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Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Andreyich
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Andreyich AS THOUGH A THOUSAND MOUTHS CRY OUT IN PAIN

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Bakker awoke in his apartment, looking over to see if somebody else was in the bed. It was a faulty effort, because he was on the floor with a bottle of jack beside him to obscure most of his vision. Groaning he got up and thanked whoever might be listening that at least he didn’t have a harsh hangover.

A strong coffee and a shower soon had him right though, and sitting down on his bed the mercenary turned on the television. Of course, it was all in French and German, and he was feeling too lazy to flip on to the English channels. Well there was nothing to do now save for getting dressed and hitting the nearest drive-thru for a pathetic breakfast before getting to the Ares building.

Walking in he greeted the receptionist with a half-hearted salute, and took the appropriate files from her before telling the woman to direct the coming mercenaries to the meeting room. Pouring himself the third coffee of the day as he entered the briefing room, he nodded to the woman already there. Kathleen Smith, two-hundred centimetre bitch. She was his first field manager, and he didn’t know any of his former comrades that didn’t share this opinion. Furthermore, it wasn’t as if the opinion came from strict but useful discipline, it was plain old nastiness. But, she did the job and came up the ranks and now she was sitting comfortably high up in Ares with her only relic of shooting people being a revolver in an armpit holster. Neither spoke, both only sticking to reviewing the documents before them in anticipation of the arriving mercenaries. Comparing and contrasting them Bakker sighed, rubbing his eyes. “What a motley crew you’ve given me.”

The manager before him didn’t even bother looking up. “Yes.” and that was that. Well then, nobody would mind if he put on some sunglasses for a few extra moments of shuteye. If he was going to have to keep together a narc, a nazi, an IRA bitch, two Russians, and a rather normal doctor caught between them then even a few extra minutes of rest would do him just fine. Gill would come in next, followed by one operator, and another, and yet another and so on and so forth until the whole squad was assembled. There were prepared stacks of paper for each operator, largely a dossier on their team, a form to sign and the intelligence for the coming operation. There was also tea, coffee, and other refreshments with snacks for those that didn’t yet eat. When finally all had come, Kathleen looked between the two Field Managers and before standing up.

“Welcome Operators! You have all been selected to be part of squad Ajax, and I must congratulate you on meeting the high standards for its membership. Before you are papers with which I suggest you get acquainted with. Your fellow squad members are listed upon it by callsign and photograph along with their specializations. You’ll get a chance to get properly introduced to one another on the plane to your destination, for now I would like to begin briefing you on the operation you will be tasked with.” On cue Bakker stood up and unrolled a projector screen, before sitting back down restfully.

A projector turned on, the lights off, and an image was displayed. It contained several pictures of a young man somewhere post teens. He had short black hair and green eyes with fairly dark skin, though it may have been sprayed on. “This individual has been kidnapped, and rather influential people are upset with that. His name is Max, and it is your job to recover him from his captors.”

click

A map of North Africa was before everyone, with Morocco and Algeria highlighted in green while the Sahara had a thin black grid across it. There were also several pictures of men with firearms, and an emblem of a scimitar crossed with a rifle. “The kid was travelling, doing usual young rich person things. Some time during their stay in Algeria he got snatched by this new gang calling themselves ‘The New Bedouins.’ While not affiliated with the drug trade or Jihadists, they’re still powerful enough to make sure corruption keeps them safe from government investigation and retaliation. You come in here. His family found that hiring us is marginally less expensive and far more reliable than paying the ransom money."

click

Now Bakker stood up, pointing to a more localized map of Algeria. "Tomorrow at five in the afternoon you must be in the Geneva airport. From there we fly to Algiers, and then straight to Tamanrasset. There we'll have waiting for us two Nimr vehicles. For the first and largest portion of the operation we will be impersonating Algerian armed forces." At this point Bakker turned and picked up a box from which he removed several packages which he threw to each individual employee save for Gill who was close enough to just have it handed to him.

"These packages contain your documents for our flight there, but they also contain rather important fragments of our 'disguises' for those that need them. Brown contacts lenses, makeup to darken the skin, black hair dye, and cotton rolls to stick in your mouth. As Algerian soldiers we will freely travel across the Sahara after first picking up some supplies in Tamanrasset, looking for these 'New Bedouins.' Apparently they travel in these sort of caravans with cars, motorcycles, trucks, some RVs, and even horses or camels. They'll mostly be par for the course of gangs around the world. AKs, hunting rifles, some pistols, shitty personal defence weapons and sub-machine guns. They won't aim very well of course, but the desert is their turf and they can come in number from anywhere if we let them get off a flare or firework to alert buddies. Probably some molotovs lying about but they haven't been around on the block long enough to make them right so the flames won't stick; roll once in the sand and you're fine. More worrisome will be the pipe bombs and other IEDs they bring, maybe some dynamite and such stolen from a miner dad. While they seem to be wise enough to think of decoy 'caravans' they're still unprofessional in a way that is very dangerous to the boy they're holding and thus our paycheck."

click

"What we will be carrying is detailed in your documents but it is largely old, post second world war Soviet equipment to properly look like Algerian army. Callsign Hades will be a VIP secondary to Max as the only speaker of Arabic among us and he will sit in the passenger front seat of the front vehicle masquerading as our commanding officer. Hypnos as a speaker of French will be a tertiary VIP to protect, while as a speaker of Spanish Zeus will be a tertiary VIP given the nature of the second part of the operation. Once we find Max we will need to make an escape with Hypnos taking care of the lad. We will make our way to the Moroccan border where we smash through. Depending on the strength of the barrier where we come we may need Cronus to promptly blow a hole there first, though if we have enough fuel and water we can try cross here through the Sahara rather than risk bad luck with a border patrol."



click

"Having crossed into Morocco we will need to get to the nearest town's outskirts and then disembark from the Nimrs. Inside their seats will be sewn new clothes, documents, phones, pistols, and money. All our old things we will place into the cars and then scuttle them with whatever flammables and explosives we have left."

click

Now Kathleen spoke: "From there you will extract, with your exact actions depending on how the previous part of the operation went. The main variables are if the Moroccan branch of the New Bedouins have had time to be alerted, and if border guards have time to catch the funny business. Ideally you will simply head North and boat right across to Spain, but you may in a press for safety be forced to head for the Canary or Madeira Isles. When in any of these relatively safe spots, find a place to stay and call the main office of the company through a local phone and within a day someone will come to extract Max. Within another day you will get your extraction back to Switzerland with a paycheck in your hands; your first operation will be complete." the manager looked momentarily at the Royal Marine to see if he had anything to add who in turn made a little gesture to say he'd bring it up after.

