[IC] Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

[FourtyTwo]

(I've got an idea on how to throw Andrew/Nolan back into the action, with them setting an LZ for our giants later on in Afghan, along with a Spetsnaz squad led by a female (who coincidentally, knows Natalie). I'll explain later- should be good.)

Natalie looked over, already thinking of something sweet that she thought about getting for a little while.
"Maybe a new coat, something a little more my size with a bit more chic. They do fur good here, I hear, you think you can take us some place?" Natalie said, cuddling up close as they walked on, headed towards the Pavillions. Clothing for her usually had to be specially made, and it was likely that if she went into a Belgian clothing store with prices moreover in the thousands of euros, they would cater for her to every inch. A good fur coat would last well, and Natalie was yet to decide what type she wanted to have, to go with her beautiful Russian curves and physique. Something perhaps a little nicer for buisness, to perhaps hide a PDW underneath could be nice, or maybe later getting a much more professional seamstress in Russia to perhaps weave a thin kevlar layer in, as a just in case. She didn't like the attention as much herself, as she knew this was Victor's day. In the Olympics, of course, she had gone ahead and proven herself more than audaciously, but of late, she knew that it took one wrong coincidence to fuck things up badly for her. Maybe more so than Victor, but she knew he had the same sort of paranoia sometimes. But today wasn't one of them- and Natalie happily let him carry on with it. He had everything to prove, and Natalie knew that for Victor, this was his show, his chance.
"You just never stop, honestly, you big brute. Shit, you have no idea how much this bra hurts. Then again, last time I loosened it...I don't want to remember that. Those orbs are yours to see Victor, and mine to kill with, so let's just say that this thing is worth it for the moment. And whatever you have later is going to have to be pretty significant to impress me. Since you know the sort of lifestyle we have...it's a bit more than extraordinary don't you think? Haha, I know you got something for me Victor, I am sure." She said, her head close to his, the two being photographed occasionally as they headed into the Pavillion, Natalie already keeping her head on a swivel as she kept an eye out.

[BigPapaBelial]

Victor grinned at her, "Well okay a coat. And you want fur." He looked about, trying to figure out if there would be something decent then hrmed, "I haven't been to Belgium enough I don't know of any good places nearby." A passerby waved and called as he walked by, "There's a coat store a block over monsieur and madame, very good prices, and top notch service." The young man smiled, "Not sure if they would fit you though, but you can try." Victor hrmed, "Well what do you know, sometimes the Creator does look out for us." He took Natalie's hand in his own, a show of affection that was not lost on some of the people on the street. How could you miss it when two giants were talking hand in hand. And no one missed it when Victor spun Natalie in for a kiss right in front of the store.

45 minutes later, 1 hour 15 minutes until the attack

The fur coat was incredible, and had cost a pretty penny, a perfect gift for Natalie, and Victor had bought it outright right out of pocket, having almost slammed his Black Card on the counter to pay for it. He had then asked for it to be delivered to their hotel. He didn't want Natalie's first gift to be ruined.

The time to show up at the event area though was approaching. He smiled at her, "Ready to give the world a look at their two demi-gods. There are only a few things that could ruin today, and I doubt any of them could occur." He gave her a squeeze, and a playful swat on her rear, "Come on hun, let's head across the park. I need to change into my gear anyway. And there has to be the usual smoozing with the press before everything starts."

45 minutes later, 30 minutes before the attack

They had to split up unfortunately, as soon as he had come out of the changing tent, some of the competitors had swarmed him, he had given Natalie a kiss on the cheek and a hug, then allowed himself to be dragged off. Interviews with the press ensued, questions being asked off all of the competitors. Who had the best chance of winning? Would Victor be dethroned this year? How were the other competitors feeling about their chances? There were many answers given. The competitors were like a sea around Victor, he stood head and shoulders above almost all of them. He had his arms crossed, a hint of his warpaint on his face for some length of a measure to make him look more intimidating.

Few noticed as small groups of people arrived on the grounds, carrying duffel bags and bulky backpacks. The spectacle of the games and the competitors kept many rapt and somewhat blind. Below their feet across the city timers ticked, explosive primers beginning to engage. No one was fully aware of what was happening.

On the second floor of a building under partial renovation across the street from the event area a man settled into position, a SKS DMR propped up on some sandbags, a low gain scope slotted atop it. The sniper knew her target, the tallest male among the lot of them. The idea was if they could take out the greatest among them, the rest would be quelled and easy targets for the rest on the ground. She also had her signal, when the bombs in the metro stations went off she'd take her shot. A single bullet to the chest, that's all would be needed to take down the monster. Even if he was a beast of a man, a bullet dropped every beast.

