FourtyTwo

Task Force Hephaestus

Haha- I could divert the order, make it easier on Queen's end and all- though didn't Bravo 2 have a Titan site to deal with first? No 1 I think- it's the same sort of set up, just three men and then into that position. Not sure if Queen could edit that in quickly, and though I do sound like a right pedantic asshole, you can even see the map vaguely having it as an obstacle between them and the clearance.

I think that in terms of a Guerrilla team, that may come later- though there may be a limited extent for that now (with myself likely taking Antos). I'd prefer native Altisians really- or in other words, Greeks. It will come for sure though, and compared to much of the RPing I've done, where friendly forces have the technological and superior firepower. I don't really want foreigners in the FIA (which is the guerrillas that I've been referencing a bit), just to reinforce the idea that this is locals fighting for their land.

Skythion, I might throw you in as a AH-99 Blackfoot pilot- or in other words, a redeveloped version of the Comanche (that never went into service), and that by 2035's standards, is a little dated. Could be interesting to see CAS and ground teams working together for sure, pulling each other out of some very grizzly situations. I want to finish Patterson's character off, and perhaps developing another British IFV commander, though he's just a Corporal. I have a bad case of multiple character disorder, to say the least- so if you don't fancy another character, you don't have to worry about it, but if you want another perspective on how the fight looks, whether that's from above, down an optic, or inside a tank.

Task Force Hephaestus

To give nothing away, it won't be exactly a friendly relationship. You might end up seeing all hell break loose.

If you'd like Advanced, you can take an infantryman in Patterson's (that is, that NATO soldier and his squad who share Tempest with the CTRG) "Vanguard" squad, or any other role that takes your fancy. Guerllia, CAS pilot, IFV commander, since there may be a wider sort of aspect to it in the future, and if you fancy seeing a different perspective in addition to the CTRG's, you can go ahead- just let me know what you got in mind.

Task Force Hephaestus

Sweet to hear- I really want to keep this RP afloat, and believe me, I reckon it's got something. I may go on a recruiting drive after the prologue, bringing in some fresh blood not into the CTRG, but into other teams.

Task Force Hephaestus

Anyone going to post up soonish?

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

Natalie gave just a single yell as the last, and worst nine millimeter, was withdrawn from her. She felt like that would have been the moment she would have passed out- it had been in her hip, barely missing her bladder and intestine, and it had been something that she had demanded to stay conscious during, contrary to the doctor's advice. She looked over at Victor, a smile on her face as she leaned back into her pillow, just knowing that time and the fact that she had recovery to make. No matter how her will was, even she would know that today, they had stopped the worst of the shit.

Natalie awoke, looking at Victor as she looked out the window, noticing she had been out for a while. As Victor sat up and said what he then proceeded to say, she smiled, a smile like nobody really saw of her ever having. The darkness and gloominess, the bitter revenge and pain that almost felt as if it could manifest into a radioactive aurora of misery to all that saw the Russian on her bed, just melted away. Natalie's grin from ear to ear was just intoxicating, as she smiled, sitting up a little as words barely formed.
"Yes..." She said, Natalie letting Victor take the ring out and place it on her ring finger, the ring being one of the most beautiful pieces she had seen in a very long while. Victor sure knew how to treat her.
"Get over here..." Natalie said in a lustful tone, as she rose towards Victor, both hands hugging him tightly but not too much as she knew they'd both be a little stiff from the wounds, as her lips smooched against his, the kiss seeming to last forever, as Natalie dragged him down on top of her and carried on, the moment of pure love and the big Mohican atop her just enough. It wasn't the usual that Victor and Natalie had gone through before, it was just the most tender kiss she had to give, just a feeling that in her life. The idea that he had finally declared that she was the only woman he would spend his entire life with was something Natalie knew was going to one day happen, but even in her pain, it just evaporated away, just with pure affection.

---

(Not sure how to expand on it from here- I do want some urban inflitration, kinda avoiding the police to get to the OP and jump to it- I may do it in the next post in some sort of transition.)
(Also, spot the reference. Ignorance is bliss for these two- they never saw anything remember...)

