, “Thena! I need that triangle plate over there! But I can’t stop welding right now! I need you to grab it and bring it here.” She’s doing the patch job of all patch jobs as she works. Grabbing shield plating heat tiles, using gorilla glue and heat tape.

It’s a glorious dangerous monster she’s putting together. Not something she’d want to actually pilot in a normal situation. Bracing spars ripped from the walls of the station and before they can drift off, a pair of crash seats that will be a bitch to sit in. Straps to stay seated. What a glorious dangerous mad scramble.

Athena was torn- but first moved to help Eloise, peeling away metal, the suit itself feeling like the energy source deep inside was struggling, but her sheer mass, her hearts pounding oxygen so hard it built up CO2 and made her feel a little bit hazy and distracted, that she could push it towards Freya. The team were hard at work behind, the relay of bodies getting the tube in.
“You alright in there, Ebrima? As soon as the other two are in, punch the exit, yeah? And by the way, no hard feelings…..you did good killing Rose! You and Eloise!” Athena vocalised, knowing the heat of the moment, it all poured out.

Ebrima gave her a thumbs up with his healthy arm. ”Don’t get any stupid ideas, you have people waiting downstairs.”

Samantha being a fellow nerd understood that reference. Hold on Archer, We are almost there!” Samantha encouraged her to hang on as the space station got closer. It felt like it took forever but in reality it was only a few minutes. She pushed Eloise through the entrance into the station and the canister. She pulled herself into the airlock which by a miracle was still working. She took a quick minute to put a piece of tape over the hole in Eloise’s suit. She motioned her to an emergency supply of air while she started wrangling the canister. ”Are you doing okay Archer? I will join in the escape pod as soon as I launch this one.” She looked back over her shoulder at Eloise to make sure she made it to the oxygen.

Eloise pulled herself along to the emergency air with handholds, fastening it to her suit and taking steady breaths. Her eyes still felt like they wanted to escape her skull, and she could taste the coppery tang of blood on her tongue and sticky wetness on her face; she expected she’d ruptured most of the blood vessels in her soft tissues; her face would look like a honey-coloured pumpkin later. And her piercings… she didn’t even want to think about how that would feel.

Well, presuming she survived. But even if she didn’t - as Athena came to her, she pushed herself toward the giant, holding onto her suit for stability.

“You,” Eloise managed to splutter out in a thick voice, spitting out blood “You’re coming back with us, or I’m staying here with you,” she said firmly. “And don’t argue, I don’t have the resources to deal with another massive bitch today.”
She pulled herself up Athena’s chestplate and bumped her visor against the giantesses’ own.
“Is Ebrima all right?”

Soundtrack: M83- My Tears are becoming a Sea

Athena looked down, taking a moment to wrap an arm around, tears pouring out, realising in that moment looking at the damaged spacesuit of hers meant zero chance. If Athena and Freya might have had half baked ideas, then well, there wasn’t anything. Even Athena, in her whimsical emotional state, knew nothing more than to be a protector. And knowing that Eloise wouldn’t want to hear it.
“He's okay. And don't worry. We’ll make it home. We have more chance of making it back...but you won’t in this state if you stay here….get in the pod and do that for me. My sister has a good idea. She’s so good at this. And if not…I love you, Eloise DuChamp. I’m not letting the void take me so long as you’re there to wait for. Trust me. We'll be coming in like a light in the night sky.” The corniness of it felt almost as if in that moment, totally misplaced, like the void screaming back, as Eloise’s embrace on Athena was pulled away by a tearful hand of her own, placing her alongside Ebrima inside the pod, exhaling hard, audibly on the comms.

And another bang echoed in the vacuum, or at least, was felt and coloured in by Athena's vision.

Eloise wanted to struggle, wanted to push back, rage and say otherwise… but she knew that Athena was right; and that was what made it worse of all. The tears flowing down her own cheeks mingled with the tracks of blood from her ruptured capillaries, leaving red streaks down her face, and her vision blurry already struggled more.
“I’ll wait,” she choked out. “I’ll wait, as long as it takes. And I love you too, I’ll keep watching for that light."
Then there was nothing else to say as she stepped in, and helped secure Ebrima’s straps, especially around his injured arm, briefly squeezing his good hand, as she waited for Sam, urging her mentally to join them as she strapped herself into a seat.

“Sam, go! This thing is falling to bits!” Athena yelled out, it was getting clearer and clearer, that this lifeboat was not going to hold anymore. It was now or never, as Athena stood ready to throw Sam to the pod as she floated to it, and ready to then float over and make her way to where Freya was, and hang on for dear life.

Samantha couldn’t help but smile at the crazy stuff coming over the comms as she strapped the canister into the lifepod. She sealed the door to the escape pod and hit the launch button on the wall. The escape pod shot away from the space station and then altered course towards the sun and began to burn in its direction. Samantha exhaled hard. At least the damn toxin would no longer threaten the Earth. Now she needed to collect her pod partners and get off this damn station. She ran back towards where she had left Archer. She stopped next to Freya and dropped her tool belt and a roll of the space tape she had. “Here take these. Fix the holes in your armor. Get out of here as soon as you can. I expect to see you at your wedding damn it! She gave her a quick hug and whispered,“Love ya Sis. See you on the ground.” She then took off for the escape pod. She dove into the pod with the other two inside. She hit the button that would seal the hatch. She quickly climbed into a seat.“Let’s go. The canister is on its way to the sun. Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” She looked at the other two… “Too soon?”

”Two, three…” Ebrima counted the expected occupants of the lifepod, hand hovering a safe distance away from the lever that would close the hatch and launch the pod. He kept waiting to count number four, taking a few seconds in the moment to remember that four wasn’t coming. ”All aboard, launching. Good luck up here.” He let the two giantesses know before he once again checked that all three occupants had their harnesses strapped in and pulled the launch lever. The hatch slammed shut, independent life support kicked in and a short puff of air separated the pod from the station, letting it coast clear before turning and engaging the thrusters for the deorbit burn.

Athena moved to the point she’d helped them go to, and watching them pull the internals out, felt the space station rock again, sending her into the ceiling, kicking off, pushing towards the pod and with an almighty shunt, clearing any debris from around it, clearing the latch.