"Any questions?"
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Starlance
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As soon as the mission objective was revealed, the ex-Spetsnaz rubbed her temples wearily. Hostage rescue, crap. Quite possibly her second least favorite thing to do after demolitions. They’d be one twitch of a carpet pilot’s finger away from their paycheck gaining an extra bodily orifice all the time. Sadly, no payment for frozen goods. On the bright side, she wouldn’t have to stick anything in her eyes, there was that. Well, on this run at any rate. She’d heard nightmare stories from some of her former comrades in GRU, about colored contact lenses potentially screwing up the wearer’s eyes if worn for too long. Something about being thicker than normal corrective lenses. Fortunately, she should at least be familiar enough with the team’s transportation. The Nimr was, after all, essentially a GAZ Tigr, scaled down and ruggedized for desert environments.

If she was counting the MREs right, it looked like they were facing up to ten days in the field. Western MREs hopefully, it would be a pleasant change from the oatmeal Russians put in theirs. The personal equipment wasn’t hard to manage, unless you were a leftie, in which case tough shit with the AK-style safety. What worried her a little was the magazine count. What she was assigned was a few mags short of what she’d feel comfortable with, but seemed downright laughable for the support weapons.

“How much shooting do we expect? Because we’re carrying 100 rounds as a spare for our two marksman rifles, but also a mere 100 extra rounds for our two assault rifles and three light machine guns.” she stressed the part that concerned her, “And since I’m being loud and difficult already, the gear list includes fuel, but makes no mention of tools. Are they left out for some reason, or are we simply shit out of luck?” Being left stranded somewhere in the Sahara desert because the trucks broke down sounded like a shit way to go out.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Andreyich
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The Manager and Field Manager exchanged glances, and after a moment or so Bakker stood up, lazily managing a "Great questions!" with a forced cheery tone of affirmation. "That depends on many things beyond our control. However, it seems the OPFOR is getting at least half of their own ammunition from quartermasters. Corrupt ones of course, much like the other soldiers finding excuses to not go after these men. Unless you happen to empty your magazines in a victory lap after every shootout I doubt we'll run out. Of course, the weapons designated for each operators may be swapped out for an M12 if the situation demands it."

The Marine scratched his hair thoughtfully and zoned out momentarily before returning once more to the world of now. "As for the tools: I was going to get to that. You see there's a thing or two we'll have to pick up in Algiers and Tamanrasset. We have MREs, but I don't think anybody here wants to eat something that has a good chance of being created in a country that does not exist any more, its best we purchase a thing or two locally... especially if it all takes longer than we first expect, though again looting the gangsters will alleviate at least some of this problem. Probably will also buy some charcoal tablets and other little medicines in Algeria, especially since the desert is a new environment to some of us here. Then of course, its hard to sweep a whole desert with just two cars. We'll have to buy a bunch of boxes of civilian drones, the moment the batteries run out we dump remotes and pick up new ones. I was also going to mention that whoever emails me with music to burn on discs and such first will essentially decide what is played on the rides, first come first serve."

The manager spun his sunglasses on the table for a few seconds. "This is all on the company card of course, or at least the cash to get it is, so you don't have to worry about it being an expense for yourself. Sleeping pills - which I highly recommend you get for the flight to make sure its not wasted - are on your own cards. Is that all?"
Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Tsar Gatto
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Tsar Gatto African or European?

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That morning up until this point hadn’t been quite as disappointing as she expected the coffee that was now sat before her to be. This was all new to her and she had little idea what to expect from either her employer or other members of the team. Despite the fact she had regularly dealt with hardened criminals and other less desirables of society (hell she was one of them) she felt her pulse quicken as an unfamiliar feeling of nerves assailed her and she felt like she was holding her breath for an extended period. Pushing the feeling away she wearily eyed each of those in the room before she took a glance down at the documents on the table in front of her.

Initially she’d ignored them but as each of the other members of ‘Squad Ajax’ had entered the room her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she began to idly skim through the documents picking absently at the edges. That was until the briefing began and her eyes fixed back upon the man she assumed was Bakker - or rather ‘Brick’, their field manager according to the file.

The briefing proved to be concise and to the point – though she couldn’t quite place his accent as slight as it was. They were to ‘Algerian’ themselves up and act like locals, before finding and rescuing this rich boy Max and ‘simply’ head to Spain - getting him the fuck out of sandy-land and back to the arms of his loving and fortunately for him wealthy parents. Tess listened throughout and took a few sips of the coffee before her, slightly shocked that it was actually half decent. As she quickly finished the mug she decided to resist the slight urge to get up and grab a refill in the middle of things. The whole operation really didn’t sound all that bad to her – with the only exception of having to find these ‘New Bedouins’ in whatever shit-hole they occupied first, or rather find their travelling caravan as it made its way to god knows where. Once they’d done that though things should get a lot more straightforward providing they weren’t too unlucky or incompetent. She wasn’t looking forwards to travelling in such a sandy hell-hole though, she’d hoped that working for Ares would have meant that it was more likely she’d end up as some bored and pampered bodyguard, or at the very least something slightly more comfortable than what she was being assigned. A small smirk spread across her face as she realised she was glad she was wrong.

"Any questions?" asked Brick once he’d finished spooling through slides and explaining things to them.

The only other woman on the team itself, ‘Gorgon’ according to the dossier spoke up. She had a slight Russian accent as she queried a few points around their ammunition and toolkit. Valid questions for sure, Tess thought to herself – but neither point overly worried her. She was used to being given objectives to complete with practically no support or pre-planning and in this particular area of the world it certainly shouldn’t be too difficult to pick up what they would need -one way or another.

Tess continued to sit silently as things seemed to wrap up. She shrugged non-committaly as again Brick asked if there was anything else to discuss. It actually hadn’t been as difficult as she’d thought to keep her tongue in her mouth and avoid antagonising anyone before they’d even begun – though she had resisted the urge to make a few sarcastic and what’d likely have been called smart-mouthed comments as the briefing had run. Hell she’d even been polite enough to resist the urge to light up a cigarette as Brick had been leafing through his slides – all in all she sarcastically and silently praised her own good behaviour.

