Somewhere off the coast of Corsica



They called it La Source. Or in other words, the HQ for Raven Squad, the crystal-clear waters of the Med and the rocky granite-sandstone of the Corsican shore revealing a small island off the big island's mainland itself, like so many here, a beautiful little spot in the setting evening sun.

They called it home more than that, and it was a unique one at that. An old French naval facility built into the side of a cliffside, the base occupied the small island's perimeter but looked striking at that. It was built by the Nazis in the Second World War but found to be of no use for a local naval station after 30 years in service, so was quietly aquired by someone to be put to something else, Skye had to guess. Then most likely passed to Raven Squad as their little base of operations, home for them to use. Remodelled and remade into the home base for a team that might need to be anywhere at a given notice, and so they needed a place that they could call their own. The inner concrete walls were painted a striking white and grey, and looked modern, in spite of the old appearance of the facility.

The facility had five storeys to it, including the cave that the base was built on top of that had the calm water sitting inside it with various boats, and from there, the second storey being the largest with a deep cavern that multi-tasked as a multi-purpose training area, shooting range and armoury for the team. The team's gym was located there, with a cut-off area for the team's heavies, who altogether used equipment that was totally different- kettlebells and concrete blocks that looked more at home to be lifted by forklift rather than by people. The third storey had the team's accomodation, a series of indiviual quarters, the fourth a rec and lounge room with a panoramic view that incorperated a kitchen and bar, and the fifth, well, partly the property of Skye and partly the briefing rooms. A large helipad sat at the top of the cliffside, hidden from the sea by a rock formation and a stout lighthouse that lay barren inside, the helipad hosting their V22 Osprey as well as a small hangar-like building that contained a fairly exotic vehicle pool that could be loaded in or taken down onto a boat. The rest of the island wasn't large- it was more a lump of rock in the ocean, maybe a mile squared in size, but it was empty and mostly just rocks and hardy dunes. The small encampment for rotational support staff, ranging from techs for the vehicles and V22, logistics teams and various SIGINT postings finished up La Source as a location.

It was everything an evil genius would love. Lucky the people who wanted to stop those sorts had it to themselves. Any locals or tourists must have thought it was some billionaire's little palace, because nobody would have assumed it made any sense beyond the cove at the bottom and the fancy looking one-way glass of the rec room and well, Raven Squad's team leader.

======================

Skye idled back and forth, the room she called her own at the top gently catching the sunlight through the panoramic window. It was rather impressive- the rock built into the concrete of the walls, decorated in a modern aesthetic that made it look like any high-end room in London, with modern tech across the walls. Not many secret lairs had this going for it, but well, it came with spendng an awful lot of time here. Not that it made much difference to the fact it was effectively cut-off from the world, as she took a breath, looking across to the phone on the table across from her, taking the small device and unlocking it with a thumbprint, loading up the voice recorder. She touched the glass of the windowpane, turning to the recorder as she switched it on.

"Well, I may as well carry it on....because this gig seems to be working. Said I'd keep a note for myself to keep my mental state in check. So....the second operation was good, though it didn't go perfectly. Rescued the Mexican President and the world has no idea it even happened. Bit more collateral than we expected...and fuck, there's paperwork to do. Lot of it. But I guess it worked. My exo's booster came in fucking handy leaping a wall.....though I'm gonna ask Laura to dial back the counter-land because it dropped me like a fridge. Plus everyone's safe and sound, we got El Presidente herself out of there. But well...fuck, it was them wasn't it?

"I've had run ins with Black Flag before, they're on a different level. Anarchist, dangerous, and worse, looking like they want some new world order. And actually having the people to go along with it, and the tech. They had a Class Two automated mech on site, ten feet of pure shit that took a lot of work to sort out. Scary bastards, and well...I suppose that's why the tech is so good that we get. A company of men wouldn't have had a chance against that. So Black Flag then...their formation out of Artemis Group, another organisation that wanted the same thing as them, and the tale I got spun by Doctor Malik tells me they've been close before to what they wanted. Oracle said they'll be weakened by it for a while, but it will come back. Gotta find more ways of fucking them up and being the world's emergency services a bit more. Cohesion is good, and the team did well. Still strange fuckers of course, but they're...well, they're the family I guess we all have now. Laura being the fucked up aunt of us all. So yep, not bad... Skye, you have got this in the bag.

But the paperwork, that can fuck right off."

With that, Skye chuckled and cut the recording, sighing as she looked out the window at the sunset on the horizon, her thoughts at least a lot lighter now, her sultry and gentle Scottish tones both the light and dark. An accent that took time to get used to, but once you did it was the accent that stayed with you.

Skye's intelligence and general attitude painted a picture of a nearly unstoppable force of nature, someone warm, friendly, happy, and more than that, capable of leadership. But she'd had no father figure from a young age, and learned to trust almost nobody. Or nobody to spill out to, not properly, at least. Warm and caring she was, and willing who she was to anyone, but the total irony was, she couldn't tell anyone her deepest, darkest fears. The things that turned over in her head and if she didn't tell anyone, felt like she would implode with. It was paradoxical because anyone who met her, even deep analysed her psych profile saw someone who didn't stop and dealt with it through a phenominal cognative ability, able to just learn by intuition and absorption. So Skye found it was a reassuring way to play things over in private, it was just catharsis, even sometimes not listening back over her recorded diary. Her team needed strength in its' lead, and not concern or doubt. This was her way of getting that out of the system, because the moment she stopped record, she was back to normal.

=============================

Taking a small briefcase with her from a coffee table in the room, she headed out, the red-haired Scot wearing a pair of outdoorsy-looking trousers and a navy-blue t-shirt, her vibrantly red hair bunched up. Skye's contrasts seemed to continue, the Scot wearing no make-up but remaining as bright as ever, a few freckles dotting her face and a small scar that ran along her cheekbone, a reminder of the line of work she sometimes ended up in. She felt like getting away from her own isolation and getting back to where everyone might be- and well, thought to take the contents of the case with her. The team were likely slowly assembling after a rest day Skye's own routine was finished long ago, a long biathalon around the bay, swimming and running up around the small island of their home, coupled to a strength-training routine in her calandar for today. She did fancy some food too, but knew that the team had some plans to hang about downstairs too, and she'd nudged them all that way after they were done in the armoury, gym, or doing whatever they did on their rest days.

The Scottish team lead took that opportunity to head downstairs, taking the lift to get the the the rec room, a spatious, airy lounge with a bar and kitchen in one corner, beanbags, chairs and sofas scattered about and a feeling of generally being opened out. It was empty for now, but no doubt more would turn in soon. For a small squad that was Raven, it was luxury, and a calming presence as she headed over to one of the tables, pinging a message of where she was to the team in their encrypted chat, some people opting for watches, others keeping it on a secured phone. She headed to the cooler, and finding a bottle, she found hers, in another case that she could draw. A '81 Single Malt, Islay Whisky. A glass of that on the table for her, a gentle wick to start her off, and she felt more in the mood. That and for the rest of the team to have, because well, a job well done was to be rewarded. With that, she opened the other case she'd brought down, which revealed a cherry oak fiddle, an instrument she treasured very much, as leaning against the wall, she began to find her tune. A Scots instrument that scored home, literally every loch, mountain and valley felt like this had it playing when she was back in her head. A tune she knew might bring a few people in, given the door was open, and get them all together.

Fiddle

For a moment, she wasn't on a Corsican island. She was home, and it always felt like it took the edge off her mental state, a quiet solace that she could sooth into.

=========================================

Meanwhile, Laura was finishing up in the gym, and well, lobbing what appeared to be a smoothed out kettlebell at a netting, the ball around 80kg that she picked up and carried from one side to another. It was like playing with a shot put but lobbing a piece of concrete that could probably knock most people over, as she threw another once again, the huge weight bouncing from the netting which was made of something ludicrous to take the heat. Exhaling, she puffed a long sigh of relief, the team's armourer taking a moment to compose herself and wipe the sweat from her face with her paw-like hand, the last of the routine for now. Not much of her left anything to the imagination when she wore a red gym bra and shorts, and in all honesty, she didn't care. She kinda liked being a big deal, no matter who was seeing it. I mean, it was hardly like they were strangers, they were the team, the guys....and if they really didn't, what would they do, tell Skye they didn't like it? She giggled internally at the idea, knowing full well she wouldn't care. The team's armourer was no less capable in a fight, and while she had a backroom role for now, it suited her just fine being the techy girl and getting to try her shit out without setting fire to....wait, why was it Skye said this time? Eh, it didn't matter.

Showering off after finishing her routine, she emerged and got dressed, putting on a cardigan and a pair of tight jeans, and seeing the message prop up on her phone, Laura would promptly would be point of reference for anyone that was going up from the gym or the arsenal, making her way to the lift and waiting for it. The German giant seemed very insular for the moment being, the calm before the storm, or perhaps her just being a bit pooped from throwing a large ball of concrete like it was a football from her cannon like arms. That fire in her eyes was always there mind, always going through. Always a loose cannon, and she'd never have it any other way. Brushing her hair back, the German giant could feel her stomach grumble, and the sooner she got some food down, the less hangry she was gonna be.

Tylar's face was still shiny with unabsorbed face cream when she breezed into the rec room, lightweight house dress swishing around her long legs. The loose-fitting pink lace was gathered at her waist, ending halfway down her massive thighs, and was gloriously breathable after a few hours in her exosuit. Fresh out of a cold shower and feeling absolutely starved, she waved to Skye without slowing her pace, approaching the fridge like a lioness on a hunt.

There was usually a good stock of quality snacks, and today was no exception. She removed an armful of containers, building herself a plate stacked high with cold roast chicken, raw broccoli and baby carrots, cubed cheese, grapes, mandarins, apple slices, peanut butter, salami, and a generous dollop of ranch dressing. She paired the plate with a comically oversized cup of ice water and a normal sized cup of chilled white wine, tiny in her large hands as she took her feast over to one of the couches.

Nibbling at her plate, she relaxed into the cushions as Skye played, letting the music and the food relax her. Or maybe that was the wine. In either case, by the time the song finished she was feeling pretty good. "What were you playing, boss?" She asked the redhead, a small smile on her lips. "It's pretty." Her voice was deep but feminine, not as husky or mature as you might expect in a person of her size but youthful despite her years, like she'd never quite found her voice as a woman and still spoke much the same way she had as a teenager.

A trio of guardsmen circles a man on the mats in the gym. The guards hold bamboo Shinai in various positions. One of them with a overhead stance, another with a low side stance, and the third holding it like one would a bat. Quite interesting to see some competency. The fourth member of the group though is one of the operatives Ban Kingo is blindfolded. And has a wooden Boken tucked at his side. This group has done this exercise before. The guards get to try and hit Ban, operative word here being try. Sometimes they can, sometimes they can't. Sometimes it's over in seconds. Sometimes it takes upwards of 5 minutes. It's practice for them all. Ban gets to really work for it, while the guards yeah...

After abit Ban shifts, perking his head to the side his right hand coming up to grip the handle of the Boken. One of the guards shifts stepping a little heavier then he intended too. Ban shifts as well. And it's swift. Ban side steps, and draws, crack...plack! The guard grunts as he falls backwards, two hits with the wooden sword one across the wrists the other just up the head, sending him dazed to the floor. The one who was hold his shinai above his head acts. Leaping forward the practice weapon arching down. Ban huffs, turns and dodges. The shinai barely missing him. His answer is the handle of his boken to the guards stomach. And Ban lets the guard collapse the ground with a cough and wretch.

The last guard swallows thickly stepping carefully. Ban standing...listening...waiting... where the...

Ban shifts abit, trying to hear. The guard slowly inches along, trying to make as little noise as he can. Ban turns again trying to hear. And at the last second as the final guard makes his move Ban hears him.

THWACK!

Ban staggers forward. Right to the back of the head! Then spins and...

CRACK!

Right across the chest. The guards and Ban then bursting out laughing. The final guard, "Holy! I got him! Guys I got him!" Ban rubs the bac of his head with one hand while undoing the blindfold with the other, "Ow...well done John-san. I lost you for a moment or two." John laughs, "I never get the hit in!" Ban hums and grins, "Yes yes, next time Gadget." He heads for the washrooms, "Enough for today. I imagine the boss lady will want to see me." He heads to get cleaned up. Putting his practice gear away.

After a shower, and some aspirin, he's headed up to the Rec room, "Hmmm fiddle music?" He muses. Ban entering and heading to a chair to observe and listen.



A flutter of movement at the other door into the Rec room. And a moment later five guards rush in. The one in the lead coming to a sliding stop, "No way...the old man was right in front of us! There is no way in hell that guy juked us!" He calls over to Skye, "Boss Lady, did Ghost Howard come through? I swear he was right in front of us." The guard says this while trying to hide the many many blue, red and black chalk marks all over his armor. Signs that Howard at just put this group of five through another of his Stalk training sessions. Impromptu training sessions it might be added. Howard performed them without warning, without letting anyone know and often when least expected. One of the guards is holding his pants up for instance.

The five start to search the Rec room, and then rush back out when there's a skittering sound out the door they came from. one of the guards shouting, "That's gotta be him!"

