Starlance

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

Boraro
Briefing room, 1800 hours

---

You could hardly think of a worse place to fight than one such as they were about to go to. Hardly any cover, obstructed lines of sight and swarms of civilians. He was very happy with the rooftop approach, staying out of that soup. At least Rose wouldn’t be an issue, killing Skye by mistake wouldn’t have been great.

”Where I grew up, people learned to duck and crawl.” He replied to Chuck’s concern. He was no war criminal, apart from being an illegal combatant his entire life by virtue of being a mercenary, so of course he’d check his targets, but in the end people were responsible for their own safety. And if Raven failed, a lot more people than one could ever cram onto a Moroccan market would die. If a 100 innocents died and a 101 were saved by their actions, then it was worth it. It was the Gendarmes that worried him, those would go in seeking out the shooters instead of clearing out, unaware of who Raven were and would have to be dealt with, preferably without killing cops actually trying to do their job in earnest.

”I doubt we’ll avoid spotters. All it takes is an Artemis operative with a drone. If that was my compound, I’d have at least two out at all times. No one looks twice at a hobby or professional photography drone and most people can’t tell a tank from an MRAP, much less the differences between a civilian and disguised military drone 50 meters in the air.” He offered.

---

Armory, 0000 hours

---

Ebrima had no idea how the Blue Sword tech wizards managed to get the reliably unreliable shotgun drums to behave, but 20 instead of ten shots per magazine was well worth whatever dark voodoo they had to perform, carrying four and four of slugs and old reliable flechettes, joined by two drums of beanbags to deal with johnny law. The armorer swore up and down they cycled without changing the gas settings, and the drums have bought them enough goodwill to take their word for it. Another upgrade that would come in handy were the less-than-lethal grenades, Ebrima packing two magazines of the stunners on top of his usual loadout, preloading the stunners. Rounding out the goods were three magazines of 5,56x45 blacktips for the MDR plus one of subsonics to deal with any spotters, two for the USP and the Kukri. Finishing the prepwork was a kevlar helmet and a level IV plate carrier strapped to the outside of his pack. The situation might require them to put a bullet into Simmonds themselves if it all goes wrong, but losing him to a stray round was not on the agenda.

He would’ve loved the upgrades, better jump pack control and exoskeleton mobility being something that would’ve come in handy running across rooftops, but alas, no dice. At least the techs would have more time to make sure there were no nasty surprises in it. Tracking nanites in blood, who knew what could be in the suit and its software. Ebrima was still surprised it didn’t detonate on Rose’s death. Everything ready, he began exercising the exoskeleton to make sure everything sat right and didn’t snag, paying special attention to the drum pouches on his abdomen, Powerwolf’s ‘Glaubenskraft’ in his helmet to set the mood.

Lucid - Sci-Fi adventure with powers manifested by intelligence

leaving tentative interest here.

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

Boraro
Camp Hannula, Raven’s Rock

---

There were enough people preparing breakfast already so he simply stayed out of the way and watched, taking mental notes. He took point on the dishes, no one’s favorite aspect of food, but a necessary evil. Breakfast eaten and kitchen clean, now was time for work. Some of the tech staff mentioned something about upgrades to the suit, and as soon as he heard the words “increased mobility without sacrificing protection” he was hooked.

Well, it was a nice thought. As soon as the new software was loaded, he got no less than five errors. Being told that “That’s normal.” by the technician, he paid it no mind until they made it to the test track. As soon as he tried to activate his jump pack, the suit went into limp mode, started playing his music library through the helmet’s headset on shuffle and jacked the environment controls to the highest it would allow, the setting meant for rapid reheating after falling into cold water, and the mosaic of error windows on the wrist computer and even his HUD indicating some real bad ones handily put the launch of the Generation IV Octavia to shame as far as software fuckups were concerned.

“The suit’s a pre-production prototype.” He was told when he got out of the human-shaped, metal-blasting, barely-mobile oven. Unfortunately, the man responsible for his suit’s software had not made it out of Kaitaki, leaving it to the two techs that accompanied him on the shakedown run the night of the attack and some Blue Sword guy from the base’s IT department to perform electronic exorcism as they pored over millions of lines of someone else’s code, figuring out what it did and why it wasn’t working, restoring his suit to its previous functionality from a backup for now. One thing was clear immediately: Upgrades would have to wait.