[FourtyTwo]

Natalie looked on, watching Victor give her a nice slap on the rear, her giggle one that let him in.
"Yeah, as usual with the press I suppose. I'll find my place in the VIP stand and make sure I'll be the loudest today Victor." Natalie said to him, walking on as she knew that she'd always get her revenge, in one way or another on Victor.

---

45 minutes later, Natalie was in the stand, looking on at Victor and his partial blue and red warpaint. He looked as if he could tear any human being apart by simply making their skin fall down in fear and intimidation. She knew that when she didn't have this bra on, men looked, gazed, almost perplexed in agony. There were many beautiful women, but her face, and her curves, her size and her sheer accent was overpowering, and with a different bra and top on, she would make any regular man pass out in lust. She always wondered where that had come from- it was like her height and her strength, a matter of genetics, just two things that had combined by chance to make the most wonderful features. She knew that if she was a muscle-pumping freak, she would have breasts like deflated balloons, and other disgusting features. A deep voice that made her sound male. Though when she spoke Russian and English her voice was deep, it was still definitively feminine, yet scary. Natalie watched on, a smile on her face. The phone in a pocket on her rear vibrated, as Natalie quickly picked up, sitting down quickly without noticing who had called. It was the man from a few days ago- the Minister, the man who had made the $100,000 payment into her Swiss account.
"The payment is through my dear. I hear it was a mess according to local Cypriot news, they've busted the whole thing and found it out. I said no communication, but I wanted to give my thanks." He said, Natalie chuckling a little as she replied in Russian.
"Well, that is pleasant to hear. I hope those women I found have a better life. But I can't talk now, I'm a little busy."
"Understood. You expect nobody to trace you back?"
"Nobody could, no witnesses, no survivors. You are fine, stop being paranoid." Natalie said, aware that she was saying it out of truth. The man sounded like a nervous wreck, as she cut the call off, putting the phone away. Nothing could go wrong today she told herself, but she always kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. The fact that there were so many strongmen and people just felt uneasy with her, and as much as she knew nothing could, or at least wanted to believe it, she knew that security wasn't precisely great. She always considered that if she wanted to do some damage, where would she strike- a technique she had learned to adapt to when she worked in the Alfa Gruppa, in close protection and hostage recovery. And today, she could pick enough holes to really suggest that if she had to be a terrorist aiming to kill as many people, it would be a walk in the park. Natalie knew that was never really the case, nothing like that would happen here- it was too small, too insignificant. But it was something almost hard-wired, and she just suppressed it as best as she could.

[BigPapaBelial]

10 minutes until attack

Cameras began to roll, news reporters starting their start of the competition day commentary. World wide coverage of the event meant people in Edmonton Alberta was watching as the WSM was broadcast. The official commentators in a raised booth were beginning a pre-event recap of the day before. Odds on favorites according to them were the defending champ Victor, a new Russian contender, and several old favorites who were making a prime showing.

6 minutes until the attack

Victor was standing in the middle of a group of reporters, he was answering all the old questions. How had he trained? Where had he trained? Would he ever tell the world what he did for a living? That question was asked of him everytime, what do you do for a living Victor, what do you and Natalie do? You live such incredible lives, but no one knows what you do between WSMs. Victor knew the PMC kept their operatives under a no disclosure clause and a privacy act that kept either side from giving out sensitive info. For all the world knew, Victor and Natalie had huge sums of money but they weren't sure where they came from. Victor just smiled and answered the questions like he always did, dodged some of them, answered the others as truthfully as he could.

One minute to the attack...

Victor had escaped his tormentors and was lining up with the other competitors. Trading playful and friendly jabs with some of them...

Then there was a roar...

The Metro bombs all went off at the same time or near too it. Within a 3 minute span. some of the bombs had been set wrong, and between the times of 11:59 am, and 12:01 pm the bombs went off. Explosions rocked the city. Reporters barked into their microphones about them, cameras kept rolling. And the first hint that Victor wasn't some kind of trust fund baby was shown. For about two seconds he was shocked, he had hunched over at the shoulders in surprise. But after that he just turned and looks over towards the nearest metro station exit. Black smoke and flame was pouring up out of it as the high yield bomb had almost gutted the place and set to flame anything flamable. Civilians were scrambling free from the entrance howling in terror.