‘I deserve a fucking medal already…’ she mumbled to herself under her breath as she stood and made her way towards the exit. She veered slightly and made a beeline to the table that held the food and drink before she snatched up a sweet looking pastry and took a bite. She’d never had much of a sweet-tooth before, but since she’d spent a significant period locked up without any luxuries she’d developed one. As she ate she spotted the tall woman who’d spoken first shooting her a glance, their eyes met and Tess couldn’t resist giving her a wink as she received nothing more than a slight scowl in return - or was that just the woman’s usual expression, Tess wondered as she took another bite.
Hidden 5 yrs ago 5 yrs ago Post by Gunther
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Gunther Captain, Infantry (Retired)

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Trevor smirked at the notion of the skin darkening cream and the brown contacts. He wouldn’t need any of that. Someone in his ancestral lineage originated on that dark continent. He figured he would blend in with the Africans pretty easily. Unfortunately, the North Africans were lighter skinned than he was, but he knew there were dark skinned Nubians living in Maghreb even today. It was something he wasn’t worried about. He retained the Arabic lessons from his time with the SEALs in San Diego. He also had a multitude conversations with native speakers over the eight years he served with the teams in the middle east. He had practical experience with the language but was no native Algerian speaker. His French was much better than his Arabic and that would fit in just fine. Although the people of Maghreb spoke a different dialect, Maghrebi Arabic is slightly different than his Mesopotamian or Levanti dialect.

When Trevor heard he was returning to Algeria, he allowed a slight grimace. He spent a year or more in the region with the Legion. Not all of it was bad, but it was a frickin shitty hell hole--very hot. It appeared they would be in some of the same grounds for this operation. The Legion operated near the borders with Mali and Niger. He did make a jump with No. 3 company, 2nd REP about five kilometers southeast of Reggane, Algeria. Nasty tussle; took a frag on his right side that day. He recalled Claude Beaumont, his team’s grenadier killed in action about a half hour after their pre-dawn jump. ‘Hell that was only about four years ago,’ he thought to himself.

‘100 rounds?’ Trevor smiled to himself. He knew the Marines carried 210 like the Army. SEALs usually carried twice that and even in the Legion he carried 270 plus whatever loose they could find. He got into the habit of carrying twelve mags, even if only nine of them were loaded.

“I remember hearing about those fuckers when I was in North Africa four years ago. At that time, DGSE told us they hid out in the Ahaggar National Park; possibly living in the local villages; Tahifet, Tazrouk or Idles. I don’t know maybe more. They were fucking dogs.” Trevor let some intel slip that he learned in the Legion. DGSE was the acronym for the French intelligence agency, Direction générale de la sécurité extérieure. “But like you say, Monsieur Bakker. They may be anywhere in that hot-ass desert.”

Trevor didn’t have as many questions as he thought. He was able to recall some intelligence from his time in the Legion and share it with his new brothers in Ares. He looked over the items in the package. He secured them in his coat pocket and felt pretty confident with the mission. He was feeling good about the op.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Andreyich
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Looking towards Hector Wilhelm nodded. “Noted, it is good if somebody has experience with the operation material. Those areas are certainly on the list to check out.”

Bakker surveyed the squad, and finding no more questions forthcoming he nodded and clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” he said. Of course they clearly didn’t share his feigned enthusiasm. He took a moment’s look at Coghan that was in fact a little more than a moment. Wilhelm looked at Mr. Gill with a raised eyebrow, and then gave Coghan another glance before assembling his papers. He would need to have a chat with Gill about his project, maybe show the woman exactly who owned her in the field, and how easily that ownership could be demonstrated. In truth none of these operators were trustworthy yet, they were all suspicious strangers even if he had to play big friend to them all. However, As if these thoughts hadn’t crossed him, Brick smiled. “As I said previously, I expect everyone at the Geneva airport at five in the afternoon. Please be on time, there will be people holding up signs with your initials directing you to your flight, they’ll hand over all we’ll need. Now, have some rest… Good day!”

With that, the meeting was over.




The operators had to be at the airport by five, and the deadline was fairly tight; the private flight left at five-fifteen. They stopped in Algiers where Bakker enlisted the aid of the Arabic and French speaking operators to buy a few things, namely the pile of drones they would use to survey the desert unpacked, labelled, and stuffed into some luggages. There was about an hour wait until they took economy class seats on a flight to Tamanrasset, where they were greeted by a man holding up a sign on which was written “Farfour Ahmadi”. The Field Manager directed the squad to follow this man, who spread them across three cars. Bakker drove at the front, and would take a few randomized stops making sure the group wasn’t followed while also using the time to look for foodstuffs, tools, phones, batteries, maps, and a few other things they might need by chance.

The final stop would be the seventh after which they would walk a few blocks, and then down an alley coming out the other side and into a garage. The two Nimrs were there, and the group would rest until past midnight getting some time to change into their uniforms as well as apply the various elements of their disguises that would help them fit in with the locals. Stepping out Bakker looked side to side to make sure nobody was on the street, and then motioned for the vehicles to move out. At the front would be Brick in the driver seat, with Hades beside him dressed as the “Commanding Officer”, while behind them were Gorgon and Cronus. Driving the rear car would be Mr. Gill, with Hypnos beside him as the other Officer and behind them were seated Hector and Hypatia. They would go on the trans-Saharan highway with the lights of their cars off, driving as slow as the limit allowed until there wasn’t any traffic ahead of or behind them. As a joke the Royal Marine flicked the turn signal, and then turned on to the desert where he simply drove on as fast as the vehicle allowed him with the aim of getting deep in the desert so they could finally start looking for the bedouins. But only ten minutes into the drive Bakker deeply regretted the momentary - but nevertheless extreme - unprofessionalism. It was hard to see in the dark, but looking in rearview mirrors across dunes there was definitely movement. In the darkness and across such a landscape it was hard to get perspective, and hence it could have been a person, a car, or a lost animal. Picking up his transceiver he spoke to the rest of the squad, even if chances were other operators had noticed the movement before he did. “Heads-up, something’s behind us. I can’t make sense of what it is, we’re not going to turn to face it yet; if its OPFOR we’ll let them think they’re a step ahead of us when they’re not, save some time.”

The Dutchman wasn’t sure if this was the best idea now, but he wanted to get really deep in the desert first so they could spread out the civilian drones, and then they could deal with whatever was behind them. Taking off his active headset Bakker wiped his brow. It was cold, very cold in fact and yet he couldn’t help but get some sweat. They would cross the tallest dune in sight, and then descend a little past it. Parking, Bakker would give the order for them to disembark with their guns ready and vests on. “If it’s something following us they’ll come right over into our loving embrace. After a moment of thought he went back to the Nimr and removed a few of the drones from it along with their remotes. Sitting down and trying to get the first started, Bakker spoke up rather quietly even if it would come much louder to those in the team with their headsets on.