Life was weird, somehow giving him a free afternoon and making him absolutely hate it.

---

Camp Hannula, Dinner time

---

It was clear to anyone who cooked for a lot of people regularly that a big cookout was in the works, the arrangements hard to miss when one knew where to look. He made some preparations of his own, managing to get his hands on some readily available supplies and some yeast, misjudging the time by around 30 minutes. No matter, at least the dough would rise more. Given that Tahlia and Chuck had hauled in several reindeer, more pastry would not hurt and what he had planned could be frozen in case there were leftovers. Although with this many giants on hand, plus Freya in the infirmary, he doubted that. As the venison was cooked, he joined the organized chaos with the sounds of sizzling oil and before long, the first batches of Gateau started rolling out onto the tables. It wasn’t bread, but he didn’t have enough time to make that properly and delicious balls of deep fried dough - half plain, half with herbs and garlic - would do just as well.

With just a few bites, Ebrima resolved to get that curry recipe from Purna. His recipe list was extensive, but fairly poor on the curry side despite a few months’ stay in Thailand and this one definitely earned its place. Not now though, some better time would present itself eventually. Right now, there was teambuilding to be done. Having finished his portion, he took stock of the party. He’d spoken with Chuck and Tahlia on the plane a bit, but little more than a general greeting to Oliver. Then he recalled the missing giant, a ‘two-in-one’ opportunity presenting itself and thus he set out for Samantha, approaching with a broad, friendly smile. ”Nothing like a shared meal to bring people together, no? But we are a giant short. And if I know one thing about medical facilities, they tend to be dreary and make you eat healthy, not good. Are we feeling up to a bit of smuggling, doing a bit of bad for a lot of good? A rack of ribs, half a leg, pastry and some sauce may not heal a shoulder, but will definitely heal the spirit.”

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

Boraro
Camp Hannula, Raven’s Rock common room

---

He greeted the assembly politely before taking a seat, a familiar face joining him almost instantly. Ebrima agreed it made sense to get the knife in the room out of the way quickly, scoffing at the mention of ‘a trophy’. Perhaps that perception was part of the issue, on top of the near-religious significance the kukri held to the Ghurkas of course. To Ebrima, it wasn’t a trophy, it was a tool first and foremost. A trophy was something that hung on a wall, not combat armor’s utility belt. Not that he planned on returning it either way, not before he died or retired, whichever came first. But at least he got a name out of the exchange, somewhere to have it delivered when that day came, assuming Purna wouldn’t simply walk into the armory and take it from his weapons locker without anyone being wiser to it. It was nearly impossible to keep something safe from infiltrators. Infiltrators and taxmen. He drew the line at the condescending shoulder pat, intercepting it with his hand. The pocket psycho would need a bit of a cold shower. Ebrima knew it was unwise to provoke a snake with your bare foot, but the two giants in the room were a reassuring presence. Even though their allegiance to Raven was still somewhat questionable, and he was still an outsider even to that, he couldn’t see a mentally level person standing by if someone else got attacked over the possession of an item. That being said, there was one giant in the room he couldn’t see stand by if someone got attacked over the possession of an item.

He was about to respond when the other giant seemingly forgot she was a giant. Ebrima waited for Purna to resituate himself and pick up his dignity before speaking. ”The story. It should be said.” He spoke in a serious voice bereft of the usual mirthful subtone as he accepted the chocolate with a nod of appreciation, but did not whisper as Purna had. Like when negotiating a contract, he aimed for transparency. ”Sometimes when you put things off for later, you don’t get a chance to do them at all. So, the full story:” He said with the air of bitter experience with unfinished business, turning to look Purna directly in the eyes with a switch back to his earlier deadpan delivery. ”I lived, he died. And if he didn’t want his equipment salvaged, he should’ve left it at home. Such is life.” Ebrima let Purna believe his friend fought valiantly, no doubt in his mind he would have if given the chance, which is why he didn’t offer that courtesy. Half a squad of Burmese rebels for bait, several 5,45x39-sized ventilation ports in Sergeant Rai’s back and that was all she wrote. Ebrima was on thin enough ice already, no point taking a sledgehammer to it by provoking Purna even more than he was as is by simply existing.