It's only after they leave that Howard just seems to appear...

...at the kitchen counter.

As if he was always there.

Howard hums, "I'm not that invisible am I?" He says in his gravelly voice. Weather-aged face darkly tanned like dark leather. He sniffs, "I'm doing this for their own good I swear." He lifts the bottle of apple juice to his lips casually. Managing to hide the grin.

Her breathing was quick, her heartbeat was pounding. Cold sweat perspirated on her skin even though her apartment room was air conditioned. The nightmare was so vivid, bringing the past memory Su-Cheong had been trying to forget. The clock showed how early it was in the morning; for a civilian, of course. Su-Cheong’s military life had adapted her body to quickly get active at this hour. The sleep was enough, but the awakening was stressful. Indeed, Su-Cheong believed that to forget such memory was a mistake. She immediately got herself up and went to the washbasin inside the attached restroom, splashed the water to her face then back to her room. She pushed a button on the wall and immediately, all the furnishing folded itself, retracted to the wall. This made the personalized studio apartment room where Su-Cheong lived turned into a wide space with a body-sized mirror on one side of the wall. Yes, ordinary soldiers might sleep on a bunk bed in a barrack, but not for a Raven Squad specialist.

Su-Cheong then walked toward that mirror, the space she considered fitting as a personal altar, or even maybe a temple for her spiritual journey. The young woman loosened her night robe and looked straight into that mirror. Her now exposed skin shows the visible scars, the remains of her past life, the memento that was still be brought until now. Su-Cheong then sat with her legs folded, beginning her meditation. The nightmare was vivid that she could still remember it, the same traumatic sequence she ever faced. The visage of her torturer, the searing hot metal which was his torture device; and the pain when the metal was shoved into her navel. Su-Cheong flinched every time such memory played itself in her brain, the stress was enough to raise the tension in all her muscles.

“Let it pass, let it liberate itself from any repression, let it be accepted, let myself be accepted, let myself find peace from accepting my past.”

Just as a baby coming out of her mother's womb with her umbilical cord cut from her, Su-Cheong began to see such dream as a symbol of her rebirth. Long ago, she needed to kill in order to survive, now she needed it to safe more lives. Long ago, she came into such way of life not from her own choice, now she took her choice to live like this. The method might look similar, the skillset required might not be different in its entirety. The means likely stayed same, the meaning diverted significantly. Besides, now Su-Cheong had a steadier moral basis in her line of work.

"The universe placed me right here, right now, for a reason; my life has its mean that I have to keep learning to understand it; when I understand it, I shall be liberated from any restrain, and I shall find peace."

Su-Cheong ended her mediation session and pushed another button on the wall console. A segment of the wall opened itself and showed the world outside through the bulletproof glass. Su-Cheong made a personal choice of her apartment room to have the view of sunrise. The day welcomed Su-Cheong as she checked her routine; it was swimming pool this time. She then changed into her two-piece sport swimsuit, layered them with her yesterday's crop-top shirt and track pants. Su-Cheong tied her long hair into a bun, wrapped her head in a tight cap and soon she was on her way to the indoor pool by the gym. Su-Cheong met Laura on her way but said nothing as she did not want to disturb the behemoth mid-training. Su-Cheong went straight to the pool, changed into her swimwear, and put her things inside a locker, then immediately started her warmups, out and in-water in the shallow part of the pool. As her body adapted itself, Su-Cheong climbed and moved to the deeper pool, the Olympic-sized one. She stood on a block, bent her hip forward, then made her jump into the water.

Su-Cheong broke the water surface smoothly and let the hydrodynamic flow to swiftly swim her body forward. Her graceful strokes continuously moved her body in sequence of undulating waves from her shoulders, her midriff, her hip, and her legs. As the drag increased, Su-Cheong pushed her arms downward then backward, bringing her head out of water to inhale and push her body further forward. The undulating sequence restarted as Su-Cheong spun her arms and put them back in front of her as her body returned into the water. This butterfly stroke, Su-Cheong's favorite, really put all her muscles into test.

After several back-and-forth repetitions, Su-Cheong called it enough. She ended her session with cooling-down sequence and a nice warm shower. She returned to her room and dressed for the day. Most of her activities were facilitated inside the building, ranging from writing and reviewing her private journal, testing some equipment, also studying some military treatises, procedures, and international law. The digital archive and library could be accessed from the network connected to the building, secured from any potential external manmade threat or natural disaster.

Some hours passed, the clock eventually marked the end of Su-Cheong's routines for the day. It was already evening and Su-Cheong had just finished her end-of-day meditation. Su-Cheong then got herself ready for the unscheduled gathering the squad usually had during dinner. Some of her teammates might have already been there with their favorite drinks or just chilling in the lounge. Her choice of dress was rather casual as this was never a formal kind of event, a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of cotton pants. She decided to give the lower part of her shirt a knot and let a part of her midriff cooled by the air-conditioned hall. As she raised her hand to tie her hair into a low ponytail, Su-Cheong could notice the visible mark of the scar from her past torture.

Su-Cheong went upstairs and gave herself a chance for small talks she rarely took. "Good evening" said Su-Cheong short as she entered the lounge. She then took a single glass of warm water. The young woman then casually approached the buffet and raised her eyebrows. "Everything we need is here without any of us ever going out for grocery," she remarked. "I wonder how the maintenance for this base works, Commander, who are the staffs?" Su-Cheong raised her question.

The instrument's strings soothed the Highland lady, the sight of Tylar coming in not stopping her, only allowing her to continue playing, a certain confidence in her instrument not affected by the sight of the buff, moving mountain of the team's railgun-carrying heavy.

@Laser Kiwi

Skye remembred picking out Tylar, knowing her psych-eval, knowing what she had come from. The clearance never fully uncovered everything, but Skye knew enough about the programme she had come out of, the creation that CIA affilated team had come through with. No doubt it left some scars on her mentally, and despite her capabilities, there was an element Skye could see she was trying to piece together and grow out of. Like she'd been left as a teenager and grown up, yet not had the emotional complexity and whirlwind that came with finding a flow. It was something she hoped this environment might foster, because her capability in the field was second to none.

Skye stopped playing her fiddle once she finished the piece, by which point the team's railgun-carrying heavy had gotten herself some food, and plenty of it. Giants always seemed to have a relatively bottomless gut, well, apart from Laura, Skye reasoned. She had a black hole for one.
"Thank you! It's a song about home, just an old Gaelic song. Just a little ditty, a friend taught me it when we were younger. I donnae play it much, but it's 'no bad from time to time." Skye softly replied, a wry smirk coming out, her cheeks almost as rose-coloured as her hair, as she gently placed the instrument down, pouring the rest of the glass of the Whisky, crossing her legs over. The rest of the team could be heard on their way, and Skye turned to them.

@BigPapaBelial

Ban had come in while she was playing. The Japanese operative was one that well, divided the crowd. Most intelligence people didn't rate gangsters, criminals or thugs much but Skye knew the code that the Yakuza followed, the sacrafices that were involved were serious- and then the list of the things Ban had done. Ban was an indvidual who possessed talent at killing people, a dark link to an underworld. And he'd suffered for it. The augmentations in his body, let alone the plethoras of tattoos pointed to an indvidual willing to give himself in to a greater cause. Perhaps he had that here to give when his old family left him.

Shit, the way Skye sounded, she seemed to be taking plenty of those in Raven. Though it did make you think, girl without a dad trying to create a team, made up of misfits and people from all over? It seemed oddly like a parallel. Nobody had ever said that, but Skye internally knew how it would look if someone smart enough were to piece it up. They all seemed to have scars, or something with them. Perhaps it was because Skye recognised talent others didn't. Skills and process that others didn't understand. And to fight an odd force you needed odd people. Or....well, you picked the best at what they did, no matter what?

Howard Davis though, he was a legend. A member of the team before Raven, a sniper, hunter and all around Native outdoorsman who seemed at one with nature. The person she wanted back, and getting him was difficult. But worth it, none the less, the confused guards who manned the motor pool confused and puzzled by Howard's disappearance. The greatest game of hide and seek ended when Howard appeared from nowhere, right at the kitchen counter, silently moving inside at the corner of Skye's vision, one she kept wide knowing almost in a game-like fashion would happen.

"Interesting distraction. You baited them with noise and they ran out when they should have been looking right in front of them at the other door. The good old slight of hand trick." Skye merely retorted, smart enough to pick it up while the guards were puzzled. It had kept her alive on many occasion. But then again, Skye knew her operatives. And just what they were capable of.
"Still, would have fooled me." She wryly smirked, hearing Su-Chong follow in.

@VeyrinDay

The other light member of the team, Su-Chong was similar to Ban in some ways, the background as a crook, but then a soldier. A similarly capable girl, Skye knew the Asian-American's past was a tough one, it made her capable in being silent and doing wetwork but it also led to some pretty horrific stuff. Skye had been in that position once, but the torture that Su-Cheong must have gone through sounded like agony in comparsion. A living hell, but she was here. Fighting on. Skye picked her horses for a reason, because they found another gear when they were pushed past the breaking point. Her question was pertient, as she set herself up, Skye chuckling in response.

"That's what our logistics people do. And me, actually. The 4am routine of that versus swimming for me changed lately. Shit, I suppose I'm gettin' soft, or something..." Skye chuckled, as looking to the ponytailed operative, knowing that as many questions as Su-Cheong had, always wanting to validate the authority, Skye knew she would deliver. It was her job, after all.

=====

Last for now but not least, Laura Zeiss, that was one Skye always knew was a wildchild. A giantess in the sense that even next to Tylar and Oliver, she towered and coupled to her mass, it just made her look like an absolute crane of a human being.

She was also fucking crazy.

"Mein gott, is that whisky I smell? Skye, are you treating us?"

Laura sounded almost like an overexcited labrador, waltzing over, the big girl literally running all that mass over onto one of the beanbags, comedically coming down like a pallet of bricks had fell on the thing. How it didn't explode with the foam balls going everywhere was beyond anyone, Skye guessing her spec sheet for "resilient materials" had made it through when asking how the lounge might need to be setup. She sighed, brushing her hair aside from her face, sitting up and looking up everyone, excitable as ever, aware Su-Cheong had walked past while she was in the gym.

"For a job well done. Grab yourselves a glass everyone. It's well deserved. You all did a good job, thanks to what you did, we avoided a serious geopolitical shitstorm. For a moment. Let's not get bogged down in details though....let's just enjoy this for now!" Skye replied, then addressing the rest of the team, aware there were a couple more that would come soon, and letting them drop in before they all could all go through the bottle.

For maybe, twenty minutes the man stared at the screen, the only words upon it, 'You Died' and he decided to take a shower to cool himself off after relaxing by himself and his computer for an indeterminate amount of time. Music had been coming from his room, Iron Maiden, Metallica, and other older metal bands, as well as some 'newer' stuff like Poor Mans Poison here and there. But, he decided to take a nice, hot shower to relax, and get himself hungry for a night snack. He moved things off of the bed he built, and onto his computer chair and desk. Finding an old T-shirt that fits him well, would be good to wear once I get out, it's comfortable and happy. He then lifted his drink, ginger ale, to his lips, and relaxed before he moved into the bathroom he had made for himself. Nice, and wooden, the way he liked it.

-Twenty minutes later-

The large wooden door which looked to be the blend of a North-western cowboy's door, and a nordic Vikings, steam came out from close to the floor, and out stepped a man. This man was known as Oliver, clothed in a white t-shirt with a smiley face upon it, baggy pants that may or may not be PJs, and flip flops. Around his neck was an old style of earphone connected by wire to a phone that rested upon his shoulder in a strap. Oliver's hair was formed in a towel around his head, and he smelled of whiskey and gunpowder, a man's favorite soap smell. His beard looked freshly cleaned up, oils included. Around him, Iron Maiden played until two dings came upon on his phone, he plugged it into his earphones so as to not annoy others and decided to make his way down the hallway.

Immediately he looked a bit like an idiot; he noticed that he was somewhat alone, but for those in the main room talking, he just went at it. Air guitar and all as he started down the hall slowly, his head moving back and forth, the towel slowly unraveling, and he gave a kick forward as he continued to play air instruments and being quite good at it in his mind. He was able to do solos of guitars, of which he did not know how to play. Drumming a bit here and there when the guitar let up for drums. He was singing as well in his thought of safety, mainly just the more available parts of the song, but still, it was a bit of singing.

"Run to the Hillsssssssssss." his hands would move back and forth like drums, "Run, for your, lives."

"Dum dum, dum dum." He muttered with the motions of him hitting drums, and his hair/towel flying back and forth.

"Run to the hillsss."

"Run, forrrr your, lives." his head stilled as he stopped halfway down the hallway; realizing that was mainly out loud, he fixed the towel around his head, moving it over his shoulders as his wet hair rested on either side of his neck. He would continue his pathway down towards the central area, and if it were not for his beard, there would possibly be red cheeks of slight embarrassment there. He would slowly make his way around the room, his destination the kitchen.

"I see whiskey; anyone wants something to go with it?" Oliver asked as his beeline for the kitchen was his newest priority. "I saw some new recipe online and thought I could give it a try, cause why not, it looked good, and I am hungry. Diets be damned, and the whiskey is out."