For the first time in forever, facing down what was the only way out for her, her own invincibility meant she couldn't take the easier way down. It made her silent. Quiet even.

Contemplative. In the final, well, maybe final moments, it all came to a head.

And turning to her sister, floating over, she knew it was just them alone. At the end of it all. Words were harder to come by.

“Okay, sis. Ready. Whatever happens.” Athena looked across, sniffling the tears, exhaling hard, trying not to pass out from the CO2 in the respirator, Freya having made some sort of lifeboat as the space station seemed to disintegrate live around them, bit by bit, the pod flinging away.

Freya leaned over her Franken-machine, threading a very limited steering mechanism through some of the joints. She stopped, and swallowed thickly. Setting her hand down on the outer surface of the machine. She didn’t look back. Looking at the belt and tools Sam left. Then swallowed, “Did they make it?” She asked. She didn’t want to look over her shoulder and find that they hadn’t left and had decided to wait for them. She looked up instead away from where the lifepods would be launching, “You know sis…if anyone were to stay, I wouldn’t mind if it were to be me. Sure I’d miss out on a life with Chuck. But if I were to stay here and wait until everything comes apart. At least I’d do it in Space. This was supposed to be my magnum opus. To get up here. See the Void out into the Beyond.”

She chuckles, and then gives one last pull, then motions to Athena, “Get in, strap in there’s a oxygen jar in there, should be enough to last the flight, hook up…strap in.” She grinned, “I’m gonna get us home!”

“Got it. They’re okay. They’re clear.” Athena exhaled, the dark-blue armoured titaness clambering over, saying nothing, grabbing the oxygen and attaching it to her suit, pushing into Freya, sobbing, before pushing into the makeshift harness, made for something totally different, not reentry. Enough titanium on the front might save the entire thing from burning up. But whether or not it would hold was anyone's guess. And even then, landing after that, without a parachute, was like dropping a baby elephant into hard ground.

“Sis, I’m…..I’m so sorry I never spent more time with you. Always spent time breaking the mould. And I wish I spent more. Now staring at the end. Feels....yeah.” She seemed to almost crack, as if at the end, tears rolling down someone who seemed alike Skye, unbreakable in her conviction to destroy and be that alpha, that queen on top of the pile, realising in that moment what mattered. Harnessed in, the whole thing felt like it ripped apart, as suddenly, much of the space station splintered, leaving only their bit.

“I really, really hope you did study thermodynamics at university…..but if not…..shit, you’re right. They’ll talk about us as legends. And you’re….yeah, hell of a way to become one. Maybe still be one. Titans coming to earth like this. I dreamed it once but….didn’t think it would be like this.” Her voice cracked, undulating, uncertain, but knowing at the end, she was next to her favourite person in the world. Someone she wished she’d been better with. But someone, for right or wrong, was here with now.

Freya smiles, “Oh you of little faith.” She hugs her sister, then makes sure she’s strapped in, before getting in herself and finishes the last weld. She shoves the torch into her sisters hand, “Here…try and hang onto that…” She crawls over Athena, “Look it’s alright. We all had our own fun to look into. I understand I really do. You’re my sister nothing will make me hate you. Besides the fact I still can’t get my ass as big as yours damn it!”

Then she’s crawling into her seat, strapping in and hooking up into the bottle, a super tiny window right in front of her is all she can use to see outside, it’s layered so many times seeing the blue ball of safety far far below is tough, “Okay…If an Apollo Astronaut can do it…so can I.” A shock, the ball kicks off the remaining bit of the station. She fires the three small jets a few times, getting them lined up, then burns one hard.

She gulps, “Let’s hope those tiles hold and the titanium holds up…”

She tries to keep the big glove of blue and green in the window, “Let’s see…just…aim for something that isn’t a mountain!”

Athena grinned behind the faceplate, giggling like a pig, knowing Freya knew how to touch her buttons.
“Oh, you…..that’s just a secret from Mom. That if we survive this, I’ll tell you.” Athena giggled, knowing even in the face of death, Freya had managed to make her go from crying in fear of losing Eloise, to tears of joy, as if staring down teh end.
“Got this. If we survive this. I think aim for something soft.” Athena chuckled, sighing, looking through that tiny window, at the end of it all.
“You got this, Freya. Just like when we were kids….one last time. Let's do this.” She chuckled, armoured maw against maw, facing against this end, together.

Freya grit her teeth, a feral look as she worked the small joystick to try and keep the planet in the viewport of the Franken-pod, “Okay…almost…and…uh…uh…” She looked down at the makeshift fuel gauge she had tried to install. Seeing everything empty. She sat back then, “Haaaa…Creators hands now…atleast we’re headed in the right direction.” She looked over at her sister. Pushing up the glare visor on her helmet.

“Hey ... if…no when we land…all I ask…don’t tell Mom and Dad that I strapped us into something that isn’t even safe for a hamster? Please? Or atleast give me prior warning. I don’t want Mom to track me down with her Montante…” She grabbed Athena’s hand. Right as they hit atmosphere. She licked her lips and pushed the glare visor back up, “Well too late to pull out now!” And she let out a war whoop. Nothing for it now.

Just the fall.

The orange glow, burning, glowing, and turning all white.

DELTΔ HYPER (Anti-Gravity Racing, Cyberpunk/Solarpunk RP)

Thursday August 17th
New Hilo, Hawaii Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
1600 HST

Pacific Evenings

Ben Hale

The NOVA Racing fan zone was a success, and with Ben signing merch, engaged in a scheme that introduced punters to an anti-gravity, upside down climbing wall (inspired by Jen's previous involvement), details on the livery that NOVA had elected for, the leafy, nature inspired green an obvious pick even for such a young team. Instead of history, NOVA could tap into the arts and ecology focus that the team had picked up, the "Mini-Rainforest" that the zone's theme had opted for bringing in punters.

