Roman

The Mavericks: Valiant Heroics

With Jo out - and her date, who Cassie wasn't looking out for, admittedly, but it seems Jo was - Cassie didn't, frankly, have much of a vested interest in the rest of the proceedings. As callous as it seemed, Cassie's life was very much centered around Jo and her protection. Jo was all she had left, and Cassie held onto her with an almost religious fervour. And she'd made sure Jo was safe from the masked men who'd broken in to the school dance. Christ, it wasn't even Jo's school. Cassie had half a mind to think Locke knew this was going to happen and put Jo there for the fun of it. She shook the thought away. Locke valued Cassie's employment enough to not senselessly put Jo - his key bargaining chip - at risk. Hopefully.

She was about to pack up and return home to change and head over to Jo's - 'I heard on the news!' was the story she initally thought up, but she realised there weren't any choppers in the air or media presence at all yet, so 'police scanner' or even 'how was the da-oh my god!' would have to be good enough - when something happened inside the school. The car she'd seen, but apparently the evening wasn't done with it, and she looked down the scope at exactly the wrong moment; the car exploded and she wrenched her eye away from the sight, swearing as the brightness burnt her eyes. For a second she panicked, but the afterimage faded and she rubbed her eye, still able to see. She looked back. She noticed someone punching out a guard and tipping their hat toward the window, but ignored it.

Someone - one of the masks, a crappy turtle in baggy clothes - had their hand stretched out toward the car, now smouldering, two burnt figures collapsed on the floor nearby and a third K.O.'d by a lucky brick from the blast. Had they...caused that? A meta working with the gangs? For a given value of 'with', Cassie thought, taking note that the explosion had taken out exactly three of the intruders and zero students, and had in fact given distraction enough for the students to leave. Still, they'd threatened Jo, and Cassie had at least two more shots lined up. Sure, why not. For Jo. Unwind a bit.

She knelt and lined up her shot, taking the time she had for this one now that her focus wasn't on frantically covering Jo. The unconcious guard first - crosshairs centred, barrel steady. Cassie breathed in and squeezed the trigger on the exhale - even without her Focus, she'd still taken the initiative to learn a few things about shooting. Boom. Through the window, a clean hole with splintering fractures worming there way outward, and zipping into the lying figure's neck. The body shuddered, and sputtered blood from both the wound and the mouth, and then lay still. One for my baby, she thought, and then lined up again, quicker this time. A bit more merciful, but she needed to at least incapacitate them until she figured out their game. She exhaled again and pulled, and the bullet made another hole that blew out the window this time, and then a second through the lower calf of the guard she suspected to be meta. That ought to stop them from causing any more trouble with...whatever it was they could do. They hit the ground, presumably yelling, and Cassie lifted her rifle up and away. Now was the time to leave.

Cassie head home, discarding her wig and contacts halfway there. She had replacements at her apartment. She didn't want to be Quintain any longer tonight.

Looking back on that night in the coming years - the first night Cassie knew she wasn't alone, the first night she saw the people she would eventually come to know as her closest and most trusted friends and alllies - Cassie often thought that as first impressions went, she'd given her future teammates a spectacularly poor one.

The Mavericks: Valiant Heroics

It took about twenty minutes. Quicker than usual, but she felt calmer tonight than she generally did in this position - sitting behind her rifle, barrel bi-pod holding firm, stock shunted steadfast into her shoulder. Her legs were splayed forward, and she was leaning against a break she'd set up. Her eye was down the scope, and from her position she had a good vision through the skylight on the open door at the opposite side of the warehouse. The first half of the meet-up was already there - and they'd already given a surreptitious wave to the Quintain they knew was watching before walking over - presumably, Cassie was guessing since she didn't have a direct line of sight - to beside the gas tank. Where the hell does Locke find these people. Cassie thought, and then it occurred to her that the poor bastard didn't realize that the shot was for the tank, or that he was going to be vaporized alongside the target. Cassie swore. She didn't want to kill him if he wasn't the target. Fuck you, Locke. Fuck you. If it wasn't for Jo...

