Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC
(in future, my posts won't be as long as this, though this is an introduction of sorts)
Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan
Ross jogged across the compound, making his way toward the main Barracks, of his troop. The suits, along with the the briefings, were kept and done there, and he knew that after his morning run, it would be a good idea to probably report in before he met his squad-mate. He made this run every morning- around the complex, which had now grown to the size of a small town, some said anyway. To Ross, it was just full of Americans at the moment, and he was going to be glad once he got out of here. Since a few years back, in Helmand, when he had to kill 15 Taliban soldiers before getting captured, he promised himself one thing- he wanted vengeance. And he knew that the Juggernaut program was his only way that he'd do it without maybe getting himself killed. But now, he was a hero. To some of his mates, yeah. But to most, he was still a former SAS Captain, who had gone above his duty, and was pretty lucky to live. Ross smiled at the thought of that- he truly was lucky.
Finishing off his run, Ross entered the barracks, which served as their current base of operations. It was simular to a standard B-Hut, used to house soldiers, but was considerably larger, maybe two of them combined to make on in this structure. The entrance seemed simple, with a door going into a ops room, and this one just seemed like it was there to exist- but it provided a door into the large armory, where the suits and weapons were stored.
Ross walked into the Ops room, and saw who he was looking for- Colonel Michael Davies. He was responsible for it's deployments, and being an American, Ross didn't trust him that much. He always knew that if you put a redneck in a suit of armor, it might work, but he knew that it took a different kind of soldier to fight while under fire, to respond.
"Sir. Reporting in." Ross said, as the Colonel, as relaxed as Ross, looked over.
"Captain Henderson? We've got a mission set for you and another one of our program. We've got clearance from the top for this one- and it's something I think you'll be perfect for." Colonel Davies said, Ross noticing his facial features. He looked like he was in his mid-40s, and seemed to be pretty worn from combat. A patch on his shoulder said he was a former US Army Ranger, and his hair looked like it was receding- he looked like he was turning bald.
"What do you need?" Ross said, looking out the window, as the sun lit up the room; it's position coming above the mountains. It was still early morning, but the base was pretty active- and Ross knew that today was a day to go and kill some Taliban. He felt good about it.
"Have a look at this map." The Colonel said, as Ross went over to the screen on the wall, and looked at it. It was a map of Afghanistan, and the Colonel, walking up to his laptop, adjusted it. He zoomed in on Northern Afghanistan, and more specifically, on Fayzabad, which propped up. It was covered in a sea of red tint, and Ross didn't need to guess what it was.
"Fayzabad City. I've heard of it before- why are we going there?" Ross asked, turning around.
"Simple. Taliban Resistance in Northern Afghanistan seems to have gotten stronger. Now, yesterday at 2pm, we've heard reports that the town has practically gotten over-run, and our ANA allies have pulled out, leaving it open. We know the Taliban control huge areas of the country that we don't, and that's why we're here."
"So they've gone one step further, and taken this town for themselves?"
"Not just that. It's one of their new strongholds. They moved in last night, and they're going to probably going to do whatever it takes to make it a hard nut to crack. The ANA aren't even considering a counter attack until they regroup, and we're not as involved in that region as we were a few years ago."
"So you're sending me in, to kill everything that has "Taliban" written on their forehead?""
"No. Now, I've got solid intel that two Taliban HVTs are in the town. Now, I don't usually give kill orders, but since I know that they're practically useless intel-wise, you can kill them. It'll cripple their leadership in the area, and if you kill anything else that moves in the town along with them, I'm sure our Afghan allies will help."
"Sure. But you can't just be sending us for that reason. If you wanted these guys dead, they can send SEALs or Deltas, right?" Ross said, questioning the Colonel, as he walked away from the screen.
"We could. But I don't want a few dead soldiers on my record. Like I said, the town's a stronghold. There's hundreds of enemies there. In every house, in every corner. And I'm not just calling a kill order on them- I'm sending you to kill anything else that moves. Dead Taliban are good Taliban. And I know that even though we've got some organizations watching us, you know what's friendly and what isn't in that town. And you've got the arms and armor to take the fight to them. After you bag the HVTs, report in on any secondary objectives you can find, and go to them as well. After that, just wait it out till we send in a helicopter extraction."
