Queen, I've edited around, so it's fine.
Also, Skyth, you can start on it if you'd like- PM me though. You likely already know what the Blackfoot has in terms of armament- so no need to you know, go over that.
FourtyTwo Member
STATUS: 10+ years of an RP idea, finally finished, on 10.10.2025. Goodnight Raven Squad, you were the best, wildest, most silly near future SOF RP that lived on the guild, and you got a worthy send off :) 10 mos ago
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10+ years of an RP idea, finally finished, on 10.10.2025. Goodnight Raven Squad, you were the best, wildest, most silly near future SOF RP that lived on the guild, and you got a worthy send off :)
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Bio
I've RP'd for the best part of over 15 years now here on the Guild, and particularly like military settings, both contemporary, past and near future. I have even dabbled in a little more experimental RPs, as well as created a plethora of 1x1s over my time in the guild. I like creating RPs with a distinct flavour- and often shift between narrative-led RPs to semi-randomised plots. I've been more a GM lately than a player, and don't really lean into fandom- instead, exploring my own universes lifting themes from other source material.
My main interests are military-themed, near-future RPs, with a focus on technology. But I'm beginning to push what that RP idea looks like- taking inspiration from lots of media and focussing on the fun, indulgent side of RP, whilst also exploring the lows and emotional side.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/190121-rav…
Raven Squad is a project over seven years in the making, and focusses on a class-based, eccentric yet half-grounded near future special forces team that acts as a response team where you can't send any special forces team in. It's incredibly dumb, incredibly loose, and yet, has delivered some of my favourite plot points in RPG. A brainless action flick a la John Wick and Kingsman meets a complex thriller with a fun left turn in it, Raven has been the culmination of over a decade of loving special forces RPG, gaming influences and other silliness in a package that has provided players with something quite different to a normal military themed RPG. While at an end, this is an RP that is a signature- it's silly as hell, takes itself barely seriously, and is what peak fun military RPG to me should be.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/192916-del…
Delta Hyper is a love letter to Wipeout, F1's Drive to Survive (Netflix) and contemporary Formula One, with influences from solarpunk, cyberpunk, transhumanism and other posthumanist concepts. An RP that follows pilots in their ups and downs, it's a story that hasn't got me playing an actual character, but framing the camera at each pilot (played by others), and presenting it as if it were a documentary. Lifting elements from TTRPG, this is a Racing RPG like no other and no parallel exists- using dice rolls and randomisation, with a stats-driven system to generate race results, rather than actually RPing the races, players experience the fast-paced, dynamic world of anti-gravity racing. This means that come Qualifying and Race, the results are genuinely a surprise to everyone- and based on decisions made through dilemmas and decisions made between races. Friendships, rivalry, the glamour and even a little political undertone play out in 2094, in a colourful, utopian future that focuses on the fight to take first place.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/196931-tac…
Then there's Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex. First use of any set IP as a formal setting, this is an RP that offers a darker mirror to Raven Squad, focussing on the other side of the equation- unlikely heroes in an uncomfortable position. I don't normally do fantasy, but the world, the lore, the feeling of the characters and the ability to write a comedy just was too difficult to pass up. An RP that focuses on a group running away from a variety of threats as wanted mercenary wizards in the middle of a post-revolution, Eastern-Europe adjacent 1990s to present Polavia.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/197399-dis…
Lastly, Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont. This is another IP-adjacent world, albeit drawing on a different setting and a new cast of superheroes. As my "first" proper superhero RP, this combines workplace comedy, a Storyteller-lite system and a fun, diverse, and large cast together in a dynamic, diverse setting.
I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy. I aim to clear posts within a week!