He listened to Sam speak her piece, offering an appreciative nod and a smile. Self-reflection was something he’d had to figuratively - once or twice literally - beat into a younger merc on a semi-regular basis, and it bode well for the future that it wouldn’t be the case here. Perhaps it was as simple as being placed in a position one was not suited for, or being rushed into it too early. Good as she was, even Skye wasn’t infallible. ”Any good news from the intelligence shack?”

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

Boraro
Camp Hannula, 0500

---

Before landing, Ebrima donned his exosuit once again. No way he was carrying that thing, even if it was just into a truck parked nearby. He walked out of the plane, blissfully unaware of the Gurkha in the audience as he watched the minor shitshow unfold. He was missing a lot of context so he remained silent, but it sounded like both sides were talking crap, one making it seem as if Skye was somehow responsible for Rose, the other as if she was the second coming. What the fuck did he find himself in the middle of?

He was working with a very limited sample pool, but so far he’d seen little that would make him shed a tear over the command change. Saying ‘She’s like a sister to me.’ to Freya’s actual sister was… let’s chalk that and the blowout up to fatigue, benefit of the doubt and all. If anything, the new commander made a good impression straight out of the gate, directly to the point without unnecessary sauce. Sauce was good for morale at times, but this was not one such time. Say what needs to be said and let them settle in.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to say something to Athena. Something that probably would’ve earned him an enemy, if he could judge the woman by this brief interaction, but managed to stay his tongue. The eye roll, that was out of his control. But as Adam would later note, he just got there. Perhaps he could run with that little bit of goodwill and leverage it to mediate the next time people felt like arguing. Or perhaps not, Athena hardly seemed like someone who would care to differentiate. A voice of reason finally cut through the air, the Finn speaking sense and hurrying them along from the cold. Ebrima already liked him for that alone.

---

Camp Hannula, 0600

---

”And the blade too. I will not talk of it yet, but you should have a good story to tell, yes?”

Fuck…

Finding himself pitted against a Ghurka had been unexpected enough, but he’d considered working with one completely out of the realm of possibility given his usual line of work, so this was a complication he’d never given any thought to. ‘First time for everything.’ as they say. There would be no story, just a presenting of facts - being economical with the truth in some areas the Gurkha didn’t need to know - and then Ebrima would start barricading his door when he slept. Purna being an infiltrator did not help the Cameroonian’s peace of mind. He doubted there could be any set of circumstances under which a Gurkha would be okay with him keeping the knife. At the same time, he wasn’t giving it up while he was breathing. It was only fortunate that blade’s previous owner wore a helmet to battle and not a terai, because Ebrima would’ve stolen that too.

But for the time being he let it be, stowing away his equipment in the armory, cleaning the three weapons he had on him and finally hooking up the exosuit to charge before finding his room. Normally Ebrima would have eagerly gone out to explore the base after a shower and being released from the one on one with Adam, were it not for the arctic temperatures and the somewhat worrying presence of a certain small man on site. He may have been going a bit paranoid in the moment, but going outside and out of sight felt like painting a target on his back and making it easier to hide the body. In the end, necessity won. Refusing to live in what little he wore under the armor, Ebrima put the undersuit back on and headed out in search of the base’s equipment warehouse.

Some time and a bit of arguing with the Blue Sword quartermaster later, he made the trip back to the house with two sets of clothes, two pairs of boots, a winter jacket and a warm hat. Unloading the haul in his room, it was just about time to see about some proper food to get the taste of what they found aboard the plane out of his mouth.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Three, four, five… where did the next one go? She almost had it when someone grabbed her by the scruff and hauled her to her feet. Good thing Zey spoke before grabbing her, else she’d have probably gotten smacked on reflex. Not a good look on the performance review. ”Fucking… Attack dinosaurs, what is this, where did that even come from, I hate this.” She muttered half to herself, half in response to the Captain in a bizarre mix of English and Russian, still struggling with the magazine and loss of fine motor control. In the end it was the cheers of triumph that fully brought her back to reality.

Huh… So they could die. Good to know.

She finally slotted the armor piercing magazine into the weapon’s magazine well and peeled out from behind cover, only for the boat’s motor to get smacked by an arrow. Not like one would expect, but going sideways. Going back behind cover and looking around, it wasn’t the only one. Force magic. Magnetism? Steel arrowheads! Realizing what was happening and trusting whichever mage was responsible and hoping the locals didn’t have flint arrowheads for this occasion, blissfully unaware fo the soldiers’ plight or the two that got crushed, she steadied her weapon against the boat’s propulsion mechanism, took aim at the remaining beast and started firing, doing her fumbling best to hit the head reliably. It probably had a brain in the head, right?