Twenty minutes. In, out, in, out. Deep breathing coupled with closing her eyes - counter-intuitive for a sniper, but necessary - and a trained meditation to clear her mind. Force it blank, push utter calm on yourself. Force the world to slow down for a moment, and it actually will. Twenty minutes. Cassie opened her eyes and looked down the scope again. She could feel it coming, a sluggishness in her movements and a strange blurry fuzz to the world, movement leaving trails. The blur that preceded the utter clarity. The target walked in, shaved head, briefcase, tight-fitting suit. Cassie inhaled. The target walked across the warehouse, to the side with the 'buyer' and the gas tank. Quintain exhaled. The world almost stopped, and she could see the path of her bullet, the explosion from the end of the barrel. The glass shattering, raining onto the floor, and the shot bouncing off the steel support beam back toward the warehouse wall, landing square in the center of the gas tank and setting the whole thing off with explosive decompression, the gas lighting off a bodyguard's cigarette and pushing ferociously through the warehouse, incinerating the target, the bodyguards, Locke's buyer - but leaving the briefcase.

She squeezed the trigger, and it all happened. A few seconds and the lives of four men were extinguished, the fire bursting out the other side of the warehouse, throwing off the closed door, and lashing out into the night toward the sea before collapsing in on itself, exhausted, spent. Cassie wrenched her eye from the scope as it did so, avoiding the brightness of the flames. She paused for a second, listening to the night air, still and dead. A single siren, but not coming toward her. Locke's money went far. She stood, stretching her legs and clicking her back, prepared to pack everything away and head home, Jo safe for another day. Then her phone buzzed.
Perhaps you should have hired a babysitter?
The dance. Cassie thought, horror washing over her. A second hand gripped her, wrapped tightly around her throat, stifling her frightened whimper. Jo.

It took ten minutes to get from the docks to the school, taking every shortcut she knew, exploiting Kilbride's winding passages and fake dead-ends. Down an alleyway and over the wall - harder with a rifle than it was when she did this as Cassie - and then through the lobby of a closed building, in one side and out the other. Down the street, over a fence, through a recreational park. The school was one block over, she was close, she just needed to - to what? Storm in there and get yourself shot before you can lift your rifle? Dammit. She was right. There was an office block across from the school, with a good sight on one side into the gymnasium where the dance was being held. Set up there, use the open floor plan to scan back and forth. Go mobile, follow Jo's escape, keep her covered. If they wanted money, then let Jo give it to them and walk out safe. She was smart enough to give them what they wanted. Cassie had made sure of that.

It was a good plan. Cassie was on the third floor, looking down on the dance through the upper windows, and her scope was on Jo and her date. There was a guard beside them, but another one holding a bag and shouting. So they were robbing them. Good. That was safe. Or as safe as the situation could be. Then Cassie heard something. A revving, some shots, a yell. And then a car came through one of the walls, and the guard nearest Jo grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into him, holding his SMG to her side and shouting as students screamed and the other guard dropped the bag. Get the fuck off of my sister thought Cassie, and then squeezed her trigger. The man flopped instantly like a ragdoll, a fresh hole clean through his temple, gun clattering to the floor, and Jo out of his grip. She dropped to the floor immediately, pulling her date down beside her by the sleeve. Good girl. Cassie thought, smiling slightly from behind the sight of her rifle. Now find an exit. Someone's looking out for you. They started crawling, and Cassie started looking for guns pointed at them. No guarantee she could hit a moving target, not without bringing on her Focus - but her heart was racing, and her mind was frantic with panic and worry for Jo. At the very least, she thought, high-caliber shots through the windows would be enough to make the assailants reconsider their actions. Or dive for cover.