My main interests are military-themed, near-future RPs, with a focus on technology. But I'm beginning to push what that RP idea looks like- taking inspiration from lots of media and focussing on the fun, indulgent side of RP, whilst also exploring the lows and emotional side.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/190121-rav…
Raven Squad is a project over seven years in the making, and focusses on a class-based, eccentric yet half-grounded near future special forces team that acts as a response team where you can't send any special forces team in. It's incredibly dumb, incredibly loose, and yet, has delivered some of my favourite plot points in RPG. A brainless action flick a la John Wick and Kingsman meets a complex thriller with a fun left turn in it, Raven has been the culmination of over a decade of loving special forces RPG, gaming influences and other silliness in a package that has provided players with something quite different to a normal military themed RPG. While at an end, this is an RP that is a signature- it's silly as hell, takes itself barely seriously, and is what peak fun military RPG to me should be.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/192916-del…
Delta Hyper is a love letter to Wipeout, F1's Drive to Survive (Netflix) and contemporary Formula One, with influences from solarpunk, cyberpunk, transhumanism and other posthumanist concepts. An RP that follows pilots in their ups and downs, it's a story that hasn't got me playing an actual character, but framing the camera at each pilot (played by others), and presenting it as if it were a documentary. Lifting elements from TTRPG, this is a Racing RPG like no other and no parallel exists- using dice rolls and randomisation, with a stats-driven system to generate race results, rather than actually RPing the races, players experience the fast-paced, dynamic world of anti-gravity racing. This means that come Qualifying and Race, the results are genuinely a surprise to everyone- and based on decisions made through dilemmas and decisions made between races. Friendships, rivalry, the glamour and even a little political undertone play out in 2094, in a colourful, utopian future that focuses on the fight to take first place.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/196931-tac…
Then there's Tactical Breach Wizards: Fireteam Hex. First use of any set IP as a formal setting, this is an RP that offers a darker mirror to Raven Squad, focussing on the other side of the equation- unlikely heroes in an uncomfortable position. I don't normally do fantasy, but the world, the lore, the feeling of the characters and the ability to write a comedy just was too difficult to pass up. An RP that focuses on a group running away from a variety of threats as wanted mercenary wizards in the middle of a post-revolution, Eastern-Europe adjacent 1990s to present Polavia.
roleplayerguild.com/topics/197399-dis…
Lastly, Dispatch: Heroes of Claremont. This is another IP-adjacent world, albeit drawing on a different setting and a new cast of superheroes. As my "first" proper superhero RP, this combines workplace comedy, a Storyteller-lite system and a fun, diverse, and large cast together in a dynamic, diverse setting.
I'm pretty flexible and try and get back to people on ideas and responses, but sometimes, I may become very busy and it will take some time till I am un-busy. I aim to clear posts within a week!
Most Recent Posts
(I modified it in such a way that it still works as a shot for Bravo 1, or Huscarl/Praetorian/Mischief to alter themselves, so it doesn't interupt any continuity.)
Arran readied up, as he watched the officer and the pilots move around.
"Shit, that's a no go lads, they're round the other side. Bravo 2, take the shot, on your call." Huscarl said, targetting another infantryman instead, as he noted to his fireteam to do the same, readying his feet to kick up and give him the shot. When Athena opened fire, clipping the officer with a set of clean shots, with her team now currently engaging the two pilots and the surrounding men, Huscarl and his Bravo 1 knew that they had a different set to engage.
"Cleared hot, light them up!" Arran said directly, the rifle tight in his hands and the grip stable, knowing well that though this weapon kicked, compared to a 5.56 or a 6.5mm round, it really had some significant power. There were about six men here, not including the pilots and the officer- so Arran knew that the firefight had to be ended quick, before it escalated. Though he preferred not to make too much noise, the AAF had no wide-band comms, and that meant that they'd be unable to reach the CSAT forces in time, or the AAF in any way due to it's nature. Plus he always considered the contingencies- and he knew what he may have to do if loud and unsupressed 5.56 rounds from their Mk20s were heard.
Standing up, he shot out three shots, the kickback hard from the SCAR-H but enough not to throw his aim, Huscarl knew that one AAF man was cleanly dead, before he rectified his shot on another. A few bullets whizzed overhead, as Huscarl cleaned up the second-to-last man, the SCAR spitting a few bullets into his direction until he was KIA- the exact of what Arran wanted to get, as he knew that perhaps the CSAT forces had heard. Moving up the bush, for a better perspective, one of the AAF men was still up engaging Bravo 2, which Arran put an end to, with the last three rounds of his SCAR's magazine, the 7.62 round making a mess even though the man wore a plate carrier.