That was nothing on the size of something like Southern Cross- who instead, had completely run riot with the Polynesian theme, basically bringing in choirs of Maori and Tongan singers, and being a Polynesian block party in Parc Poaka. Complete with a Rugby Sevens game, bug VR experience and in the harbour next to it, an exhibition on Waka rafts up to modern AG ships, including the 2094 Southern Cross example. Decked out in a lush navy blue, yellow and orange livery with a volcano playfully on the rear wing, it took a minimalist-maximalist Polynesian designer to bring out something different to the split-livery that Southern Cross ran with.

Ben could hear it from afar as he finished up, smiling to Sally and to Florence, who had joined in, eyes on everything as usual.
"All good?"

---/--//

Sitting in the interview room, Ben sat contemplatively, thinking on the question asked by Aurora.

"It's hard to get into Formula AG. A lot of sacrifices, but it's every kid's dream. So it was a tough one to take especially after how confident I felt in the Junior series, I was....yeah, I mean I was taking a challenge on. I mean, it didn't begin easy with the race in Spa. And same again in Germany. Junior AG was something I was relishing, and while I'd love to stay and take a title....it was a risk to step up and take on something new. Especially when I'm compared in a team to a great!"

"Is that something you struggle with?"

"I mean, sure, it's tough. Florence is....well, she's just incredible people really. Like she is so, so good as a mentor. But it doesn't matter what upgrades I get. She has something beyond just being able to make moves, just stay calm under pressure, it's....well, it's what makes her a champion. I can't get tied into that, so yeah, part of it is focussing on what I can do well and enjoying myself, developing the ship, and doing the best we can this season." Ben replied, the young pilot taking his time to think that one over, to get to that conclusion.

"Do you think it's what has led to her overperformance?" Aurora asked as Ben shrugged.

"It's like she never left."

---

Saturday August 19th
Moa Tempesta Circuit, Kanaloa Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
1600 HST

Tempest Run

Harrison Makara

Soundtrack: Mohican Sun- God of Ages

The track felt like glue in the shiny aftermath of an afternoon rainstorm that was now drenched in cloudy sunshine, the ship's twitchy nature today offset by what felt like finally, a breakthrough. It felt good, the stability upgrade clicked with him far better that it did Nora, who hadn't performed after a poor Section 3, just failing to really make the most of the MAG sections. That was an area that Harrison adored- him and Dorian were absolutely there.

But going hard left in Turn 1, with the jink right left, the Southern Cross ship was no longer the fastest, that title belonging to Al-Saqr's absolute rocket now. But Harrison didn't need speed. He just needed Turns 4, 5, 6, 7, the complex left, right, straight into a hard long left that then peeled along the lava dam and and the magma field in the far right, well away from the circuit, before plunging back down at Turn 8's hard inverted turn, back past the facility into the gouged valley.

The wreck of Bea's ship was barely a glimmer in the corner of his eye where she'd overrun at Turn 8, the smoking mess with a standing Bea waiting for a recovery at least reassuring- in spite of the fact that despite her excursion at a corner with an overrun wide that would have likely been terrifying, the ship caught in a repulsor field to stop it from being yeeted into the floor with nothing to stop it- yet basically thrown three storeys into basalt rock anyway at the base of the dam, where the temps outside were easily 50C from the heat of the volcano itself. It wasn't on his mind, the straight ending with the end of the valley at Turn 9, inverting hard and to the left, the right, then left, the ship upside down for a lot longer than most circuits in the valley wall, running behind the waterfall itself that had been refreshed by the rains, and then into Turn 13, the ship and Harrison feeling bound. It was like out of each corner, he could just slap throttle faster, the ELS was screaming today, and from 14 and 15, the slow into a fast corner breaking out of the rainforest canopy onto a rocky beach and then back into the start straight, there was that confidence just flowing through him. The deltas were good, but the margins were so tight, so fine, was it.....

"Harrison, that's P4 mate, nicely done!" Harriet's voice came through as he powered the ship down, exhaling hard, a smile cracking that felt the most natural it had been in a while.

"Wooo! Wonderful job on the setup, this ship feels like a rock!" Harrison smirked, the ship itself feeling like it smiled and exhaled hard too.

Qualifying Results for Moa Tempesta:

docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1qF6cn…

-//-//-/-/

Back in the interview room, Harrison sat there, leaned back as usual, chill, yet taking more than a moment to think through that question.

"Nora is.....well, she is unstoppable. I mean, you saw the crash and uhh...well, it's like it's fire for her. Like she has to prove people wrong. She has champion all over her. But so do I...so hopefully for me not this season yeah! We're in the hunt for Amy this season. And in Hawaii, I think...yeah, we're getting there." Harrison replied, the quest a never ending one, and that question from the beginning of the season, of what they thought of each other, still echoing.

"Was it a relief that you managed to tame the ship again?"

"Yeah, I mean....it's a nice feeling. I suppose it comes and goes. But yeah, feeling better."

"Would you say Nora has pushed you to up your game?"

"Absolutely. And everyone else too. I think Amy's feeling that heat. But yeah. Game on."

---

Saturday August 19th
Moa Tempesta Facility, Kanaloa Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
1900 HST

Kanaloa Heat

The interview couch sat in a different place, with the background of the volcano up close in the Moa Tempesta viewing centre itself within the facility's tour area, paradoxically centred on the bit where Bea had crashed out, the evening sunset behind the glowing orange volcano.

The timings had come in, and the grid was split by a hair. It was clear that whatever the case, the teams were split extremely close- deltas were so tight, it was clear that in a race here, even with limited passing opportunities, the teams couldn't find the extra marginal gains they dreamed of. Well, apart from Kais, who clearly had found something in that ship that like a bumblebee in flight, shouldn't have worked.

"Bea, that looked like a gutting crash for you! Starting at the back tomorrow, what's your approach to making up?"

"Paul, it looks like despite your result today, the grid being so tight here. How are you feeling about tomorrow, and how have you found the lap so far?"

"Kais, wow, what a lap from you! It looked like you gave it everything, so loose, so absolutely ragged out of every corner! We heard that you have a new speed upgrade and it shows in the splits with your ship looking like it will set speedtrap records here in Hawaii?"