They tried the the door, first. Locked, obviously, and Cassie had to shoot a guard standing nearby, about to bring the butt of his gun down on Jo's spine. Jo screamed as the shot rang through the air and the man fell back yelling, hand no more than viscera, and Cassie felt a fresh pang of fear strike through her. She remembered the night her parents died, what Jo had done out of pain and distress, a lack of control condemning them both. She knew Jo was receiving 'training', but she had no idea what that meant. Jo was stressed and agitating her further could set her off, and the other students didn't have Cassie's Focus to slow down imminent death to be avoided. Jo had to be out quickly - not just for her sake, but for the sake of maybe a hundred young lives. Cassie swore again, noticing her voice was thick and shaky. She quickly moved her sights down from Jo and shot out a lower window. There. Immediate escape route. Take it, girl. Come on.

Jo took it. She heard the shot and then the glass shattering, and realized the significance. Whoever was watching her - her own personal guardian angel - was watching out for more than just angry men with itchy trigger fingers. She seized the arm of her date - the boy was pale as a sheet and shaking, adrenaline obviously wearing off and paralyzing shock and terror settling in to replace it - and pulled him and herself toward the window. There was another shot as Cassie punched a hole through the shoulder of another guard with his sights on Jo, and as she leapt through the window into the open night she realized it was higher than initially thought. The landing was going to hurt - and she braced herself for the impact, date yelling beside her. Then the world closed up and got dark, and she felt the ground appear beneath her, but no pain. She opened her eyes to see metal receding, unfolding, a plane sheet of steel that had cocooned her flattening to let her out again. She didn't question it. Taking the boy's hand, they stole away into the dark. Cassie smiled, breathing heavy, a few tears down her cheeks. That was a hell of a thing to see, but she was glad that Jo's powers had saved her, rather than repeating the last incident.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

I'd rather keep those to NPC's - drill sergeants aren't going to be deployed, whereas players are. A veteran on his last terms, sure.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Unless you've specified differently on your sheet, yes. Holland, being older, I would expect to be off-duty from planetary deployment, and as such on-camp already, practising at ranges and spending his leave how he likes (within guidelines). Unless you'd like to be with the fresh recruits, returning from off-planet leave.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

The first IC post has been launched! Here's to maiden voyages, and the hopeful success of this rp.

Follow up whenever you can!

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Welcome to Unit GC-88 of the Galactic Coalition Military, Private! Now hustle!
GM:Roman | Consultant/Co-GM:Lord Wraith

---

It is the year 2277. Man has conquered space travel, and has begun the necessity that is colonizing the planets of their local star space, known as the Genesis System. Their home planet, Gaia, is no longer their first choice; it is for the destitute and the unwanted. Those deemed 'valuable' or 'necessary' have been shipped to colonized planets, and everyone else scrapes up what cash they have to get the same opportunity.

As more planets became populated, ruling parties on all colonies formed a collective government, operating as a singular ruling organisation for all colonised planets in the system, known as the Galactic Coalition. The GC runs centrally through the Zion Station, a massive space vessel large enough to harbour a population almost equal to some of the planets that Man colonised, and the only one of its class.

But the Galactic Coalition, however idealistic, sadly cannot keep order throughout the light-years of the Genesis System across the several colonies without a considerable military force. And so, it is a considerable military force that the GC has created - the GC Military. Conscripting from all colonies, and even from Gaia, recruitment is consistently successful, mostly due to fresh recruits being offered free passage to Boot Camp, and a home on one of several colonised planets after two to four successful terms of deployment, depending on each assignment.

You are one such recruit, heading for your training camp on Primitus, the first colonised planet, and now used solely for Coaltion VIP's and military operations. You are awaiting touchdown, preparing for training, and hoping that your deployments will not result in a painful death. For whatever reason you joined up, you're here now, under the employment of the Galactic Coalition. You just hope your new life is better than the one you left.

Gear up, soldier. You're arriving.