Over the roar of the bombs, no one heard the report of a rifle. The sharpshooter had had a heart shot dialed in on Victor, but with him having turned the shot was off, and it struck him high on the ride side of his chest, cutting into muscle and bone rather then muscle and heart. Victor stumbled and went down to a knee.

Victor grunted as he felt the bite of a bullet. It'd been a long time since he'd taken a round to flesh. He was usually good enough or lucky enough to dodge shots like that. He dropped to a knee, below the gaze of almost everyone, he coughed as he tried to shunt away the pain. It didn't take long. He stood back up, and looked over the crowd at Natalie, his first need is to make sure she's okay. He spots her and despite the bleeding hole in his chest he nods to her silently asking if she's okay. His next need is to look around to figure out what the heck is going on.

And as he does, the terrorists in the crowd throw off their coats and bags. Revealing rifles, SMGs and LMGS. RPG launchers appear out of a few instrument cases. Grenade belts slung from shoulders and tied around waists. Yells of praise to various "prophets" and warlords are called as the shooting begins.

Victor narrows his eyes, the full switch from fun to business coming over him, going from the mentality of Victor, to the mentality of Brutal. Switching gears. Victor isn't about to let these people kill innocents, there are children here, the elderly. He spares Natalie a look, he's positive she knows what he's going to do. He breaks into a run, ten huge strides gets him to a fantastic speed. A blur almost, taking him to the first knot of assailants who have begun to attack

They barely have time to turn to see what's coming at them...

[FourtyTwo]

Natalie's eyes turned slowly, but almost in a split second, the world was on fire. Her heart paced, everything had switched. From watching Victor about to dole out damage, to something else. She knew there was only one thing she could do, watching as Victor took the shot. She almost screamed in terror, then realizing what had happened. He had been hit in the wrong place for that sniper, and he would stand up from that shot, he had enough mass between his internals and that 7.62mm round. Tough bastard, she reminded herself- but that wasn't enough. In her bottom of her right trouser leg Spetsnaz shovel sat, a weapon that she knew was quite quickly accessible, sheathed in the fabric. One side was sharp, the other blunt as a baseball bat, but enough in her hands to smash somebody's skull in. And as Victor clambered up, his warpainted face exploding in a rage, Natalie got the look that what was about to happen couldn't be stopped by even a tank shell. Victor was going to kill some fuckers, and Natalie had all the pleasure.

The shovel slipped into her hand, knowing full well that if she was going down, she wasn't going down like this. She clasped the blade in her right hand, her fingers like fishooks as she flung it towards a man holding a Negev MG, going right for the back of the head, as she herself gave no caution to the wind, and erupted with a pace, aware that this was war. The shovel buried itself into his skull, shattering through- it was razor sharp in it's throw, and Natalie knew that the weighting and composition of the Shovel had been perfect for her- it felt like a brick to most people in weight, but to her, it was like a stiletto, but chunkier. The man's skull was almost halved, as it brought him down, Natalie charging and skidding on the tarmac as she went for his Negev, the Israeli 7.62mm LMG something that she was surprised to see here- but something that she had vague practice with. She pulled the shovel out and kept it loosely in her hand, holding the weapon at the shoulder with a instictive and bloodthirsty rage triggered, as something felt as if it tripped a nerve, like you had gone ahead and done something to Natalie that had made her very, very angry. It wasn't as wholly unstoppable like Victor's charge, but it was a moment of pure focus, of pure, dedicated and total concentration of how to kill every, single motherfucker that held a weapon in their hands by any means needed. The bodycount was just one for her, but she wanted more, to end this violence and make them pay.

Instead of firing on civilians, Natalie clambered up, her whole 7 feet two inches, and began spraying towards the contacts near Victor, giving a loud wolf whistle as she knew Victor was knee-deep in kicking the hell out of those bastards. They had a lot more the clear, and the world was still on fire, the Metro stations burning and the whole area in total disaray, with gunmen and anarchy kicking up. She didn't realize it, but as she sprayed down almost five of the men, almost running and moving with the LMG like it was a paperweight compared to her M134, she had taken at least six 9mm rounds all over, and the blood was slowly going over her plaid shirt, something clear that was noticeable from a mile out. But this Russian wasn't going down that easily, and she knew that they had to get this done. She tossed the weapon away as the chamber went click, the LMG fully empty now.