Ban hums sitting on one of the ottomans quietly listening to the music. Though his head jerks abit as the guards rush in. Asking after the Old Man, well not really old, but even Ban can tell he's experienced a great deal of things. And his experience will be a great gift and boon to the team. He'd also seen the flicker of movement. Looking around as the guards search, all the places you might expect. It's not until there's that skitter-clack-pinkle some of something outside the room that he spots something else. Howard is at the fridge, somehow suppressing? No not quite suppressing more like actting like he's part of the room. A state of misdirection. And Ban really only got the sense of him out of the corner of his eye. Not really looking at him. So as the guards dash off and Howard seems to just form from thin air he gets to his feet, and bows to the older man, "Hakase Davis, your skill is amazing. like you are one with the environment. I am in awe."

Ban then bows around the room as the others join them. Calling polite greetings as the other members of the team also filter in.



Howard gave the young ex-yakuza a nod in thanks. But as the young Northman enters Howard's face hardens. He has to lean back on the counter to really contain his rancor. He takes a deep breath, "Do not take my words as an insult Mr. Black. But do you know the true meaning behind the lyrics of that song? What they actually mean? I should not be so insensed but the massacres of the past on my ancestors that the lyrics of that song were founded upon, make it quite insulting." He chuckles, "Though I know that probably means little. And will not sway you in the admiration of it. As it's clear you like it. But please. Could I ask you, Not in my presence?" He sips his apple juice to calm his personal anger, muttering under his breath about, "Army attacks" and "peaceful camps" and "bloody uncalled for charges". He sighs and turns away.



Ban clears his throat.

Awkward!

He calls to Oliver as the Northman walks to the kitchen area, "If you need assistance Black-san, I can render it. My clan used to pair finely cut pork over a wonderful stir-fry when it came to whiskey." He mimes chopping and cutting motions, "I can go get my wok."

There's the Yakuza cook again.

Awake without an alarm clock. It was a curse, she could never sleep in. First stop, the lavatory, then she pulled on running shorts and a tank top. After tying up her running shoes, she secured her room key and headed for the exit.

The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon. Her new home was not too far from her old home. Mazi took comfort in this. She loved the Mediterranean and grew up bathing in its warm refreshing waters. She knew she was just over 2400 Kilometers from home, but she never concerned herself with being away from home. She didn’t miss it too much, loved her parents, and knew she would see them again when returning to Haifa. But for now, she was enjoying the climate of Corsica. ‘Such a beautiful island paradise,’ she thought to herself as she started running.

By the time she hit her fifth kilometer, she was warm, proceeding to pick up the pace. The trail had some relief to it but not overly challenging. She continued to push herself, bringing her back to Raven Squad’s home base after an hour of running, she had covered sixteen kilometers and was ready for a shower.

Upon entering the complex, she first drank a bottle of water to replace fluids lost during the run. Then she replaced her running shoes and socks for flip flops. Grabbing a change of clothing and towel she headed to the shower room.

Once cleaned up, she dressed in a pair of gray cotton sweatpants and a blue T-shirt with the letters IDF and Krav Maga emblazoned across the chest in white letters. Next, she worked on her hair. She dried it as best she could. While damp, she tied it into a French braid down the center of her head then tied off at the back.

The kitchen was empty when she arrived. Her menu consisted of mostly proteins in an attempt to bulk up in the gym. She put together a meal consisting of fried eggs, turkey sausage and Canadian bacon along with a glass of milk and her necessary supplements. She cleaned up her dishes, then headed to the gym. Not wanting to revisit her meal she took it easy at first. Today, her focus was on her back muscles; latissimus dorsi, levator scapulae & rhomboids and biceps. She took the sets slowly, performing at least three exercises per muscle group using a high weight and low rep system.

Once her workout was complete, she returned to her room, removed her clothing and put on a robe. Then she made her way to the roof to find her usual reclining lawn chair. Once in place, she pulled off her robe, placed it on the head of the chair and laid down with her face on the robe attempting to improve on the color of her skin. No tan lines allowed here.

Later in the day, it appeared the squad was gathering in the rec room. After her tanning session on the roof, Mazi put on a red Krav Maga T-shirt, sports bra and a pair of black yoga pants. Her flip flops would suffice as she made her way to the rec room. Apparently, she missed Skye’s cultural music display on the violin. She knew there would be more opportunities to hear her play. It was comforting to listen to.

She hoped she wasn’t too late. Aside from Skye, she noticed Ban, Oliver, Kim, Laura, Tylar and Howard were already there. “Pardon, if I am late,” Mazi sheepishly stated as she quickly took a seat near Kim Su-Cheong.

Earlier that day…

One thing that Su-Cheong would routinely do after her morning exercise had always involved a pencil and her private notebook. She took some couple of hours to read her own history, her own opinions on the matter she had faced in her life. Su-Cheong also routinely checked her emotional reaction every time she read past the ones that made her feeling uncomfortable. Sometimes, she managed to keep herself steady, but when her memory put some strains in her emotion, Su-Cheong would contemplate and add some future note in her attempt to accept it. It always began at the spot in her journal when she was 16, quite an accomplishment for one to graduate high school very early, with good marks and a university acceptance letter. Su-Cheong put a mental warning sign at that point so she would not get trapped into regretting and wondering what kind of good life had been taken from her.

The journal then passed to the note of when Su-Cheong was kidnapped, brought to live among the crooks and forced to do some dirty works. Two and a half years of getting involved in their perverted business around the world had ended with one full year cooperating with the international police. Su-Cheong had a clandestine work of giving the law enforcement some necessary evidence required for the court to press the gangster hard enough and cease their operation. They managed to utterly disassemble the gang, but not without the collateral damage which was Su-Cheong herself. The traumatic torture she received around six years ago required a half year of physical and mental therapy to heal; and Su-Cheong could never be fully restored back to how she previously had been.

This time, it was rather difficult because Su-Cheong thought that she had long passed her fear about the incident that returned in her nightmare. With her hand covering the scar on her abdomen, and clutching it rather tightly, Su-Cheong took a deep breath. The journaling session of this morning turned out to be counterproductive. It was not the first time for her to get the drawback from her coping attempt. Fortunately, the young woman already had her experience in handling such situation. When the mind becomes incapacitated, it is time for the body to take over.

Su-Cheong reached a wall console and decided to rise the vibe inside her room. An advanced kind of search engine allowed her to find a playlist with music of particular beats and tempo she needed to keep active while also stay rested after her morning exercise. With all the furnishing getting folded and hidden into the wall, her room became a private dance hall. The carpet flooring even rolled itself, all that was left was again the mirror, extending itself to cover one side of the wall. Su-Cheong could look at herself moving around her now spacious room as she slowly danced. A widely open window on one part of the wall exposed Su-Cheong to the outside world. Someone outside might take a peek as she danced, but she didn’t care.

Su-Cheong started slowly, coming with the rhythm from the music she played. She chose her current session not to follow any certain style, she wanted to be free and liberate her mind through physical motions. Her feet made some little taps and jumps, her shoulders had some flicks, and the circular movements of her arms were moderately kept. Su-Cheong’s smile grew from her lips as her confidence built up as she looked at her performance in the mirror. She then realized her possession of the physical feminine assets and exploited them in her next movements. This reminded her of the sessions she had in entertaining the mob boss, a calm between the storms she had in her past. Regardless, she felt genuine in doing so right at this moment, expressing her femininity not for any means to deceive or seduce in order to take advantage from anyone.

Years training and various deployments had not taken away the grace in Su-Cheong’s dance. An unlikely opportunity, she always thought, when during the final part of her therapy months, Su-Cheong was given a special pass-card by her shooting instructor. Impressed by the result of Su-Cheong’s effort to gain legal certification for firearms possession, the instructor had told her to show that pass-card to any military recruitment station around the country and challenge herself to survive their program. Seeing this as an opportunity to reborn herself, Su-Cheong accepted. The young woman immediately got transferred into something that she only knew as a joint military program consisting of recruits from various country worldwide including, mainly, NATO.

Thus, that was when Su-Cheong began her four-year training and eventually had her two-year deployment. This program was quite specialized which eventually made Su-Cheong realize that her regimens included the optimized program from combining the various special forces trainings around the world. Among the few selected were her squad mates, forming the composition of Raven Squad.

Refreshed by her dancing, Su-Cheong regained the clarity of her mind. This is her place now, among the Raven Squad; the selected few of skillful folks with some degrees of peculiarity like herself. She had been quite detached, seeing the nature of this assignment might risk someone’s death; or even her squad-mates were likely have something in their past that made them not fit that much for friendship. Su-Cheong had been holding this belief for long, but after this last assignment, the young woman began to enjoy their company.

That evening…

Su-Cheong felt a little bit guilty when she somehow interrupted the fiddle play her commander performed. Of course, she understood about the logistics and maintenance components this base had as its support. “No mean to disrespect, Ma’am, it’s just my brain had its own stream of thought about the potential breach of security and could probably compromise our future operations, coming from some loopholes of the peripheral support system we’re having…” Su-Cheong said that quickly responding to Skye, “but I’ll keep that for sometimes in the future, no pressure, Ma’am.”

Seeing how her commander might get concerned with the issue Su-Cheong raised pushed her to cool the situation down. She put a smile on her face, and widened it into a grin she made as cute as possible. “Oh, hello, miss Zemyr…” Su-Cheong distracted herself from the possible sharp gaze she assumed she was getting from Skye and everyone else in the room. “We’re celebrating now... grab ourselves some whiskey maybe?”

Everybody in the room likely knew already that Su-Cheong very rarely took any booze, especially during evening parties. She always hated the morning hangover.

As the others trickled into the room Tylar was content to sit back with her plate, listening more than she spoke and watching more than she was watched. It was a luxury for her, to blend into the background like this, and even after so long in Raven Squad she still treasured it. She wasn't like the others, but that was fine - all of them were unique, most stood out in their own ways, and because of that none of them did. It reminded her of a collage she had seen once in a museum, which she could never quite recall the name of, which consisted mainly of gaudy costume jewelry and plastic gemstones. Each individual item was loud, eye-catching, but all put together it was hard to pick out where one piece ended and another began. Individual flaws were difficult to discern, as were individual styles, all superseded by the effect of the whole.

It was that artwork that had finally helped her understand the meaning of a team, and she had seen it on a school field trip, a thousand miles away from the facility where her brothers had been training as a team without her.

Shaking her head as though she could physically shake off the bad memories, Tylar leaned forward, trying her best to live more in the moment and less in the past. And right now the moment included both cheese and peanut butter, which made it a pretty darn good moment in her book. With a little smile at Skye, a silent thank you for taking the time to share a bit about the song with her, she tucked back in to her supper. The selection of cold nibbles suited her well, as did the white wine, which was gone before she knew it. The offer of whisky perked her ears right up.

"I'll drink to a job well done," She agreed readily, setting her plate aside so she could pour herself a cup. With a flourish she rolled the cup down her arm, giving the bottle a spin before pouring a neat two fingers. Her time as a bartender had been well-spent, and she knew most of the common tricks of the trade. Seeing that Skye still had plenty, she turned instead to the rest of the room, keen to get more cups in more hands. Her eyes rested first on the two ladies on the couch. "Su-Cheong, nice to see you letting loose a little," She commented as she tossed the bottle, this time managing three flips before she caught it, already at the perfect angle for a quick pour. "Remind me, do you take it on the rocks? And Mazi - you like it neat, right?"

@BigPapaBelial@Jamesyco

The awkwardness reverberated across the room, Skye kinda silent for the moment, not wanting to say anything...until the team German did.

"Well, we could just put some Rammstein on, now that's just fucking offensive in general, ja?"
Laura jibed, standing up, all of the large lady menacing across to the kitchen area, giggling as she saw the two cook away, their differences settled but the pork and other food that they were cooking up something she could certainly comment on. Ban was getting some pork out to prepare, and the whisky that he mentioned perhaps putting in made the German lick her lips. The German had of course, totally misjudged just how awkward that situation was, perhaps not being totally aware of that song's reference...but still making a bit of a scene anyway.

"The pork, it's almost as pink as you, ja?" Laura added, looking to the American giant and giggling with laughter, the one that didn't have pink hair, that was, the one that was a hunk. She seemed very, very weird around Oliver. My word, he made Laura's big heart pump a bit harder. She'd seen him in the gym, working away. While she'd been here a while, she never had the courage to actually well, not look like a total freak while talking to him and say what she felt. But my...it was an odd lust. He perhaps just didn't catch onto her tells, or something else. It was going to be exactly as awkward as everyone else would see it, because it was all kinds of awkward.

"You know us. Plenty more food on the plate for us big people, bitte." Laura licked her lips again, chuckling praying Oliver would laugh, or at the least, show something of some emotion. Skye sighed, sipping more whisky back, then shotting it as the situation developed, the whole shebang as classic as Raven ever could be.

"Fucking hell. Can we have one evening without racism, sexism, or Laura trying to come onto everyone?" She muttered, Laura looking across and giggling like a kid.
"Oh, and you don't think you could resist, Miss Lyons?" Laura had most certainly overheard, but Skye, well, she was even sharper.