DELTΔ HYPER (Anti-Gravity Racing, Cyberpunk/Solarpunk RP)

Sunday August 6th
Nürburgring, Nürburg, Germany
1500 EST

In Lap

"Well, a race not to write home about, but it feels like we're seeing the tables turn this season." Rosie commented, the pair in the booth returning from Aurora on the interviews, looking across to Rory, who had some more commentary to that end.

"Certainly. Amy Stirling not getting points is vital for the Southern Cross pair who are hunting them down, especially Nora Kelly, who really ended up doing well. The constructors race is hotting up, and well, what will we be in for next time in Hawaii?"

"Certainly, and on that note, thank you all for watching. We'll see you there, thank you for watching us, and have a peaceful evening!"

Soundtrack: Caribou- Odessa

The end credits to the Nürburgring played, with slow-motion shots of ships through the various corners.

The editors must have been working hard, as making highlights were tricky, but the slow-motion crash of Ben's ship into repulsors, overtakes on track, sparks flying from the static from the anti-gravity unit through bumps from various ships, to the absolute speed of onboards, it all played out, quietly fading to black and ending the Delta Hyper episode in the west of Germany.

---

Ava Villarosa

The fire in the design lab burned away in the white building far from the evacuation zone, as the entire staff stood outside, fire drills the same as they were forever. Even with advancements in fire suppression technology, working with a massive battery bank full of highly combustible materials, as was done on this day, with a few corners cut and a few bits of technology not doing what they should, meant that lab get caught on fire. Most of it had been put out quick, sparing anything serious, in particular the autoclaves, the rapid-test wind tunnels and any prototypes of ship chassis and engines in the end of the design centre.

Sighing, Ava looked to Bea, glad she'd brought her waterproof coat.
"This is some bullshit." Ava didn't really have the words, the husky Chilean looking at the high-vis wearing fire marshalls, hoping to go in soon. She instead turned to her phone.

Formula AG Pilot Group Chat

[Image of a burned-out design lab at the Carrera Condor factory.]
Bea
Alright, which one of you did that? @Paul? @Cassie Neves? 😛

Ava Villarosa
BEA! Jesus Christ.

Paul
Unlike others, I play by the rules. It is more fun to battle you on the track on an even playing field. When I beat you, I want no excuses. I can't wait to meet you again when the world aligns and we duke it out on the track. Spa was a blast!

Cassie Neves Oh shit! Everyone alright?

Amy Stirling You're one bad social media post away from having George Russell energy @Paul

Astrid @Cassie Neves they will be when you stop burning shit down and stop cheating

Jen Lowry WOAH WOAH WOAH

Flo Mason You lot getting silly again?

Harrison Always

Cassie Neves Hey I didn't know

Amy Stirling That's what they always say ;)

Astrid Speak for yourself!

Kofi Guys you're out here committing violations in chat

Wedge My mixtape be like: [reposted picture of lab on fire]

Dorian And FIAR ones too.....I can't help it

Ben Hale Why have I been told to bring trunks to Hawaii? What shit is Delta Hyper planning?

Jen Lowry I'm gonna say diving or surfing. I'm packing for both.

Hamid @Wedge habibiii

Cassie Neves I didn't even get an invite :( Enjoy all, I will be thinking about you when sitting in the sim

Harrison Can recommend Basqueatoes in *W3W co-ordinates* afterwards, really good Basque food in New Hilo area

Cassie Neves You are taking the piss. Wait, they do Patatas Bravas in Sweet Ch....fucking hell I'm in

Astrid I'm on that too, I'll book us a table :)

Ava Villarosa Yes! Doctor Ivan (our native Basque) tells me it is the real deal. He also says he doesn't get how Basques ended up moving to Hawaii in such number that they'd make restaurants out there....

Wedge Enjoy! Yeah I'll get trunks, honestly, surfing ain't my thing, unless it's similar to snowboarding I guess?

Harrison @Wedge It is really similar

Jen Lowry I was hoping to go diving more! I think we talked about it before, but if Delta Hyper has plans, then we'll do that

The creepie crawlies in the jungle are scary so none of that please :O

Cassie Neves @Ava yeah, lot of them moved, my mum says some Portuguese too but it's like they gotan opportunity to live out there or something...

Amy Stirling Speaking of, I thought I'd sort out Singapore food too, given you can't have any fun there without being arrested lately. Tsai Wen Tower for a spot of dinner?

Flo Mason That was in Raven Squad! What a sequence it was too!

Dorian @Flo Mason Agreed, it was crazy. Me and Paul should be able to, I think?

Ava Villarosa I'm in, I think Bea too?

Cassie Neves Sure, me and Han can come

Harrison Not sure about Nora but I'm down

Astrid I'm busy with marketing stuff that evening :(

Flo Mason Yeah same with me and Ben. Something about some more commercial stuff and time with Bella

Dorian Such a mother, that's a fair excuse :)

---

BUGS///VOLCANO///PARADISE

Soundtrack: Flume - Hyperreal

The chirp of movement of bugs.

A ship roars through the rainforest.

"Not expected to be here?" The voice almost seems alien, a creole of Hawaiian, a weird Spanish and Pacific accent, in English. A female one, to be specific.

A cut through, from the bug's multiple eyes, to the pilot's frame of vision.

The island opening up from the seabed over decades, after one of the biggest volcanic eruptions. Kanaloa Volcano was a seamount, expected to arrive on the surface of the Pacific Ocean in 10,000 years. Geology had another idea in 2028. In what was probably one of the most violent tectonic events of the region, some of whom believed it to be a reckoning from Mother Nature herself in whichever legend of Hawaiian culture or beyond you bought, the spew of lava created a black shell of rock from nothing into something.

It kept going for at least a decade. More volcanic ash and magma spewed from the ground than anyone could have ever dreamed the hotspot could produce, creating a volcano that was needle-like and 624m high, and only stopping in 2043. Almost all of Hawaii, bar Oahu and Molokai had to be evacuated, and what was left was an ash-filled, smoke ridden place. It wouldn't be a shocker if anyone who was born here had left for parts unknown.

"Sometimes the ocean spits out something new. And we welcome you to it."

The bug paces along a stick, into the newly grown mangrove, a bit strange given you're seeing it from their perspective.

"We take nature and bring it into humanity."