Pushing up, she moved to Victor, cautious as she knew that at least ten were gone now, a sizable majority due to Victor and Natalie's efforts as well as the one or two police that had fired a shot or two off. She tossed her shovel into a man that was just in front of Victor, attempting to go for his weapon, before throwing herself down on the ground with him, where it looked like he had spent a good amount of time really handing it to those who had just opened fire. She looked over, looking at the bullet wound in his chest, as she checked her own, taking her shirt off to inspect the wounds below her ribs and two in her shoulder.
"Shit, how you and I are not dead is the question- I'll leave that to the doctors to explain. Come on, get a gun off these fuckers, we need to counterattack. We're big targets, but we're faster than they think, and trust me, painkillers always solve everything later Victor." Natalie said, letting her shirt down, aware that despite the fact that this was the worst time to do such a thing, that it was probably better in the case any more bullets brought cloth into the wounds and really hurt her. That and the fact that she didn't care right now, some sort of Amazonic tale, meant that Natalie did not care. It was her bra, her trousers and a now retrieved AN-94 with a PKA-S Holographic Sight from the floor which sat in her bare hands, and from a distance, it looked as if the duo weren't going to go down easily.

Natalie moved up, sliding into cover as she knew that the terrorists had by now identified that Victor and his girlfriend were up and running. The former was scary to everyone- the big WSM competitor, but the people that had hit the deck after Victor and Natalie's courage to take out the remaining enemies were astounded that the two were throwing themselves in the line of fire.
"Everyone, keep your heads down!" Natalie yelled loudly in French, at the tourists, many looking directly at the two as Natalie looked at Victor.
"Shit, we need to stop this madness...I say we kill as many of them as we can on this street, secure the civilians in a safe building and hold for as long as we can. This is big alright." Natalie said over the noise of the gunfire, her position behind the concrete post being occasionally bitten into, as she looked over at him. In the heat of it all, there was no point denying that Natalie really looked as if she was truly an Amazon with some sort of undeniable cleavage and a very stern warface, her usually reserved thick arms and legs now at full pent in making themselves useful and, and that for Victor's warpaint and size, she was the antidote to fight alongside him. She turned the corner, taking two enemies systematically with the two-round bursts, the 1000 RPM shots decimating the two, Natalie's familiarity with this weapon almost completely trusting, turning back as she felt the mag go dry. She clipped a new magazine in that she had picked up earlier, looking at Victor.
"Right, two options. Either you cover me, and I spray up those three over there, or you follow me to hell Victor." Natalie said, knowing that there was almost a slight inclination to the latter, as she readied to move.

[BigPapaBelial]

Victor moved with conviction, he moved like a predatory blur. He'd been shot, these people were targeting civilians, men, women, children and the elderly come to watch a public event. If there was one thing the First Nations people didn't like it was targetting of children and the elderly. The knot of terrorists he had targeted didn't see him coming until the last moment. One of the shooter stopped to reload her weapon, when she felt something approaching her. She turned, but wasn't able to do anything. Victor's knee met her face full force. It'd be hard to identify her later. Victor moved forward, skipping by another man as Natalie burned him down. the next man got caught by a foot right to the gut. He folded over Victor's leg something snapping in his back from the sheer force. Victor moved forward and with brutal effectiveness, swung his elbow up, and met the underside of the next terrorist's jaw. His head snapped back, then snapped forward a moment later when Victor's other elbow smashed into the back of his head. He ended the last man by grabbing him in a clench and smashing his knees repeatedly into the man's chest and stomach, he didn't stop under he could feel a wet give from the bones and muscle. He let the body fall. Spinning still in a fighting state of mind but lowered his guard just abit. He grunted as he finally felt the pain in his shoulder. He rolled it and had to wince, "We should be after that...I think this thing is grinding on bone." He pointed at the bleeding hole on his shoulder, "But it hasn't really hit anything vital."

He looked at Natalie, noting her own wounds, but knew that like him, she'd survive. Made of as tough a stuff as he is. He leaned down and scooped up a pair of Bizon PP19 SMGs. As well as a belt of grenades, and a belt of those long helical magazines for the Bizon. He hollered to some people that were trying to make a break for it. His French wasn't great, but it was decent enough that when someone his size and how loud he could get shouted it, people tended to listen. "Get back down you fools! Do not give them targets!" He looked around, "Good idea on the hard cover..." He looked about all the more then pointed, and shouted to the civilians. The location, a hard sided tourist information kiosk, "There go there!." He yelled, and punctuated his words by getting up, and buzzing down some of the terrorist with a dual burst from the Bizons.