"Konstantin's a mark, but I'd like to have a word with him. I'll go and get him, after you're done so to speak." Andrew said, loading a PMAG into the Mk18, cocking the weapon as he checked the EOTech sight on top, and the AFG foregrip mounted along with a compact but substantial silencer.
"Aye aye. It'd be better to sleep you know, there, wait for the target if anything changes, but an hour won't kill us. It isn't that far." He added, putting the weapon on the couch as he sat down by it's side, looking out the window before back at Nolan.
"They mentioned a plane that they had, in what I heard from Merlin. It got taken down and they found some intel aboard it, how the fuck you do that quietly in this world I don't understand. I mean, we could all blame it on these giants that I heard about back in Helmand, everything that has no ties they blame it on these days. Apparently, these two had like a minigun and a fucking GMG, and were like walking tanks. Not like Ross and Carl, they say they're like eight foot tall fucking tanks. Fucking hell, as much as I want to believe that, I think some people just like to dream up the idea that those sort of people exist. I mean, who even has that kind of size? I'll believe it when I see it, but I think they seem to just have underrated CAS runs and JDAM strikes- it's got as much plausibility as the Tooth Fairy." Andrew said, looking out, as he retracted the stock, flipping the magazine out again since it was uncocked to inspect the rounds inside, before clipping it back in.
"Anyway, we'll have to think on our feet. M2 SLAMs do a good job, I could remote detonate them and smash the other vehicles in the convoy. The armored one I'll leave to you, then I can head down and kill any stragglers, as well as see if Konstantin is a securable asset or red mist from your 12.7mm. I might need to chase any runners, so you should just keep ventilating anything that doesn't move till we have what we need. Something gives me a feeling we're just cutting the head of the snake, and I suppose it will buy time for the agents that we've got here time to dig into the transfacilitator, and figure out where the dots go to. And probably what's going to happen next with what movement of guns. Total disorientation, they'll have no clue when they're leader's dead and a arms dealer's representative is either in the same unmarked grave or having a car battery wired to his balls. Then, we have to pray that our way out is going to be one not involving every local gang, corrupt police or even military contact on hand." Andy said, itching his beard, as he thought on.

"I got a feeling we'll kick something in an area it doesn't like to be kicked. But this doesn't feel right. Not this op, but in general. With Belgium, someone is pissed, and someone might come out and take responsibility, but it isn't going to be Terry Taliban, or Ahmed of your specific fucking franchise of Al-Qaeda. They're like McDonalds, but less burgers and more suicide bombings now, I swear to God with how they work. Can't be them, so who the fuck is it? Chinese government? Fuck no, and it isn't the Russians neither. Can't be any government, otherwise they wouldn't have multiple ethnicites. Someone wants something out of the picture, and unless every bad person from the buttholes of this Earth have banded together into an Anti-Western group, I don't think it's going to be easy to find a real lead that tells us exactly their demands. They could in days, maybe a few weeks, just come out, proclaim a new world order or some shit that they'll bomb the West into the ground. Worst thing is, if they've got guns like that, I swear to God, if they have WMDs to reinforce that, it's going to take no encouragement to turn this world to shit. They got chemical weaponry, fuckknows what else." Andrew said, shaking his head, as he looked over, aware that Nolan was deep in maintain his PP-2000- a Russian weapon that was pretty unique in firing overpressured rounds from a large mag, and was not significantly huge on a sniper's kit.
"If you don't mind me, I'll get a powernap, and come back to the world of the living in an hour, get you up too. We should move ASAP, I'll shit there if it means you can ventilate that sonofabitch."

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

(You okay if I began the start of the next segment I wanted to start working on? I mean, I'll have one more post on this after your next post, but I want to setup the next thing.)
(Also, we need possibly an Icelandic super-heavy, could be interesting to see as a character but I don't think realistic in time. The link below explains it all- they have a population of around 250,000, yet have plenty of people who have arms the size of treetrunks.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8A7woRoVwyM