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

Boraro
A400M, 1600 hours, Approaching Haneda airport

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”I haven’t known you long enough to tell.” He replied to Skye’s question about trust bluntly, suppressing a chuckle about apparently being trustworthy. Either Skye wasn’t aware of the list of criminals, rebels and illegitimate governments he’d worked for over the years long enough that it might as well be printed on toilet paper, or Raven was even less scrupulous than he thought. He liked the latter thought a lot more than the former, that would be some awkward explaining.

A great shadow blocked out the light, the American eclipse extending his hand toward him with a greeting. ”Ebrima Arendse. What did they feed you people growing up?” Ebrima shook Chuck’s hand, imagining the giants’ daily intake to have been around what he had to eat for three days, his hand getting absolutely lost in Chuck’s palm. It’s been a hot minute since anyone made him feel small. These giants, nope, he didn’t mind never having faced one, at all. The handshake over, he was left with the dilemma of someone who saw and wanted to pet a dog and someone who knew it was a military working dog, the most adorable lethal weapon ever used by mankind. To save your hand, or pet the dog and risk losing it? ”And I wouldn’t overstate my contributions. Skye just needed a chauffeur while she hogged all the fun with the turret.” He chuckled, anyone’s contributions paling compared to two walking tanks strolling into the middle of the fight like two raised middle fingers and beating the tar out of Artemis until their muscles tore. How do you beat that?

---

A400M, Leaving Haneda airport

---

Ebrima kept well away from the open rear ramp, the view tempting but fear of falling out being stronger. ”Maybe she forgot something down there?” He noted dryly when his brain processed what his eyes were telling it. The new team leader didn’t leave a strong first impression after weeping for the previous one and now the one person in the squad he did get to know at least a little bit had thrown herself out of the plane without sharing a plan and before agreeing on any counter-Rose recognition method. At least they could be reasonably sure that was the real Skye that had just yeeted herself out of the plane, Rose probably would’ve killed Vincent, crashed the plane, died along with them and resurrected somewhere else. Unfair advantage was one thing, but this was plain cheating.

With the whole team - well, sans Skye, for obvious reasons - gathered together in the back of the plane and Chuck making introductions following Skye’s stunt, he figured he might as well join. ”Since we’re all here and getting situated, I am Ebrima Arendse.” He went around for a round of handshakes with those he hasn’t met yet before looking between Oliver and Freya, ”A Nord fighting beside Freya herself. Must be a dream come true.” If as little time ago as yesterday you’d told Ebrima that Joakim’s weird obsession with pagan faiths would ever be useful to him, he’d ask when you’d hit your head.

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

Boraro - Japanese airspace

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Ebrima’s eyes were still at half mast when he collected his meal - MRE menu 14 ‘Mexican Rice and Bean Bowl‘ two months before its best buy date - and found a seat. Trying to alleviate Skye's confusion, he looked at his wrist, then rolled back his sleeve and only then realized he left his watch in a pouch on his armor with an annoyed sigh. ”I might need a cup of maddener to wake up. This thing has to be a well-kept secret, otherwise Mexico would’ve declared war over it.” He said, looking at his ration of stale beans and questionable rice with disdain before glancing at Freya, Tahlia and back to Skye again, ”But I’m good, all things considered.” He answered Skye's question. ”New blood comfortable? Doesn’t chafe?” The Cameroonian grinned.

Ebrima greeted the Kiwi with a wave of his spoon, quietly wondering how his fellow African had managed to stay awake and alert behind the yoke for that long. Clearly he has, they weren’t dead nor being escorted by JSDF fighters for not answering the ATC’s calls. ”That is hardly surprising.” He chimed in after Skye’s admission, ”Stolen identity is a once-in-a-few-lifetimes occurrence. A doppelganger like yours is unheard of. Nothing to lean on, you’re writing the handbook so to speak. No shame in taking time to think things through, a rushed plan can do more harm than no plan at all.” If they had a bad plan, they were acting on it, potentially making mistakes. If they had no plan, they were staying put. Plus the high-level thinking was being done, well, on higher levels. Beyond elite they may have been, but they were still grunts. It might actually be beneficial to leave Skye out of planning. If she could think of it, why couldn’t her clone or whatever Rose was? Good thing it could also work the other way. ”If you are not compromised and you and your double think the same way, killing you would do more harm than good. Preventing further confusion could be as simple as a challenge and countersign. Something she cannot infer, and changed frequently. And no more biometrics for you.”