He caught up with Natalie, covering her rear, he ditched the Bizon's almost immediately though and grabbed up an AK-12 lying on the ground, along with several banana mags for it. He pressed his back against the corner they had reached. Took a moment to show t to Natalie, "Brand new tech. How the hell did terrorist gets their hands on first class tech? Wait...remember the caves? The CIA extract...didn't we find some info on there being shipping to minor groups abroad? Is this a connection?" He growled, as his mind started to tick. He looked up at Natalie and grinned, "Two options? I only see one." He stepped around her, then stepped around and hip-fired suppression fire at the terrorist down the way. They jumped and leapt for cover. Victor reached over and gave Natalie a slight swat on the shoulder, "Go!" He fired again, peppering the area around the terrorists with more fire. They started to blind fire back at him, but their fire was way off. He didn't let it phase him as he let the last of his rounds off, then quickly leaned back into cover to reload. As he came back around the corner, Natalie running by behind him he spotted another six coming up to back up the two he had pinned. He called to Natalie, "Quickly now hun, we're about to have more company!" He trained his fire on the back up, rounds hitting the ground around them, causing them to dive for cover too. He managed to catch one of them in the throat, listening to the terrorist cry out in shock and pain.

Victor growled calling out to them, "This was supposed to amount to a vacation you mother fuckers! I'm going to rip you all new assholes for disturbing my free time!" He started to burst fire, keeping their heads down. Chance shots getting close to him, but no where near to him at the moment.

[FourtyTwo]

Natalie looked over, nodding her head.
"No shit, this has to be the same fucking thing. I'm really going to enjoy cheese grating whoever fucking did this." Natalie said, looking over the corner and then at Victor, as she then followed him once he tapped, moving out and making the Russian-made, two burst rapid fire gun in her arms make a mess of the recipients of the shots she made. She was laser accurate- the recoil felt like nothing almost, and the weapon was so familiar with her, like her AS VAL and the PKP Pechneg, that she hardly needed to think about how to best utilize the weapon- it was almost automatic. She twatted two enemies with two consecutive bursts, as she skidded on her trousers behind Victor, leaning against him as she shot one more that was down her end of the street, feeling bullets skim past and fly. This was insane, she reminded her inner self. And it was why she, the half-naked, bra-wearing Russian was doing what most Navy Seals would call insanity. Running into fire, and clipping enemies with lethal fire. They were blind, she was not. She had precision, and felt every burst recoil automatically become nullified in her bare shoulder, Natalie's legs and arms automatic but cringing with pain. The nine mils were taking their toll, and she knew that if she got a good dose of Antibiotics and Painkillers, along with a pair of tweezers for herself, she'd probably be alright. She had better things to die to.

Like the RPG a bearded terrorist was holding, and was already raised. Natalie dived down, straight behind a car as it went off, slamming into a van on the other side of the street, which flipped the vehicle and sent smoke and shrapnel up, Natalie already using the distraction to her advantage, as she shot the man straight in the chest, with another huge explosion sending two of his comrades by his side- Natalie assume she had hit a warhead on his side pouch, perhaps. She looked over at Victor, nodding her head again as she sent two more bursts, before finishing the mag, throwing the weapon to the side as she saw him take a few more out, nulling the storm for a while. This avenue was partially clear, and the place was anarchy. Natalie adjusted her bra, before finding a PKP on one of the bodies, and a belt of some sort, with a pair of boxes attached. Looking over at Victor, her face a cut and bruised with her blonde hair buzzed and not ordered like before, she knew that this wasn't how this was going to end, and sure as hell, that no harm would go on. They wouldn't let that happen.
"Shit, how you feeling?" Natalie asked, looking over at her Mohawk boyfriend, his warpaint and his AK-12, along with his hair making him look like a Red Indian from the Warrior Society of the tribe, but by today's standards with weaponry. Though Natalie knew that Victor would not mind wielding his mighty Tomahawk and War Club and not giving a shit about bullets and shrapnel till after, probably scalping and decapitating every single person that came in his way, she knew full well that for now, fighting fire with fire was the way it had to work.
"The local police are bound to have militarized, SWAT teams, maybe even the Belgian Special Forces. Fuck, we need to figure out what's left. This could all be a distraction, I've seen it before. That was big, whatever it was, but if they've got this, they've got the capability for more. What was it you said about Afghanistan Victor?" Natalie said, looking up at him, as she saw a few enemies come her way, turning around as if she was back to back with him, the shorter female of the two spraying with her favorite infantry weapon on a pair of terrorists that emerged from the building, one grazing a shot in her elbow and barely squeezing past Victor's armpit, as Natalie winced, but kept herself up, moaning a little as she looked back.
"You said that they had the same guns, I remember. There were chemical warheads there, and they had improvised mortar systems...oh...fuck. Victor, whatever we're going to do, we either die by bullets or die by gas. If it means stopping the other, I'll risk the first." Natalie said, a smile on her face, as she kissed him on the cheek, keeping back to back still as she looked around.
"What do you think? I mean...we must act now, they're going to want to hit main population areas instead of second guessing and putting it far away, and they sure as hell want us dead as High Value Targets, particularly you. I'd rather give them the satisfaction of being close to their crosshairs but never in them." She said, keeping the PKP raised in her hands as she looked around, covering her sector of the street.