The roar of the ship through the MAG-enabled track, through the dense rainforest, the camera pointing up to an orange-red spewing shield volcano, old lava tubes creating a perfect line, and of course, away from the spewing constant that was Kanaloa And into the pilot's view, spiralling in chase after another ship, the red-orange glow of lava like goop was at a safe distance, but still dominated the view.

The bug's eyes catch again in reflection and inversion back in its perspective, as it goes from stick to stick, the view revealing absolutely, how insignificantly tiny they were relative to a human.

"We're so small in this huge world."

The bug leaps away, a bigger fly trying to tether it, sprinting, scurrying, moving quickly. At this scale, everything that even looks insignificant to humanity seems so, so much bigger.

"Yet part of something bigger than us."

The ships in pit, mechanics, engineers, strategists, pilots, all moving, all making it happen, and watching on in the distance.

"Shaped by their nature."

The bug clambering up the tree, into the canopy, another ship going past, revealing the volcano itself, the facility embedded in it, and in the distant, the ecocity of New Hilo, etched into the eastern side of the island, green towers like fingers of rock, except super-structures of residents.

"Built by our nature."

Ships roaring past, and a cut to Bea's ship fighting with Paul, at Spa, and a historic duel with Florence and Kofi.

"Remembered forever."

The top step, staring out with a fade to white.

"E komo mai, Formula AG. Welcome to Hawaii."

The intro parses the circuit in wire-frame form, and bit by bit, colours in the render, before sucking out into black.

---

DELTΔ HYPER

Episode Twelve: Hot Like Lava

---

Thursday August 17th
Waimanu Valley, Hawaii Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
0500 EST

Surf's Up

Paradise was a hell of a place to be. In a speeding, incredibly bumpy old Japanese boxy minivan though, it was passing by rather quick.

"Bea, slow the fuck down! We're not on track, we're in a shitbox van!" Harrison yelped, feeling the bumps through the gravel, the road rutted and clearly not used in a long, long time. There was no way into the valley a long time ago, but, an emergency services road had been carved out in the steep sides of the mountain, carving a way down to the beautiful valley, waterfalls and all, and shoreline.

Inside of that van, sat Beatrix, Paul, Kais, Max, Jenny, Han, and Harrison. It was staggering that they'd actually trusted Bea to drive, but they reasoned with a following vehicle, and the fact there seemed to be enough guardrails, it would be enough to stop anything ridiculous coming on the news. It was reasoned that the road would have to be taken slowly anyway, according to Delta Hyper's management. Nobody had realised in that risk assessment and health and safety meeting, that they should actually have told the ex-rally driver not to drive.

"Relax, she's only crashed on gravel.....actually, never mind!" Jenny replied, the van undulating heavy through a stream, making everyone get slammed into their seats, and most of the occupants of the van swear, lots, as the van turned around another hairpin turn, one of many, many, many that went down before following the coast on an incredibly scenic route on a cliff-side route, revealing the view of the valley.

"The view is mental from here! God, what have you got us doing, Rosie..." Max commented, looking out through glass on the winding, granite-black gravel road, the Waimanu Valley one of few to not be completely ruined by the volcanic eruptions on Big Island, and left untouched as a paradise.

It wasn't long until they got to where they were going. Through a dense woodland in the valley floor where Bea actually had to slow down due to how thick the mud and trees were, the van came to a stop in the dawn, the fog just about cleared but leaving a cold feeling on everyone's skin. Stepping out, after the winding, gruelling gravel trail in a non-AG equipped beater that looked like it had been the way in since the 2040s, the team saw Rosie gleeful as ever, caffeinated to the gills after a morning of getting out here.

Rosie beamed, looking across at everyone.

"Hello all, and welcome to Hawaii! So, we brought you to paradise, and while here, we thought we'd introduce you, and the viewers to something rather different. How comfortable are you all in water?" The question went out from Rosie, as the team was likely to have some very mixed opinions on that.

"Well....if you'd like to follow me, let me show you what we have planned."

The camera panned out, revealing the sandy shore beyond the dense mangroves and woods, as well as a few small huts on the beach where the group collectively walked through, and cut back with them at the huts, by the morning tides.

"Aloha kākou, welcome to Waimanu. I'm Tane, and this is Katie, and here to show you a bit of real Hawaii before you go out and race all over it. So, who here has surfed before?" The question went out, the two instructors, Katie and Tane, the latter's Polynesian carry coming out to the wider group in front of him. The former was a shorter, blonde-haired stereotype of a surfer, while the latter had a Tongan, burly build, perhaps more akin to Harrison in skintone than anyone else.

"We'll show you all you need, and get you started out here." Katie added,

It wasn't long before the group were in wetsuits, and with surfboards to hand, were being readied for what was to come.

A Hawaiian lea as a little award sat on the beach, left there for whoever stood up longest....and it was clear that Max's snowboarding skills didn't translate, Harrison was absolutely sending it, and Jenny seemed to be somewhere inbetween, before getting quite a nasty wipeout on the last break.

---

Thursday August 17th
New Hilo, Hawaii Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
1800 HST

Solarpunk

Soundtrack: Kaela - Superliminal

The city of New Hilo was something beyond comprehension to someone that might have been alive 70 years prior, but to those that lived, worked and played in the city, it was the bustle of four million people that made up the best lifeboat in the now second to most eastern Hawaiian island. With much of the remaining small towns of western Hawaii island destroyed from ash and vulcanism in the events of Kanaloa emerging and Mauna Kea's massive eruption, many believed that these lands would never be habitable ever again. Instead, through a mixture of private investment, and the energy provider Coalescence Energy finding that Kanaloa's thermal capacity could be harnessed, it created a hive for data centres, rocket launches and chemical plants, your usual energy intensive activities through lax regulations. And that needed a city for people to live in, to make their own, and to staff them.