"So in short, we kill two dirty fuckers from the mountains, anyone else in the town, deal with any secondaries, and wait for the extraction?"
"Yes. It's what you're trained to do."
"I know. How are we inserting?"
"We've got a C130 ready for your use. You'll HALO jump in, and the LZ is in the Old City."
"That sounds like my idea of fun. I'm guessing the parachutes we're using are a bit larger than usual then?"
"Of course. Anyway, go and suit up. I'll send your team-mate through to the armory. All your kit is prepared."
"Good. Who is he, by the way?"
"Second Lieutenant Carl Cardinal. From the Canadian Ranger Patrols, in the Arctic and so on.."
"I've heard of them. And that sounds good to me."
"The aircraft leaves at 0800 hours, sharp. If you're not aboard, it's roughly 500 miles to walk, Captain."
"I got it, Colonel." Ross said, walking away, as he walked out of the ops room, and into the armory.
It was a dark room, with only one very small window where the roof and the far wall met, and it only served a purpose to let in some light into an otherwise pitch black room. Even still, it was pretty dark, but Ross found his armor, held up on a rack at the far end of the room. Smiling, he got to work on checking the rest of his equipment. His MK48, with it's retractable stock and other attachments, stood next to it, it's box missing. His Desert Eagle sat inside a holster on the suit's chest, and an AA-12 Automatic Shotgun sat on the suit's back, next to the ammunition rucksack. A string of 7.62 rounds was at the bottom of it, and Ross knew that inside that thing, was more than enough rounds to last a long while. Ross got to work on supplying the rest of the suit's equipment, as he strapped his grenades, and other kit on it. Some he put inside the pouches on the suit, while others he left out. Deciding that was enough with readying it up, he got the armor on, piece by piece. After five minutes of working on getting it on, he did the last strap up tight, as he took the MK48 on his lap, and his helmet by his side. He had taken the AA-12 off his back, and loaded it with a single, along with two spare drums of ammo, on the right side of his hip. He put it back on his back, as he checked his MK48, smiling. He was only waiting on his team-mate now- he was ready to go. All he needed to put on now was his helmet, and he didn't even feel like putting it on, yet. The armor looked imposing, and he knew that he was bulletproof. Not entirely, but he knew that when he dropped into that town, he wasn't going to get killed easily.
And then I ate the bowl!
A few minutes later a tall 5 foot 11 inch first nations man walked into the armory, he had a mp3 player bud in one ear, the other open so he could respond to people he encountered. He made his way over to the tables covered with the equipment stopping to give Ross a salute, why not right? The phone call had said that his teammate is a captain, well above a mere second lieutenant. He smiled broadly though as he spoke, "Carl Cardinal reporting Captain Ross." He then made his way over to his section of the armory and started to do a tally of all his equipment before even thinking of putting anything on.
First was the M249 Minimi, the official Canadian squad assault weapon. The laser sight on the side, 3.4x Canadian scope sight and the underbarrel bigrip all attached cleanly. He gave each part a good rattle just in case. He then opened up each sack of ammo, 200 rounds in each, 600 rounds total, he'd used a good 3/4ths of one of those bags in combat and killed himself 25 taliban insurgents at one time. He growled at one point, pulling out the entire length of a chain inside one of the sacks, then went over and dragged a box of ammo over for his m249 and beginning to replace the links inside the bag. He spoke for the first time, "Every second bullet in this one is bent. Last thing we need is a gun jamming out there." He pulled a bullet off the belt, tossing it into a tin beside him then replacing it with a fresh straight bullet. He did this as quickly as he could.
After that which took him about 5 minutes working without stop he moved onto his next items, the pistol which checked out, the Carl G RcR and the ammo for it. His other gear like explosives, grenades, C4 etc went quickly too.
Finally he came to the last part of his gear, the armor itself. He pulled the ear bead out of his ear and stepped back to look the armor which was laid out on a table. He then grinned and looked over to his already suited up superior officer and teammate, "Something about just looking a them huh? Before you put them on, hell without us in them they're intimidating. They look like a sleeping tank or something." He then stepped forward and started to put on the whole thing. First came the boots and calf and shin protectors, which were all one unit, then came the thigh and groin unit which also strapped onto the lower assembly. The black, silver and green armor snapping together smoothly. It took him another 4 minutes to don the chest piece, which strapped solidly to the groin. Finally all that was left was the helmet. Possibly the lightest part of the whole assembly, but the most important.
