FourtyTwo

Task Force Hephaestus

Posted since Rare hasn't got a post up in a while, we're rolling out again. And yeah, a bit of engagement- for now, just a three man patrol for Bravo 2, and the thing I led up to at the end is on Queen's go.

Task Force Hephaestus

Huscarl looked over, as he stepped out the boat, quickly remarking to the team to push the boat in as he got on one knee, aiming down the sight of his weapon, his hand securely around the EGLM launcher, feeling very alive. Every hair on his skin was up, just the teething concentration that slowly and surely was beginning to kick.
"Clear. Bravo 1, on me- let's loop around, Bravo 2, get into positions and ready to fire. Silent shots for now, but remember my ROE." Huscarl said, looking at Athena, as he looked at Mischief and Praetorian, indicating with his hand for them to follow as he raised his SCAR-H, the digital blue weapon neat in his hands as he pushed forwards, going off the beach and heading into the sunset-illuminated forest.

He heard Greek from a mile out- the Altisian people still spoke it, along with English due to the fact that it was simply so prevalent a language in these parts and the UK's colonial history on the island in the immediate aftermath of the First World War having a direct impact on some. It was the AAF AA team, and Huscarl and Bravo 1 were keeping their heads low, moving slowly and surely, tree to tree past the dense pines that littered this island. The LZ for the bird was right on the beach, and Titan Site number 2 was in a tiny clearing, which Huscarl could pick three soldiers to be sitting within.
"1, halt. Check safeties, contacts 50m ahead, three AAF Recon soldiers. Look at them...shit, how the fuck they haven't detonated themselves is beyond me." Huscarl said, leaning on a tree as he aimed down his sight, picking the main operator of the Titan, the other two AAF soldiers sitting on the floor and smoking fags. Fuck, in this day and age, Huscarl didn't know of many institutions that actually allowed operators to have a light, and these bastards were lighting up right by a AA warhead, and a couple that could be loaded into the device that were next to it. Idiots. The AAF Recon troops weren't anything special, they had exactly the same kit and maybe a different insignia, and maybe a bit more training. But they were nothing special, nothing significant. The CSAT recon troops, in their grey hex uniforms, did scare the shit out of Huscarl, and reminded him something serious was going down. This group however, wouldn't last long.
"I got the operator of the Titan, Praetorian, clip the guy on the left, Mischief, the right. Bravo 2, this is Bravo 1 Actual, we've found our first Titan, we're proceeding to engage quietly. Clip your AA position, then move to a concealed position where you have a confirmed visual on the grounded Hellcat- but remember, stay fucking quiet, do not compromise this. Huscarl out." Arran said, looking to his other two operators, as he adjusted his weapon's stance, aiming down the holographic sight, the unmagnified reticule still accurate in this environment. The targets were close, but idiots. They had practically flanked completely around, and Huscarl knew that after this trio was dumped, they'd close the net on the helicopter crew, and deny any chance of getting the AAF troops to RTB and report hostiles. Since the helicopter was the only real long range radio on the island for the AAF, it meant that from there, the AAF troops, the soldiers wearing digital woodland camouflage and geared up to the standard of almost a modern army, would get ventilated when Husky rolled up towards the north of the island.
"Okay Bravo 1, cleared to shoot on my mark." Huscarl said, referring to his fireteam, as he held his breath, going for an accurate shot just below the shoulder of the man's arm- where it wouldn't hit his plate carrier, and the two single 7.62mm shots he would pair up would hollow the man's internals. That was exactly what he ended up getting, except having to add a third- the subsonic 7.62mm rounds tearing through the operator of the AA tripod and sending him to the floor. The round had slammed through his bicep muscle, mostly skimming, and had punched through where his side where his body armor hadn't covered- after all, a few shots to the back or front would have done the job easily, but this was a guaranteed kill in a perfect scenario, and hit the vital organs without a single qualm.
"Tango down, that's that fucker. Bravo 1, stick close- keep a wedge, we have no time to hide the bodies so let's move up and set up a shot on the guys by the helicopter. If we're in time, Bravo 2 should have already cleaned their AA, and should be observing. I give about another five plus men holding the helicopter, so we're going to need to make sure the AAF don't have a hope in hell of leaving, or a way of yelling Wolf." Huscarl said, looking back at his pair as he moved slowly and surely up, scanning every angle as he kept a combat pace, his jog with the weapon stable in his hands something aptly suitable for this moment. The occasional twig snapped under his tan boots, the CTRG Captain heightened and aware that this was indeed, what they did best.