The refugees from the Pacific brought their own cuisine, food, culture. Fijians, Tongans, Micronesians, all fleeing flooding, weather and the pulling of foreign aid that left them without a home. Entire countries, islands left underwater as the sea levels rose and nothing was left to stop the tide coming in. Anti-immigration rhetoric spewed when they arrived, but then again, the United States collapsed under the weight of its own disasters, as did much of the world in the 2050s and 2060s. No help was coming from the Mainland. Many had hard memories of that, so self-reliance became key. Let the world in if they want, but they weren't coming to carry the people of the land. So the Republic of Hawaii was a quasi-independent state in the aftermath of that, and in the light of the destruction caused by the seamount volcano, made decisions to create a future braver than any. Those refugees brought with them not a sense of shame, but a willingness to build, and they happened to be in the right place to staff that future. New Hilo was a city-state within a new state like no other.

Instead of creating Kowloon, they created a human-scale paradise. Something that took vision, an Eco-City that actually lived up to name. Most towers were barely over six storeys, with a central green-glass structure that stood at 40, like a basalt tower, low density with forest and tree plantations and streams in many streets, traditional wooden Hawaiian architecture meeting cutting edge safe, clean and efficient design, it felt....well, like a futuristic fairytale. Design in mind with humanity, no towering buildings, and a city that felt more like forest than an actual settlement given the palms and pines. Water recycled near infinitely, energy produced completely from the distant orange glow of Kanaloa volcano across the bay, food produced on rooftops and on walls, in vertical farms and literally produced in a way that was symbiotic to the environment. Solar panels, wind turbines in building structures that avoided polluting the landscape, it meant that each of the structures and buildings looked like fingers of some ancient Polynesian society rather than a city. Advertising was non existent, or at least, far more subtle, making it feel more like an urban jungle than an actual city. And markets, social spaces and community was carved out in a way that let the cultures that came here, thrive together, rather than isolate- quarters still dominated by one language or another. Equity, yet balanced by forcing an integration in a new way of life.

A small flutter of drones broke the peace, but with no flying AVs, cars, in fact, anything here inside the city itself, it was incredibly quiet. A gigantic dockyard sat out of view, turning it into the logistics centre of the Pacific, trade often finding itself here in the freeport before moving to where it needed to go. The chemical plants, once key to the development of this place, had long since shut and been completely folded into algal processing and biofuel production farms.

The tech companies followed the others when energy, water and human capital abounded, with virtually unregulated free trade making it easy to do business, and the government being committed to high levels of security, education and social cohesion. Then local firms emerged, built like Cooperatives inspired by the Basque model from immigrants from North-Eastern Spain. Many of those settled in New Hilo creating the port of New Euskadi in the south of the city, given their extensive knowledge in large-scale structural and environmental engineering, and added another angle to what was already a very exotic melting pot. The near destruction of their Basque homeland through forest fires had forced them here, and despite how out of place they were, they bloomed even among Pacific Islanders that made the city what it was. International environmental companies, many of whom were instrumental in the great rewilding and geoengineering efforts across the globe made the Hawaiian Islands their home as a testbed, as did the Oceanic Whanau, their HQ of Honolulu and providing a collective voice for the islanders who had lost everything and found no country, or concept entirely able to take them. A highly fertile soil between East and West, the old powers and the new, sat like a nexus point that linked it all together. Like Singapore with volcanoes.

The movement of billions could have ended the Pacific, but if anything, they embraced the future harder than anyone else. Innovated more, and from nothing, created an entirely new way of living that transcended traditional capitalist narratives. Communities, culture, yet finding ways to create new things and build from that nothing into something. A model of a new world they were willing to share, almost as if in a peering-through-glass kind of way. They had built what they had built, but didn't take refugees from the continents, outside of the ASEAN area, and in another way, that achievement seemed almost what made it more remarkable. They'd done it their way, and as silly as it seemed at first, now it was showing the fruits of why it was worth it. While other cities choked in their own squalor, limited themselves to their history, as beautiful and as stunning as they were, this was something else. A city that more than fed itself, more than looked after itself, seemed to now be imparting that into the world.

And somehow, they'd done it without destroying their cultural heritage, or their environment. The west of the island was still an absolute wreck when Mauna Loa erupted violently and virtually fried it all, but the choice to create a new rainforest reversed the tide of biodiversity failure, and was the single most impressive, if not important turning point in ecosystem recovery and rewilding that humanity had seen. Vulcanism created fertile soil, and when the volcanic activity stopped, it let a landscape go from black to green within a generation. A choice that was seen as stupid, ignorant of resources and demands, proved to be a dividend for future generations decades later that saw it come back to fruition. Culture had been maintained in the hills, and it felt distinctly like the land had been put back to hundreds of years.

Yet New Hilo was not perfect, given it also felt like Singapore in terms of how it treated crime, the language being so different on every street it felt strange to go from Basque to Tongan to English and back to Hawaiian, and the fact that living here required abandoning any idea of what a normal city dweller would be comfortable with. Public transport was intentionally not that great despite AV bus lines and an overground metro to encourage cycling, walking and connectivity- on the other side of whcih, the Maglev virtually turned journeys to Honolulu, a more "Western" city by any extent, into a metaphorical portal.

Some lamented the loss of jobs in recent times, especially since much of it had been resourced back to more traditional bases, and the city government's constant use of referendums on a weekly basis frankly felt like an invasion of time for many residents. And perhaps it gave off an air of being boring. It was sculpted, but outside of the cultures here, it felt a million miles away from the dirty, cool, underground feeling of other cities, London's charm and history to somewhere like Buenos Aires's anarchy that made it so alive, so real, so tantalising. There weren't clubs here, there wasn't that cyberpunk feeling that came with bars, dirt and danger. Not even the super rich were here, unlike the abundance and excess of Monaco, it almost relished in being a city that put people into interaction, equity over anything else. If you wanted quiet, there was an island devoid of anyone now, left to nature and untamed. Even Aachen, a garden city that probably blended the ecologically focussed aim of a solarpunk world with the reality of people being people was not something New Hilo considered a compromise. It was absolutely different, and may as well have been written in a science fiction piece from another 100 years into the future, given that the lack of roads, walkways and architecture with nature, streams and plants at their core, ran so counter to everything humanity had ever built.

If other cities at least felt recognisable to people decades prior that the calendar visited, albeit with a new lick of paint and technology, this felt interstellar.