He accepted the bottle more for the gesture than thirst, returning it wiped with one hand while offering the other, introducing himself properly. He didn't laugh at the joke, and for a moment the tired cheerfulness in the pale African’s eyes was replaced with unfiltered hatred, not directed at anyone present but still easily noticeable. That comment about magic rituals and sacrificing body parts hit close to home. Too close. ”I understood until around ‘...tattoos are from…’.” Japan wasn’t the only place he knew next to nothing about, ”It’s a lot of effort Artemis took from you.” He could relate. For almost the past year, he’d been putting away savings and paving the way to setting up his own small, permanent merc outfit before Mossad threw a whole bag full of wrenches into that plan.
”What are you going to do about it?”

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

Boraro - Airbus A400M, somewhere above way too much water

---

So, Japan. That was a new destination for Ebrima. He didn’t choose the life he lived, hated it for a long time before learning to embrace it, which made it that much ironic that whereas ordinarily he would’ve lived and died in a corrugated metal shack in Southern Cameroon, the mercenary life took him around the entire world - from Cameroon through Nigeria, Mali, Sudan, Somalia, Burma, Thailand, Mexico, Colombia and more. But Japan was a country far too stable for his career to lead him there, so far removed from any conflict that didn’t have anything to do with North Korean submarines that he didn’t know a single thing about it. Well, except for Enri Uemura, Avital’s cyber security expert. A woman who bowed when she greeted people, was guaranteed to be the smartest person in the room - as she never passed up the chance to remind people - ate fish raw for some reason and left this world way too soon in a Los Zetas roadside ambush less than two months ago. In a way he was looking forward to visiting it despite the circumstances, chiefly because it’d be the last stop before a place he knew equally little about. Finland. It was cold, it was dark for months at a time and people spoke in tongue breakers. He hated the place already, its sole redeeming quality the rally stages and giving birth to the likes of Mika Häkkinen and Mikko Hirvonen. Not Valtteri Bottas, we don’t talk about him.

So, Japan: The last stop where he could grab some warm clothes. Because boy, would he need them.

But Artemis had made a critical mistake, although it didn’t look like it at the time, but they turned a professional reason to fight into a personal one for the team. Few things pissed people off more than violating their home. As for him, well, he had been looking forward to living in New Zealand for a little while. But right now, they needed rest so unless anyone was feeling chatty, he’d snoop about the plane for a little bit, and after finding out that there was no way to hook the exosuit up to the plane’s power outlets to recharge it along the way, Ebrima sat down in a corner of the cargo bay and untangled himself from the struts and armored plates - still a bit of trial and error on his part - and went to find a place to lie down. Sleep while you can. As the past few hours have proven, you never know when or where you might be able to do so next.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Repeating the previous maneuver two more times, she managed to empty the first magazine before the attackers called it quits, or at least switched up their tactics. ”That’s right! Run, fuckers, shoo!” That line of thinking didn’t last long, however. Nice of them to signal a change of intentions with a horn, but the Humans hardly could have prepared for what was coming. If someone had seen the Jurrasic Park, maybe, but Vigdis never was a fan of the antiques. The sound quality was awful.

Vigdis peeked up over the wall. Nope! She only caught a glimpse of what was coming before she sprung to action, driven by no conscious thought, just autopilot in full self-preservation mode. There was a lot of shit she didn't sign up for going on, but becoming paste or worm monster chow was where she drew the line. Vigdis repositioned as quickly as her foot allowed, putting the heaviest and sturdiest thing available - the ship’s propulsion mechanism - between herself and the nearest creature. Some might’ve thought of it as a calculated maneuver, but Zey and even Nellara would’ve recognized panic for what it was. Especially when Vigdis dropped a magazine as she tried to reload her weapon and spilled the armor-piercing darts everywhere, cursing loudly as she tried to gather them back up and repack the magazine.

Now would’ve been about the right time for grenades, thrown or launched, but nobody thought that was needed. Maybe the Yanks were onto something, peace through superior firepower and whatnot.