"Bigger they are, harder they fall, Laura. You think I've never had fun with big girls? Well, lookie here, fancy me putting you on extra PT because well...perhaps I maybe rethought our little arrangement?" Skye's underhandedness was clear, because she kinda wanted to stop it while it got out of hand.

"Okay, okay, point taken." Laura replied with a certain acceptance, Skye having the last word in that saying, as the Scotswoman finished the glass, hearing Su-Cheong's comment from earlier, and taking a moment to reply.

@VeyrinDay

"It's possible enough, no doubt, Su-Cheong. But there's airgaps, enough to buy us time if there was an issue. I was told a previous organisation based itself on an island in the middle of the South Atlantic and was hours from anywhere had the same standard of security as we do, if anything, the fact they hardly know what Raven is helps. I'm not going to complain about this place...sometimes plain sight is as good as it gets." Skye replied to Su-Cheong, before then looking to the two others that had come into the room. A couple more operatives from the pot to use, and both talented in different ways.
"Oh yeah, and Ban? Throw some of this in, will ya?" Skye added, reaching over to the tabletop with the bottle, sliding it over to him. She sat back down, and thought about the other members of the team that had come in since, playing over their strengths in her head. The All-American gunner, and the Israeli hottie.

@Jamesyco

Oliver's talent was spotted by Skye early on, the heavy able to carry a variety of weaponry and serve as the team's medical liason on top of beast with firepower making an obvious choice. It was a natural pairing, like a Paladin almost in the team, and while he sung that rather awkward tune riiiight in front of Howard, she knew he meant well. He was an All-American farmhand, and well, it was sometimes just how it went with this job- you had the loud big Americans who blew shit up and well, Skye put that talent to use.

@Gunther

Then there was Mazi, a talented Israeli soldier that Skye knew would help fill a roll on the team as a general-purpose operative like herself, more versed in explosives and blowing shit up. That was an advantage, over Laura at least in that Mazi wasn't so liberal with it- her experience and confidence under fire resonated, that and the fact that shit, she was going to be another special forces mind on the team to keep the balance. An excellent sparring partner, and someone willing to almost match Skye's relentless, unstoppable nature. Easy to work with, easy to command, and more importantly, versatile at her job. Like a well set Swiss Army Knife, Skye knew the team had strengths across the board and she knew how to wield it when, and how, be they Laura's pyromania or Howard's lethality from afar.

"Feel free to grab something to drink. I think Oliver and Ban are cooking us something up. Smells bloody good....oh aye, that is delish." Skye commented, sighing as she looked around, all the team gathered up and a wholesome moment to say the least.

In their weird, mad way, they worked together. This wasn't a regular special forces unit, that was for sure. Somewhere beteween Bond and well, something altogether else, they all were here because they were talented what they did and made the world tick without them even knowing something was wrong.

@Laser Kiwi

Tylar was already on it, and her skill as a bartender perhaps played into that little trick that Skye also had. Pick the right people for the team. Not just on the battlefield, but off it. They were all oddjobs, but the little things, they ticked in. The skill that Tylar had with drinks, more than just pouring fingers of Whisky made her even reconsider her ban on cocktails. Skye would never be seen with one, but hey, you put the talents of your team to your advantage, and they paid you back and them some, as Skye nodded back to her.

Laura also acknowledged Tylar, looking across from the beanbag, giving a wave as she poured.
"Don't tell Skye, but the bartender knows what she's doing, ja?"

========

The conversation and chats carried on, Skye zoned out for a moment as she felt her phone buzz, an audible alarm that pricked her feeling immediately. With a wry shrug, Skye stood up and headed over to a quieter corner of the room, the encrypted phone call from Oracle- and that only meant one thing. She stayed across the room for at least the best part of twenty full minutes before walking out, away from the sweet-smelling cookery of Ban and Oliver, and the chit-chat of the rest of the team. She didn't do much talking, mostly listening. They'd have time to eat, chat, talk for a little bit longer, but she would be back in time.

Laura looked on, then back at the others as Skye walked out.
"That is the look of "ve are going to go killing again", I think. Anyone want to bet? Strip Poker this one? No, nobody? Urgh, fine." Laura said, shrugging her gargantuan shoulders and casually dropping a reference probably nobody would get, leaning back on the beanbag again, sprawling her mass across it and hiding no part of her figure. But she had a point- Skye didn't take calls like that without reason. It's worth mentioning that Laura's accent then did inflect- whilst sounding like a normal member of the human race, her calling tell was that she sounded as German as they came when thinking of something nefarious in particular. Hard to explain, even Laura didn't get it, but it was a thing.

As if almost on cue to that, the footsteps of the Scottish woman came back, a little more ardent than the ones that left the room. Skye was easygoing, chatty, happy and helpful, nice really ordinarily. Yet now the fires of her hair matched the looking gaze she gave, a driven, almost a mentality that refused to stop and switch off kicked back in like a generator switch coming online. The kind that knew the whisky was gonna sink through enough while they got ready to go, that and the food.

==========

"Right people, listen up. We have a job to do, shit is getting real. We're briefing en-route, but we'll all need to have pretty serious tooling required. Oliver, Tylar, Laura, I want all three of you on this. Su-Cheong, Howard, I'm sending you in advance, again, I'll give details on a need to know. Get kitted now, and we're meeting at 2100 at the helipad, fifteen minutes." Skye barked at the team, taking a look at every member in turn, moving towards the exit of the room. She stopped before leaving, knowing questions would abound- but they'd want to know what kit to have, not why now.
"Nutshell is, there's a critical secure data storage facility buried in the Austrian Alps that's just gotten hit, belongs to a whole plethora of intelligence agencies but put it lightly, they can't afford to lose what's inside there. It's a complex built into the side of Wildspitze, with a significant network inside that contains a series of quantum-encrypted data drives containing a lot worse than your wee maw's sex tapes.

Looks exactly like Black Flag- and expect infantry, helicopters and armed vehicles. A timelock's the only reason we have a chance to respond. They've already got a triple-A presence too so we can't Leroy Jenkins the place- and the majority of it is inside the mountain so we can't bomb it. We need to take out the AA on the face that the complex opens up onto, then rush the place, wipe them out and find out who's on site before they take any data out.

Howard, take an arctic ghillie, and a sniper. Su-Cheong, I need you to spot targets for Howard so take the same, and in infiltrator garb too to get close in and take down the AA assets. We'll paradrop you on the other side of the mountain ridge so bring crampons and axes- you can pick up a sniping position and take out the AA and strays trying to reinforce the base. Su-Cheong, you need anything, you tell Howard.

Tylar, Laura, take your usual. Oliver, bring an M2 or a M134, either/or, and your shield. We're gonna load a drop-pod inside the Osprey, put you inside it, and drop you right onto their front door once that AA platform gets sniped out of commission. You know what to do once you hit the floor. If it moves, kill it.

Mazi, Ban, you two are with me. The V22 will swoop in once the outside is secure. I need you both to be ready for close quarters, and to push forward with the heavies taking the heat through the halls and into the server room. Once there, Su-Cheong, you're up for countermeasuring whatever they are trying to break into the network with.

We all clear? This is need to know, so kit up and we meet at the helipad, wheels up at 2105. I'll explain the rest when we're in."

====

With that, the team was mobilised, and in various shapes and forms, moving to get ready for a fight. A fight Skye wished they weren't on, but hey, that was their jobs.

The majority that didn't have anything else to grab, but they had time to spare. Skye didn't need to tell anyone how this worked. It was instant, and the alcohol would be out of their systems within the time they got close. Skye wouldn't let anyone get too pissed, as much as she enjoyed a finger of whisky, she knew how to keep control. Team mum, after all.

Skye had the chance to lead the first group down the lift, moving into the armoury and quickly finding her kit. Like a Firefighting Unit, they had it ready to go at moment's notice, and Skye's was fairly simple. Fatigues, MG3, MAAWS, AA-12 with a drum. The Osiris Exoskeleton unit, a light carbon-composite and aluminium framed second-generation combat carrying exo and a singular jump-pack did the job for her, providing a fairly typical load-bearing vest, ballistic protection, the MTP fatigues contrasted by navy/green tartan pattern on the exoskeleton's actual frame itself. An updated Ops-Core looking-like helmet followed suit, as did a navy blue baseball cap that tucked under, with a holographic display up on her tactical glasses that came tucked into her fatigues. Skye's setup was more than sometimes a regular medium would have, it made her fast, nimble, heavy hitting and quick. Perhaps not as sharp with a sword like Ban was, or as truly scalpel like as Mazi was, but she could more or less run like a greyhound and chase the team around, like a real team mum would. The buzzsaw loaded, Skye felt the cells power on and the weight get pulled back, the LMG go from a bag of bricks to feeling like an MP5 in her hands, and like she felt like an invisible cable was pulling her up and along. It never got old, as she bounded to the lift, punching the button and awaiting the rest of the team to go up. Skye Rosalind Lyons may have been a cute-looking redhead, but right now, she looked like the mid-21st century's equivalent of a Highlander about to go scalp some English fuckers, a resolute, burning figure on her face.

Looking across to anyone else that was there, she had a readied look on her face, the sort that you'd definitely call a game face.
"Alright then. Another rec night ruined, but still, we have a job to do. Mazi, Ban, just remember to keep out of the killzones so you don't get turned to paste. I'll take any elevated stuff and any opportune targets, you guys focus on the close-in work."

=====

Meanwhile, Laura had gone to the Heavies area, the fact that exoskeletons and heavy armours needed a little more space making it their own section of the sprawling armoury and shooting range. Stripping completely, she didn't take much time to instantly care how the others might feel, just that ehh...it was a thing if she walked about like that. Almost a ritual for her at this point, well, that and it hurt less given the suit was padded and any clothes would just sweat out on it. It was also probably a sight for the team....because Laura really did not give a shit about who she walked in front of in that moment. The THICC armour, as it was lovingly called by probably just Laura, to be honest, was leaving incredibly little to the imagination. A pull on a set of chains and the chest pulled apart, allowing the chunky German to slide in, rather strenously to say the least given her mass, as she pulled eventually in after much grunting. She took the chain that held it open and let it release, the tight suit now skintight to her and the cell-driven muscle-actuation helping her carry the 200kg of reinforced ballistic material and flamethrower tank. The gas mask was the last fitting, for the moment sliding it over the back of her head to keep her face visible, as she moved across the room, flexing.

"Never gets old!" Laura wooped, letting out a Germanic sounding war cry, looking around to see probably the awkward looks from the other two.

"Ah, right....probably had a bit much whisky, ja. Uhh....yeah, with the drop pod you two, don't worry. Might be different to what you're used to, but it's basically a capsule that can fit us, just. When the alarm sounds, just pull the lever in front of your face and the door will fire off, and it'll boot you onto the floor out of the slot you get into. Don't do it when we're high because uhh...yeah, just make sure you aim for someone if you do, right?" Laura added, giggling as she checked the flamethrower's pressure, the ignition coming on as she felt it heat up on her back, chuckling as she slapped her own side, marching on whilst humming and singing along to Erika, yes, the one from the meme. There was an element of absurdity probably to it, but nonetheless, Laura made it her own. Unlike some Russian giants, perhaps she wasn't totally batshit, but absurd? Oh yes. She joined Skye at the lift, the strain from the armour clearly taking a toll on the industrial-grade device, and she had no intentions of going cold turkey with the flamethrower.

Once the team were ready, the lift went up, and they'd be off to the helipad into the back of the V22- ready to set out to go stop shit hitting the fan in the world once more.

Was chopping something, what looked to be butter as he pointed his free hand at Ban, "Hell yea, get that bad boy out bossman, think we got some pork in there. I know there is dough around here somewhere that I made, should be risen by now, but..." He turned to put the little chopped pieces of butter into a bowl, and then he went looking for cheese. "Cheese sticks, wings, spinach dip, and maybe western egg rolls. Something to tide us over until that pork is done. Cause that sounds good... but my lord... this European stuff is fresh." he said, taking a corner of some cheese he found and eating it. He took whatever he could find in the kitchen and started his apps for the day. He knew the others would be hungry, but he knew that the big ones would need to eat. And when I say eat, I mean eat.

He heard the more prominent woman and looked at Tylar, chuckling a bit, "Just give it time, and the pork won't be raw, like five minutes tops."

"And Howard, I know what that song means." he said as he looked up at the man smiling, "Doesn't mean it can't be a damn good song."

But eventually, the massive amounts of carbs and drinking foods would be ready, wings with a jack daniels bbq glaze, fried cheese wedges, spinach dip, chips, and these little tex mex egg rolls. All served with sour cream, ranch, and bbq sauce.
For him, his choice of drink that night was Budweiser, a good American lager.

---

When the call to action was given, he was up, another can of red in his hands as he headed towards where he needed to suit up. He looked down at himself and shrugged, thankful that he had socks with his flip flops, but the rest he looked like your average middle-aged dad. He opened up a small locker. Within, he had a spare jacket, which fit snuggly over his smiley face. Next, he did away with the sweats, leaving them on the boxes side hanging out as he struggled to get his pants to leg on while he tried getting a pair of boots on. Once he looked more like a soldier, he started to put his suit on. First, the inner layer of armor and cloth, the original Ratnik armor, and bits of the actual exoskeleton helped him move and carry more, but also had his shock pads for high drops.