He started strapping his bags and equipment to his suit first. Knife, pistol, ammo packs on their holding rings, grenades in easy to reach positions, Carl G over his right shoulder where he could easily reach it to swing down for use. Once everything was in place and the m249 is slung against his chest, he picks up his helmet and goes over to sit down beside Ross, offering him a hand in official greeting, ahhh the famous Canadian friendliness, "Sec. Lt. Cardinal sir, pleased to meet you on equal terms."
(should I make a pretty quick skip to the plane after your next post?)
Ross observed the soldier, as he entered the room.
"You found the right man." Ross replied, as he watched Carl get his kit ready. After a few minutes, of setting up his M249, his other equipment, and finally, his own armor, he watched, as the Canadian walked over, suited up in the same sort of armor as him. It looked modified, with a lighter, yet heavy tone to it.
"Well, at least you are that tank now. Imagine what the enemy are going to be like when they see us." Ross said, laughing, as Ross took another few items- he put his knife in a holster by his leg, and his paracord on his hip. He checked his arm, heavily protected, and smiled. He truly was sitting in a modern-day suit of armor. This was it.
Ross observed Carl's armor- it looked like nothing he'd seen in terms of an armored soldier. It had a bulky feel about it, but it looked light yes very protective. Still, Ross knew that even though Carl might have only a little more mobility, when the bullets started flying, he was going to be glad to be using the armor that he was. When Carl sat down, he shook Carl's hand, replying as he did. Ross's armor felt pretty snug- the padding inside felt reasonably nice, and the armor itself was pretty imposing- the weight did feel like a burden, but he felt unstoppable.
"Captain Ross Henderson. Callsign Ace, former SAS." Ross said, as he cocked his MK48, with a fresh round. He had already hooked it up to his ammunition rucksack, and smiled, as he put down the magnifier. He held it over his shoulder, set on it's safety.
"I guess we are equal now. Nobody can fuck with us. I think we'll have to scare some of the USAF crew if we ever get the chance, with these things on."
"Now, we've got one hell of a mission. We're parachuting into a newly-captured Taliban stronghold, and we've got the green light to kill anything that moves. We're looking for two Taliban HVTs, and then waiting on extraction." Ross said, smiling, as he looked at the Canadian. Ross knew it could have been much worse- a Frenchman or a German, of all things. They would have been just hard to put up with, Ross thought to himself. He knew that the rounds in his ammunition rucksack were set up correctly, with the links individually checked yesterday. He was glad at least to get going, since he wanted to at least get into some combat with this thing on.
"And before you ask, I think this sort of crazy shit is going to become normal." Ross said, smiling, as he chuckled a little at the idea. To him the idea was a pretty likable one- he was heavily armored, armed, and about to kill a shitload of Taliban insurgents. And he had a good reason to hate them- he was going to be executed as an example to other SAS soldiers, and if it wasn't for that drone strike, he would be dead. He had barely escaped capture, and come inches away from getting killed by a bunch of dirty fuckers with beards.
And then I ate the bowl!
[Sure works for me.]
Carl grinned, "Oh yes, I'm pretty sure shit like this is gonna become commonplace for those of us in this group." He shouldered his stuff, "So a stronghold? Alright, I can swing that. More then glad to give those pricks something to think about. I killed 25 before transferring to the to the Ranger Patrol. They broke my shoulder that day. I'm ready to pay them back."
He gave a nod, "And you said a HALO jump? Damn, been awhile since I did that. Not since I was in The Pats. This ought to be interesting." He almost seemed giddy as if just itching to get into the fight again. He grinned broadly, "So, let's get going!" He got to his feet, made sure his weapons were stowed then waited for his superior officer to lead the way.
"I killed 15...maybe 16. I can't remember, but the only reason I didn't end up getting my head cut off live on Al-Jazeera was because of a drone strike. So yeah, I think we've both got reasons to get these Taliban bastards."