---

"Buckle up, ladies and gents. We're landing in three minutes."

Justin sat down and strapped up. He preferred standing when travelling, but the Military wasn't a place for what you 'preferred', it was a place for what the Coalition told you to do. Most of it harmless, or so he'd heard. The general opinion on the shuttle was that deployment was peace-keeping. More a police force than an Army. Still, there were rumours from the outer moons that a few select individuals were growing tired of living under the GC's eye. Rumours that a few select individuals had decided to try and do something about it. That sounded more like army work. Justin wasn't sure which one he'd prefer. Supposedly, peace duty was rather humdrum, and he'd had plenty fill of that back on Danus.

Danus. Small world. Small colony. Small life. There were a few on the shuttle who had to ask for more specifics when he named his home, and he didn't blame them. It was a boring small moon colony with boring small people. He was nearly caught in it, but managed to break the pack. Couple terms of deployment and he could live on Calidum, or even help spearhead a new colony in the outer rim - everyone knew that's where the GC had their gaze turned upon. Expansion was the name of the game. So much so that colonies like Danus got left behind. It didn't surprise Justin, he'd learnt enough of the GC's history. If they could forget Gaia, then Danus was barely a blip on Zion's radar.

Justin's hypocritical self-righteousness was interrupted by the turbulence of planetary atmosphere entry. Primitus, the first off-world colony, and lazily named in Justin's lofty opinion. Repurposed for GCMilitary operations, and a large boot camp set up slightly offset from the South Pole. Primitus was cold and rocky and had high winds and Justin thought it was for these unpleasantries that the planet's ultimate purpose had been chosen. The rumour was that deployment was easy, but they made up for it by making sure you scraped mere survival in training.

The low thrum of the engine morphed into a singing whoosh as the atmospheric boosters kicked in and took over for landing. The shuttle seemed to groan at the change but it behaved, and gravity overtook them, a collective gasp from the passengers as their weight came back. Justin felt his legs become anchors to the floor again and noticed they felt slightly more solid. Primitus' higher gravity added another layer of fun to the military drills. They touched down with a definitive 'bump' and the seargent's voice rang loud and rough over the whining sound of the boosters cutting out, and the sharp hiss of hydraulic seals unlocking and the shuttle ramp lowering.

"Welcome to Primitus, Recruits! Down that ramp lies the finest military the human race has ever seen, and you lucky sons'a'bitches get to join them! But I gotta make one thing clear. I don't give a rats ass what corner of the System your scrappy hides have come from! Whether you from the rough ends of Gaia or high-fuckin'-falutin' Zion, whatever you got don't mean shit when you step off that ramp. You're GCMilitary now, and that means you're better than when you stepped on this sorry shuttle."
The seargent bent down and picked up a pack that rested by his feet. He lofted it with one hand, displaying it to the recruits.
"You'll all find one of these under your seats. It's got your bedroll, some rations, water, extra uniform, your civvies, and a couple bricks in it."
The recruits looked nervously at each other.

"You may have noticed that the gravity on Primitus is a little stronger than the colonies. This is something that you're gonna have to get used to over training. But we decided that we were gonna give you some help! Generous fella's that we find ourselves being." He put the pack down and pointed down the ramp.
"Camp's ten miles that direction, privates. Y'all want food and barracks to sleep in, I suggest you get to walkin'."
The recruits stared at him dumbly, packs slung over shoulders.

"Ten-HUT, RECRUITS! MOVE YOUR ASSES."

The Mavericks: Valiant Heroics

Cassie shivered, but it didn't bother her. It was cold up here, overlooking the dock warehouses, number 12 below her slightly to the right. Initially, she'd thought of moving her set up to the edge of the rooftop, getting a straighter shot, but after an inital scan through the scope of her rifle after the sun had set she saw the skylight that the message had specified. She didn't know why her instructions featured it so clearly, but after tying the location of the skylight, the angle of her shot, and the placement of the gas tank - she'd made a mental note of its position after her afternoon recon of the warehouse before heading home to prepare - she could guess. It was toward her, against the wall facing the rooftop she was on. The other side was sea, no rooftops to take the shot from there. Fuckin' Locke always liked a show. Apparently her targets counted.