With that on, he stretched them a bit, almost jumping as the shocks moved him up and down a few times, and then he pulled the power pack over his shoulder, plugging in the pack to its little slot, letting it still keep power from the wall, so it didn't use anything else up. He stood and started to put the outer plating on the structure around his legs. Putting in two other power packs in, and then the extra paneling further on the outside for the ERA style materials on his outermost layer.

Next, he started with his upper body, putting the older Ratnik armor on, then the modified exterior exosuit skeleton, then the remainder of his plates on. He shifted around for a moment, raddling and jingling like a Christmas tree before all the plates slowly formed into place.

"If this is a helo jump, you know which way I'm going, put some extra gear in my pod, more ammo for our heavier stuff or some manpad." he leaned into the box, lifting it as he shifted through it, pulling out three backpack looking things, strapping one to both arms on the front, and one just behind his head.

Now, his helmet came last; he removed it from the stand and placed it over his head. He then placed a second almost cover for it over the helmet and shifted his head a bit as he pulled it down with a chain or two, letting it latch onto his armor. The older visor was thankfully updated with a few things, like a battery life indicator and pretty much a dashboard indicator for anything else that might go wrong, from structural failure to needing oil. More mechanical than anything, something breaks, light shows up.

He shook back and forth once again, letting the parts of him fall into place once again, jumping a few times before unhooking himself from the wall. "The M2 or the minigun... why not both," he said, thinking of the GAU-19 that lurked around somewhere; he lifted it and its battery before heading over towards his backpack, putting the battery inside, and then putting a slot in for the belts to go. He locked it to the side of the box before he would go for his other weapons, pulling out two law rockets and putting them to the side of the box. Then he would continue with his rifle, grenades, and extra ammunition. As well as food and medical supplies, he put several trauma kits in there and a mass cas pack. Then his shield and rifle on his chest mounts, as well as a few paint canisters and a mirror for doing stuff on the flight.

He lifted his box and closed it, letting it seal shut before he placed it down, turned around, put a fourth pack onto it. He took the last ran can and put it on a strap on his chest, which a grenade should go to. "Kay, I'm set up for a jump. Does anyone know where the spare manpads are? I'll put that and a bigger gun in my pod with spare supplies? Not going undersupplied again, and before you ask, I am jumping old fashioned style, with a chute and my braces, I had them made for a reason."

When he did find him, his arms were covered with crates, and in his left arm, a 20mm rifle, his right arm had two stingers in their cases. The crates were primarily ammunition and missiles. But some also had food, another small box of medical supplies, a spare crate of armor plates, and a spare shield. He looked like a mother carrying half of the house on vacation, waddling aboard the ship likely before the others as well wanting to get everything set up in his pods before he finally could jump again. And have an excuse to jump properly. When he heard the giant woman singing, he smiled a bit. He did have his earphones still in and his phone ready to start the music back up. He was just debating what to play, maybe a soundtrack to those old doom games, oh, or some old music from when he was just a youngin that his dad listened to.

One of the reason why Su-Cheong requested for a private cabin inside the arming room was her infiltrator suit. The built-in health monitor of her suit would only function in optimal capacity when the fabric directly touched her skin without any hindrance, so was its moisture and temperature balancing features. Su-Cheong approached the corner while she tied her ponytail into bun, quite away from the other squad member and locked herself inside that private cabin. She took off whatever she wore that night, put them in a laundry basin, and let herself slip into the black-colored infiltrator suit. A single push on the wrist-interface forced out all the air and quickly fit the suit tightly to Su-Cheong’s skin. “Ouch!” She flinched when the mechanism squeezed her rather sensitive soft parts. Regardless, the suit still allowed her to move with maximum degree of freedom.

Su-Cheong noticed the console monitor in the arming cabin. Her request for upgrades had been granted. The young woman tested the promised specification and awed by how her body looked almost invisible through the optical camouflage. Regardless, her head was still visible; Su-Cheong noticed the added fabric that she could use to cover her whole head, fully camouflaging her appearance. This was enough for her mission Su-Cheong believed, but she rarely conducted her missions without testing her assumptions. She took no risk of possibly breaking the delicate material of her infiltration suit, though the specification said that it had been applied too, along with the fluidic shock absorber.

That was when her standard military gear came along. Some times before conducting missions with the Raven Squad, Su-Cheong had familiarized herself with the standard gears for light infantry; one which rangers or special forces had been issued to have. Camouflaged shirt and trousers quickly worn on top of her infiltration suit, along with a pair of boots. Austrian alps, the commander said, so a combination of arctic and mountain camouflage would be fitting, Su-Cheong supposed. This also included her body armor, with enough protection to cover her whole torso and allowed for some degrees of mobility. She attached some ammunition pouches and immediately moved toward where her weapons were kept.

Almost all of Su-Cheong’s weaponry previously had their origins from a Belgian manufacturer. She decided to have these all based on their versatility and modifiability. The commander said this was going not to be an urban mission, so the pair of PDW-handgun with the same type of ammo was out of question. Su-Cheong also put her thought of carrying her DMR, but it was now currently stripped. She had no other choice than her bolt-action sniper rifle. Its last barrel configuration had not been changed, so Su-Cheong slip some spares of the Lapua Magnum magazines into her ammo pouches.

Indeed, Su-Cheong still needed to have possible close encounters with the enemy, and that was the reason she still put her PDW into the variable, complete with the red-dot sight and suppressor. So was for her combat knife, she slipped the edge on a v-shaped metallic surface, honing it for the last time before she holstered it. Her eyeball-sized micro-grenades of flash, smoke, and high-explosive also came along in 2-2-2 configuration, all fit inside a palm-sized container she clamped on her belt. She brought along some spare ammunition for her PDW too, the armor piercing 5.7 inside the magazines. Some timed charges might be necessary, so Su-Cheong brought a couple, enough to fit all the packs clamped on her belt. Indeed, all the ammunition she carried were not the common ones. Su-Cheong put a mental note that it might be necessary for her to adapt herself mid-mission in using whatever the enemies would likely use.

Su-Cheong had never been away on missions without her RC drone-camera, her multi-channel goggle, and her scoped rangefinder. All the necessary hacking software she needed had been included inside her smartphone. Also, predicting that this mission might get extended to several days, Su-Cheong brought along the survival pack she always kept it prepared, along with mountaineering equipment, especially axe and crampon. All packed inside the backpack she would be able to carry as she trekked the mission area. Su-Cheong needed to use her RC drone sparingly since the Armory had yet given the necessary optical camouflage to keep it unseen. Having only her infiltration suit to have such feature, Su-Cheong would have to keep any surgical approaches being close and personal.

So there Su-Cheong walked toward the vessel that would carry the squad into their mission area. She kept all her things to require neither of her hands to carry, except for her sniper rifle. Su-Cheong walked herself toward the open ramp of the VTOL aircraft and put her hips down on an empty seat. Seeing that her teammate were not on standby for a briefing, Su-Cheong put her mental state into a meditation she always do at the start of any mission.

The alcohol she was meant to sip had not yet entered her bloodstream, Su-Cheong still had the clarity in her mind. “This is my role in this universe, I shall do my best for whatever the moment shall present itself regardless of the outcome, my success will result in the greater good for mankind at best, my failure will result in my death at worst, and in my death I shall be liberated from one episode of life, life and death are the same and I shall not be attached to one nor be afraid to the other.”

"Dollface, ready to commence the mission."

"Remind me, do you take it on the rocks? And Mazi - you like it neat, right?" asked the American with the light pink hair. Mazi noticed the woman was a large specimen—someone who might fit the axiom, Girl Boss!--quite intimidating.

@Laser Kiwi

“Neat please, I don’t need it watered down.” Mazi responded to Tylar then a pause, “…and thank you!” Mazi quickly got up and moved to acquire the beverage. She took the glass from Tylar and knocked it back, allowing the brown liquid to warm her esophagus as it slowly made its way down to her stomach. “Ooooh, that is some good stuff, ma’am.” Mazi smiled at Tylar.

"Well, we could just put some Rammstein on, now that's just fucking offensive in general, ja?" Laura suggested a music Mazi did not necessarily appreciate, (but her author does) but would listen to it if it was played. “How about Doja Cat or Dua Lipa?” Mazi suggested.

@FourtyTwo

"That is the look of ‘ve are going to go killing again’, I think. Anyone want to bet? Strip Poker this one? No, nobody? Urgh, fine." the large German translated Skye’s appearance for others to know what was about to happen. Mazi did not get the strip poker reference but was prepared to go all in, if necessary. She was confident she had the goods to back up her bet.

Ban and Oliver were cooking up food for everyone. Mazi went over to sample some of their food. She took a few chicken wings, cheese sticks and egg rolls. She took her sampler plate back to the couch to sit down and taste them. She did not grab a lot of food, just enough to get a taste of them. She wasn’t crazy about American food but did like the Japanese fare.

---

Just as Mazi thought she could relax a little, Major Lyons received a phone call. Her expression was such that it was obvious the team had been given a mission. Mazi waited to hear what it was all about. We’re heading into a mountain strong point defense in the Austrian Alps. After the other conduct a SEAD mission (Suppression of Enemy Air Defense), her part would come into play. Major Lyons looked at Mazi as she spoke, “Mazi, Ban, you two are with me. The V22 will swoop in once the outside is secure. I need you both to be ready for close quarters, and to push forward with the heavies taking the heat through the halls and into the server room. Once there, Su-Cheong, you're up for counter measuring whatever they are trying to break into the network with.

We all clear? This is need to know, so kit up and we meet at the helipad, wheels up at 2105. I'll explain the rest when we're in."

Mazi hurried away from the rec room back to her room thinking she would need her winter camouflage. More than likely those mountains are covered in snow still. She had acquired the new IDF kit 300 camouflage which blends in with a desert as well as a winter wonderland like the Alps. Mazi rarely wore warm underclothing, but something told her, it was a good idea this trip. She pulled on a pair of wicker leggings, wicker top, then a warm pair of socks. Next, she pulled the winter camouflage over her under things. On her belt, she pulled on her Leatherman and Mark II survival knife. She then pulled her black combat boots on, laced them up and tied them off, tucking the laces into the top. She used a lightweight tactical rappel harness, that wrapped around each leg and her waist with a locking D and Figure 8 descender attached to the front. She put this on in case she needed to make an ascent or a rappel. Her tactical pistol belt and holster, was pulled on next to go along her right thigh under the assault vest. Then the assault vest fitted with magazine pouches for the Tavor Submachine gun and the Tavor 7 assault rifle. There were also pouches for the Masada handgun. Once her vest was snapped in, she began inserting magazines into all the pouches and even four fragmentation grenades into the grenade loops. She tucked a few smoke grenades into her buttpack along with four pounds of C4 explosives. Alon with the explosives were four M60 firing devices, a hundred meters of detonation cord and two meters of fuse cord. She made a mental note to ask Ban if he wouldn’t mind carrying the blasting caps. The caps were individually placed in a wooden box about he size of a back of cigarettes. Each cap was in its own slot. It was considered bad manners to carry both the explosives and the blasting caps on the same person. The caps were explosive, like a firecracker. With wood as good resistance, it was ideal for carrying the volatile tools. She carried fifteen of the twenty 20-round magazines for the Tavor 7 and eight of the SMG mags along with three pistol magazines. A few boxes of loose rounds were included in her left cargo pocket. Then she slipped on her tactical fingerless gloves, color white and finally her High Cut Helmet with NOD mounted on front. She snapped the chin strap, placed her pistol in its holster, slung the SMG over the right shoulder and the assault rifle over the left. If she were jumping, she would get her chute rig at the Osprey. But she was pretty sure her, ban and the Major would get out when their VTOL aircraft landed after the SEAD mission was complete.

@BigPapaBelial

Once she was aboard the aircraft she took a seat near the front. She put her earbuds in and set her playlist to her favorite playlist. The first song to play was Don’t Start Now, by Dua Lipa followed by Get Into It by Doja Cat.

“Gray Wolf ready!” Mazi announced when she was ready for the operation.

@Jamesyco @VeyrinDay @FourtyTwo @Laser Kiwi @Gunther



Howard sighed heavily. And shook his had, "Calls to mind very dark memories of the American Indian and First Nations people." He shakes his head and shrugs going back to his drink for now. He can't exactly fault Oliver really. But yeah can't change everyones mind. He just hums then leans forward. Here comes another of the Crazies in this group. Not that he's one to talk. He did business with a whole other group of crazies before. This is just a new batch. It almost felt like he's the only normal one of this crew really. But they all meshed and gelled rather well so why change anything. Crazy can be good.



