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Old Flames

A Powerbound Origins RP




YPG Camp
Near Markada, Northeastern Syria
June 16th, 2017



Things were pretty hectic right now. Ever since 2014, with the help of the NATO Coalition operating in Syria and Iraq, the YPG has been advancing south and taking swaths of land away from the so-called Islamic State. The war has been dragging on way too long for both Iraq and Syria, and hundreds of thousands of humans lost their lives to the war, both military and civilian. However, the war seems to be coming to a close, as the YPG is making its way to Raqqa, the ISIS HQ. The rebels and government are currently at a ceasefire, as they are working to rid ISIS from the world as well. Things are looking good, and to the south of this very YPG camp was a small village under the control of ISIS... and the 32nd plan on taking it over.

The Coalition has been sending spec-ops personnel, mainly French, British and American, to help designate targets for the airstrikes. Most of the 32nd has mobilized already to wait in position on other sides of the village to make a pincer movement, and most of the Spec Ops personnel are with them, leaving Marcus with only Daraan (the commander), Tara (his aide), and around 14 other YPG fighters. All they have left now are a few Toyota trucks with heavy machine guns mounted on the back. The strategy was simple... send a few experience individuals to go attack the front gates, and while the IS fighters are distracted and overconfident, the Coalition fighter jets will release their munitions, and the rest of the force will rise and attack at the right time, taking the terrorists by surprise and thus taking the village with little casualties.

Daran stood in his outfit of a normal green camo jacket, M16 slung on his back as he held his handheld radio. Right beside him was Tara, who wore a green outfit as well, having a shoddy battle vest, carrying her assault rifle. The other fighters, both men and women, were waiting by the trucks, a few of them listening in on ISIS radio communications. So far, the enemy wasn't aware of the Kurdish presence surrounding them... and were in for a big surprise.
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Marcus Williams


Location: Near Markada, Northeastern Syria
Interacting With: Daran and Tara @AbandonedIntel


Marcus stuck out like a sore thumb among the YPG fighters, whereas their own equipment was varied, he was kitted out in the best operator's equipment the US Navy SEALs had on offer. He'd made a brief scouting run of the village, more so he had something to do more than anything else. Marcus hated the calm before a storm, he never could stand to sit still and wait before a fight, he felt like he always had to be doing something. Returning to the group he was with, Marcus made his way up toward Daran and Tara, tapping the trigger guard of his weapon with his finger as he scratched under the chin strap of his helmet.

"Nothing's changed in the village, so I don't think they've caught wise to the plan, or anything." He commented idly as he looked between the two. He'd been with them for a while now, long enough to get acquainted, but he still wasn't sure how much they trusted him, or even appreciated him being there. Marcus was content to be working with them, and he respected the 32nd and its leaders, Daran and Tara were both excellent fighters and leaders. Though still, Marcus couldn't help but feel a little out of place, after all, he was still essentially there just to be their more specialized killer, though that was putting it bluntly.

Marcus glanced down to the other fighters they were with, reaching up to scratch at the thin beard which had been growing on his face, he hadn't had time to shave for a while, he hadn't really had time for much at all. Marcus had been working constantly since he arrived to work with the 32nd, he did day patrols, night ops, even sentry duty, since he'd gotten there he'd tried to take up as much work as he could to try and relieve some of the 32nd, but it meant he'd had little time to relax, or even sleep. He wasn't concerned about falling asleep, but in this brief calm before combat, it always started to get to him as he rubbed his eyes.
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As Marcus made his way towards the group, Daran, with his back turned towards Marcus, lit a cigarette and began smoking it. "Geldi bak kim." He spoke in his native tongue, smiling, turning towards Marcus once he ran to him. "So..." He spoke in English, with a heavy accent. "... do the bastard thugs see us?" He asked in somewhat broken English. Tara walked up beside him as Daran listened to his answer, and once Marcus answered, he nodded. "Ah... good, good. Bu çok iyi." He then turned to Tara. "Düşman bizim varlığından haberdar değildir. Harekete geçirmek için asker hazır olun." He said, to which Tara nodded and walked towards the troops, getting them ready. Daran turned back to Marcus with a smile. "I may not look like so, but I appreciate your help... eh..." He paused very briefly to think up the words. "...and hard work." He nodded. "Its just that we need... ah... weapons, not soldiers." He explained.

At Tara's command, the soldiers soon got ready, putting away the radios and picking up the AKs that were resting up against the trucks. Some of them put on their battle vests, others straightened out their hats and some put on their helmets. They looked like what they were... a ragtag militia with shit-tier weapons. Daran had a point, they had plenty of soldiers, they just needed proper weapons and armor. A woman cocked her AK, checking it and getting it ready to go while a man zipped up his armor.