She'd have to bounce the damn shot. The shot would go through the glass - despite the lovely open window that someone had left propped open - and glance off a support beam that was conveniently exactly where it needed to be. It was why she hadn't moved over like she thought about earlier - the angle would be wrong. She looked through the scope of her rifle again, but moved down along the wall to the small white chalk-mark she'd made earlier. It was, roughly, the center of the gas tank. She rechecked her shot for the third time. She wouldn't even need to, when the focus came, as long as she knew her target - but still, it afforded some confidence. Or, at least, kept her mind busy. She hated thinking about her targets. She hated what she did. She thought of Jo. She thought of her afternoon.

-

After she'd received the message and descended from the office building, she'd walked leisurely to the docks. It was a fair distance from where she was, but she was used to walking, and the dull aching of her soles didn't bother her. She'd checked out the warehouse, subtly pushing up the sleeves on her arms to show her tattoos when someone looked to approach her. She'd wandered 'innocently' through the warehouses, pausing only slightly at 12-A to scan the layout before stealing away. She left the docks completely, heading to Jo's apartment to spend as much time as she could - Jo talked excitedly about a school dance her 'benefactor' (that was all Locke was to her, and Cassie meant to keep it that way) had somehow afforded her passage to, including a beautiful dress that Locke had allowed her, and a cute boy for a date that Jo had managed quite all by herself. Cassie was jealous, but reminded herself that her life was not that of frilly fashion and handsome men anymore.

After that, she'd bid Jo good luck, and given her the customary kisses and assurance of love, and returned to her own apartment. Cassie still hesitated to call it her home. Once there, she'd taken an hour to herself. A rare luxury, but fuck it, she was paid enough to afford it. It wasn't even eight by the time she was out of the shower, and despite the contrast between Jo's evening - already begun, spiked punch and fumbling male hands aplenty - and Cassie's - still a few hours to go, focused hands and a steady eye - she managed to enjoy herself as she lounged about half-naked, drip-drying because why not, that Locke motherfucker can pay to get the waterstains off the wooden floor.

Come ten, she was ready. Wig in place, contacts in, outfit changed. White was the colour she'd chosen when her disguise was ordered, and she liked it. Everything about Quintain was designed to be as far from Cassie as she could manage. Quintain's bright, conspicious garments to contrast the dull, plain fashion Cassie sported. Quintain's fair, messy hair, to counterpoint Cassie's dark, sheer-cut fashionable bob-like hairdo. Quintain's unnatural shining amber eyes to displace Cassie's low moss-green. It was all carefully constructed to allow Cassie to distance herself, deindividualize Quintain, assume a persona and protect herself from what she was doing. It worked. So far.

Eleven. She was on the rooftop, despite an hour and a half - and four minutes - still between her and the appearance of her hit. Still, she was always early. Settling down, setting up her rifle, leaving to mark the gas tank position on the outside of the wall, coming back. Checking her shot. Checking again. She looked at the guage she had set beside her rifle, completely unnecessary but she liked it. Mostly for the time display. Half an hour to go.

Cassie started breathing.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Yeah, the sheets I was waiting for are seeming to take a little longer than expected.

I'll go ahead and start the IC. Expect the first post tonight or tomorrow.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

Ah, don't worry about it. Thanks for your interest, though!

Just waiting on one or two more sheets before I launch the IC. Newclib, your sheet is wonderful now, thanks.

Unit GC-88, Operation: Eden

I'm not complaining about the mentioning of marksmanship, but everyone will receive shooting practice in training anyway so that they can shoot well enough to be deployed, and I just don't want people fighting over sniper rifles - or everyone using one.