Huscarl led his fireteam onwards, moving up towards a couple of bushes where he could see the cabin of the armed WY-55 Hellcat- a Altisian development of the UK-used Wildcat helicopter, except with a pair of 7.62mm M134s and two DAP rocket pods attached the vehicle. It was a capable transport and attack helicopter, and was something that had to be dealt with.
"Get down, on the fucking floor." Huscarl said, moving to a pine tree as he came down on the floor himself, moving his back against it, looking over at the rest of his team as he got on his hands and knees, crawling towards a small gap in the thorn bush. He kept away for obvious reasons, but he had no question that if he had to crawl through about half a meter's worth of stinging shit, it would be something that he would do. For now, he positioned his SCAR-H towards a combatant, watching, waiting. The thorn bush was about hip high, and served as a good concealment, marking the edge of the pine forest and the beach clearing, where the Hellcat had landed on a dune close to the shore.
"Eyes on, six contacts, 50m again. Various Mk20 (F2000) rifles, couple of short-range optics, standard gear. Insignia on the helmet, I can just about spy it. One officer, the guy leaning by the helicopter talking to the two heli pilots. Looks like...Lieutenant of some sort, probably XO of this detachment. Bravo 2, pick a couple of targets, engage on my go. Mischief, Praetorian, we'll take the trio again, and then continue to engage whatever else we see, we'll pop up for a better shot over the top of this bush. We got them in a complete pincer, so watch your shots, and if it has a green digital pattern, it's clear to engage. Bravo 2, on your mark, shoot and we'll pop and engage." Huscarl said, checking the weapon, as he knew that they'd have to do something soon. It sounded like they were talking about the CSAT on the island, just how generically creepy they were, but he couldn't decipher anything that would be valuable as a local asset in the midst of it all. Nothing on an officer, nothing on anything. He readied his hands to push him straight up, and to bring the weapon to arms, so that he could shoot fully-automatic in the direction of the AAF Lieutenant, whose aged appearance suggested he had no reflex and was just some poor old miserable bastard on the wrong shift.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Natalie followed close down the alley, then suddenly realizing what had happened when Victor was on his charge. The first man was thrown back by Victor's shoulder, but raised his 9mm, with Natalie almost following in a charging manner and quick. She threw herself straight onto him, throwing the PKP loose as she knew her whole weight was going to hit his right shoulder. A distinctive crack followed, as Natalie blocked a parry by the man's left hand as the M9 fell out of his right hand, before then slamming her forehead straight into the man's head, grabbing the man's left arm in the process which left him completely exposed and in agony. She finished him with a sharp kick to the head, kicking out blood in her traditional brutal approach, as she clambered upwards, grabbing the pistol in the process as a temporary weapon. Victor had well and truly fucked up the men that were also in they way, Natalie choosing to take a simple approach. The weapon was vaguely familiar to the Russian, but the nine millimeter round wasn't much at all. She quickly managed to shoot the last man that had been taken down with a summary execution, watching as Victor kept moving and Natalie was left a little behind. She went for her PKP, moving with a rapid combat pace before wiping the blood from her forehead. She had hit the man so hard with her headbutt she had actually knocked him out, and probably kicked up a little blood now. The 7"2 Russian with a MMG in her hands, her oversized yet fitting jeans, as well as a tight bra, wasn't what you would call your regular CT operator, but ends had to be met today, and with Victor, she knew full well that they had to protect the civilians as much as possible and counter-attack.