Tara turned back to Daran. "Biz komuta gitmek için hazırsınız." She said before looking to Marcus. "Ready to go, Captain America?" She asked, her English sounding a little broken, but she didn't have too much of an accent like Daran had.
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Marcus Williams


Location: Near Markada, Northeastern Syria
Interacting With: Daran and Tara @AbandonedIntel


Watching Tara as she moved off, and the troops as they began to muster and ready, Marcus was once again reminded of his regret for not having learned any of their language before arriving to work with them, it just felt odd to have so much go over his head. Glancing back toward Daran as he spoke. He glanced momentarily between Daran and himself, the two were almost opposites in terms of their equipment, and it wasn't just him, as Marcus looked over the others he nodded, he couldn't help but agree with the man, the YPG were terribly unequipped. "Unfortunately, I can't do a lot about that." He sighed, shrugging as he watched Tara come back toward them.

Marcus couldn't help but chuckle at her query, adjusting his weapon in his grip as he nodded. "Ready as i'll ever be." He explained as he settled the stock of his rifle against his upper arm, ready to shift it further up to his shoulder when they actually got into combat. As the unit began to move, Marcus moved with Daran and Tara, listening to the idle radio chatter of the coalition forces as they prepared and got ready, there wasn't a great deal of chatter yet, just people checking in and saying they were all ready, he figured it'd all kick off soon enough though.

Marcus let Daran take the lead most of the time, he was there to help, and if Daran needed something done he or the rest of their group couldn't, he'd deal with it, but Daran was a better leader, and the YPG trusted him far more, he'd earned their respect, something Marcus was still working on. And after all, this was their plan.

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Once Marcus replied to his statement regarding their equipment, he nodded. "Yes. Do not worry comrade, you not to blame. World politics, Western nations allied with Turkey. Turkey terrorist state that wants Kurds dead. Western nations cannot make Erdogan angry, need Turkey for strategy." Daran nodded, patting Marcus on the shoulder. "I am not ungrateful for your help. You have saved our asses too much." He said with a soft chuckle. "Have all smokes you want." He said with a soft smile before looking to the others. "Tamam, biz hareket ediyor!" He shouted to the others, gesturing towards the village that's far south of them, all the way down the road. "Bize kamyon içine dönelim." He said, patting Marcus on the shoulder, pointing towards a nearby truck.

Before long, Daran and Tara hopped onto the back of a white Toyota truck, one with a red star and the YPG emblem painted on the doors. A soldier was driving it, and there were two other trucks ahead of it, with the YPG fighters hopping onboard them as well, one of them manning the machine guns mounted on the back. The woman cocked the DShK machine gun mounted on the back, ready to fuck shit up. Tara gestured for Marcus to hop onto the back of the truck. "Ahh... uh... radio Coalition, say YPG attack enemy." Tara said, still trying to grasp the English language. "We gonna fuck up terrorists." Tara said with a soft grin.

"Biji YPG!" One of the soldiers shouted, to which the others shouted "Biji Kurdistan! Biji Rojava!". And right then, the trucks began to move, and began moving fast, heading straight into battle, heading straight into hell. By now Marcus would know that Biji means Long Live in Kurdish, and that Rojava was the name of the semi-autonomous region they were fighting for in Northern Syria, a land of equality, opportunity and peace. However, they were heading down south into hell, the land under the control of the Islamic State. As the three vehicles sped towards the village, it almost seemed like a suicide run... though there was a bigger strategy to it. They were the diversion that would force the terrorists out of their holes, and once they were out in the open, they will get bombed, and the rest of the 32nd would swoop in and take the village. All within a day.

"Yollar uzak dur! Patlayıcı olabilir!" Daran shouted into the radio, to which the trucks split up and went off road. Marcus should know that most of the deaths on the side of the YPG weren't that of being shot by ISIS, it was rather by accidentally stepping on/driving over IEDs. The trucks were avoiding the roads now, which were normally packed with explosives.



Islamic State Detachment



Shakeel walked through the village, walking from his temporary quarters that he made from a family home to where his detachment stashed most of their weapons, and where his detachment also made some of their explosives. Wearing his standard black robes and small black turban, he looked amongst the other IS jihadis that were taking pictures of themselves and the others with their cell phones, doing the 'one-finger regard' thing that they often do. Shakeel looked among his men, hearing them talk about how many people they killed, what kind of women they found, and the stuff they found when looting the homes of the people they killed. Shakeel wanted to join in on the conversation, but he had a job to do.

"Shakeel, brother, we've spotted three trucks heading south towards the village." A voice said in Arabic through the radio, to which Shakeel picked up his radio and responded.

"Kurds?" Shakeel asked.

"Yes. YPG... there appears to be an American amongst them. They're heading towards our position fast."

Shakeel thought for a moment. "Defend the village, fend off their attack."

"God willing." The radio replied, to which Shakeel looked to the others. "Everyone! Get ready! The YPG is attacking!" He shouted, to which the other jihadis immediately scrambled to prepare for an attack.