"Shit, just." Natalie said, looking into the Mohican's eyes, backing off as she looked for her PKP, aware it had now gone, out of her hands and somewhere down the road. The moment she thought she'd be hit by a shower of LMG rounds didn't happen, as she smirked, standing up and brushing herself off, watching as the Belgians did their work. Now it was their turn to save some ass, Natalie thought to herself, keeping close to Victor, as she winced in pain. The adrenaline had gone, and now, she felt like passing out, as she kept with him, leaning on him from time to time as they walked down the street.
"I need to get this shit out of me, it's going through. Fuck, I feel bad. This might have me out for a few days, like I said earlier, I just need some fucking painkillers and a pair of tweezers. Your wound's going to need more, but even so, it's not often you get shot seven times by nine mils and talk about it." Natalie said, chuckling as she knew that Victor had just taken a sniper's bullet that had only stopped in his shoulder, an intensely painful thing but something which she knew he'd be feeling.
"And you know it, Victor. I said it earlier myself, whoever's behind this I'll have hanged by their own fucking small intestine. It's going to be fun filleting the fucker." Natalie said, wincing as she kept walking with him down the road, knowing that support had at least come in the right time. Her body felt sick, twisted, and she knew it was never a good thing. But she wouldn't fall, her body wouldn't let that.
"Victor, this may not be the time to say it...but you know how you bought me that coat earlier today? I can tell it in your eyes, what you want to do. We may be Gods, but one day, we will just be etches in the stones of history." Natalie said, coming closer, a smile on her face.
"But right now, there isn't little else here that matters. You make my pain go, you red-faced brute." Natalie said, a hard smirk on her face as she reached up and kissed him, holding on for support knowing that they were out of the mess, and almost at the safe zone. They were going to a medical inspection, and Natalie couldn't imagine the next few hours being easy.

---

Two days later

"Merlin, this is Falcon, encrypt is going, I've got a secure line."
"Understood Falcon. I assume you've seen the news. We're still compiling the body-count, but this is to the scale of 9/11, if not worse. You know exactly what they used."
"Russian firearms. AK-12s, AN-94s, PKPs, fuck, they used the latest shit, and that isn't good. Even fucking forensics points to this..it's no fake."
"Yeah. As you may understand then, we're not looking at some non-aligned bunch of Taliban here. This goes deeper. From what intel you recovered in the destroyed ammunition dump in the Chechen mountains a few months back, and from our Chinese manifest, we know that this is a Transnational Facilitator, or in other words, imagine the guys above the Cartels and the shitty little groups that has the loosest connection. They're the kind of people that make Chinese weaponry show up in some Sierra Leone junkyard by some way, and organize for drugs to go from some coca leaf grower in Peru to a celebrity's nose in the US. Criminals really but on a mass, intra-governmental scale. You know what a TNC is? Trans-National Corporation? Well, imagine the criminal version of that, but as a supplier, not as a doer. We're looking at a thinner and thinner selection of groups that could do what happened in Brussels, and we are seriously running out of options here. So we're going to make a stand here that Ahmed Masood, or callsign "Fletcher", is one of the cogs we want out of the picture. We think that if we pick him out, we find out what we need. Of course, we need more speculation on the Russian end, and why the fuck these guns have actually gone over, rather than just him- but leave that to us for the moment. You're making a start."
"Right. So the Masood and his Transnational Facilitator is our issue in terms of how these fucking terrorists got their guns?"