"Clear. They fired plenty of shots back that they must of heard- Bravo 2, I want you posted on the front, keep a perimeter if any AAF two-man patrols wonder through the forest to the wrong place- Mischief, get the rotor sabotaged on that Hellcat, preferably quietly, we don't want explosions in addition to that firefight we just had. I'll "clear" things up with the CSAT garrison." Arran said, moving out and around the thorn bush, reloading the weapon as he flipped a new 7.62mm 20 round magazine into the weapon, cocking the weapon neatly as he pushed up, moving at a considerable jog towards the officer that had been cleanly wiped out by the 7.62mm round. It was a mess- the headshot from that round had really made a bloody stain on the floor, and even to Huscarl, it wasn't pleasant to look at.
"Sorry mate." Arran said, finding the radio at his hip, and various calls in Farsi on the comms. It seemed that the AAF officer here was definitely connected to them in speaking it, and Arran could already tell, something was up.
"This is Viper, we hear shots, we are sending a QRF to your grid on the south, how copy Sigma?" Arran heard in Farsi through the radio, as he cursed, off radio of course. He had to change that. Languages wise, he was a fluent speaker of Greek, Farsi and Arabic, as well as French as a miscellaneous- this was almost a perfect set of languages, and it was essential if you wanted to be involved in a group such as the CTRG. Though proficiency in one of the languages was pretty much essential, knowing Farsi and Greek helped in terms of situationally understanding what they were communicating.
"This is Sigma, stand down- some of the troops shot some rabbits- sorry." Arran said as best as he could in his poor Greek-accented Farsi, taking an educated guess it was what this officer likely spoke as the language.
"Fuck's sake, Sigma. We copy, don't let it happen again- Major Masood is very tense, he is very suspicious. If it happens again, you know what we can say in relation to your Battalion commander." The voice on the other end said, as Arran made a simple reply, continuing his accent of Farsi even so.
"Understood." He disengaged the radio, putting it back on the body, looking to the other two in his team.
"Mischief, the helicopter immobile?" Arran said, the weapon lowered, as he looked around at Titan No. 1- looking abandoned on the hill, where Bravo 2 had taken the shots. It must have been out of use, or just not currently manned by the AAF garrison- though Arran had preferred if they had at least called it out.
"Okay, Bravo-2, we're linking back up. We don't want to make too much noise, but we need to sweep the forest and identify an OP, preferably 200m out from Camp Zephyr. I'll go into the specifics of how we get what we want here shortly." Huscarl said, moving back to a combat pacing as he headed back towards where he saw the other operators- Hotwheels, Athena, and Irish.
"Alright lads- let's move up. Mischief, Praetorian, on point- rest of you- keep a wedge formation, 10m spread between each man." Arran said, the sunset coming down a little quicker, the light still holding but only just.
Arran readied up, as he watched the officer and the pilots move around.
"Shit, that's a no go lads, they're round the other side. Bravo 2, take the shot, on your call." Huscarl said, targetting another infantryman instead, as he noted to his fireteam to do the same, readying his feet to kick up and give him the shot. When Athena opened fire, clipping the officer with a set of clean shots, with her team now currently engaging the two pilots and the surrounding men, Huscarl and his Bravo 1 knew that they had a different set to engage.
"Cleared hot, light them up!" Arran said directly, the rifle tight in his hands and the grip stable, knowing well that though this weapon kicked, compared to a 5.56 or a 6.5mm round, it really had some significant power. There were about six men here, not including the pilots and the officer- so Arran knew that the firefight had to be ended quick, before it escalated. Though he preferred not to make too much noise, the AAF had no wide-band comms, and that meant that they'd be unable to reach the CSAT forces in time, or the AAF in any way due to it's nature. Plus he always considered the contingencies- and he knew what he may have to do if loud and unsupressed 5.56 rounds from their Mk20s were heard.