She sprinted back towards Victor's rear, covering as best as she could as Victor pointed the truck out.
"Fuck...Victor, there's no telling how much C4 or Semtex that's crammed in that thing. Careful." Natalie said, moving up as she covered him, looking at the police, as she spoke in French.
"Let him carry on. He knows what he is doing- get any civilians as far away from here into safety, we'll deal with any of these fuckers." Natalie said to the police chief in strong French, the man nodding, Natalie glad that he spoke it rather than Flemish. Natalie turned back to covering Victor, as he clambered in, trying to defuse the bomb.
"Victor, you know, when we finish this, I swear to God, I will hang the fucker that did this with his own intestines. Mark my words." Natalie said, coldly, as she stuck close, looking in, as she scanned for enemies. Two more terrorists, female to Natalie's surprise, made their way down the street, the Russian on one knee as she unloaded the Pechneg down range, tearing them apart with fire that felt like it was from an assault rifle but was significant in volume. Natalie looked at her wounds, feeling her arms go a little weaker. The adrenaline was wearing off slightly, it wasn't good at all. She needed to get the wounds sorted, just some painkillers and a pair of tweezers, and the same for Victor. She knew that when the prolonged effect of her Adrenaline went, she'd probably collapse or be stiff as a plank due to the fact that a couple were in her shoulder, and three in her abdomen, by her abs. Willpower almost kept the 9mm rounds from going deeper, and she knew it wouldn't kill- they had probably hit the bottom of her ribs or embedded in her muscle, which now felt like every breath she took brought more agony. But she was a strong woman, and would carry on regardless.

As soon as she heard that Victor didn't seem confident about the bomb's disposal, she cursed loudly, not at him but in general. as she raised the PKP, looking for more terrorists.as she backed away from the van, taking his right hand with her left, the PKP on her right shoulder. She saw a couple of men up ahead, as Natalie just fired wildly, aware it was the best covering she could give., It was just the volume, and she didn't stop firing, the shots going all over the road and sending the terrorists into cover, as the LMG kicked into her right shoulder, the recoil a bit more significant but something which would do the job for now. She saw a car, and almost threw Victor towards it with herself, coming down on top of him as she realized that it was the only significant cover from the device. If it went up, Natalie just hoped that they were far enough, because a gut feeling felt like in the moment that she did it to Victor, the world trembled.

In the Black (QueenOfTheBee and kingkonrad)

Pavel smiled, upon hearing the Czech comment.
"Yeah, I think I know a decent place. Should be good to go really." Pavel said, looking over his shoulder as he led the way to the lift, to go back downstairs and down to the ground level. He felt like a drink- he hadn't had one in a long while, and a nice creamy larger would do him plenty of good. Or maybe several. He didn't know, but as a Czech, it was almost a responsibility to like the real Pils that originated from this region of the world. None of that Budweiser stuff for him- only the real thing, the local thing really cut it, and he particularly liked to have that good taste in alcohol.
"Not many drunks there, it's upmarket but still the best you'll see of beer culture here." Pavel said, adjusting his hair as he pressed the button, taking them down.

As the doors opened, and they were at the ground level of the not-so-special hotel, Pavel led the way out, turning to check if Ariana was there.
"That last thing was a hoot. Got the pair out of there without too much blood. I hear the Germans are going to pay well, they don't like the fact that there's a mess, but you know how it is. We'll just have to deal with it, and they got their people back, so I couldn't care less until I get paid." Pavel said, walking out onto the evening streets of Prague, just across a road towards a pedestrianized street, where Pavel knew he'd find his bar, the wet tiles having a few puddles but the sky now turning a greyish haze of orange, the sun slowly coming down now.
"Liam's a good man, I can tell you that much. I don't fully agree with him sometimes, but he knows how not to get people killed on your side and kill everyone else. Tough fucker, can't believe he still goes on without that left leg of his." Pavel said, holding her hand in a friendly, less romantic gesture. Something to show that he wanted to keep her safe, although real reasoning would have said she would have been fine herself.
"I've seen him a few times, he seems to really enjoy this line of work. I can't say the same, it's the money. Just that you get paid a lot more for fucking doing shit that security can sometimes handle, but you can tell why they need us. When shit hits the fan, I don't really know of many other soldiers in the regulars that would be able to put up with it." Pavel said, as they walked down the pedestrianized street, the cobbled path leading to a square of sorts, where Pavel knew his bar was near. Ariana to him felt close, something valuable. He liked her, to say the least- she seemed like quite a pleasant woman be around, and most importantly of all, wasn't like his ex-wife. Just some grabber of fortunes, she seemed like someone who Pavel could trust through the good times and the bad. In some ways, Pavel had done far too much, too young. He had a kid, a wife that he had already divorced and still was only 25. In comparison, he knew Liam hadn't done any, and he was 37 after all. That perplexed him, but somehow, he knew they were all different.