*BOOOMM!!!* Dirt and dust flew up nearby, the explosion nearly deafening, but it was on the road, and it was detonated from a much safer distance. "ISIS booby trap!" Daran said casually, looking above the truck. "Onlar biz aptalız düşünmek gerekir.... they must think we are idiots." He chuckled, to whick Tara grinned, looking ahead. They were getting closer, and once the village was much easier to see... the first shots were fired... from the YPG truck.

*DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOOOOMM!* The massive and large .50 caliber (not exactly) machine gun on the back of the truck ahead of them began firing at the village ahead of them, the woman firing away, laying down some suppressing fire, and letting the terrorists know that they were there, and they feared nothing. Not even death.

"Kamyon durdurmak ve kapak çekmek için hazırlanın!" Daran shouted into the radio. "Biz dışarıda onlara izin ve mermi ile doldurun olacak!" He looked to Marcus. "We stop trucks soon! When trucks stop, we come out and hide behind them, and shoot back! While thugs run outside, you point where Coalition planes drop bombs! Watch out for booby traps!" Daran shouted over the sound of the trucks driving off road and the machine gun ahead of them shooting rounds off into the blue yonder.

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Marcus Williams


Location: Near Markada, Northeastern Syria
Interacting With: Daran and Tara @AbandonedIntel


Marcus chuckled softly as Daran praised his actions, moving along toward the trucks as he kept his weapon held ready in his hands, climbing up into the back of the truck as Tara gestured for him to do so. Settling down behind the cover of the truck bed, he shifted the barrel of his rifle to rest on the edge, stabilizing it so he could fire as they were moving if it was needed. He smirked at Tara's comment and nodded slowly. "Yes we are, Tara, yes we are."

Marcus appreciated where he was, right at the spearhead of the diversion, where the most of the fighting would be. He longed for a good fight and he knew here was where he was going to get it. He brought his hand up to his ear to key into his radio, checking in with the other Coalition forces again and letting them know the attack was about to start, after he got some confirmation, he gave Tara and Daran a nod to let them know all was going well enough. Though, the explosion which came shortly afterward would've been indication enough to the coalition troops.

Marcus ducked his head somewhat, but otherwise had little reaction to the explosion, he was used to them at this point, though he'd prefer if that was the closest they got. He watched Daran as he explained the plan, nodding and pulling his designator from his vest, waiting for the trucks to stop as he rolled off and crouched beside one, bullets slamming into the ground around him and the truck as he shifted just slightly out of cover, searching for any targets of interest. He found them soon enough, machine gun nests, mortar pits, he started to focus on the artillery, keeping the laser set on them as he waited for the fireworks.
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The trucks were moving in a serpentine movement in an attempt to evade enemy fire, and once they got close enough to be within proper firing range of most rifles, the trucks all stopped and hid among the bushes and rocks, YPG soldiers immediately piling out and spreading out from where the trucks were at. Some hid behind rocks, others hid behind the trucks, some others were behind the bushes and some were up on some of the sand dunes, using the natural embankments as cover. Most of them were spread out and engaging the jihadis that were within the walls of the village, laying down suppressing fire with their AKs, shooting at them with single, accurate shots (as the YPG were trained to conserve ammo and make their shots count). The jihadis were firing back at them, but were not very successful, bullets going all over the place, most of them screaming into the blue yonder while they blew themselves into the ground and some of the cover that the YPG soldiers were hiding behind. It was an all-out battle.

Marcus was near the truck that had the MG mounted on it, the woman still on it, firing away. Two YPG soldiers, a man and a woman, both with AKs, were hiding behind the truck Marcus was at, and were providing covering fire for him, making sure that the jihadis don't fire back.

"Standby for Reaper drones, ETA five mikes." The coalition forces replied on the radio. It looks like they're gonna have to hold out a while longer before the drones arrive.

A few jihadis were running out from the walls of the village, carring AKs, running and gunning. The woman on the machine gun turned her aim towards them, and immediately began gunning them down. It was difficult to see due to how far away they were, but one could still tell where they were at and whether or not they were killed. A few of them dropped down after sand and dirt sprayed up around them, and one of them blew up, their suicide vest going off and killing a few nearby jihadis.

Daran, who was on the other side of the road, hiding behind a rock, held up his hand, and immediately most of the YPG fighters held their fire. He made a few hand signals, one of them to reload, another to look for snipers, and another to look for any more jihadis. The wind was blowing, it was unusually silent, except for the few bursts of fire that the jihadis threw from nowhere.

The male YPG soldier Marcus was with looked out from behind cover. No one was in sight. He then called out "TAKBIR!!!", speaking in an arabic accent. Almost immediately, a jihadi replied "ALLAHU AKBAR!!!", revealing his location. Almost immediately, the YPG fighter tossed a grenade to where the jihadi was heard, and two explosions occurred... one from the frag grenade, and the other from the suicide vest.