"Not entirely, Falcon. Now, we've got several documents, above your pay grade, that they had an aircraft and several distribution points in the Southern Tajikistani mountains. The former of which you aren't classified to know, I tried to fucking ask but they will not go any way about it. There is an issue- and that is that this group, whoever they were, are still significant in number. They've got no real demands, they're quiet. That rules out Al-Qaeda, the usual suspects. Nobody, I mean fucking no-body came forward. But we know this much- they used modern gear, they used gear that the Spetsnaz would still call new. Female and Male members, this isn't a regular cell. No country is connected, we found multiple ethnicities, it's a mixture of everything in the pot. Mercenaries, perhaps. Worst of all, we know some got away, but we know they had some union. Suicide bombings, and advanced explosive compositions- C4 and various PETN mixtures that we ain't seen the likes of in a very long while from a group this technically skilled. Langley gives the best bet that this is an Eastern group of some sort, perhaps funded directly by a government and bolstered by mercenary forces, though we see little connection between this group and a governmental organization. All I understand fully is, the world wants answers, before NATO flips the table and decides to go off what little we have. The TF we've identified to stem from Dushanbe, and we've got local agents already on the ground working on it. If I'm honest, you're just a pair of snipers, but considering your talents and your abilities on several missions, both with Knight and autonomously, we want you to fill this one. Our guys will deal with finding Fletcher. Your job is to remind him why it's a bad idea to sell guns to people who hate the West. Orders may change to capture him if needed, but for now, he's a dead man walking. Your kit should also come too with your ticket- you won't be alone, but when shit hits the fan, be careful. He's well guarded- remember, Transnational Facilitators aren't exactly small gangs. We're talking above the Cartels and the Gangs, we're talking the people who have direct political influence- and in Tajikistan, we can bet that Ahmed has a good line on the President and the government, as well as his gang having a widespread influence over the Central Asian ballpark. Now, this is something Interpol and local governments are better to deal with, but when it comes to shit like this, I don't care what agency is meant to deal with scum like this. Bullets are louder, and you need to recover whatever intel he has on him, in conjunction with our agents on the ground that will purge both his legitimate and his illegal offices. We collapse this, whoever was behind this will feel like they've got a ballsack trapped in the door."
"Understood Merlin. Creative description."
"I only aim to make it clear Falcon. You've got 2 hours to get packing, we'll keep in contact and once it's done, get you out of that place."

---

Dushanbe, Tajikistan
2200 Hours

"Vanguards"

Andrew opened the door, walking into the small apartment, looking out behind him as he shut the door, looking over at Nolan. Andrew wore some hand-me-down brown Tajikistani robes along with a sachel on his back, with a bit of a beard that had grown recently- being useful in this area. He wore a Shemagh over his mouth, and a wool cap, nondescript or exactly notable- but that was the point.
"Fuck me, that was boring as shit. I got a bead on the way that Ahmed's coming with his convoy to the other side of town, through the abandoned industrial park. Place is ex-Soviet, that cooling tower is going to make a hell of a bird's nest for you. As for his transport, I got a reference on what vehicle it even is- up-armored goddamn SUV of some sort. So that Tac-50 of yours is going to be nice." Andrew asked Nolan, as he checked his own G17, checking the clip and taking a seat, quickly pulling the sachel out as he slid the tablet across the wooden table to Nolan.
"We've got eight hours mate. How the fuck we got this intel, I don't know, but we're coming down on this guy hard. Our guys must be deep now in finding this sort of thing out, makes our job easier to snatch his ass. Still no change on if it's a kill or capture order, though I still like the first myself." He said, Andrew putting his G17 back into a hidden holster, as he quickly flicked to a white face, away from that of some elderly Arab-looking businessman slash terrorist who practically kept a large, inter-governmental syndicate practically making the world's criminal, paramilitary and terrorist connections click. Ahmed was Amazon, for terrorists. But this bloke was different- and Andrew wanted to explain.
"Oh, and this guy seems to be riding along. Grigori Konstantin, just another representative of an arms dealer that we're already getting tabs on, and thus, just another black hole- it solves fucking nothing on who actually connects which people selling the shit through the whole system, especially guns like that. He's like that guy in China, just like that- but I think we could kick a notch out of him. Torture works good, and those Chinks were holding back most of the time on the worst. Still fucked me up didn't it. Anyway, we might need to recover him, and any documents on the convoy. I suppose that puts me and my Mk18 in good steed, plus the rappelling rope." Andrew said, flickering away, as the light jumped for a second, before it came back.
"Fucking lights. Power's shit here." He just remarked, looking out the window, the late night of Dushanbe being dusty and bleak. Andrew got up, walking over to the couch, a ripped and torn thing, and managed to scoop his hand under, pulling his tan-painted, silenced and sighted DD Mk18 out of there- the hiding place for his weapon different than Nolan's, which was located in the second room, within a secured cabinet along with their BDUs and miscellaneous kit, such as harnesses and a couple of M2 SLAM mines for a little fanciful anti-vehicle munitions.
"This thing is just an M4 in wolf's clothing, I swear. Does the job though." Andrew said, a smirk on his face as he knew that they'd be going within the hour, and that they had to get kitted up, keeping their robes and local clothing on top for the moment until they got to the site.

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.