“Hypatia, climb up the dune, see if you can catch a glimpse of what that movement was. Be careful of course, don’t get hit first. Now then. We can go two ways from here. Either we head right West following after she’s done seeing whatever it was we saw, take a little gamble. If we find the boy there we’ll have a much easier and quicker time heading towards Morocco and our extraction. If we don’t find him here though, we’ll have to circle back and check the East side of the Algerian Sahara. After finding our guy the extract will be a little harder but that’s the price you pay for a gamble that doesn’t pay off. Alternatively we head East first, maybe start with Ahaggar as Hector suggested. What do you think?” he asked of the squad, getting his drone flying. He didn’t send it high, rather keeping it as low as possible for now to give it some distance in hopes it wouldn’t be noticed as having come from over here to whatever onlookers there may be.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Starlance
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The private flight to Algiers was a welcome thing. Belyayeva planned to take Brick’s advice from the briefing and sleep through most of it - not like there was much else to do anyway unless the squad was feeling chatty, but she wasn’t too keen on taking sleeping pills. That was the main reason she welcomed the absence of howling toddlers and chattering hags that seemed to plague public transport. After hopping from Algiers to Tamanrasset, some local packed them into cars for a drawn-out ride around the town, but at least it afforded them time to get used to the dry air. Dry air and the damn dust.

It was wisely decided to wait until night, when among obvious benefits, the lower temperature made the low air humidity more bearable. As they left the city, the Russian couldn’t pass up the opportunity to remark that the road they were driving along - in the middle of nowhere - was in a much better condition than many in her homeland. Alas, all good things must come to an end. They’d hardly find their guy just sitting on the highway, and as they turned off the paved road and into the desert proper, Katya resigned herself to stare out into the darkness to cover her sector, likely for hours unend. She could only pity the second vehicle for having to drive in their wake. It didn’t take long for a possible contact to show itself, which immediately made a part of her think it was just a wisp of sand caught in the wind or some such false alarm. No matter, the trail vehicle could keep a better eye on it anyway.

When their humble convoy stopped to investigate, she got out of the car and chambered a round, flicking the fire selector to semi and covering the gap between the top cover and main body with her left hand to prevent any stray sand from getting into the rifle for as long as she could avoid it. Someone once joked that the difference between the AK and AR-15 platforms was that Mikhail Kalashnikov wanted to make a rifle that would work when there was junk in it, while Eugene Stoner wanted to make a rifle that would keep the junk out.

“Unless whoever’s following us notices we’re no longer kicking up dust clouds.” she chipped in when Brick mentioned their possible tail driving into their ‘embrace’, sticking by the front end of her Nimr to maximize the protection it offered while looking toward the dune’s edge - for one to see if someone was following them and decided to drive around the dune rather than over it, and also because that was mostly downwind and kept the dust out of her eyes. Nice thing about night time desert was the quiet so one could hear things clearly, but she could do without the cold. That was one part of home she didn’t miss. “Bloody deserts, too hot in the day, too cold in the night. Is there no golden middle path here?” she grumbled off-comms as the familiar calmness was joined by a nervous tingle at the back of her mind. Back in the field after a year.

“May I suggest we start East?” she chose to err on the side of caution when Bakker asked his question “Wherever we find the poor sod, we’ll still have to go West to get out of here, so if he’s there, it’s along the way. I’d rather not waste time and resources backtracking if he’s not. For all we know we might need that extra breathing room to get out of a bad spot later.” She explained her reasoning.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Starboard Watch
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The Afrikaner was glad to be back in Africa, but quite disgruntled that it was in Algeria and not in his homeland. He supposed that it would have to do. Instantly, he could tell that most of them were quite unaccustomed to the climate and insisted on a night operation. While it made sense tactically, he was sure that they were motivated at least partially by the weak desire of avoiding the inhospitable African sun - which was unrelenting to all who felt her rays.

The journey from Geneva to Algeria, and indeed the entire process, had been a silent one for v.d. Westhuizen. He felt no inclination to speak up at Geneva, or in the flight over, or really at any point in the process. What did he have to say? The stares and glares from the kaffers and their like-minded companions burned into his skin like laser-beams. The hatred that they felt for him radiated off of their skin like the radiance of the African sun. But what did he care?

Hate him, and see if he minded.

As the car drove onward into the night, he smiled to himself. If they were stopped by a Bedouin with half a brain, they would instantly be suspicious at not only the kaffer in the front seat pretending to be their commander, but by the woman beside him. They would all be shot dead in the car before they could even raise their weapons in anger. It was a gross miscalculation, he thought, on the part of Brick for even including them in this mission. They were sure to get them all killed.

"Let us drive West!" The Afrikaner spoke up, motivated by no desire except to say the opposite of the "French" kaffer who suggested the idea, "it will be the easiest course to take. We should not risk any confrontation or discovery. If we are stopped..." he spoke for the first time about his concerns, or really at all, since they had been assigned the mission, "...they will discover we are not who we say we are."
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Gunther
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Trevor learned a very long time ago, that it is best to get sleep whenever the opportunity arose. He slept on transport aircraft including that noisy C-130. Of course, you had to wear earplugs, but the drone of the engine aided in putting a man to sleep. The private aircraft the Ares crew flew in from Geneva to Algeria was much quieter than a C-130, but that droning sound was still effective.

Due to his experience with both the French and Arabic languages, Trevor was chosen to help buy equipment for the operation. Along with Hades and Hypnos, the trio located some inexpensive drones in a department store in Algiers. They were the type used by American teens for amusement or roofing contractors to view client’s rooves in order to get an impression of the work they were about to perform. Not extremely high-tech equipment but it would perform the mission monsieur Bakker intended for them.

The efforts to throw off any tails they may have picked up were necessary. He felt confident in the group for doing this. At least the leadership used a sensible plan. When they arrived at the garage, Trevor changed his clothing into the Algerian uniform. He loaded the two 30-round magazines. He placed one magazine in the AKM’s well and the other in a uniform pocket. He had brought along a black wool watch cap to wear under the helmet and at night when it got cold. This wasn’t his first tour of North Africa. He was familiar with the cool temps of night. The wool watch cap was key to making the trek bearable.

He rested some more as the others did and awoke at the set time with everyone else. He slung the Kalashnikov over his left shoulder, so it hung under his right arm. He holstered the Caracel into its holster and tucked the spare mag into an ammo pouch on his belt. Tucking the AKM behind him, he climbed into the back of the second vehicle ready for their trek through the desert.

When questioned about which direction they should go, he felt they should check out the villages around the Ahaggar National Park. It was actionable intelligence in the eyes of the Legion. These bedouins were never a threat to them, then, but they are now. It was at least worth checking out. If asked, Hector would reiterate his suggesting regarding the villages near the national park.