Silence for another few moments, other than a few bursts of fire. The woman on the mounted MG looked around, and immediately cried out "PUSUCU!!!" (Sniper!), pointing up at a building before a loud *DEEAAAOOWWW* sounded, and a whole lot of blood exploded with a *SPLAT!!* from the woman's left shoulder. "GAHH!!" She cried out in pain, falling down from the truck and landing on the ground behind it. "UAGHH!!" She whimpered in pain, rolling on her side, clutching her wound.

The man patted Marcus on the back and pointed towards the woman, a worried look on his face. "Help her, we shoot sniper." He said in broken English, bringing his AK to shoulder and aiming up towards the buildings.



Islamic State Detachment



Shakeel walked among the jihadis that were scrambling. Most of them were hiding behind the walls, others were grabbing weapons from the various houses they were in. They were running, preparing for a fight... even though it was already going on. Sounds of AKs and M16s rang through the air, as well as the occasional sound of the DShK machine gun. Shakeel looked to his aide.

"How many of them are there?" He asked.

"Only a small brigade, around 12 or 14, maybe more." His aide replied.

"Do you see any aircraft?"

"No, sir."

"They must've thought that this village was lightly manned then. C'mon, we can take them out on our own. Go man the mortars, and get an RPG out here."
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Marcus Williams


Location: Near Markada, Northeastern Syria
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As the confirmation came over the radio, Marcus set down the designator carefully before bringing his rifle up finally. He set his sights on a Jihadi behind some low cover, popping out to fire toward the YPG fighters. It took him a half second to line up the shot before he pulled back on the trigger twice, one shot slamming into the fighter's chest, and another into his head, a flash of pink mist filling the air as he fell back to the ground. As the machine gun nailed the bomber, and a group of others with them, Marcus lowered his weapon slightly, keeping it ready but not aimed as he peered around for any more, unnerved somewhat by the silence.

Of course it didn't last long, the exchanged shouting and the explosions to follow piercing the silence rather thoroughly before it returned to the sound of the wind shortly afterward. Marcus saw it a fraction too late, mere moments before the woman on the machine gun spoke up, he saw the glint of the sniper's scope, and the flash of it firing. His eyes drifted up to the woman, and a little blood splashed against his face. It was not an uncommon feeling, but it was still a strange one, he wasn't sure that he'd ever be quite used to it. He watched as she fell, and dashed over without thinking as the fighter instructed him to.

"You're going to be alright." Marcus assured the woman in as reassuring a manner as he was able, reaching down into his medical kit and carefully dragging out some gauze. He made sure the two of them were properly in cover behind the truck, before ensuring that the bullet had gone through her shoulder as he hoped. It hadn't. Swearing under his breath, he reached up to his wrist, undoing the paracord around it and holding it in front of the woman's mouth. "Bite down." He instructed her simply, grabbing a pair of tweezers as she did so.

Taking hold of her shoulder with one hand, he moved the tweezers forward with the other, carefully shifting them into the wound to take a firm hold of the bullet shards still inside her shoulder, dragging them out as carefully as he was able to. There were a few, but the bullet hadn't shattered too badly, and he had them out before long. Tucking the tweezers away, he began to carefully pack the wound with gauze, making sure it was packed tight before he firmly wrapped it with a bandage. He gave her something relatively basic for the pain before he peered up over the truck to where the sniper fire had come from, bullets were impacting around the window from the YPG, but it was nothing particularly accurate, enough to keep him down at least.

Glancing back down to the woman fighter, he gave her a pat on her good shoulder and placed his paracord back around his wrist before taking up his rifle again, carefully he loaded in a high explosive grenade into his launcher, and moved up toward the front of the truck. Bracing it against the hood of the truck for some extra stability, he lined up the shot after a few long moments and pulled back on the second trigger, letting loose the explosive round. It whistled through the air for a moment before *BOOM* - no more sniper. The wall had been blown apart from the explosion, and part of the roof caved in, if he wasn't dead, he was at least wounded, or gone.
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The battle raged on for a bit, some more jihadis piling out into the open and eating the bullets of the YPG. However, after the woman was shot, she winced in pain once Marcus got to her. "Yaralıyor! Ben... sanırım..." She whimpered in pain before she saw him get his medical supplies out. She gave a weak smile before wincing again, the sounds of AK fire going off behind Marcus as the YPG provided covering fire for them. The woman, who didn't understand a lick of English, understood what was going on, and bit down on paracord before giving a muffled "GAHH!!!" in excruciating pain. Once she was all patched up, she panted, wincing every now and then. "Teşekkürler arkadaşım..." She panted, thanking him before resting up against the side of the truck, pulling out a pistol and keeping an eye out on the flank.