Yet if the street food and music was decidedly Pacific fused with Basque, bringing Thai green curry into mix with Fijian sweet potato and synthetically-produced North Atlantic Cod, it was exclusionary, and being in the city felt like a place that did not want outsiders to tether themselves in permanently, even if the trade and ideas were allowed. Almost like a version of Japan 100 years prior, it wasn't so much as racism, as it was just almost as if it didn't want to corrupt itself, it felt decidedly, and significantly foreign to anyone visiting in just how different life was. The creole of Basque, Hawaiian and other languages seemed outwardly like people here spoke a language that even a Earworm hadn't figured out entirely the rules of.

Starting from a refugee camp to an ecologically focussed city, it was what it was, and didn't want change now from outsiders that weren't willing to adapt. To give up a car or AV, to eating food only made on the island, and taking a co-operative feel rather than a capitalistic one would be alien to anyone- this wasn't socialism or a commune, it wasn't even a third way; it felt like an isolated example of something totally different. It let visitors look, but didn't let them touch, beyond the bits of tourism that they did allow special guests like Delta Hyper in, it didn't feel like a place that was drowning in excess, but rather, living in the reflection of the world beyond itself. Hawaiians may have been famous for hospitality, the lei and the warm embrace of a ukulele on a beach, but strangely, it felt like when the world forgot them, they wanted to forget the world's embrace when they looked inside and remade their world, quite literally and figuratively.

If Solarpunk had a city, it looked like this. The air clean and near silent bar voices from markets, cycle bells and the occasional permitted AV, the buildings green, and a culture and feeling that this was a model for living. Not some idealistic one, but one that felt biophilic, intertwined with the very volcano in the distance that created life and destroyed it in tandem.

The pilots had a chance to explore the city, given their accommodation wasn't on the volcanic island as it had less in the way of amenities than even Mare Austral- it was here, with an AV shuttle allowing them to cross the small strait to the volcanic mountain literally decades old in the making. There was fanfare for Formula AG being back in town, plenty of events on, but none of them were commercial outside fanzones that had gone up fast from each team in the city. Oceania was obsessed with Formula AG, probably being one of the largest markets outside of Europe, East Asia and the Americas, being one of the first to adopt and race it, so the fans were of course, gutted to not be in attendance, but glad to see the teams themselves.

Coalescence had agreed with the Republic that as part of hosting that Pilots, if they were going to do anything related to their teams would not promote sponsors but rather promote themselves, their stories and their lives, returning something back to the communities that they were idolised by. Stories in Polynesia, after all, were currency worth more than gold. They didn't need charity, they needed engagement, inspiration, and the pilots that attended were that. From events in the city to beyond in the volcanic hills and mountains, pilots were here to show a very different side of themselves. Walks up mountains, to hub events in the cit yitself.

How they did that was up to them, if they wanted to. Unlike Silverstone, it wasn't a stage, unlike Canada, it wasn't cookery, unlike Italy, it wasn't a mountain hut away from everything, unlike Belgium, this wasn't an exclusive charity gala. This was their chance to show off who they were, their story with their team's support or on their own, and their identity so far to a captive audience in a new world that even in globalisation, they were truly foreigners in, and could inspire.

---

Sitting on the roof of one of such green buildings after all was said and done in the evening sun, the eco-block gave a panoramic view of a sun about to pass the far horizon on the southern coast, instead of the hyper-tech like white walls or traditional concrete and composite, this was wood and greenery. A garden on a rooftop, where, in that view, the yellow sofa sat.

"Welcome back to Delta Hyper, Bea. We know you never spent time here, but does it feel like a strange return back to home, nearly at the antipode to where you live? What would you say about your experiences in Hawaii so far, how does it compare to London?"

"Hello Paul, and welcome to the Delta Hyper couch once again. With the season taking us to such incredible places, from the surface of the Moon to the legendary race tracks of Europe, how are you feeling about our unplanned visit to Hawaii?"

"Kais, welcome back on Delta Hyper! How have you found the change so far this season, with a visit to Hawaii instead of Rwanda, as planned in the season?"

---

Friday August 18th
Moa Tempesta Circuit, Kanaloa Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
1400 HST

The Tempest

Soundtrack: 65daysofstatic- Under the Summs



The tiny island of Kanaloa in the last 60 years had sprouted vegetation densely in the rich, organic soil that had propagated, and despite being barely 20km2, with an almost stereotypically jungle-island-needle like volcano contrasting the other shield-like structures in the Hawaiian archipelago. The eruption's end, endless rain, and a little bit of ecological work had turned the island from a barren black mount to a lush green rainforest, dominated by nothing apart from Moa Tempesta, a ground-breaking geothermal plant that instead of drilling into the earth's core, instead worked right at the coal face of the quietened caldera. Unlike traditional thermal schemes, it produced a significant amount of efficient electricity through a fusion-supported cycle, and the excess heat was piped into New Hilo for heating and industry. While fusion was beginning to get cheaper, there was no denying that Tempesta had single-handedly, created all of what happened across the strait.

Nobody lived here, mostly due to Moa Tempesta being a quite literally heat-extracting boiler that created an endless amount of steam so much that it turned it into rain that peppered the island itself, left just the wildlife and track on it as features that made it feel truly alien, wild, and strange. An Ecological Preserve was the other reason, and well, sulphur was not ideal as a smell given it reeked around the plant itself higher up the mountain, where the trees ended and the barren black moon-like environment took over on the Palmer Plateau, the only remotely manageable bit of land that Moa Tempesta could be built on below the bubbling, red-glowing caldera. This wasn't something that felt like it was here forever. It felt like it had arrived yesterday, and already been filled with rainforest. An island sculpted almost by human hand yet left totally over to nature.

The commentary team pipped up, sitting in a commentary booth overlooking the track, and the short straight of the pitwall before the circuit began, Rosie and Rory in place.

"With teams gearing up for practice, we're joined by Rory Andrews. Rory, would you like to take viewers through the circuit?"