He kept his eye on the rear, through the back windows, just to see if he could track movement of anyone following them. Who knows, maybe the people they are trying to find were just as curious about them as they were about the two vehicles.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Tsar Gatto
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Tsar Gatto African or European?

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Tess had felt like shit that morning, the result of a few too many hours spent staring at the ceiling as her thoughts had raced and the hours had slowly passed by. She’d already dyed her hair black in preparation for the operation and she sourly wished there had been something else to do instead of being left alone with nothing but her own thoughts for company. She also hadn’t particularly enjoyed the early trip to the airport and a grim resting scowl had settled over her features as they’d arrived.

Fortunately, it was a private flight and things had moved swiftly and without incident as they rapidly passed through the airport with minimal interactions or delay. The other operators kept to themselves for the most part and she was more than happy to follow suit as they boarded what she recognised as a Gulfstream G550 and took a seat in the cabin.

She briefly cast her mind to the last time she’d seen one of these aircraft. It’d be about four or five years ago now, though the optical scope of a M24 as it had sat inside of a huge private hanger outside of Muscat. She was part of a team hired to assist in the ‘disappearance’ of some upper tier oil magnate employee, they’d been hired by the guys own boss of all people and so it’d been a rather effective ambush. A rare smirk came to her face as she recalled the success and more specifically the celebrations that had followed. That had been one of a handful of fleeting good times she could recall as she cast her mind back. The smirk disappeared as quickly as it had come as she then remembered how it’d all ended and she snapped her thoughts back to the present.

Throughout the flight she drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep as she’d decided against taking the pills Bakker had given her and instead pocketed them. Before she knew it the sudden jolt of the plane’s wheels hitting the African ground jolted her awake with a start and she gazed around bleary eyed for a few moments as she mumbled a few curses to herself as she stretched out and sighed.
The rest of Algiers was a bit of a blur. She occupied herself by chain smoking as some of the others organised the drones. The heat and dry air always seemed to make her want to smoke, she supposed it was a habit that she’d picked up from an old Italian bugger she’d once worked with. He was almost certainly dead now, she pointed out to herself cheerily as she thought about it, but boy he’d been a funny bastard.

The flight to Tamanrasset was fucking awful. It was cramped, hot and she somehow ended up sat next to some middle-aged Algerian woman who insisted on trying to speak to her throughout the entire flight in semi-literate English. She glanced around for Bakker and shot him a look of frustration as the woman continued despite her attempts to completely ignore her. About three hours later they were finally out and searching for supplies and provisions before finally arriving at the garage where they’d wait until nightfall. Despite the sunscreen and headscarf she’d been wearing all day she’d picked up the sun quite a bit and the skin on her face and arms was already a little burnt. Fortunately the disguise did the job despite being fairly uncomfortable and making her look like some kind of toy soldier. She noted that the greasy makeup and uniform might be an issue in the heat of the day and the lenses were already a little irritating as she glanced at herself in a cracked mirror and made sure she looked the part. She could figure out and hopefully get rid off them at some point, she supposed it depended on how long it took them to find this kid and how long they needed to keep up appearances.

She’d checked over the Dragunov and magazines and was fairly impressed with the state of the weapon despite its obvious age. She’d used an SVD before however it’d been much newer with a folding stock and was significantly lighter than this one – not that it mattered too much as beyond that it was the same.

She sat beside Hector in the rear car as they pulled out into the night and made their way through the city and onto the highway, she offered him a smoke before lighting up one herself – she figured better to do it now rather than when they were ‘off-roading’. Eventually the lead car indicated before swerving off the road and onto the desert, Zeus following suit albeit without the indication. Hypatia suppressed another smirk as she glanced behind them watching the road for any signs of pursuit. She had to resist the urge to itch her eye as she did, the thick brown contacts beginning to irritate her and she took a few moments to try and rearrange them. Once she was done, she continued to watch behind them and after only a few minutes was sure she could see something through the clouds of sand they were kicking up. She relayed her concerns to the others and moments before they were about to radio the lead car Brick’s voice crackled through to them confirming he’d spotted it too.

“Heads-up, something’s behind us. I can’t make sense of what it is, we’re not going to turn to face it yet; if its OPFOR we’ll let them think they’re a step ahead of us when they’re not, save some time.”

Hypatia continued to try and make out whatever it was, but with the dust and movement of the Nimr it was a futile exercise – though she doubted it would be anything too interesting so soon after they’d left Tamanrasset. Eventually they crested the peak of a large dune before coming to a stop and with a flurry of movement they all exited the vehicles. Hypatia was impressed at how quickly and professionally the others moved, nothing but focus as they readied their weapons and took up positions. Brick began unpacking the drones as he gave her the instruction to climb the dune and get a look at whatever was behind them. She needed little prompt and turning she unslung her rifle and moved as quickly as she could up towards the crest that was behind them. Throwing herself into the sand she crawled the last little bit before she lifted her goggles and peered down the side mounted PSO sights of the rifle and began to scan the desert.

It was a clear but dark night, the view before her was rather astonishing and in a different situation she’d possibly have spent more time gazing around and taking in and appreciating the natural sights. After a few short moments she spotted some movement before focusing in on a trotting dromedary camel. Rolling her eyes at the thought of stopping for this she continued to scan around to make sure there was nothing else, however moments later something obscured her vision as something moved in front of the scope. Moving her head slightly to the side she focused on a rather huge spider that had just climbed onto the lens and she violently jerked backwards, crying out profanity as she involuntarily jumped and managed to knock a plume of sand into her own face as she did. The critter surprisingly clung to the barrel and a few moments after regaining some her composure and spitting the sand from her mouth she nudged the spider which promptly scuttled off as she tried to blink the sand from her eyes. Fucking sand. She hated sand. Realising the others probably heard her outburst she mumbled “fucking spider…” into the radio before she resumed her survey.

This time however she spotted more than just a dromedary as she soon saw the tell-tale clouds of approaching rolling dust and moments after the distant glare of headlights speeding towards them as she counted three separate sets of lights emerging. She suddenly resented the few moments she’d taken to compose herself as she struggled to understand how she’d missed them. Focusing in more as she hissed into her mic “We have fucking company” and frowned as she listened hard for a moment. At this distance they should have heard the approaching vehicles more than clearly as she soon realised they’d probably modified the vehicles mufflers to hide their approach at night. She started to quickly relay what she’d determined and could see to the others as she peered down her scope.

“We have a Jeep and Lada moving in fast, I can’t make out how many are in there” she reported before focusing in on the third vehicle.