Ross smiled, as he stood up, keeping his MK48 over his right, as he kept his helmet in his left hand. He checked his straps one last time, and made sure he had his equipment. He knew that he had to be- because this just sounded like it was going to be one hell of a mission. He walked ominously forward, as he led the way, heading out of the armory. He looked like he meant business- and the soldier behind him.
"And yeah, I think the chutes are aboard. It's going to be weird to freefall in this thing." Ross said, as he opened the door, and walking out of it, walked into the sun. He walked out into the beating sun, as smiled to himself. This time, they were finishing it.
Some time later...
30,000 ft above Fayzabad City, Badakshan Province, Afghanistan
Ross smiled to himself, as he waited it out. He had been sitting here for the last two hours, and the flight had been agonizingly slow, because of a detour at Kabul Airport, to drop some supplies off. Now, they were going direct to their destination- and now, the C130 they were inside was going to deliver two heavily armored soldiers to the Taliban forces. Ross thought of it as a present, as he laughed. Ross had his parachute strapped up, to his lower back, below his ammunition rucksack, and he knew that this was it. He wore his helmet, but had his visor up, just listening to music at the moment. His suit also had an inbuilt oxygen supply, for two minutes- Ross knew it was enough, for the HALO jump anyway. Since this suit was once an EOD suit, it was a feature that had been retained, perhaps if an EOD technician had to deal with chemical threats. Seemed like it was going to work out now, at least. Ross himself was listening to some drum n' bass, as he usually did, more specifically Blitz by Digitalism. He was glad he had that feature at least, as he checked he was good to go. He could barely make out the sunset, and at the moment, was pissed off by the no smoking rule. Smoking was the last thing that was going to kill him, he thought to himself. But regardless, he knew what to expect once they were down on the ground, and he knew it was going to be a case of shooting anything that moved.
For the moment however, he thought that maybe, he'd just entertain Carl. He felt like he was in a jokey mood, despite the situation, and the fact that there was probably less than 10 minutes till the drop.
"Hey, Carl.." Ross started, as the indistinguishable noise of a fart could be heard, coming from Ross's suit.
"Fucking hell, it's the beans I tell you." Ross said, jokingly, aware that at least this one wouldn't smell. But still, the noise was amplified by the suit for some reason, and Ross knew that it had at least broken the ice. In his armor, it would probably linger..but he stopped thinking about it, just to get rid of the idea. He instead checked his chute was on properly, as he looked out at the sunset again, before back at Carl. Ross knew that Carl wasn't exactly a pussy either- after what he did with that M249, it sounded like he had truly fought to the last bullet, and ended up with a hole in his shoulder. He knew they both had war stories, both as interesting as each other- but the ones they were going to make, were going to be ones that would be probably hard to explain to anyone else, yet much more exiting and interesting.
And then I ate the bowl!
Carl was partially bent over, looking out the cockpit window at the front of the plane. But then he heard the nice steady rip of a fart. He had just turned to answer Ross when it came. Carl stood there for abit, honestly not sure what he should say. Then grinned broadly, "Geez Cap, who the hell did that to you? Don't sound like beans." The subtle homosexual innuendo came from a shit eatting grin from the Canadian, "Damn, get a couple more guys in here with a bunch of different octaves and you could form a band."
Carl came back into the main compartment and sat down across from Ross, still grinning, "Call you the Rip Roarers maybe." He laughed, reaching into one of his packs, and pulling out a pack of juicy fruit gum, with just two sticks left. He pulls one out, then tosses the last of the pack into Ross' lap, "Need a chew perhaps?" He managed to unwrap the pack of gum after 5 minutes of struggle with the big fingers of his gloves then pushed the gum into his mouth, "Gonna need to grab more when we get back to base after this."
He looked towards the back of the plan then to the cockpit, then to the chutes near the back, "This jump is gonna be something special. Those chutes don't work and we'll be nice armored stains on the ground you know."
(Oh, and I found this. Just some lolz. http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=&se...rnaut#/d4mzudk
Ross chucked, at the comments the Canadian made. Jesus Christ, this guy was going to be some good company, Ross thought. At least he knew exactly in what situation they were, and that a laugh wouldn't kill them.