"G-good job, Captain America!" The male YPG fighter patted Marcus on the back before reloading his AK, moving back towards where the wounded soldier was at, allowing the female YPG fighter to take his place. After the grenade was fired, the area exploded, leaving a massive hole in the building with some of the roof caving in. Marcus could see the front barrel and handguard for an SVD sniper rifle flying from the explosion. He got 'em.

"Reaper online and ready to fire, mark your targets." The coalition said in the radio. Almost immediately after, a whistling sound could be heard from above, until a shell fell down in front of them and caused a large explosion, blowing up the road ahead of them, throwing dust everywhere.



Islamic State Detachment



An explosion rocked the village, and Shakeel looked immediately to where it came from. It was where their sniper was stationed!

"Go check that building! He may still be alive!" Shakeel shouted, pointing up at that building. "Those damned Kurds are tenacious! Don't hold back, kill them all!" He shouted to his subordinates, to which more and more ran to the gates, one of them carrying an RPG.

One of the mortars, near the back of the village, fired off a shell, blowing up the road near the gates, to halt the advance of Kurdish troops.

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Pulling out the tube of his grenade launcher, he let the empty shell drop out to the ground before pulling the tube back down without loading another, adjusting his grip with both hands to fire normally as a few more Jihadi's ran through the gates. Bringing his weapon up to aim, he began lining up a shot but was interrupted both by the radio, and by the explosion ahead of them. A bit of shrapnel managed to catch Marcus' helmet, and his head reared back as he fell, he was fine, but it'd certainly given him a little whiplash as he scrambled back into cover, tapping his helmet to make sure it was still there. It was, but there was a clear gash down the left side of it now.

Letting out an audible sigh of relief at his luck, he popped up again with his rifle, firing a few shots at the incoming Jihadi's, specifically the one with the RPG, before he let the YPG focus on them, picking up the designator again. He took a moment searching for his target, but as the mortars fired again he saw the puff of smoke from them, he couldn't quite get an angle from where he was, he needed to move in order to do that. He barely thought, and didn't even particularly bother to explain his plan. "Cover me!" He called back to the fighters he was with as he sprinted out of the cover of the truck toward the road, he was in the open, but he wasn't going to get a better angle than this one.

Crouching down in the crater created by the mortar, he brought the designator up to his eyes and found his target again. He held it ready and began to paint the target. Around him bullets were whistling and hitting the ground, he was an easy target where he was, so of course the Jihadi's were focusing on him, but he didn't care, he was focused on his mission as always. He waited for confirmation before he finally put the designator back down, moving toward the closest cover he could get to before he felt it, the sharp sting and the tremendous force as if he'd been cut, burnt and punched all at once. The force of it spun him somewhat as he fell into cover, looking down to his arm.

His shoulder had been hit, not too badly, and it appeared that most of it had been on the outside of his shoulder, but it hurt. He was just thankful that the relatively minor wound was all he suffered for, what he realised now, was either an incredibly brave, or more likely, horrendously stupid move.
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"What?" The woman asked. "Wait, no! Come back!" She called out after him, trying to cover his movement, shooting after the jihadis that posed a threat to him. She continued to fire, shooting down a few jihadis.

Daran saw Marcus run out onto the crater. "No! Marcus! Come back!" He called out after him, popping out and shooting his M16 at a few more jihadis, keeping them into cover.

"Target confirmed! We are engaging in free fire now, get to cover!" The UAV pilots said over the radio.

Tara immediately stepped out of cover, walking slowly as she casually at the gate. "Onun kaçış kapsayan ediyorum!" Tara shouted, letting loose a few rounds before looking to Marcus. "C'mon, Marcus! Over here!" She shouted, gesturing to him. Once he ran up to them, Tara stood back behind the truck, and looked to him. Seeing that he got hit in the shoulder, she looked a little concerned before looking back to the gate. "You alright, Captain?" She asked, reloading her assault rifle. "Too dangerous!"

"Yeah... that was too dangerous!" Daran scolded Marcus, though Marcus would know it was more of the type of scolding that a worried parent would have rather than a pissed-off boss. "Over here, behind me. Safe here." He said, pointing to the area behind him while Tara fired again.

"Rifle, rifle... three, two, one..." A missile flew overhead, and went straight down into the village, causing a massive explosion that threw up lots of dust.



Islamic State Detachment



*BOOOOMMM!!!!* Shakeel fell down towards the ground, a mighty gust of wind and pure force pushing him to the ground as shrapnel and dust flew all around him. He coughed, barely able to stand up, looking to his side. His aide was killed, and so were a few jihadis that were behind him. It took a while for the dust to settle, and in the meantime, the ringleader got up, and moved to the nearest building to take shelter in while the jihadis continued to attempt to hold off the YPG forces. He coughed again, resting up against the wall and sitting down.