Ban got to his feet and went to the fridge, out from it he pulled some pork cutlets and smiled, on went an apron...where he got it anyone has yet to find out. It's like he just pulls it out of thin air. He's even managed to produce it out in the field when he's making scorpion kabobs. And to the counters he goes. Reaching up towards the rack of cooking implements he brought with him. Fine Japanese style cooking ware. Knifes and cleavers that have their own hamon. The knives, forks and tongs cleaned and honed to mirror finishes. Out from the wood block he keeps them in, he looks at the edge then passes a Honing Steel stick over his knives quickly. He nods, "Now let's see...a fine cut. Yes this won't take long."

Ban can be a whirling dervish of death and blood on the battle field. But to see him working in the kitchen, gives another angle to his craft. The Pork is sliced carefully, and added to a pan he's prepared, the sizzle of the meat as it hits the oil, spices and a light sauce he mixed up being added. A back up wok because he failed to get his premium one used with oil and water, various vegetables. He's a ever moving image of precision and care as he works. The scent of cooking food soon filling that corner of the rec room. A grin of pure unadulterated professionalism on his face.

The appetizers are brought out while he's cooking. Grabbing one of the bottles of whiskey at one time. Turning to the crew and with a grin, a turn of his hand and WOOSH! A tower of flame as the whiskey is added to the pork. Crackling and fire and back onto the heat. An artist in the kitchen, a beast on the battlefield.

Before too long he serving plates of well cooked whiskey and homemade hoisin cooked pork slices with a wok cooked vegetables with a hint of a spice. Elegant for something he just tossed together. As he cleans his tools, he watches from the kitchen, the biggest smile on his face as he samples his own creation.



Ban is finishing clean up and listening closely to the briefing. He hums, "A time locked vault. Expensive. Useful." He sniffs and finishes with his cleaning. Listening close. The Ex-Yakuza's eyes darting around as orders are given. And then they are moving to get kitted up.

Howard moves as soon as the order is given. He's making his way over to his little corner of the armory. He nods to Skye, "Long Rifle, Arctic Ghille, picks and cleats." He nods looking at his equipment, pulling things off the wall. The Lynx of course. Kitted to hit flesh just as hard as it hits materials. In other words there will be quite abit of red mist when he's done. And from the mass of hand made, carefully kept ghilles at white, silver and grey cape ghille, with white, grey, and black toned jacket, shirt, pants and boots. He's quickly dabbing on his Hunters Mask paint. Then grabbing the rest of his kit. A snap-click the bow is small enough to carry across his chest, the quiver at his hip. Tomahawks, bone handle knife, back up carbine. And then the Lynx. And in place of where Howard was shortly before a Yeti. Holding a rifle big enough to take out a light armored vehicle.

Ban is also at his section of the armory. Armor, padded hat, the whole she-bang before he even touches his weapons. His rifle strapped across hia back, machine pistol at his hip. And then with reverence and care he pulls the katana out of it's padded position. A light jerk and the blade slides free, silver edge, with the almost tsunami wave like hamon of the blade gleaming. He checks it for defects, brushing aside abit of fluff from after he drew it. Careful not to touch the mono-molecular edge of the blade. Then with care the scabbard slide back over the blade, and he's belting it to his side.

Their outfitting complete Ban heads to the helipad, using the time to walk there to paint on a a kabuki mask. Waiting by the V22 for the rest of the team before he boards.

Howard joins the early birds at the helipad, decked out in ghille, rifle most apparent held over his shoulder. He looks about, in his off hand he's carrying a parachute pack, ready to strap on and go. He boarded up behind Ban when he does and plunked himself down beside Mazi, "Lasagna ready." He nods to her as he eases down.

Ban took a seat turning just as he does as Mazi waves at him. He leans over, "Yes Zamiyr-san?" The questions if he could carry the blasting caps is asked and he hums, "I shall give them to you before I enter close combat with the enemy then." He nods taking the wooden box, and carefully placing it within the small combat pack he has on his back, as he perfers to travel light when in combat.

"What do we need watered down around here?" Tylar joked as she handed Mazi the glass. It was a flippant comment, but wrapped around an important nugget of truth. Raven Squad doesn't pull their punches, literally or metaphorically. From the little tiff over music earlier to Skye's heartfelt music, the unit had a freedom of expression rarely seen in such a highly militarized environment. It was something Tylar was still getting used to, after so many years of intentionally holding herself back, tempering her personality to fit within the confines of her previous life.

That was how she thought about it. There was her civilian life, something she missed not at all, and her life with her brothers. That had its fair share of nostalgia, but more for the untimely loss than any deep happiness found there. As odd as it seemed, this was probably the highlight of her life, and Tylar tried her best to appreciate that as she poured more drinks and even tried a bite or two of new foods, chatting and laughing with her teammates as they relaxed.

Despite several drinks, her massive size and quick metabolism meant she was only very slightly tipsy when Skye announced their next job, and by the time she finished jogging back to her quarters to grab some new clothing she was starting to sober up. What the mission was didn't matter much to her - the technical details of data storage were Greek to her, and even if someone took the time to explain she wouldn't care. Maybe some of it was being a good soldier, but a lot of it was just straight up not giving a damn. Someone else much smarter and more informed than her could decide who were the good guys and the bad guys, come up with a battle plan, all that jazz. All she needed to know was how much damage she could do.

And on an op like this, it sounded like her favorite answer: all of it.

But first, skincare. Bubblegum-scented micellar water removed her previous lightweight gel moisturizer, and she replaced it with a light layer of rose hip oil followed by an intense hemp night cream that would keep her skin from getting dried out by the cold, thin mountain air. Similarly, she picked out warm thermal leggings and a skintight turtleneck athletic-style shirt, both in pure white. Her exosuit was more than capable of keeping her warm and the filter would warm the air somewhat before she breathed it, but the suit wasn't exactly comfortable and she didn't plan in lounging around in it after the job, so she packed a big puffer jacket and a pair of Uggs into a vacuum bag and shrank them down to fit in her kit.

Jogging into the armory in her cozy winter socks, Tylar takes her place next to Oliver and Laura, the last to arrive but also the quickest to prepare. Her suit isn't quite as straightforward as his, requiring a bit more wiggling and tugging to get the flexible ceramics around some of her, to put it gently, less streamlined anatomical features, but not nearly so much wriggling and jiggling as Laura. Despite herself the pink-haired heavy can't help but stare a little, enthralled by the way her teammate moves. If only she had that kind of confidence in her body. Then again, if her body looked like that...

Brushing those thoughts aside, Tylar busied herself getting Thomoas ready. It was always a little tricky getting the cords plugged in, but once he was fully connected she spun up the accelerator to make sure everything was in working order. Without any rounds in it, obviously. The telltale whine of the electromagnets brought a smile to her face that she covered quickly with her helmet, stowing the railgun over her shoulder as she grabbed the rest of her kit. Though she would likely be in Thunder Configuration for the entire op, she still packed fairly light, just a small bag with lifesaving essentials, her sidearm James, and a few grenades for good measure. Oliver would be far better supplied than her for the job, but there was always the possibility of getting separated, and a few grenades could help fix that in the right circumstances.

She lingered looking at her drone for a minute, but Skye hadn't mentioned it and it sounded like most of the op would be indoors, so she just kept walking. She would have offered to help the others carry their things, but from experience she knew that they were more than capable of handling loads that would crush a smaller person. "Thirteen locked and loaded," she confirmed as she heard the others report in.

Falling into position beside the German giantess, she couldn't help but give her a concerned look at the suggestion to just aim for a person. "Have you ever actually had to do that, break your fall with a hostile?" Tylar asked, trying to sound more curious than alarmed. She did not succeed.

@Laser Kiwi@Jamesyco

Laura chuckled in her characteristic laugh, looking to Oliver, watching as he came over with all of his gear, ready to go and ready for anything. What Laura had in dedicated flames he had in versatility, a walking pillbox with supplies to boot, able to take on an army alone. No doubt he had, Laura wondered to herself. Then again, all she needed was her ass, a flamethrower, a Trophy system to not go boom, and that would do her fine.

"Alright then, Oliver. If you're dropping in, big Star Spangled Banner on your parachutes, just remember, you can shoot back, but your parachutes are not as armoured as you, ja? Though you'd be coming in hot as fuck...normally as you do....shit, did I say that out loud?"

Laura giggled, looking across at the Stingers that he was casually dragging, as well as the cargo container of gear he was carrying. Oliver was ready to go, and well equipped for the job. The other heavy clunking of Tylar and her big railgun, well, an impressive tool and no less one that would get even more accurate with every shot.

"That is why they call me Big Bertha, Tylar. Hit like an artillery shell...and makes a softer landing. Very fun!" Laura giggled, as she looked across to the other pink-exoskeleton wearing heavy, as they all headed outward, the sight of the fuck-off sized railgun that Tylar carried a sight to behold. Inaccurate, but when it hit something, it no longer existed as matter. No doubt Oliver would have the pick of helis, her the pick of anyone with skin, and Tylar anything else.
"And oh, yeah....you know, the you know, it helps. Know you know it. Momentum, ja?" Laura chuckled heartily knowing full well what Tylar was looking at, the lift shifting the whole team upwards, and towards their awaiting beast.

---

The sight of the crew gathering in the V22's hold was quite something, Skye adjusting her helmet and setup, seeing one by one, the team filter through. Ready to go. Her glasses popped up with the mission's intel, and her blue buff sat out of the collar of her combat uniform, perhaps an identifier for the team lead if the red hair wasn't a dead giveaway.

"Comms check, team?" Skye called out, gently cradling the MG3 in her arm, looking across as the team, one by one, got on board. The sight of warriors, an unorthodox team, but the one that got the job done. The noisy aircraft demanded hearing protection, either with earplugs, headsets, headphones/earphones, or the hell else they had, because even with the fact this thing was optimised towards stealth, it still made a hell of a racket.

"So, you all know your jobs, yeah? Do that, and stay on focus. On that note....get yourselves a couple of hours of shut-eye. We'll stop for fuel and then hit the base. I'll go through the plan when I get more details of what assets we have to hand." Skye seemed firm, and while a few team members would truly be wondering what the fuck was going on, that would come in time. A time closer to when they got there, when all of Skye's plans lined up.

Skye checked her comms, the voice of the Senegalese pilot coming through, the man, the myth and the legend that was Vincent Cisse, an FFL trained combat pilot who Skye had grown to love. A charming, sweet man who could fly just about anything, including this warbird as elegantly as his tones had.

"Queen, we are on track for our fuel stop. You sure this plan of yours is going to work? I don't like the idea of getting hit, non?" Vincent asked through her radio, Skye reassuring as ever.

"Affirm. I've always kept you alive, Vincent, no plan on changing that today. My team will do their job. You know yours." Skye replied, as she took a seat and put her own earbuds in under her helmet, putting on some old Ben Howard, shutting her own eyes and taking a moment to just think it through. Play out the scenario. Play out the plan.

Execute, and the rest would flow.

================================================================================================================







The base itself was a fairly simple setup- on the southern side of an Austrian mountain, a large hangar containing vehicles and other equipment, with server rooms, a control room that stood as a monolithic server base for highly sensitive storage. Kinda like their home base, it was a relic of the Nazis, but this one was far more incredible, perhaps even an old V2 manufacturing facility buried high, very high in the mountains.

The place was modernised, but had an industrial, gritty look with walkways and gantries all over, corridors lining the insides both wide and narrow, hard to mine and completely cover. It had an open area outside with a helipad and a small motor pool, where AA and other vehicles had been parked up, as well as enemies encamped. A tiny windy snow-covered pass went down the mountainside into the green valley below, far below the snowline and a pass that would be hard to climb otherwise.

Breaching it would have been nigh impossible given the defenses and the lack of knowledge to find it, but still, Black Flag had taken it, and set up shop while they broke into the servers.

But Raven would take it back. A challenging operation for any special forces team, impossible given the numbers Black Flag had there, almost a company strength. But nine people were about to even the odds.

==========


@BigPapaBelial@VeyrinDay@Theyra
0430 Hours

The scene of the early morning Alps was incredible, the horizon from this height visible as a pink, splattered smear past the clouds, the V22 suprisingly low on the mountainside and out of the view of the base itself. The drop that the lights would have would be minimal all things considered, given the V22 was using the mountainside as cover from the AA platforms on the other side. They could drag radar-guided missiles high, but not THAT high, after all....

The first part of the op was critical, and the bit that Skye knew would be the difference between a soft landing and a hard one.

"Alright then. Dollface, Lasanga, you two are up first. We're dropping you on the far side of the mountain, and you'll need to be stealthy. Lasanga, recomend you direct her in and cover, Dollface, you get in close and do your thing. Stay the fuck out of sight from choppers, and don't go direct into infantry- there will be patrols all over the mountainside and at the entry to the base itself

"It will be infested with soldiers, and there's two Buk radar-guided missile units, and four Tunguska SPAAGs that somehow got to the top. Man-portable Stingers are also a thing, so Lasanga, you snipe anyone carrying it when they realise the air that's coming in. The platforms need to be eliminated, either by killing their operators, or sabotaging the units, ideally, both. Either way, get creative. I leave that to you sneaky fuckers."

"I've got another asset in play who might be able to help you out, Dollface. If you see someone else cloaked, he's probably sorted the AA. Jaguar happened to be in the right place, at the right time..." Skye added, walking up to the two of them, her imposing stature changing, her steel, firm demeanour for a moment, warm as ever.