Task Force Hephaestus

See you dude- all the best.

Task Force Hephaestus

Was it? Oh, in that case, she'll be second-in-command- I'll add you Hellhound. I just posted up and you lads can now too, I think Athena will take Bravo 2 as a sub-sect fireteam inside Husky. I don't make weaknesses prominent in characters (my belief being that you don't usually notice it in people until you see them for a very extended period of time), not sure what you guys think on that.

Task Force Hephaestus

Huscarl looked over at the group, nodding to Irish.
"Good to see you mate, welcome to the team- papers, and so on, get your shit together. You probably know me, so I won't go into any more detail- so chop chop." Arran said, indicating a look on his face that said plenty to him that he was good to go and setup with the rest, as he walked out of the armory, and back to his billet with his laptop cradled in his armpit, to sort something out. His radio buzzed again, as Arran ran, going in as he put it down and set the cables.
"Shit, line's got about 5 minutes worth of security Neptune, what is it?" He asked, looking out as he shut the door and switched the light back on.
"We've got another op, just recent. Turns out that we've got a hold of some more intel, regarding this submarine's deployment from Tripoli, Lebanon- and we need a little dry work to be done to find a manifest from the place, to back up what you're going to find. Like I said, we don't expect this one to be guns blazing, but we're going to need one of your guys to co-ordinate the agents we got on the ground. I'd trust them with sitting on their asses and listening in on a bunch of Arabs for a few days, but this needs a finer touch."
"Roger- I'll send Khukuri, he looks bored, and I suppose he needs to get the fuck off this island. You handling the logistics of my man?" Arran replied, as Neptune chuckled.
"Yeah, we will Huscarl. Just tell him to get moving to Stratis Air Base, with his weaponry and we'll go from there- we'l reattach him to your team in about a week."
"Understood. Cutting the line now, if that's it."
"Go get some fuckers, Huscarl. Over and out." Arran laughed, as he disconnected the cable, running a deletion program to begin a cleanup on his laptop, and wipe any trace of any encrypted material that was on his laptop- a process of multiple deletion, which would take a few hours with the high level of encryption that he had just used. He got up, and walked out of the metal billet, shutting the door as he looked out on Athena and the others, before going back to the mess hall to see what was left, and tell Khukuri.

( Transition OST (ie. what I was listening to at the end of this post and the beginning of the next.)

---

"Operation Deviant"

1900 Hours, 2nd July, 2035
On a RHIB somewhere south of Makyrnisi, Pyrgos Bay
Altis

Huscarl sat right at the front of the RIB, adjusting himself as he looked back on the boat, the evening setting in as the sun had now come closer and closer to the horizon in the west. He looked back- Mischief was on the M134 situated in the middle of the boat on a 360 degree swivel and a slightly raised platform, while Hotwheels, the driver, sat a little off-centre. The rest of the team were either sat on the side or up at the front of the RHIB with him, as they swelled over the waves, the sea rough but not stormy or throwing them around. Just a few breakers, and nothing substantial. Huscarl's gear was on him at the moment- his plate carrier, light ECH helmet with a flashlight on the right and a camera on the top, with a pair of swag Tactical Shades over his eyes, already giving him a small ammunition count in his bottom right of his vision, and also clocking up a basic friendly identification system, which of course, was only practical in identifying the team, not enemies. His UBACS fatigues were the team's standards, as well as his tan British Army standard boots, along with the Oakley gloves in his hands. The SCAR-H sat comfortably, the magnifier disengaged but the magazine loaded and ready to spew when he pulled the trigger.
"Everyone, eyes open. For now, AAF forces don't watch for RHIBs since they think we're with the CSAT, but the moment they come close or we fire the fucking gun, we are fucked. Hotwheels, keep going, half pace. Everyone, check your gear, we are at the Start Point, 1km out roughly. I've got no sighting of the AAF Speedboat, and no airborne units currently." Arran said, looking through his Rangefinder, magnifying slightly as he looked over at the distant island.