A few jihadis within the village were running outside, realizing that the village was no longer safe, before they were gunned down by the Kurds' bullets. A few of the others were trapped, and with another hellish missile from those damned American Drones, another cloud of dust flew up.




After the second strike, a few of the YPG members stood up. They saw that the jihadi activity has seriously died down... now was the time to move in for the attack. Daran immediately made a hand signal to move in, and at least eight of the fourteen soldiers moved out from cover, while the others remained behind to cover their flank and tend to the wounded. It was time to move in and take the village.

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Marcus Williams


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Settling into cover with Daran and Tara, Marcus carefully wrapped his shoulder up in a bandage, just enough to slow any bleeding but allow him to move easily enough as he let out another sigh. "Just a flesh wound, besides... I need to make sure everyone looks good." He joked, chuckling as he shifted up again to fire alongside Tara at the oncoming Jihadi's, ducking down for a moment and counting along with the voice in his radio. "Three, two, one..." As it came down he ducked his head once more, listening to the thunderous noise as the missile hit, followed by the second.

"Let's go evict some motherfuckers." Marcus commented, giving Daran a pat on the shoulder as he moved to stand again, locking his rifle into his shoulder again as he began to approach with the YPG fighters, keeping his weapon leveled toward the gates as they got near. As they approached a fighter ran out, he had a visible suicide vest strapped to him, and the detonator in his hand. Luckily, Marcus was ready, he fired one shot clean at the Jihadi's forehead and watched him drop, detonator rolling clear of his hand and the bombs on his vest left dull as the YPG got to the gates to move into the village.

"When you're clearing buildings, make sure to do it in pairs, at least." Marcus reminded them, much more into the flow of things, and his blood pumping a lot more since his injury, the adrenaline was pushing him further, making him even more engaged in the fight. It was going well, he just wanted to keep it that way, This was his turf now, close quarters, but it was also the enemies, and he wanted to avoid any casualties on the side of the YPG if he could. He looked back to Daran and Tara, made sure they were ready and gave a nod before they began to move in. Marcus skipped the first few buildings, left those to the other fighters, making his way through and deciding on a later one at random, kicking the door open before tossing in a flash bang, hurrying in after with his weapon at the ready, to clear out anyone inside.
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Daran nodded, chuckling a little bit himself at Marcus' statement. "Well, keep it that way." He said. After all was said and done, he nodded. "Damn straight. Let's send Daesh to hell!" He shouted, to which Tara nodded, moving in with the ten other soldiers. As they moved in, Daran looked to Marcus after the jihadi was downed. "Good shot." He said casually as he moved in with them. Approaching the gates with Marcus, they all stacked up at the walls. Before they moved in, Daran spoke quietly on the radio. "Bütün takımlar taşıyın. Biz köy alıyor." He said. "Hareket et! Move!" He signalled, and immediately, the small group of 10 fighters moved into the village.

It was a scene of destruction. Many dead bodies covered in dust and sand were strewn out all over the place, some killed by the predator missiles, some others killed by the bullets fired at them. The buildings were nearly destroyed, but the ones that were safe to house anyone were the ones being cleared by the YPG. As Marcus skipped a few of the houses, a few teams of three went into some of the houses, clearing them out. Daran ordered Tara to follow Marcus, to which she complied, following him.

Tara nodded to Marcus, and when he performed Open and Clear, she ran in with him, checking the corners. While they were clearing out the building, Tara stopped as she checked a room. "Captain!" She called out.



Shakeel Zahra



Shakeel groaned as he lay down on the ground. It wasn't until later that he felt the shrapnel from the explosion all through his back and belly. Was God going to take him today? He couldn't tell, but if he wasn't gonna make it, he hoped to go out knowing that he did something to the enemy... to those heathens, to those Kurds, and to those damned Americans.

Shakeel opened his eyes once he heard the voice of a tough woman calling out "Captain!". He looked up. Standing in the doorway was a YPG fighter, carrying an assault rifle, aiming it straight at him. The look on her eyes was seething with rage and hatred. This was definitely one of those heathen Kurds... those who are destined for hell. A woman, nonetheless!

Shakeel coughed. "You think you've won?" He asked, in Arabic, which Marcus is most likely to understand. "The Caliphate will make you all burn in... *cough* ...hell!" He groaned. "This is the only true way, this is God's way... you are working with the devil! You are working with the Westerners... the Americans! They will... *cough* use you... until they can no longer make money from you! These... *cough* techno demons... they'll stop.. at nothing... they will destroy you! The world belongs to the Muslims! The only true... word of God!"