"You've both got this. Black Flag might be scary. But we're fucking better." Skye firmly said, a wry smirk coming up as the rear door opened, the pink horizon on view, as the pilot's intercom buzzed.

"Standby for drop. We're a thousand feet off the deck, low pull zone!" The Senegalese pilot called out, Vincent's smooth French-African tones a charm, and well, they weren't far off the deck. Enough time for the lights to leap and deploy their chutes, clamber the mountain, get an overwatch and get to work.

The cold of the white mountains at dawn could be felt, and watching the two lights bail and onto their parachutes quickly, the V22 dived steeply, away and out of the combat zone briefly, knowing they'd return soon enough.

---


@Laser Kiwi@Jamesyco
0530 Hours

Stealthily breaking in? Well, okay, it had its merits. The Lights, whatever their action, had done what was needed to at least buy them something resembling an opening. It was enough to roll the dice, so Skye hoped.

The Heavies were gonna blow shit up.

And the cargo bay with the drop-pod was now the next scene, ready to send the second wave, the biggest one, straight into the mix, doors opened, the glowing orange sky now fully in view.

"Right then, you big bastards are next. You have about half a dozen Lynx helicopters to take down that intel says are patrolling the high valley, all armed with 20 mil cannons and rocket pods. They can definitely blow you up, so blow them up first. Nord, your big GAU and Stingers should shred them, Thirteen, you should focus on the insides, take out any entrenched machine gun positions or serious firepower that could hurt the rest of us. Big Bertha, you uhh...do you."

"The base's outside is well defended, but needs to be completely clear for us to come in. Then you can get to work on the inner area, mainly the hangar. Remember, you'll be totally surrounded, so capitalise on your firepower, blow shit up and don't allow too much heavy shit to focus on you. Go get it done, team." Skye retorted, again, a mum, but to a fucked up pyro and two relatively normal heavies, well, Skye guessed so. They knew this gig.

"My pleasure." Laura replied, opening up the pod and clambering in through the narrow entry port, securing up Oliver's Stingers in his seat, and setting herself up. It would have been enough to probably carry almost half a squad worth of soldiers, but in this case, enough for three. The seats could take a heavy and their big packs, and were designed in mind with the size that they brought, Laura's less so, but still. A hydraulic cylinder would literally fire the Tylar and Laura out in those seats, in a similar manner to an ejection seat but nowhere near as powerful, helping the heavies to avoid becoming a big RPG target and instead actually scattering them so that they had spread to blow shit up in a pincer. Instead of a parachute, they had a weird airbag-looking item underneath their seats, a device Laura was very, very proud of. For a very nefarious reason, as it would turn out.

Sitting down, she hooked herself in, looking to Tylar, lying down on the flat seat, head facing up, legs tucked in.
"The bit between your crotch, pull that big red handle when you see the red turn to green. Within two seconds, your seat should fire you through your window, have an airbag fire out of the bottom of it and kill the fall before you go splat. Or you go splat inside here. I don't know, it's your life, ja?" Laura retorted to Tylar, sighing as she pulled the gas mask over her head, peeking out of the two narrow holes, taking deep breaths as she checked her arm-mounted PDA, the flamer ready to send it.

"No pressure, right?" Laura's awkwardness continued, even in spite, as the door opened once again, and ready for Oliver, Tylar and Laura to go. Skye sighed, looking across, the pod centered in the middle of the V22's bay, and well, ready to be sent to whoever was now addressed "The Occupier".

With a pull of a cable ratchet in the bay the pod was yanked out, and Oliver would no doubt follow after it, the pod falling faster and faster, accelerating through the winter skies towards the mountain, the pod itself steering its' own way in thanks to some fancy airbrakes.

The whole thing fell like a brick out of the V22 with the two inside, but it was a fun brick to be inside.

"Wooooo! Tiny Nord, you sure you don't want in!?" Laura screamed, looking across to Tylar, the display showing the landing zone below right in the base, and it was rapidly coming up.

"Oh, and I packed something special for ze airbags, yours too....the boss doesn't even know!" Laura had the look of a girl who had pissed her pants at Prom, totally giddy and excited with glee as they fell, Laura getting herself ready, tanks at the ready. The look in Tylar's eyes no doubt reflected the madness in Laura's, staring through the holes of the gas mask, her wild looks still burning bright. No doubt at this point Oliver would see the groundrush hitting hard as he followed the pod, but for Laura and Tylar, they were still going to the floor.

The pod's parachutes fired barely almost 200ft from certain impact, the noise of gunfire rippling the drop pod, no matter how low they were, it wasn't enough to make them target number one falling out of the fucking sky. Like a lander coming in onto the surface of Mars, it wasn't exactly a significant brake, but enough to at least jolt them back to a survivable speed, or at least, their next phase.

"Wait for it...wait for it.....now! Schnell!" Laura yelled, as the light above them reflecting in the panelling went from red to a green, an indicator that they had just hit 50ft off the deck, the spot that Laura had calibrated this for. Low enough to live, high enough to not go splat.

If ever there was a time for a practical joke, it wasn't then. But oh, Laura felt it had to be. Laura pulled the big handle between her legs, and the thick heavy was fired out of the side pod with a whoosh, knowing in a split second she'd seen an enemy gun post right below the pod, and she was aiming right at it. The seat was still at a 90 degree angle, Laura aware that she was flying straight towards a machine gunner...

And the gigantic pair of breasts with a German flag across them inflated to the size of Laura herself from the pouch below the seat, the boobies shaped airbag bursting violently to life, one that suddenly enveloped the poor machinegunner's view, and well, was the last he ever got. Laura was sent forwards through the sandbagged position, sending her flying out of the seat and skidding on her ass, aware of enemies pretty much everywhere around as she stood up, the adrenaline roaring inside of the pyro's mind. And being an engineer, and a narccistic girl at times...well, it had to follow form to someone like her, right?

A fucked up mind, but one that only got the giggles from actually doing that....again. Laura hoped Tylar enjoyed that install she had on hers as much as she did, or well, she was getting a serious slap later.

"Wilkommen all....it's time to heat this mountain up!" Laura's flames began, and the madness continued, the pyro covering the other two as she headed towards gunfire and towards an enemy squad, flamethrower in play.

--

@BigPapaBelial@Gunther
0540 Hours

"Fuck me, they've done an number on the base! Not bad!" Skye called out to Ban and Mazi, nodding as she looked on at the damage below out of the rear door on the "porch" of the site, the front of the base pouring with fire of literal kind and gunfire too. How that had happened, well, that would come in the debrief later, whatever it was they had hit.

"We've got Austrian security forces down the bottom of the pass giving us a cork to the bottle. So it's just us and these bastards. Lock and load, you two!" Skye excitedly called out, for someone who was about to get shot at and jump around, well, it made no sense. The sky turned to a bright shade of yellow, the sunrise on the mountain glowing the whole complex, aside from the innards that were dark.

The lights had set themselves up. The Heavies had landed. And now, it was the rest of her team's turn, as she looked to them.

"You guys take the ropes, and remember, stick to the narrower corridors. The Heavies have the hangar and the main routes through. There'll be a lot of resistance, so fluid, nice movement wins." Skye advised her two, as the V22 came on final approach, jolting into place as Vincent elegantly parked it right over a small clearing of the base's outer area.
"I'll take the express." Skye ran forwards, and without even taking the rope out of the back, leaped directly down almost two storeys, clattering with a gentle roll as she took the MAAWS and prepping it, sent a round into the hangar, seeing past where the Heavies had created a beachhead, the one that gave them room. The sight of a corridor getting blown to bits was sufficient, as she went back to the MG3, and Queen found her flow.

The sight was quite something, as Skye leaped over a container stack, unloading her MG3 on a group of stray hostiles, running off them and dropping onto the floor, seeing the others start to come into play. The symphony was playing its tune, hitting its crecendo and amping it up to the next level...wait, was that a deflated pair of boobs? Two sets? Never mind.

"Queen to all callsigns, let's fucking hustle, rally up and let's keep going. Heavies, you have the floor, clear the main hangar and secure our rear against any movers. They'll likely have emplaced up, so blow anything apart in your way. Lights, snipe and shoot away at reinforcements outside and any helos left, though Dollface, get your arse down here, stat. Grey Wolf, you've got the lower walkways, I'm going up to the top end of the hangar to lay out some fire. We'll move to the main server room through the right of the hangar and secure that!"

"Oh, and Shimura? Go do your thing too...you know." Skye added, the momentum of the Scot enough to keep her out of harm's way, moving from cover to cover and knowing the medium team could now go between the chaos and anarchy to pick off the sides and pierce the facility where the heavies took the heat.

He gave one good kick to make sure that the stuff he shoved in his pod was set. He smiled softly, looking at the pod, "soon, my babies." he listened to the comms and moved away from the pod. "Laura, you should know that I like jumping from perfect planes. And I know this is nerdy as hell, but still."

He was sure of himself at that moment; he was staring at the door as he wanted to jump out; he wanted to feel someone tap his shoulder before he jumped. So, he was waiting, and when he heard the pod begin the move, he turned to watch it. Once he saw the pod falling out of the plane, he took that as the sign to get the hell out as well.

"He ain't gonna jump no more!" he sang out as the wind hit the man's armor, "Glory glory, what a helluva way to die!"

This would be something that would continue to drop down out of the sky singing 'Blood Upon the Risers' He looked at the little watch taped to his wrist, then the ground, then the watch. He looked at the pod's parachutes open up, "See you, ladies, on the ground!"

He blasted past them, and at around one fifty his chutes opened up, and his legs braced below him. He hit a moment later, and it sounded like metal shifting as the bracers he had made for the suit made sure that the impact wouldn't kill him, damage the suit, or damage him. They spun down as he almost bounced a few times, snow plumed up around his impact location, and slowly rested upon the parachutes that popped off of his armor.

Out from the snow, bullets would come out of the snow, mainly at anything he saw from his place on the mountain, or over the mountain and that was in range. The helicopters were his first quarry, and he would get to work with that. The GAU-19 over his shield, he had himself bunkered in there ready for anything but those rockets if they came his way. He was thankful that for a large armored target, he was rather small compared to the woman of fire somewhere behind him.

"Tell me if you see anything come over the peak, these two should be down here in a second, but it's all I see right now on this side of the peak!" he said into the comms, the GAU quieting for just a moment as he caught the second lynx he saw in the tail rotor. And although he was being shot at, he turned towards the last door on the pod, and he slid his shield under it as he pulled the hatch off to his sweet babies.

"Or if anything else unexpected flies this way, I can hit it before it hits us."

The Alps, this data storage facility had to be in the freezing Austrian Alps, Mateo thought as he was climbing the rockface. His suits set to arctic camouflage as he climbed up the mountain. So it would be harder for anyone to spot him though, from this approach, it was hard already. At least his suit offers some comfort from the cold as he made his way to the top. For him, Mateo will be glad once this mission is over and he is back in La Source. He stopped for a moment and turned his head to see behind him. Donning a small smile, at least the view is nice.

After some time, Mateo reached the top of the iceface, and once on top, he quickly took cover behind a rock and put his climbing gear away. Taking a peek to see what he was up against and, like his briefing said, plenty of troops and, more importantly, his targets. The AA platforms and he has two C5 changes with their names on them. Taking a moment to switch his suit to cloaking, and once done. Mateo took out his pistol and made sure it was ready to go. Once then, he waited for an opening in the patrols and took it once he saw it.

Silently dodging patrols and moving from cover to cover. Mateo was hesitant to kill right now, not wanting to risk someone finding a body and alerting them before the rest of the Raven show up but will kill if needed. Noting that these guys most really want this data if this is what they are fielding to take it. It did not take long before it was close to the first AA platform.

However, he saw that there were two guards what was clearly not going anywhere soon, and time was of the essence. Less these guys get the data they want. So Mateo aimed his pistol at the heads of the two but at the last second. Both of them started walking and looks like continuing their patrol. Mateo let out a quiet sigh, that was lucky for them and for him, and he moved to the AA platform. Mateo placed a C5 charge on the platform and in a spot that would be hard to see. Then started moving to the second AA platform.

This time no one was busy standing still near it, so Mateo had an easier time with it. Planting the second change and like before. Placing it in a spot that would be hard to see. There, all ready to go, Mateo thought and moved to a safe distance behind some boxes. Okay, the AA is ready to go, and there goes the easy part. The hard part will be the SPAAGs since he does not have enough C5 for them. But he has done hard before, and he can figure out something. Though Mateo did wonder how they got the SPAAGs in the Alps and why. Did they airlift them by helicopter? He shook his head, and they really want this data.

Either way, they will not get it if he and the rest of Raven have a say about it. But, before he would head to the SPAAGs. Mateo pulled out his C5 detonator and pulled the trigger. Seconds later, both of the AA platforms exploded, and he radioed in. "Queen, this is Jaguar, the AA platforms are down, heading to deal with the SPAAGs now." Now to deal with the SPAAGs, Mateo's final thought before moving on, and he has an idea of how to deal with the SPAAGs. Just now time to see if it works.