"If you told that to my former squad of SAS, they'd throw you out the plane right now, you know that right?" Ross said, still laughing, as he saw Carl come back down to sit down. Back in those days, it was once a situation that Carl reminded him of, on a plane again. Dammit, those were good times- but these were about to be ones that Ross knew were somehow going to be much better ones.
"Nah, I only kid. But somehow, I think you'd of gotten on pretty well with them too." Ross said, trying not to remind himself of the fact that they were dead, and instead focussing on the now and future. That was worth going for- vengence was worthwhile, if they were both looking for it. They both had their reasons, but he knew that his former squad would be looking down, and smiling. They knew he was going to at least get some revenge, and scare the living shit out them before killing them. That was a positive.
Ross took the gum that Carl tossed on his lap, and somehow, with his thick gloves, got one out. He had slowly ripped the packet, but he had found a method, taking a little less time than Carl had intially taken to open the packet itself. He put it in his mouth, and began to chew, nodding his head in agreement.
"Oh, cheers. These ain't half bad." Ross said, as he stroked his MK48 Para, chewing the gum in his mouth. At least it was a decent replacement for a fag, or something else, he thought to himself.
"Yeah, nothing gets your heart beating like dropping into an insurgent stronghold in a suit of armor, my friend. Our chutes are a bit bigger than they usually are, but still, don't think about your chute fucking up. Worry about where you land first- that's what I always thought about in the Paras. You aim, head towards, and land. We might not even be detected, but if we are, fire back while you fall. It won't do any harm- and we're going to attract a lot of heat once we're on the ground. Chances are that civilians are mostly on the other side of the river, or out of the city, but we'll have to watch out for some if we come across them. Still, anything with a gun that shoots at us, we're allowed to take out." Ross said, thinking about it. Maybe there was only another few minutes till the drop, but Ross knew that he was good. He scrunched up the packet, and dropped it incognito on the floor, hoping that at least any aircrew hadn't seen. Dammit, litter was the least of his needs, and he wasn't going to deliberately stand up to throw it in some bin.
"Our dropzone's in the Old City, and we'll go from there. Lots of pissed of terrorists, believe me. RPGs are our main threat, but all we have to do is pretty much stop them from getting a chance to fire them. They're pretty inaccurate, and unless they fire them at pretty close range, the blasts won't effect us too much. They're using 7.62 rounds, but that isn't our largest problem- our armor will easily deal with that, so as long as we quickly take out anything that shoots at us, we should be fine." Ross said, briefing Carl, as he checked his gloves were secure. A few grenades dangled from his chest, and his Desert Eagle, in his holster, looked pristine, in terms of cleanliness. The rest of his gear were in pouches, and he knew nearly all of them would come in handy.
And then I ate the bowl!
(Feel free to move us ahead at anytime. And that was a pretty funny pic)
Carl grinned, "I think we're gonna get along just fine Cap. You don't mind if I keep calling you Cap do you?" He chuckled. Then nodded, "Those chutes were custom-made for the Juggernaut group then I imagine?" He looked towards the cockpit then to Ross, "I'm not going to lie, I'm a little nervous. I've done all the research, read the manuals, all that. But still it's the kinds of things different when you consider this is my first mission in one." He shakes himself, his equipment rattling.
He then nods, "Sorry brief lapse of nerves there. But fuck I'm ready to do some damage. Is it a problem with you if I resort to Light Infantry tactics when we get down there Cap? We're mobile, folding, repositioning, harrassing, making a nuisance of ourselves until the main force can arrive. Mind you, when I was with the Pats we very rarely had this kind of hardware all the time." He pointed generally at the LMG, Recoiless Rifle over his shoulder and the amount of explosives on the both of them were carrying.
"Sure, I don't mind it. And I don't know if they are, but all I know is that I think that they'll definitely stop us from hitting the ground too hard. They feel bulkier to me." Ross replied to Carl's first comment, as he looked over at the window, and smiled at the look of his own refection. There wasn't a single doubt to what he was going to do next. His AA-12 was going to come in handy too, and he knew that with frag rounds, and a drum mag, he could do some serious damage. It would rip apart people, given the chance. But he knew he'd save that for more close quarters combat, and when they were fighting door to door. For the moment, the MK48 Para in his hands was perfect, as he knew that this was it- it was practically a 7.62 version of Carl's M249, without a mounting lug, and the fact that it had a retractable aluminum stock and shorter barrel made it perfect for handling in close quarters. The ammunition rucksack on his back was below his parachute, and that rucksack meant that Ross was going to be firing, so long as the rucksack had ammo. It was a tailor made adjustment- and he was glad that he had made it. The rucksack itself was a black color, with the same navy blue straps as the suit. It wasn't armored- but with it, it didn't matter if it was really, Ross thought to himself.