Tara Sunwar



Tara stood there, rifle aimed at the terrorist across from her, laying against the wall. She listened to what he had to say, and she chuckled. "Is that all you got?" She asked in Arabic. "You're as cliche as the rest of them! You and your... big bad Caliphate." She said. "You have caused an untold amount of pain to who knows how many innocent people. And all for what, so you can teach them a religion that they already follow? I understand your hatred towards the West, trust me, I hate them too... but it's their damned politicians that do this, not the people!" She shouted. "No true believer of God will murder his followers in cold blood, let alone in his name! This is our land... for the Kurds, for us all! You should've kept your so-called 'Islamic State' inside your damn house!" She spat at him.
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Marcus Williams


Location: Markada, Northeastern Syria
Interacting With: Tara, Shakeel @AbandonedIntel


Hearing Tara's voice call to him from elsewhere in the building, Marcus doubled back to find her, carefully moving into the room as he saw Shakeel on the ground, speaking to Tara. For the time being, he remained quiet, but kept his weapon trained on Shakeel, listening as he spoke to Tara. He wasn't fluent in Arabic but he did understand enough as the two spoke. When they were finished, Marcus moved closer, weapon still trained on Shakeel as he glanced over to Tara.

"It could be useful to take him alive, he might have some information, but... I'll let you decide what to do with him." Marcus explained to her with a nod, trying to keep his own thoughts out of it as much as he could. Marcus wanted to interfere with the YPG as much as possible, they would make their own decisions, it was their war after all, the way Marcus saw it, his own decisions in a situation like this didn't matter too much. Though, even he felt a more primal desire that Tara would decide on Shakeel's death, if he wasn't killed here he'd probably find some way to hurt someone else before he went down.

But he was unsure what decision Tara would make, it was no secret she and the other Kurds clearly despised the man, Marcus had seen his picture before, knew the YPG had been targeting him for some time. It hadn't just been them either, Marcus had been briefed on Shakeel, knew that the Coalition had him in their sights as well, both sides would be satisfied today, either way this went.
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32nd YPG Unit


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She briefly looked to Marcus once he was beside her, and once he spoke, she nodded briefly to him. She looked to Shakeel, to which she saw that evil grin on his face. As if the smug bastard knew he won. She raised her weapon to shoulder, and inched towards the trigger. She clenched her teeth, and was just about to squeeze, before she let go and lowered her weapon.

"He... he may no talk... but he fun to make talk." She said with a slight grin, slinging the rifle on her back before reaching down and grabbing Shakeel, lifting him up off the ground and dragging him outside.

Shakeel coughed. "Wha... what are you doing? I thought you were going to kill me!" He said in Arabic.

"Nope... I got better plans for you, bastard! You're going to Qamishlo... where you're gonna have quite a nice and bumpy ride there!" She shouted back to him in Arabic, slamming him up against the wall before grabbing him by his robes, pulling him back and dragging him outside.

Once they were all outside, Marcus could see that the sun was starting to set, and the rest of the 32nd has already moved in. Daran, as well as quite a few other soldiers, walked up to the both of them.

"Good job." He said in English. "I did not think we find him here." Daran said with a soft smile before looking to Shakeel.

"You bastards!" Shakeel shouted in Arabic. "You'll all go to hell!"

"Maybe." Daran spoke in Arabic as well, nodding to him as he rested a cigarette in between his lips. "At least there, we'll have a good time. You, on the other hand, will probably have scorpions crawling up your dick. I'm pretty sure Satan will have a nice fun time thinking of ways to make you pay for all of the pain you caused."

Shakeel said nothing, looking to Daran with pure hatred in his eyes.

Daran simply took out his cigarette and burned it onto Shakeel's forehead, to which he threw the butt away and gestured to load Shakeel into the truck. Daran looked back up to Marcus. "I cannot thank you enough for all help you given us today. Marwah, woman on DShK, is alive and well." He said with a soft smile. "And we got our man." He said, turning to Shakeel, who was being loaded into one of the Humvees. "We take him to prison in Qamishlo." He explained. "We have ways of making Daesh talk." He said with a grin.
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Marcus Williams


Location: Markada, Northeastern Syria
Interacting With: Tara, Shakeel, Daran @AbandonedIntel


Marcus smiled softly toward Tara as she lowered her weapon and took hold of Shakeel, he was impressed at her restraint, and her decision to keep him alive - even if the intentions may have been somewhat ruthless. But, this was war. Marcus paused for a moment in the empty room, the sounds of gunfire had finally died down, so he figured the fighting was over. Reaching up, he slowly undid the strap of his helmet and took it off, hanging it off his belt as he moved outside, weapon held down in one hand.

Marcus looked to the horizon as the sun was setting, he could hear more and more chatter over the radio as the coalition forces got set up with the rest of the 32nd in and around the town. He figured there'd be some celebration that night, there generally was after such a successful operation. Glancing back over to Daran and the others as they approached, Marcus idly listened as they spoke to Shakeel. He couldn't help but smirk, Shakeel hadn't expected this sort of treatment and it was obvious, it was good to see him speechless.