"Yes, it is an impressive track. A replica of a classic, Moa Tempesta uses much of the same technology used in our Italian AGP race, but is used in a more confined space with tight, MAG-driven corners and less in the way of snow, and more in the way of technically difficult lush rainforest. The circuit starts at the base of a valley, densely in the rainforest into a tight left hander at Turn 1 (Poaka) followed by a loose right left at Turns 2 and 3 (Tartaro), before climbing up one of the spines of the volcano, flanking through a historic lava tube (Tempesta Climb), and a brand new cut that has full MAG tracking in 360 degrees of the tube itself, creating a pivotal overtaking spot on a circuit that is incredibly twisty in other areas."

"The circuit then emerges into Moa Tempesta itself- the plant is still active and operational, and runs through a series of straights interrupted by hairpins and chicanes in the approach roads (Turns 4, 5, 6, 7- Pira Complex and Kapua Complex), running up and around a lava dam- an enormous wall of rock that holds in the extruded magma chamber of the Kanaloa Caldera, known as Kami Crater, and directing the continuous flow of lava from the now calmed, shield-like volcano off into the northern face of the island. The circuit then descends with a hard left at Turn 8 (Lamia) back down through another series of deep, gouged valley-like lava tubes and streams that emerge during rainfall, and then winds back down through the rainforest deep into a steep valley with multiple inversions and chicane-like complexes at Turn 9, 10 and 11 (Lacroix, Hina and Maui), with 90 degree knife edge runs through decants and walls, and new for 2094, a long section running behind a rapidly eroded waterfall at Turn 12 (Manilla) cut into rock. Each come with a mixture of fast, medium and slow corners that bring us back to sea level through Turns 13, 14 and 15 (Mari, Gulf and Coal Corners)."

"The circuit then loops down vertically and into a chicane-filled section, going to the coast before cutting back in to the newly built pit area, where me, Rosie and Aurora are watching. Energy Systems are critical, with so many MAG Sadly, with no fans today the virtual stands are up but if you're watching at home, enjoy through your devices just how lush this circuit is. Wow, I thought we had it good in Rwanda!"

"Yes, it was unexpected to return here. Now, as the lights go green, ships are leaving the pits, and we're seeing them take to the track."

The rain gently picked up, and stopped, coming and going in showers, making the run around the volcano caldera even more spectacular, the glow of orange in the background behind ships, or through the rainforest a smattering of colour.

---

Friday August 18th
Moa Tempesta Circuit, Kanaloa Island, Republic of Hawaii, Federated American States
1900 HST

Mahalo my Dude

Florence Mason

Back in the temporary pit, the modular buildings and the tracking outside as temporary as could be, the evening sun was beginning to close in on the densely forested canopy, and turn things darker than the clear skies would allow.

With the NOVA ship adorned with a rainforest-inspired pearl leaf scheme of its own, best seen in person up close, that took the livery to another level, Florence was busy with diagnostics.

Plugged in and running the track again and all the data, configuring her last adjustments. Setting each corner the way she liked. She stopped, seeing Sally appear, waving a hand, pulling hand to neck and peeling out.

"We looking good here? Florence asked, as Sally nodded, sitting down by her side.

"How's it all going? Managing Bella, the role, yoursel..."

"It's fine. I miss her a bit. Formative years and all that. But, I also love racing. And Mark is a great dad. He gave up all of his bits working on Luna to come back to it, and I think he enjoys it a lot. They get to watch me race, and they know I'm happy doing what I love." Florence replied, Sally taking her star pilot's response quickly blurting out, to the point, and knowing where Sally was going.

"That is good of him. I never asked. I know you don't mention it a lot, but what you're doing here, it's....well, it gave a lot of the staff a lot of confidence. The management aren't expecting miracles. But with your involvement, the staff are beginning to believe in this." Sally replied, as Florence nodded, sitting up.

"That's good. I mean, I believe in this project. And what it can do. But also, because it's a good opportunity to throw my hat in the ring. I never was that good at doing stuff delegated, I...guess I had to get stuck into something. This was it, and well, I'm glad it's working. Like anything I do, I suppose." Florence mused, as Sally nodded, walking across to the ship, resting her palm against it.

"Good, good. I was hoping you'd have a word with the board about next year. We had horrific stability going in, really bad procurement. I just hope they don't make the same mistake."

"Aren't they listening to you?" Florence asked, as Sally shrugged, looking up at it, then back down.

"To be honest, they see me as a left-behind object from Fitzroy. The success came despite it all, but....what can I say. You're a bigger voice, with success. And they might listen to that more than me." Sally retorted, as Florence nodded, putting away the neural line, standing up and also leaning against the ship.

"Perhaps. But don't knock yourself back. You got this all here. And I can do that for you, but the results will come. Maybe not yet, like you said. Procurement's your business, Sally, I'll deal with on track, and make them turn heads. Get you something to shout about. Between us, we've got this." Florence replied, ever confident, as Sally nodded, a strange feeling of a Team Principal wanting the backing of a pilot, rather than the other way around.

"Good, I appreciate that. Rare this sort of thing happens. Hawaii won't be our circuit, not if we can spare it."

Florence shook her head, a grin forming as she peeled back the circuit layout, looking over it.

"Not if you go for a riskier ELS strategy, and load up the cells harder. A lot more battery charge in the ship's hull, through a supercapacitor bank might do it, store more power from start and reduce the amount picked up on circuit. I did it here years ago when they were trialling ELS. Dodgy, yes. But like you said, we didn't have a chance. Means you can react if there's a Virtual Safety, find a little more energy out of corners than others later in the race, but the ship will feel like it's basically tazed half the time."

"You suggesting we break the rules?"

"I'm suggesting we bend, Sally. We know it's going to take a miracle to do well here. So shit or bust." Florence suggested, as Sally looked up, looking through the delta times, nodding.

"For you then. Sure your reputation isn't going to be burned up by this entirely?" Sally asked, as Florence shook her head.

"Zygon fielded an entirely false chassis for a race, maybe two. We'll need a lot more bravery if we want to compete. Management don't care how we do it. Only that we do, and start to take scalps like you did earlier in the season every now and then." Florence replied, as Sally realised where Florence was going with this.

"Oh....then I might have some ideas of my own." Sally grinned, as Florence smirked, and with it, a text went out to get a few engineers back.

It wouldn't be much, or enough, but a 50/50 was worth a punt.