"Primary Insertion looks good, we'll stick right to the plan as I set out. Remember, quick and clean. Since Khukuri isn't on hand, Athena will take command of the second team after we approach Zephyr and the submarine, and she'll use the Laser Designator. As far as I'm concerned with that helicopter, let's try and keep it quiet- we'll destroy the rear rotor and move on, not fucking blow it to smithereens. And no, we're not stealing it. Last time I checked, none of us have any idea how to fly a freaking helicopter, and coming back to Stratis to convince the AAF that we're just "borrowing" it." Arran said, a wave kicking up as he sat up a little, looking out, aware that they knew each other well, and that they'd be getting this done cleanly and efficiently. Huscarl's Icelandic father, and to some regard, what made him feel more Nordic than Scots, was what he considered gave him that courage and that belief. He always remembered that his father had no fear to go out in the harshest storm, that he said it protected him and he felt at ease with God's wrath. In some ways, Huscarl felt that it was the same today- that if you looked on the tactical map to see how seriously outgunned they were, it was like they weren't going to have a hell of a chance, any normal infantryman or even a SFSG man would look at it and just say "No". But he knew he had the capability, he had the tactical plan, and that they would decimate the island's units with speed, precision and get what they wanted, without even making a audible mark. The only real stab in the side would be the fact that CSAT would lose millions of dollars of submarine, and a lot of troops dead at the hands of a NATO drone and an unspecified team. For some reason, Huscarl had to suppress in his head that what they were doing was not helping the tensions, but this was the only, and therefore, least worst way of getting the intel that they so desperately needed.

They slowed down, the boat quiet as they approached the south-western tip of Makyrinisi, closing much slower now as they entered on the breaking waves, Huscarl's beard and tactical glasses showing an element of an operator who was just sternly deep in thought. He had sometimes gotten stick in the SFSG and even the SBS for it, just being sometimes a little disconnected to which Huscarl always reiterated he was in thought. On how things would happen, and other matters. The chance to perhaps go home after this, with the rest of the troops on Stratis. The chance to see his girlfriend, of whom he had a strained relationship. He wanted to see her, badly, but work came first. Perhaps it was this disconnection with reality that made Huscarl good at what he did. He looked back at the operators, spitting first into the sea as he outlined his last functional order for now.
"A heads up- you find any intel after we raid Zephyr, you report to me and do not even consider going back to NATO troops on Stratis following a debrief. Remember how this works lads- NATO regulations do not apply to our operations, so you are free to engage AAF and CSAT forces now unless I give the word not to. All understood? Good- Hotwheels, aim for the small beach right there, quarter speed as we go. Athena, Irish, Hotwheels, you three take the right flank of our insert, your callsign is Bravo 2. Me, Mischief and Praetorian here will flip the north-west, as Bravo 1. We'll stick to the maps, and quietly act on the Titan emplacements first- my Bravo 1 will flank around and hit Titan No.2, while Athena's Bravo 2 knocks out Titan No.1 quietly. We'll go from there and eliminate every AAF man we see in a pincer, kill wounded and do not spare any surrenders, just to remind Mischief and Irish of that from training a few months back. Silencers set, on my mark." Huscarl said, kneeling at the front with the SCAR-H, as they prepared to hit the very small beach on the south-west, and quietly, and smoothly, move into position and eliminate the Titan emplacements- likely to just be three men at each, and a Titan MPRL AA launcher on a tripod, something that they could possibly use later if things hit the fan.

Task Force Hephaestus

I'll figure something out Hailfire- don't worry about that. Anyway, that leaves Mischief as 2nd in command, and I think this RP may thin out soonish to a concentrated group, so we may have to figure soemthing out. It's a shame man- I really saw you cared for the RP, and wanted in on this, but if you can't bring yourself to it, that's absolutely fine.

Task Force Hephaestus

It's fine- anyway, I'll post tonight since it's been a little stagnant. If you're behind on posts, just post up quickly again and just straddle- I won't do that huge a jump, but I want to get us to the fray quick.

Task Force Hephaestus

Also, I'm slowly filling in SSgt Patterson's role, since I'm bored. You may see more of him, and possibly later, you may end up in his team too.