The briefing was quick, just like how the Raven Squad would always expect. Circumstances might happen in the middle of their operation and they were trained to handle such dynamics. Su-Cheong took in the mental note about her task to disable the AAs and to infiltrate the data center these people had entrenched themselves in. She had to make her jump, something that she should expect but never had time to perfect the skill. Su-Cheong disliked how she should rely on the nature being good to her every time she did this. The wind speed and direction, the temperature, the humidity of the air surrounding had to come into the equation. This was where Su-Cheong realized that she might need to adjust her calculating habit to not become something more like an debilitating overthought.

The platform was lowered and the cold morning wind invaded the space they took inside the VTOL aircraft. Su-Cheong raised the mouth cover of the exposed part of her infiltration suit and lowered the multi-channel goggle, switching it for the normal sight. The light adjustment enabled her to clearly see her squad mates even with the limited lighting of the passenger bay. Su-Cheong waited for Howard’s sign, but he just gave her the coordinate where she should land through his PDA. The location augmented Su-Cheong digital visor with visual cues of point, direction, and range. Howard then gave her a nod, a gesture Su-Cheong had accustomed herself to be interpreted as “you can jump now.” Indeed, the engine was loud and physical gestures could convey the short message more clearly than some words.

Su-Cheong had both her hands free, with all her weaponry and stuffs carried around the rucksack she tied on her hip. The backpack she wore was the reusable parachuting equipment she needed to use for this aerial entry, a standard issue for this era’s airborne troopers. The way that she would have to quickly detach this parachute as she would land later was quite ironic against the essentiality of her clandestine mission. The choice of having a portable jetpack did not make any difference, only for the more expensive cost per-use, more detectable heat signature, and that she could never simply burn it if the necessity arrived. Some said it would give her more control mid-descent, but the benefit clearly could not outweigh the cost.

That was why Su-Cheong always preferred rappelling, but she jumped regardless. A rather reckless attempt was made, as she attempted to dive from the platform like an olympic diver taking off from the jumping board. Su-Cheong knew such act of stunt would annoy some of her squad mates, seeing her as rather pretentious, but she did not care. The thrill felt so much fun for her as she twisted and rolled mid-air, as little as the equipment she carried allowed her to do so. She guessed that such act could make an ordinary enlisted personnel be discharged if he survived the stunt, but she was a Raven.

After several meters of descent, Su-Cheong assumed the standard procedure of para-dropping. She extended her limbs to give her more control for her fall. Su-Cheong was still able to see the digital indicator for the waypoint she had to reach, her stunt had not jeopardized her mission. The altimeter showed the how fast she descended and when to pull her parachute out. Su-Cheong began to wonder whether she had relied too much on technology in performing her mission.

It was quite sudden, the static filled Su-Cheong’s vision in her goggle and suddenly turned the altimeter off. This made quite a surprise for her, but she had to remain calm. Su-Cheong still remembered the last metrics shown in her electronic vision and calculated when she had to pull the parachute. Eventually, she pulled it and fortunately the parachute functioned well. However, as she made her attempt to direct her descent, and updraft blew her parachute out of control. Su-Cheong was about to get pummeled into a rock formation, just in time when she managed to cut herself from the parachute.

The rigging unraveled themselves as Su-Cheong fell, releasing her from the rucksack and weapon case. As she rolled along the snowy slope, Su-Cheong tried to reach her weapon case first. She was able to catch it back and stopped her fall. Down below, she saw her rucksack bumped against a rock formation and stopped tumbling. Su-Cheong carefully put herself into position and allowed herself to slid on her hip along the slope, her legs controlled the direction. She was able to get her equipment back. Su-Cheong tried to find where her parachute fell, but she could never see it anywhere.

This soldier immediately checked for any injuries. It was quite miraculous that she only felt small bruises around her joints. The shock-absorber built into her infiltration suit was able to reduce the impact. However, Su-Cheong needed to postpone any celebration as she had to get into cover and finish the first phase of her mission. Her multi-channel goggle still malfunctioned and she had to rely on her navigation skill. Unfortunately, this was not the season when the sun would get up early. Su-Cheong’s vision was limited, it was hard for her to determine her current location from the map.

Suddenly, Su-Cheong could hear a pair of explosions from one side of the mountain. It was likely that Jaguar had just disabled some of the AA placement. Su-Cheong looked again at her map and compared the sound direction against the AA supposed location she remembered photographically when she browsed the datafile given to her during the briefing. She felt quite fortunate that the updraft brought her to the closer side of the mountain. Another look-around gave Su-Cheong some visible rising smoke from the exploded AA position. Using her sniper scope, Su-Cheong could determine the AA type from their husks. She was now fully aware where she fell.

“Dollface to Lasanga, I’m proceeding to Waypoint 2, shall I proceed, over… Dollface to Lasanga, do you copy, over.”

No answer from the other side, Su-Cheong knew that this was unnecessary. She could immediately proceed with the mission, one thing she need to confirm was some intel that her intended target might had reacted with the explosion.

“Dollface to Queen, I’m moving to Waypoint 2, need to confirm about target, over… Dollface to Queen, do you copy, over.”

Not even her superior made any response. Su-Cheong began to wonder whether her radio malfunctioned or somehow these people could jam their communication line. Both possibilities would be dire in their consequences, though Su-Cheong could say that the equipment malfunction was less probable, having witnessed them surviving submersion and collision tests. Regardless, she had to proceed with her mission whether the situation changed or not, using the old intel if the new one could never be acquired.

Su-Cheong moved to a rather covered position, then prepared her small UAV. She reconfigured the sensor to catch any incoming radio transmission and pinpoint the source. As she turned the UAV on, Su-Cheong noticed that her fall had not damaged it and no indication of jamming against its control. She flew it as far as her range of control allowed it. Then, not longer than five minutes, the UAV fed Su-Cheong’s goggle with the position of the enemy units placements around her. This also surprised her as suddenly her previously jammed device turned back on.

“Dollface to Lasanga, reporting in, over… Dollface to Queen, reporting in, over.” No response yet from both Su-Cheong’s attempts to call. This young woman then proceeded with the limited intel she already had.

Su-Cheong noticed the AA had some elements of MANPADS operators among them, attached to a platoon of three squads, with two of them being the almost similar to standard infantry configuration. Each squad brought along an all-terrain IFV with them. There were three platoons under a single company with one of them dedicated in full-AA configuration. Every elements were in full mechanized all-terrain configuration.

If Su-Cheong immediately shot at the MANPADS operators, they would notice and simply mobilize a sniper-hunt. This, Su-Cheong thought, might prove to be dangerous for the rest of her squad mates. Su-Cheong decided to take the commander first. She moved far enough for them to detect, but close enough to their mobile HQ. She was lucky to quickly find the commander’s IFV, being one without a turret. Even so, her Lapua Magnum might not be enough to penetrate the armor. She needed to find a way to pull the commander out of his vehicle.

Su-Cheong noticed the radio equipment connected to the commander’s vehicle had been assembled externally. Moreover, they positioned it close enough to a gas-based heater. Su-Cheong had been thinking that she was out of luck when she got blown out by the updraft during the landing phase, she believed that was not so. Su-Cheong then switched her magazine to one that contained the miniaturized high-explosive incendiary/armor-piercing component. This equipment made her sniper rifle a micro-version of a tank gun.

Su-Cheong turned on the D.O.P.E. feature in her goggle and used the automated computation against the current measurement of wind, temperature, humidity, altitude, and her target range. The computation simulated where she should put the crosshair so that the bullet directly hit her intended target. Again, Su-Cheong felt that she had been relying too much on her automation equipment. She took a mental note to give more portion in her sniping exercise during her off-mission time. Of course, she could test her sharpness right at this moment, but the risk would cost to high if she failed.

A shoot was made, the bullet went through the silenced barrel of Su-Cheong’s rifle. It spiraled toward the main component of the radio equipment, went through the metallic casing, and exploded inside. Su-Cheong pushed the bolt back and reloaded another bullet into the chamber. She watched where the empty case fell and reminded herself to take it home. A few seconds later, Su-Cheong saw some personnel coming out of the command-type IFV. Though she could likely determine the commanding officer, among the other men coming out of it, Su-Cheong took no risk of misidentification.

A second shot was made, with the target placement simulated by the automated computation from a software in Su-Cheong’s goggle. The bullet penetrated the gas casing and exploded close to the gathering personnel around the broken radio assembly. That explosion would surely kill them immediately. Su-Cheong opened the channel she had been eavesdropping through her UAV and found an increasing amount of communication. A Named-Entity Recognizer embedded in the voice processing found several names of the victims. Su-Cheong gave no attention to the names, but having the ranks of Captain and First Sergeant was enough for her to determine that this company had been crippled from command.

In such chaos, Su-Cheong immediately moved her targeting toward the AA platoon and several MANPADS operators among the heavy-weapon squads. She changed her magazine to the one containing the ordinary less-expensive armor-piercing type. The round would be enough to penetrate the personal body armor they wore. Su-Cheong started with the AA platoon, beginning with the officer who might stay around a command-type IFV, carrying a lighter type of weaponry, probably a simple handgun. This kind of platoon was quite easy to eliminate as they had lesser composition of weapon operators and carried less armored vehicle-based AA.

A series of shots was made, beginning with whom Su-Cheong determined as the lieutenant, an instant kill. She did not target for headshot because the bullet could already penetrate the torso and was enough to kill them. Then, rather than targeting the stragglers outside the vehicles, Su-Cheong shot the standing-by vehicles, with several hits each time, killing the operators inside without them having any time to get out. Su-Cheong eventually wiped out a whole platoon while they were still in chaos.

Suddenly, her concentration was interrupted with a recognizable ripple. The sound put a little terror inside Su-Cheong’s mind, an incoming helicopter. Su-Cheong lowered her UAV and got herself ready to hide under another covered area. She was able to see a pair of combat helicopters coming closer to her position. One was a modernized Havoc-type and the other was a Hind-type, also modernized. Through her sniper scope, Su-Cheong noticed a familiar jamming device attached to the Havoc.

The Hind hovered mid-air and lowered some ropes from its side. A squad-sized group of men rappelled down from the helicopter. Su-Cheong directed her scope and found that they might be some kind of commando unit. She knew that she was in danger, but an idea then came into her mind. It was a risky one, but she felt that she had no other choice.

Su-Cheong put her commlink back into the enemy’s radio frequency she had been eavesdropping. She then applied a voice simulator to sound like the captain she managed to previously sample using her eavesdropping software. Pretending to be the commander, she gave the whole company a notification that he managed to survive. Su-Cheong then gave the remaining personnel of the company to shoot down the incoming helicopter and conduct a search-and-kill against a squad-size group of military personnel.

Su-Cheong then waited in cover. Several shots of Stinger missiles coming from the MANPADS hit the Hind, crashing it down to the woods below. Some other Stingers hit the Havoc and drove it away from the area before another missile hit it and finally brought it down like its counterpart. With their position revealed to Su-Cheong, she was able to simply wipe those MANPADS operators out of action. The ensuing firefight was enough for Su-Cheong to determine that her pursuer had just been made busy with things other than looking for her.

“Queen to all callsigns… Dollface, get your arse down here…”

With the jammer finally out of action, Su-Cheong was again able to contact her commander. “Dollface to Queen, reporting in, I’m on my way, I say again, I’m on my-”

Su-Cheong’s message stopped mid-transmission. Somebody had just choked her from behind. The young woman made her struggle and managed to wrestle her assaulter. Su-Cheong pulled a harness which then released her backpack to allow herself for a close-quarter combat. She then took her combat knife and managed to stab her attacker in the neck, killing him.

However, that man’s squad mates were close by and he already pointed their weapons toward Su-Cheong. The young woman threw her knife and put her arms in the air. One of the commando approached Su-Cheong and dismantled her from her weapons. He pulled her goggle and threw it, then pulled down her face cover, revealing Su-Cheong’s look to her enemy.

“A woman,” one of the commando remarked, “and that’s not a face I want to shoot.” Su-Cheong knew some Russian, but the choice of words this man made told her that he was not a native, likely someone who came from the Balkan region.

“She’s clear, no more weapon on her.” The soldier who searched her body took his chance to grab some of Su-Cheong’s private parts. “Ohoho, you’re on gunpoint, don’t do anything stupid, cutie” he said as he noticed the anger in Su-Cheong’s face.

“Should we take her prisoner?” Said another soldier. “She made this chaos, and killed Zlatko.”

“You’re right, she’s not our prisoner, but again, that is not the face I want to shoot at.”

The soldier lowered down the muzzle of his rifle. Five separate shots were made. Su-Cheong twitched as the bullets pierced the fabric of her uniform around her lower abdomen. The last shot pushed Su-Cheong backward and made her tumble across the slope before she finally landed on her back.

“Dollface to Queen, gasp… Dollface to Queen, agent compromised, gasp…ov-cough!” Su-Cheong made her attempt to contact her team. She had not turned her radio off so it was likely that they would figure what had just happened. Su-Cheong was lucky that the bulletproof modification for her infiltration suit worked. However, she might have not noticed it, the shock was enough to put her unconscious.