[BigPapaBelial]

Victor growled and rolled his shoulder, wincing abit, the pain starting to seep through his determination and unconscious mental armour against pain. He looked about, and made to reach for one of the tomahawks that are usually on his forearms. He snarled at himself when he came up empty on them, he hadn't been allowed to take them into the country, and they were currently stored at the airport. He had been a little jealous when he has seen the shovel his girlfriend had produced. Right now the welcome feel of one of the semi-ceremonial weapons would be very very nice in his hands. He turned then gave Natalie a tap, "Line, high watch..." Falling into military protocol, asking her to stay beside him and watch up high. He started to walk, scanning ahead and behind them carefully, "Chemicals...right I remember now. They had delivery systems too didn't they? Long range rockets and various other methods. Damn it...would they use it here?" He pressed his back to a corner, peeking around it, and only seeing civilians fleeing from the fighting. He listened carefully, and could hear the short, pop of police issue pistols ahead and behind them. As well as the staccato bursts of the automatic fire the terrorists were using. He smiled, "Sounds like the local police are making a showing. Maybe we ought to try and link up with a group of the-"

He was cut off as ahead and to their right, the direction of a police precinct in fact, there was an explosion, debris and flame billowing down the street. He blinked, then started running, "Shit! Their hitting law enforcement locations! If they do that, they'll cut off the cities first line of defense! Come on, I know there's another one nearby. We need to get there before what ever bomb is there goes off, get the local going."

He tore down the street trusting Natalie to follow him. He tore into a side street, narrow, with blind corners leading into alleys and alcoves. As he ran, he saw terrorists peek out of alcoves, they were surprised to see him, Victor was running on rage and training. The first terrorist to try and step in his way got shouldered back hard, Victor stepped over him, leaving him to Natalie to finish. The next terrorist, got a foot planted to her jaw. Something snapped and she fell, the next Victor took his legs out with a blurt from his rifle. He kept moving. A fourth raised his rifle. Victor grabbed a rusted wrench from some repairman's lost kit, and with a spin and a flick of his wrist, the tool sailed over, spinning like a saw, and took his square in the face, there was blood, no telling if he'd get up. Victor kept on moving, tackling the last man, crushing him but leaving him alive for Natalie again to finish off.

They didn't have the time to stick around and make it professional, they needed to move, he reached the next street just a few second ahead of his girlfriend, he turned and pointed down the street the next police station in sight. That's when Victor saw it, a rusted up old panel truck, there ought to be no reason for it to be there. It was parked right across the street from the station. He looked to Natalie, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He ran the rest of the distance to the truck, grabbed the opening handle, and turned, pushing the back panel up and looking inside. He gaped as he looked at the sheer amount of explosives within. Police were calling to them asking what they were doing and that they should get clear of the danger zone. Victor only looked through the myraid of explosives, "I...I think I can disarm it...I need something sharp...a knife...I need a knife..." One of the officers joined them, hearing Victor's words, seeing the contents of the truck and instantly offered the big man a pocket knife. the giant climbed in, "Okay...Creator watch over me...." He picked his way into the truck, looking for the detonator...

He stopped half way in though, taking a big gulp, then started to back out...we need to evac...I might be able to defuse it...but we don't know how long there is left on the detonator...we need to get out of here." He turned to the cop who joined them, "Radio your co-workers, tell them to get out of the building as fast as they can, using side entrances and back entrances, and not to come out into the front street." He jumped out of the truck, "Half a block away, grab everything you can, rifles, shotgun, ammo, flash bombs anything, you're going to need it." He went to Natalie, looking her in the eyes, "We need to move hun...and fast..." He grabbed her hand and started to book it down the street, away from the bomb, but towards the fighting.