“Oh shit, they’ve got a Ford with a mounted MG. They’re coming in real fucking fast! Looks like it could be the Bedouins or any other sandy dickheads from around these parts”.

She glanced briefly behind her and down at the group to see what they were doing and asked, “What’s our plan here?”

Her instincts had told her to start shooting, but she really didn’t like the idea of being caught out with nothing but a sand dune for cover if they got into a prolonged firefight. Hell if she missed at this distance and they opened up with the HMG she’d likely not get another opportunity to get off a shot, not to mention would probably end up dead surprisingly quickly.
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Bakker sat quietly for a moment or two, silent in his contemplation. The masks handed about as part of the uniform made the squad members look unsurprisingly similar but it was nevertheless simple to note who said what and remember this for the future. He looked at Mr. Gill who shrugged, in a way that said “don’t do anything stupid” without any words. Karmyle pitched in immediately after, suggesting caution/ “Wasting time if we don’t find our VIP in the West sounds imprudent. Let’s go East, if we don’t find our man there then going West we’ll then be going right to our destination.”

Wilhelm was distracted momentarily by something the sniper muttered, but not quite discerning it with his attention in the discussion he shook his head and returned his mind to the scene. The field manager more or less agreed with the majority of the team and then turned to the Afrikaner assuming he would understand his Dutch: “Nee, ridder.” was all he offered with a shrug. “We head East. Hector spoke wisely, we’ll head East and check out Ahaggar National Park. Even if we don’t catch some of these Bedouins we’ll easily find some people who will… if threatened by a gun anyways.” Bakker looked at the screen of the drone but he was unable to make anything out before the sharp speech of Coghan hit him.

MG mounted on a Ford? The Marine jogged his memory considerably. These sort of modern tachankas were very, very popular in North Africa to the point Russian and some NATO forces were even adopting and developing such vehicles. But the Bedouins didn’t really have proper machine guns to mount like that. Civilian weapons, low grade black market shit and the occasional assault rifle handed over by a corrupt officer, that was all. Unless of course they were growing faster than previously believed, a thought that momentarily frightened the warrior. If they were going to go against geared criminals pelting them with 12.7mms rather than thugs with scraps that would jam half the time....

“Stay put, keep your eyes on them and don’t make a move.” he ordered the sniper, hoping to have her as a little ace in the hole against whoever these people were. Wiping his brow once again Bakker brought the drone to the ground and turned off its screen trying to get his eyes readjusted to the darkness as fast as possible. “Spread out, the Nimrs are good cover.” Cursing the fact that they couldn’t get models with top-mounted HMGs of their own, the Dutchman hopped into one and turned it such that it would be slightly off-parallel with the dune they crossed. Pulling back the bolt Brick made sure his carbine was full and once satisfied he left the thing and hid using the engine for cover.

“Just waiting now.” the man remarked, tightening his helmet. Neither it nor the vests handed out would really stop anything save a pistol but they still gave confidence. He could hear the cars approaching now even if they did mad things to the mufflers to silence themselves as much as possible. The ford with the HMG crossed first which was at this distance easily recognizable as a DShK. Old of course, but that didn’t matter if the .50 hit you anywhere. Soon the other two cars followed, with the front passenger seat of the jeep opening and a man in athletic calling out in Arabic from it. To the speakers of the language it would be easy to tell what was said: “Why are you Satans here? Did you not fucking listen on the phone?”
Bakker was confused, but he didn’t want to hesitate. “After the gunner is down we give them everything. Hypatia, get him.” The moment the sound of SVD discharge would spread the Marine would lean out with his SKS, shooting thrice at the driver of the Ford. He missed the man but it was enough to get him to duck and drive erratically. He stopped, and as the PMCs followed in suit shooting the arrivals began to do likewise. A man replaced the gunner while two more dropped down from the flatbed with their own AKMs. From the front seats bursts of 9mm would come from a pistol and SMG. These were certainly some other goons than the Bedouins as the ones in the jeep had plate carriers of some sort and ARs too hard to identify in this light. Only one of them disembarked, two firing from within their vehicle indicating they were either stupid or pertinent to the knowledge it was more durable than a civilian variant.The lada meanwhile drove along with an SMG firing from either window closer to the group of PMCs whilst the opposite side had men with FALs opening fire.
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Though she felt a bit like a hypocrite for laughing, as had it been her up on that dune and had it been a snake instead of a spider, everyone from Dakar to Cairo would’ve probably known exactly where they were, she couldn’t help but chuckle at Coghlan’s misfortune. The muffled snickering quickly went away when Coghlan’s report came through. Three cars, approaching fast, unknown numbers- mounted MG? Mounted MG. If it was a PKP or something similar, okay, bad enough. If that was an NSV or some other nightmare? Katya gave the Nimr another glance, wondering whether the Saudi-made vehicle would be sufficient cover and whether it would live to tell the tale. In 1914, it would be more comforting to think they outnumbered the enemy three to one in machine guns. “So, the titanium plates in these vests are good for shrapnel and nine mil and sod else...” Katya said idly as the sound of the engines built up in volume.

The Russian shouldered her rifle and followed the repositioning Nimr - careful to keep her feet away from the wheel - and looked to where she thought the engine noise was coming from behind the dune, waiting for the inevitable. Then Immortan Joe’s party flew into view - and of course it was the worst case scenario. “Tvoyu mať, dushka!” she cursed as she repositioned to the back of the Nimr that was parallel to the dune as that gave her cover from two directions, briefly forgetting there was only one other person who’d understand the warning, but the spirit of it probably transcended the language barrier.

The familiar sound of an SVD signalled the start of the bout. Brick managed to stop the Ford before she could get a shot out, saving her a few rounds for later. Instead, Katya shifted her aim intent on addressing the problem that was the flanking Lada, specifically its driver. She turned to face it and dropped down to a crouch, the Nimr fully shielding her from fire coming from the two stopped vehicles. Poking out only as much as she needed to see the Lada, she let loose with semi-auto fire as soon as the front windows came to view, minding that she only had a measly ninety rounds. The Lada swerved to the side and finally stopped four rounds later, letting Katya adjust her position to put more of the Nimr between her and the other bastards in the Lada. Their rounds were getting a bit too close for comfort now. Betting on a combination of training after a year-long hiatus and being a small target in the dark was far from ideal, but that was the general theme of their current predicament. Then a metallic ‘ding’ clearly heard over the gunfire, signalled a close hit on the Nimr. Unfortunately, the vehicle’s occupants were smart enough to keep at least one weapon firing at all times. “Fuck it,” she growled as she fished a grenade out of a pouch, straightened out the pin andn pulled it, “Frag out.” She cautioned the squad over the radio, turned where she remembered the Lada to be and tossed the RGD in a high arc, aiming to land it so the car would be between the grenade and the Nimr’s.
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“Stay put, keep your eyes on them and don’t make a move.”