"Well, we're practically IFVs on legs. Don't be afraid to expose yourself, like you normally wouldn't. Just keep firing, whether blind or aimed, and keep moving. We'll both be able to do head on assaults, but when we've got the chance, you can do some flanking and sepration tactics. And I know that their force is pretty evenly spread. The HVTs are in a building on the other side of the river, holding it as a sort of operational headquaters. We'll just have to kill everything that moves, and not give them time to think." Ross said, as he cocked the MK48, smiling as he did.
"And like you said, we've got the weaponry to do it. I know both our LMGs are pretty good at providing suppressing fire, and if they've got any brain cells, they'll either run, take cover, or relocate. We keep moving, and force them to defend. I'll take point on breaching buildings with my AA-12, while you, with your recoiless rifle, you can direct it on enemy buildings, and technicals, if we come across them. In short, we've got pretty effective weaponry to kill anything that moves. In short, we're both able to soak up a lot, but I know that if I divert them, and you keep pushing in at a different angle, we'll definitely put down a lot of them." Ross added, as he checked his chute.
"Get your helmet on- we're jumping soon. We're roughly 30,000 ft above some angry motherfuckers down below us."
Two minutes later, the rear door opened, revealing the sunset and clouds below them. The sky was clear, but they were above the clouds- this was a HALO jump, after all. Ross stood up, his visor down, as the large figure in the suit turned to the decending ramp. It had only opened earlier, and now, they were jumping out of it. Simply put, fear should have been Ross's natural reaction, but once a man jumps out of a plane for a living, it wasn't as scary, Ross thought to himself. That, was pretty crazy. And whatever they faced down below, that was worth worrying about.
"Comms are working. Alright, follow my lead, and we go on the green light." Ross said, as he exhaled hard, not with his radio on, of course. He had his MK48 strapped to his chest, and it had it's safety engaged. Of course, if they were fired upon, Ross knew that he wouldn't hesitate to fire back at them, and probably send back double the amount that they'd get. It wasn't dark enough for his NVGs yet, he thought to himself, but with his slightly blue visor, it seemed much darker than it usually was. Still, at least it tinted the sun out, and he was glad to at least know that. But looking into the abyss, his breathing hard, he knew what came next. They were going to jump into that...and he knew that it was time to get some damage done.
"Ready for this? I mean, they say that the "infidel dogs" should come to them, right?" Ross said, laughing, as he waited for the green light. Like Carl had said, it was true- they had a hell of a lot of equipment with them, and he knew that they'd probably be able to fight in a way that the enemy would find hard to react to.
And then I ate the bowl!
(I see this. When thinking of this part. Is that bad?)
Carl got up, slinging his m249 across his chest and cinching the carry strap tight so he wouldn't lose it in the air. He quickly strapped on one of the chutes then headed over to the back door. Rolling his head, game face starting to come on. He rolled his shoulder, then checked the altimeter that had come with the whole thing. Making sure it was at 30000 feet, and set the altimeter alarm to start to tick at 10000 feet with a solid tone at 1000 feet, more then enough time to pull the chute and cushion the landing.
He flashed a thumbs up at Ross, "Ready? Right now I feel like I was born ready!" He grins broadly as he sealed his helmet, the built in cooling fans whirring up to speed. It'd quickly get hot no matter what time of day it is. The inside of those suits would warm up as they moved, and it would be no doubt that they would get to sweating.
He reached out offering a fist bump to Ross, "Let's bring these guys some pain. Time to show them that the allied armed forces aren't a bunch of chickenshits." He walked over to the ramp, grapped a handhold on the wall and looks over at the red light on the wall waiting for it to go green, meanwhile his legs tensed ready to get those quick steps to get him out of the plane and into the air.