[FourtyTwo]

Natalie followed close down the alley, then suddenly realizing what had happened when Victor was on his charge. The first man was thrown back by Victor's shoulder, but raised his 9mm, with Natalie almost following in a charging manner and quick. She threw herself straight onto him, throwing the PKP loose as she knew her whole weight was going to hit his right shoulder. A distinctive crack followed, as Natalie blocked a parry by the man's left hand as the M9 fell out of his right hand, before then slamming her forehead straight into the man's head, grabbing the man's left arm in the process which left him completely exposed and in agony. She finished him with a sharp kick to the head, kicking out blood in her traditional brutal approach, as she clambered upwards, grabbing the pistol in the process as a temporary weapon. Victor had well and truly fucked up the men that were also in they way, Natalie choosing to take a simple approach. The weapon was vaguely familiar to the Russian, but the nine millimeter round wasn't much at all. She quickly managed to shoot the last man that had been taken down with a summary execution, watching as Victor kept moving and Natalie was left a little behind. She went for her PKP, moving with a rapid combat pace before wiping the blood from her forehead. She had hit the man so hard with her headbutt she had actually knocked him out, and probably kicked up a little blood now. The 7"2 Russian with a MMG in her hands, her oversized yet fitting jeans, as well as a tight bra, wasn't what you would call your regular CT operator, but ends had to be met today, and with Victor, she knew full well that they had to protect the civilians as much as possible and counter-attack.

She sprinted back towards Victor's rear, covering as best as she could as Victor pointed the truck out.
"Fuck...Victor, there's no telling how much C4 or Semtex that's crammed in that thing. Careful." Natalie said, moving up as she covered him, looking at the police, as she spoke in French.
"Let him carry on. He knows what he is doing- get any civilians as far away from here into safety, we'll deal with any of these fuckers." Natalie said to the police chief in strong French, the man nodding, Natalie glad that he spoke it rather than Flemish. Natalie turned back to covering Victor, as he clambered in, trying to defuse the bomb.
"Victor, you know, when we finish this, I swear to God, I will hang the fucker that did this with his own intestines. Mark my words." Natalie said, coldly, as she stuck close, looking in, as she scanned for enemies. Two more terrorists, female to Natalie's surprise, made their way down the street, the Russian on one knee as she unloaded the Pechneg down range, tearing them apart with fire that felt like it was from an assault rifle but was significant in volume. Natalie looked at her wounds, feeling her arms go a little weaker. The adrenaline was wearing off slightly, it wasn't good at all. She needed to get the wounds sorted, just some painkillers and a pair of tweezers, and the same for Victor. She knew that when the prolonged effect of her Adrenaline went, she'd probably collapse or be stiff as a plank due to the fact that a couple were in her shoulder, and three in her abdomen, by her abs. Willpower almost kept the 9mm rounds from going deeper, and she knew it wouldn't kill- they had probably hit the bottom of her ribs or embedded in her muscle, which now felt like every breath she took brought more agony. But she was a strong woman, and would carry on regardless.

As soon as she heard that Victor didn't seem confident about the bomb's disposal, she cursed loudly, not at him but in general. as she raised the PKP, looking for more terrorists.as she backed away from the van, taking his right hand with her left, the PKP on her right shoulder. She saw a couple of men up ahead, as Natalie just fired wildly, aware it was the best covering she could give., It was just the volume, and she didn't stop firing, the shots going all over the road and sending the terrorists into cover, as the LMG kicked into her right shoulder, the recoil a bit more significant but something which would do the job for now. She saw a car, and almost threw Victor towards it with herself, coming down on top of him as she realized that it was the only significant cover from the device. If it went up, Natalie just hoped that they were far enough, because a gut feeling felt like in the moment that she did it to Victor, the world trembled.

[BigPapaBelial]

[My post marks the end of the action for our characters, one more post from the both of us after this then we can move into anything else we might have planned.]

Victor teared down the street, aware of police running around him, away from the bomb. He ducked and weaved, firing from the hip at a few of the terrorist that had found them. The police just didn't have the reaction times he and Natalie did. He skidded abit, his focus on the end of the street, if they could make it there they might be safe from the blast. He was about to ditch his gun, lighten the load, when he was pulled off balance, the only person in existence able to do that is Natalie. No one else would be able to do that, perhaps some mythological strongmen, Heracles comes to mind, Atlas perhaps who holds up the world in Greek myth. But in modern day Earth, almost not one could budge him if he didn't wan to be moved, a large group of men perhaps pushing with every bit of strength they could sure. But only Natalie could throw him around with some ease. So wen he suddenly sails off balance, doing a twist in the air to get upright and lands behind a car he knows who did it. He then found himself under Natalie. He was about to ask what the hell she was up too.