Standing up, he shot out three shots, the kickback hard from the SCAR-H but enough not to throw his aim, Huscarl knew that one AAF man was cleanly dead, before he rectified his shot on another. A few bullets whizzed overhead, as Huscarl cleaned up the second-to-last man, the SCAR spitting a few bullets into his direction until he was KIA- the exact of what Arran wanted to get, as he knew that perhaps the CSAT forces had heard. Moving up the bush, for a better perspective, one of the AAF men was still up engaging Bravo 2, which Arran put an end to, with the last three rounds of his SCAR's magazine, the 7.62 round making a mess even though the man wore a plate carrier.
"Clear. They fired plenty of shots back that they must of heard- Bravo 2, I want you posted on the front, keep a perimeter if any AAF two-man patrols wonder through the forest to the wrong place- Mischief, get the rotor sabotaged on that Hellcat, preferably quietly, we don't want explosions in addition to that firefight we just had. I'll "clear" things up with the CSAT garrison." Arran said, moving out and around the thorn bush, reloading the weapon as he flipped a new 7.62mm 20 round magazine into the weapon, cocking the weapon neatly as he pushed up, moving at a considerable jog towards the officer that had been cleanly wiped out by the 7.62mm round. It was a mess- the headshot from that round had really made a bloody stain on the floor, and even to Huscarl, it wasn't pleasant to look at.
"Sorry mate." Arran said, finding the radio at his hip, and various calls in Farsi on the comms. It seemed that the AAF officer here was definitely connected to them in speaking it, and Arran could already tell, something was up.
"This is Viper, we hear shots, we are sending a QRF to your grid on the south, how copy Sigma?" Arran heard in Farsi through the radio, as he cursed, off radio of course. He had to change that. Languages wise, he was a fluent speaker of Greek, Farsi and Arabic, as well as French as a miscellaneous- this was almost a perfect set of languages, and it was essential if you wanted to be involved in a group such as the CTRG. Though proficiency in one of the languages was pretty much essential, knowing Farsi and Greek helped in terms of situationally understanding what they were communicating.
"This is Sigma, stand down- some of the troops shot some rabbits- sorry." Arran said as best as he could in his poor Greek-accented Farsi, taking an educated guess it was what this officer likely spoke as the language.
"Fuck's sake, Sigma. We copy, don't let it happen again- Major Masood is very tense, he is very suspicious. If it happens again, you know what we can say in relation to your Battalion commander." The voice on the other end said, as Arran made a simple reply, continuing his accent of Farsi even so.
"Understood." He disengaged the radio, putting it back on the body, looking to the other two in his team.
"Mischief, the helicopter immobile?" Arran said, the weapon lowered, as he looked around at Titan No. 1- looking abandoned on the hill, where Bravo 2 had taken the shots. It must have been out of use, or just not currently manned by the AAF garrison- though Arran had preferred if they had at least called it out.
"Okay, Bravo-2, we're linking back up. We don't want to make too much noise, but we need to sweep the forest and identify an OP, preferably 200m out from Camp Zephyr. I'll go into the specifics of how we get what we want here shortly." Huscarl said, moving back to a combat pacing as he headed back towards where he saw the other operators- Hotwheels, Athena, and Irish.
"Alright lads- let's move up. Mischief, Praetorian, on point- rest of you- keep a wedge formation, 10m spread between each man." Arran said, the sunset coming down a little quicker, the light still holding but only just.
Figured out a way of changing it to make it work- and SSgt William Patterson and Cpl Ian Stanley are added to my roster of characters, as an Infantry Fireteam leader and a IFV Commander.
Exactly- that's the issue, I mean I think it could be funny if Huscarl just said to them after "What the fuck." I mean, there's never a rule saying that my character has to be reserved ALL the time....and it's be an IC sort of thing, if you know what I mean.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Anyone going to post up soonish?
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."
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."
(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.
(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.
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