The command crackled through to her earpiece, she acknowledged it before taking a brief moment to conceal anything that might grab their new friends’ attention as she waited for them to crest the dune. Though in the relative darkness she figured she would be fine unless they happened to practically drive into her, which fortunately they did not.

Once they were over and moving towards the Nimrs she quickly repositioned herself as stealthily as she could for the best view and concealment. She spared a moment to scan around her to make sure there weren’t any more nearby desert critters to distract her. Fuckin nature.

Through the scope she watched from an angle as they came almost to a stop and one of the Jeep’s occupants emerged briefly and shouted something at the group. Strange, she thought to herself. She had no idea who they were, why they’d followed them or what they'd said, but they were about to be in for a world of hurt for whatever reason it was.

“After the gunner is down we give them everything. Hypatia, get him.”

She needed no further prompting as she zeroed in on the gunner and a second later squeezed the trigger. From this distance even with the current slight wind it was more than an easy shot for her, she hit him in his upper back. He tumbled from the back of the Ford as the shot rang out and the rest of Ajax took that as their que and opened up.

There was a flurry of responses and gunfire and the sound of revving engines filled the air as both sides began to shoot at the other.

From her position she could easily see what was unfolding as the lada made to flank the group, its multiple occupants sparing nothing as both small arms and rifle fire erupted.

The other two vehicles stopped and several more goons emerged from the Ford and took position before they too began firing. A third bastard clambered up from the flatbed and took his fallen comrades’ position on the MG, turning it to face directly again at the Nimirs.

The others would have to deal with the Lada for now, as she maintained her focus on the Ford and its new gunner. If that thing went into full rock'n'roll mode, she would find herself without much of a squad left in a frighteningly short amount of time. Already she was glad she was up here and not down in that shitstorm of crossfire - unless something changed sharpish, they were bound to start losing operators - if they hadn’t already that was.

“Twat” Hypatia mumbled to herself as she fired off a shot into the dickhead on the MG, her aim was a little low but still on point as he too tumbled sideways and joined his friend writhing in the desert sand.

She focused her scope next on the man firing his AKM from the rear of the ford. Though his positioning was ideal in regards to the Nimirs, he had left himself almost totally exposed to her fire. He and the men in the rear Jeep were yelling something at each other as she took a moment to aim through the PSO. She could see he was shouting and starting to gesture aggressively in her direction as she fired again. The round hit him squarely in the face and proved an excellent demonstration to his friends that, yes, he was right and the sniper was in that direction.

It was almost certain now that the remaining occupants of the Jeep and Ford had figured out where she was and so she started to fire more aggressively as she hoped to keep them somewhat pinned down and unable to fire too much at the Nimirs, at least until the rest of Ajax had resolved the lada issue and could focus on only the one direction of incoming fire.

As if to answer their predicament the voice of Gorgon crackled over the radio.

“Frag out”
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Heavy fire was exchanged, almost solely full auto on the side of the OPFOR while being largely done in more tempered bursts by Squad Ajax. Hypatia had done well, the SVD eliminating several of the enemy in rapid succession. The Dragunov was a strange weapon in modern terms, not quite a DMR and not quite a sniper, but in this situation it was perfect leading to quick kills from quite afar. While the cannon fodder at the front of the local warriors were still disoriented with relation to the sniper, the men at the back with proper gear acted decisively; leaving the car he was hiding in the man in athletic gear now had an AR and plate carrier of his own, and together with one of his high-end goons the two returned fire at the sniper with the first shots landing mere millimeters from her. They were adjusting their aim, and ready to shoot again moments later.

The squad by the Nimrs would most certainly be aware of the reduction in the volume of fire towards them as a result of Hypatia's work from the main grouping of the foe, but the Lada was approaching at a very high speed and the two FALs would be a very grave threat to the mercenaries. However, Gorgon sent out a very opportune grenade — it landed a fair distance from the moving car, but while naught of the concussive impact reached it there was also nothing to stop or slow down the shrapnel (beyond a thing sheet of glass) that turned the two men at the front into bloody messes. The two survivors in the rear passenger seats were forced to leave, and they were struck by a hail of SKS and RPD fire that insured all the warriors of the Lada were out of action. Now the mercenaries outnumbered the thugs, but they still had one gambit. One man was still in a good position to operate the DShK, even if fearful of the crossfire that the Ares employees had set up. Thus he squatted low, and after taking a quick peak to orient himself unleashed the high calibre weapon on the Nimrs. While he was blind-firing, the rate of fire and fearsome 12.7x108mm bullets were nevertheless a threat. The two men at the front of the flatbed were also still active, and the one with the SMG now felt confident in taking aimed shots in single-fire rather than small bursts in hopes of suppressing the mercs. The driver meanwhile hit the gas as hard as he could, the vehicles needing a moment to accelerate but soon moving towards the Nimrs very fast.

Moments later the new gunner of the HMG felt confident to stand up and taking careful fire; in theory only one of the mercs would have to draw his fire, and then the rest of the squad could take him on very quickly. But nobody wanted to take that risk, and so Bakker reckoned they'd need to give them another grenade. The issue was however that the driver would most certainly have seen the explosion that got the Lada, and at even the slightest hint of a grenade would likely take evasive maneuvers. An idea struck the Dutchman, even if it felt silly as he got to executing it. He started crawling under the Nimr with his rifle, hoping he could shoot from the security of the vehicle without much fear of fire returned this way. Admittedly he could really only hit the tires and perhaps the lights from this angle, but in this desert night that just might do. As the slow crawl started, the Marine cursed himself for not having taken off his vest and helmet, the useless bits of armour making his movement very slow and troublesome.
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The drop in volume of fire from the ragheads’ side was noticeable even with the grenade’s explosion briefly drowning it out. Although the rearmost car - likely not a coincidence it was the most expensive-looking one - was hiding something more. Bedouin ‘special forces’, if they even grapsed such a concept? Third party, contractors likely, somehow related to their HVI or his capture? She felt confident ruling out armed forces of any country with an army decent enough to deploy a spec ops team. “Do we want one alive or is it not even worth it?” Sure, how would you even go about that in these conditions, but better ask than be sorry.

