[center][h2][color=#FF7800]Boraro[/color]
Fireteam Poseidon[/h2][/center][hr][color=#FF7800]”Get a room, you two. One without bioweapons in it.”[/color] The Cameroonian chuckled with an audible roll of his eyes at the flirtatious giants as he, Ban and Chuck peeled off from Adam and Freya to do their thing.

That was when the floodlights flickered on and the PA crackled to life. He really hoped it would take longer to go loud. [color=#FF7800]”Over the loudspeaker? At least the mercs I worked with had [i]class[/i].”[/color] Ebrima groaned. He would have to give some good-natured grief to Purna later, with the whole Ghukra-Kukri mythos and meanwhile this Jap is here stopping bullets with his sword like a real-life cartoon protagonist. Where and how did Skye keep finding these people, it was a superpower at this point. Good thing that was a thing of hers that Rose didn’t share.

But he thrived in environments like this, was molded to it by his uncle Monday - and no small amounts of unkind fate - and even though the algae farm was a far cry from the jungles of Northern Cameroon where Ebrima was trained or Eastern Nigeria where Monday cut his teeth before that, there were enough similarities to make it count. Close quarters, obstructed sight lines and no need to take the other side’s lives into consideration. A few leaps and jump pack boosts and he was on the top deck following Chuck’s plan, cutting off the option of getting attacked from above as a bonus.

Up on the catwalks with no cover to speak of, speed would mean survival. Speed, or making his own cover. Ebrima took off running toward the nearest hostile, the USP barking twice to make room for the Kukri in the other hand. The PDW clattered on the grated floor along with the hand holding it, the same arm that did it wrapping itself around the freshly-minted pirate like a hydraulically-powered constrictor snake, holding him close to Ebrima while the knife found a gap between the kevlar collar and ballistic mask. Ebrima felt the rounds impact his plates harmlessly, losing enough oomph going through the Artemis merc to be a non-issue for the Raven merc. More rounds continued striking as he ran forward, holding the dead body like a shield until he reached the two others, throwing the body at one and launching himself at the other with the jump pack.

Ebrima’s boot slammed into the left merc’s stomach like a forging press, ducking under a left hook while swiping the knife to his left to knock a pointed weapon away and following up with another side kick to reinforce the lesson that the guy should stay. Fucking. Down, the Artemis operative’s head leaving a dent in the railing it got slammed into. He followed up with a jump pack-assisted roundhouse kick to unsettle the man on the left and a likewise boosted shoulder barge sending him clean through the railing and tumbling down toward where Ban was no doubt slicing up bad guys like a Teppanyaki chef; Ebrima keeping the momentum from the charge to keep moving because speed? Speed meant survival.
[center][h2][color=#FF7F7F]Enri Uemura[/color]
Fireteam Viking[/h2][/center][hr]She didn’t even look up from her work, merely raising her voice over the clattering of the keyboard. Touch screens and AR were good for the civilian sector, but defense needed simple, reliable and, if possible, fixable with a screwdriver and a fourth-grade education. [color=#FF7F7F]”I don’t need you to like me, and if I want your opinion of me, I’ll just read your emails.”[/color] She still wasn’t discounting infecting Raph’s personal computer with some particularly annoying adware for his meddling in Colombia, but despite the harsh words she sounded happier than before, her mind in her own world, one of ones and zeroes where death was an abstract concept. About as true as weight loss commercials, but at least it was an effective coping strategy her mind cooked up to compartmentalize this end-of-the-world, action movie shitshow she’d been thrust in. Worse, one she went into voluntarily.

Kicking off the wall and covering half of the distance between herself and Raph on the office chair with what was definitely a practiced move, Enri gestured for him to turn his back to her. [color=#FF7F7F]”Don’t move.”[/color] She opened up his backpack, trying to reach in and having to tap his shoulder to get him to bend down slightly. Reaching in, she shoved a spool of cable into his hands. [color=#FF7F7F]”Hold this.”[/color] She pulled out the toolkit she needed, putting the spool Raph was holding back in and zipping the bag back up. [color=#FF7F7F]”You’re free.”[/color] Up until she got talking to Shalev’s warehouse manager once, she had no idea how much something as stupid as packing a bag could be optimized. Old German guy had a point, otherwise she would’ve put the heavy stuff low and light stuff high and now would’ve had to throw out half of the bag to get what she needed.

She disappeared in the server room with an impressed whistle, coming back out a few minutes later. [color=#FF7F7F]”If he wasn’t a genocidal asshole, I’d suggest hiring their network tech. Everything in there’s neat and labeled down to the last cable, beautiful.”[/color] She sat back in the chair, double-checking everything once more. [color=#FF7F7F]”It’s ready, on your go.”[/color]