As Daran began to speak to him, he nodded his head slowly, he was pleased enough to have captured Shakeel, but the fact that the woman was alright spoke volumes more to him. He hated when they suffered casualties, especially when he was around to try and stop it. Every time they lost someone under Marcus' 'watch', he felt responsible. Perhaps it wasn't the best attitude to have, but he had it. "Glad to hear that, he might have some pretty useful stuff he'd like to share." He chuckled softly, rolling his shoulders idly before wincing somewhat as a sharp pain shot through his arm. Now that the adrenaline was wearing out, his wound had finally start to hurt properly.
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32nd YPG Unit



Daran nodded to Marcus. "Yes. Go get drink from one of houses." He said. "You earned it." He said with a small smile. "I must talk with my unit. I see you later." He nodded to Marcus before walking off.

Once Marcus made note of his wound once again, Tara, who was standing nearby, noticed. "Hey, you okay?" He asked, a little concerned, walking up to him.

In the meantime, the 32nd were taking all of the dead bodies and piling them up, while taking all of the weapons that the jihadis had, and cataloging them all. Being a shit-tier militia armed with nothing but table scraps, they have to take everything they got. However, once they were finished with that, some of the women started singing some songs, some of them doing some dances while a few of the men were starting a bonfire.
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Marcus Williams


Location: Markada, Northeastern Syria
Interacting With: Tara, Daran @AbandonedIntel


Giving Daran another nod, he watched as he moved off before glancing back to his wound, the bandage had turned a bit red from blood, and the stinging feeling had turned to a dull pain. Glancing over as he heard Tara's voice, he gave her a reassuring smile as he moved to sit down on a small crate by the wall of a house. "I'll be fine, just never gave it a proper tending to before." He chuckled softly, carefully beginning to unwrap the bandage as he reached into his medical kit.

As he'd expected, there was still a small shard of the bullet in his shoulder, he could see its slight glint off the setting sun. It wouldn't exactly be fun to pull out, but he'd had worse. Taking out his tweezers, he glanced up to Tara again, smiling. "Don't worry about it, you should go celebrate, you all earned it." The celebrations were never uncommon, each victory they had usually ended with dancing, singing and drinking, though Marcus never particularly involved himself with them.

Sitting a fair distance from where the majority of the 32nd was gathering for their celebration, Marcus set his weapons down against the wall and reached up to his arm, it was awkward, and he was struggling to actually get a hold of the bullet, groaning somewhat as from this angle he was likely doing more harm than good.
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Tara Sunwar


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Tara looked to him and chuckled. "Ah, right. Daesh make you run, huh?" She chuckled, sitting down next to him and resting up against the wall. Once he said that she should go celebrate with the others, she shook her head. "Nah, we do that many times." She said with a soft smile, looking to him briefly before looking back. Seeing him at that awkward angle, she looked up to him. "Stay still, like stone. You hurt yourself. I take bullet out." Tara said simply, taking the tweezers from him and examining the wound. "Daesh bullets hurt like bitch, huh?" She joked before gently grasping onto the shard, her steady weapon hand taking it out, sliding it out gently and slowly before throwing it out onto the ground. She looked for any more shards, finding another, taking that one out, and throwing it. "There, all gone." She said with a soft smile. "Now will you get drink?" She chuckled.

After that, she sighed. "I... I have question." She said. "What... what is it like... in America? I never got... uh... opportunity to learn. I learn some English in Iraqi School, but that different." She explained. "Language, not culture."

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Marcus Williams


Location: Markada, Northeastern Syria
Interacting With: Tara @AbandonedIntel


Chuckling softly at her first comment, he watched as she moved to sit next to him, handing over the tweezers as she offered to take the bullet out for him. He winced somewhat, groaning as she pulled them out, but generally trying to deal with the pain as quietly as he was able. Once it was out, he relaxed somewhat, handing over a fresh bandage for her to fix up the wound properly. He smirked as she asked if he'd get a drink, he nodded. "I might, suppose I need to get one at some point."

Resting back against the wall, he turned his head to look at her as she asked her last question, smiling, he appreciated the question, there was something about it, the sincerity, which he appreciated. "It's hard to talk about, it's nice, peaceful." He paused for a moment, thinking of a way to explain it best. "Back home, when I was younger, every Sunday my mom and I would go out during the day, usually to the movies or a baseball game. She never really enjoyed sports, but she knew I did, wanted me to be able to enjoy it." He smiled as he looked out to no where in particular, starting to get a little lost in his thoughts.

"Every time we were coming home we stopped at this little ice cream place a few blocks down from our house. It was the tiniest little shop, but they had the best ice cream in the city, mom always got the same thing, but I had to try every different flavour, never found one I didn't like." He chuckled again softly, glancing over to her. "Once the war's over you should visit there."
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