The grenade turned out to be everything she hoped for, stopping the russian-built vehicle and the threat of flanking them it presented, all with the added bonus of creating an opening that, although brief, allowed others to clean the rest up with extreme prejudice. After taking a moment to confirm the Lada was well and truly fucked, the ex-spetsnaz stuck her head from behind the Nimr to see what could be done about the rest of the locals, only to be forced to shrink back behind the car by a hail of 12,7s sprayed wildly over the Ares mercenaries. It didn’t look like it was aimed at her - if anything, it looked like the target was anything in a forty-or-so degree cone encompassing the Nimrs. Which was good, because that meant their marksman wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Therefore, in an ideal case, they’d just have to wait a few seconds and boom, problem solved. Right? Ah, who was she kidding? What were these ‘ideal cases’, where could you get some and how much for a lifetime pass? Maybe the company could even get tax returns on them.

Unfortunately, having gone where she was to avoid line of sight from the two American-made cars, she didn’t see much she could do from where she was standing. Yes, she could move, or expose herself, but - bloody fifty cal. If they weren’t going to scuttle their gear at the end of the mission, it might have been worth stealing the thing. “Any bright ideas?” she asked. They had three machine guns over one, so ideally, they shouldn’t have a problem suppressing the fifty. Ideally - that fucking word again.

She decided to leave the flatbed to the others for now and shifted to the corner of the Nimr that was the closest to the dune, her attention going back to the Jeep and the goons around it as she poked her head from around the MRAP, careful not to expose herself to the flatbed. They seemed to be preoccupied with the dune, or rather who was on it. Good for her now, but bad for everyone else. The Russian switched her rifle to her left shoulder to keep as much of her in cover as possible as she sent several short bursts at the Jeep, the first one aimed at the closest person and the rest intended to suppress and give the marksman more breathing room.
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The sand beside her exploded as several well placed shots narrowly missed her and sent plumes of it in the air.

Swearing again she could see now that the fire being directed towards her was mostly from the jeep towards the rear as they shifted their attention to her. Just then the MG flatbed lurched to life again and began to move forwards as another little prick started firing it at the Nimirs. But she couldn’t focus on that right now.

She gritted her teeth as more sand exploded around her and she zeroed in on those responsible. The gunfire and grenade explosion had filled the up until now somewhat peaceful night with the sounds of a warzone. She was glad that she was a little outside of that chaos, even if she could hear the sounds of rounds screaming through the air mere millimetres from her head. The fuckers had some kind of AR and at this range she knew that she’d be dead in moments.

Fortunately for her it looked like at that moment least one of her comrades began taking a few shots at them, so she took the opportunity and took her aim. There’d likely only be one chance to hit them before they got her and so as soon as she was confident she had a clear shot she fired in short rapid bursts of two - as least as fast as she could whilst still maintaining the accuracy she needed. Her intention was to eliminate them as they shot at her, or at the very least suppress them long enough so she could focus back on the MG. She had seven rounds remaining in the mag and was intending on keeping the last one for the new gunner before having to reload – of course providing she managed to achieve what she needed first.

Her heart was pounding, and she felt more alive than she had in a long time. Despite the fact that she could be mere moments away from dying in the desert a grin had subconsciously spread across her face as she exchanged another few shots with one of the men crouched beside the jeep.
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"Just fucking kill them!" Bakker roared from his crawl under the Nimr, the heavy calibre bullets creating somewhat of a localized sandstorm for the operators which rather unfortunately sent many grains into his mouth as he spoke. Spitting them out in anger he crawled on. While at his angle he was fairly confident he was safe from the heavy fire of the HMG, he nevertheless waited for it to be directed somewhere specific so that he could do his little dirty deed. Thankfully, he was provided a distraction by the Russian operator who seemed much braver than the rest who at most offered a few moments of blind fire. The fire of both the sniper and the AK hit their targets, but the only report they'd have of what happened on the other end would be from great sparks leaping off of the locals' bodies; they hit plate carriers which were rifle rated, likely class 6 by Russian standard or 4 per NATO given how they barely even flinched at the hits. Nevertheless the rather accurate return fire that they returned gave them pause, which combined with their now largely exhausted magazines left Hypatia with much needed breathing space.

At the same time, Bakker was finally able to poke out with his SKS and unload his entire stripper clip. Two shots into either tire, along with two into either headlight with the rest were aimed as high as possible to the point he couldn't see the weapon with the hope of by chance getting some crucial hit on the engine; hope of course, was something people tended to have in vain as the situation proved. At least he succeeded in removing the lighting for the flatbed, along with its lighting that was serving a double purpose of blinding the Ares operators and having the gunner not be entirely blind in between the many second bursts he would let out from his gun. The vehicle was now immobile and would be far slower to react to any shooting and it would do so far less accurately, but that didn't magically make the 12.7 HMG into a .22 plinker. Brick wondered if he'd have to give the order for the South African to use his grenade launcher; he would really rather not, but if this encounter dragged on it may well end up being unnecessary for no doubt the sounds of this little warzone along with the accompanying lightshow would eventually catch somebody's attention.
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“Can do!” the Russian replied to the talking Nimr ordering the elimination of their welcoming comitee. She would’ve loved to continue laying hate down range at the primadonna squad over at the Jeep, but ran into two problems. One, members of the the dream team were just a little too attached to life for her liking and refused to die, no-selling several shots. The million dollar question was whether their plates were ceramic composite or steel. Hopefully the former and a few more shots would render the plates useless and their wearers dead. Sinking dozens of rounds they didn’t exactly have to spare into steel plates hoping they’d fail didn’t sound like fun, and usually wasn’t. Second, by now the inside of her magazine was in all likelihood getting as empty as a shitty pub in Samara five minutes before closing. Indeed, she sent a few more shots at the armored bastards, these much less accurate and much more hurried as they figured out where the offending Russian was hiding, before she pulled the trigger and the rifle didn’t do anything. “Or not, new mag!” She retreated back behind the bulk of the Nimr’s engine bay, swapping out the magazine, returning the empty one into the pouch and racking the charging handle, the whole process taking little longer than she’d liked. It’s been a while since she reloaded on the left shoulder.

Sadly, it was now her turn to sit hopelessly behind a hunk of metal while bullets whizzed by, at least one of the honor students of jihad college keeping her pinned. Hopefully though, between the reduction of enemy numbers and Hypatia now at least temporarily back in the fight, the pucker factor of the situation would significantly decrease, the rest of the squad would start aiming properly and the remainder of the carpet pilots would just fucking die already. She would’ve loved to repeat her Lada maneuver, but didn’t trust herself to throw a grenade at 20 meters without even seeing where she was throwing. As she thought that, she found herself eyeing Cronus’ rifle, namely the grenade launcher attached to the business end of it.
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