Then the world shook, a roar built to an incredible crescendo. A deep red light followed by a baleful white bloom. And heat, much heat.

The bomb ripped the front facade of the police station off, the building it was directly in front of was blasted back off it's foundations and laid sagging against the building behind it. Cops were ripped off their feet as the pressure wave roiled down the street, punching some of the closer cars and trucks into the air, the others getting rocked back before coming to rest abit. Two vehicles parked right beside the bomb truck are kicked up into the air and almost incinerated on the spot. This same scene played out in other parts of the city, with other bomb trucks going up.

After the explosion cleared Victor looked up at Natalie, "You okay babe?" He checked her over quickly. And was about to try and get up when someone shouted in pain. He looked over to see an armed unit of the terrorists making their way down the bombed out street. Firing on the cops who were trying to find cover. They exchanged small arms fire. One of the terrorists spotted the two giants and turned to level his LMG on them. Victor tried to wriggle himself and Natalie further into cover. He snarled, he didn't want to go out this way. He tried to reach his gun next, which had fallen out of his hands. But it was too far away.

The terrorist drew aim, then shots rang out. Victor was sure they were about to die. When the terrorists dropped, and black armored SWAT and belgian camo dressed soldiers appeared, giving each of the terrorists another two shots to the chest each to make sure they were down. They progressed down the street, a SWAT van rolling down the street they just came off of and disappearing further down the road. An IFV rolling by behind it. Victor groaned, and gently rolled Natalie off him. Hugging her, as one of the SWAT cops reached them. He knelt beside them, pulling his helmet off, "So you two are the giants huh? Survivors at the plaza told us about how you blunted the first wave." The SWAT officer looked down the road, "Nine more trucks like that went off, killing hundreds. The rest were duds. or we got there in time to defuse them. You both are heroes you know. Saved lives." Victor looked up at the man and nodded, "Sure...is there a safe zone we can head too?" The SWAT officer nodded, "Sure, 4 blocks over, that's where we're taking the survivors and people we've recovered. You can head there. The Guard and SWAT were mobilized just after the first metro explosions. We'll mop up the rest."

Victor nodded, getting up and offering to help Natalie up. The SWAT officer got up and started shouting orders to the cops in the area, getting them moving to help the civvies. Victor looked around the street. Looking at the debris, and carnage. He growled, "Perth is going to have something for us to work on I think after this babe..." He looked down at Natalie, hoping she had the same line of thought he did.

[FourtyTwo]

(You okay if I began the start of the next segment I wanted to start working on? I mean, I'll have one more post on this after your next post, but I want to setup the next thing.)
(Also, we need possibly an Icelandic super-heavy, could be interesting to see as a character but I don't think realistic in time. The link below explains it all- they have a population of around 250,000, yet have plenty of people who have arms the size of treetrunks.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8A7woRoVwyM

"Shit, just." Natalie said, looking into the Mohican's eyes, backing off as she looked for her PKP, aware it had now gone, out of her hands and somewhere down the road. The moment she thought she'd be hit by a shower of LMG rounds didn't happen, as she smirked, standing up and brushing herself off, watching as the Belgians did their work. Now it was their turn to save some ass, Natalie thought to herself, keeping close to Victor, as she winced in pain. The adrenaline had gone, and now, she felt like passing out, as she kept with him, leaning on him from time to time as they walked down the street.
"I need to get this shit out of me, it's going through. Fuck, I feel bad. This might have me out for a few days, like I said earlier, I just need some fucking painkillers and a pair of tweezers. Your wound's going to need more, but even so, it's not often you get shot seven times by nine mils and talk about it." Natalie said, chuckling as she knew that Victor had just taken a sniper's bullet that had only stopped in his shoulder, an intensely painful thing but something which she knew he'd be feeling.
"And you know it, Victor. I said it earlier myself, whoever's behind this I'll have hanged by their own fucking small intestine. It's going to be fun filleting the fucker." Natalie said, wincing as she kept walking with him down the road, knowing that support had at least come in the right time. Her body felt sick, twisted, and she knew it was never a good thing. But she wouldn't fall, her body wouldn't let that.
"Victor, this may not be the time to say it...but you know how you bought me that coat earlier today? I can tell it in your eyes, what you want to do. We may be Gods, but one day, we will just be etches in the stones of history." Natalie said, coming closer, a smile on her face.
"But right now, there isn't little else here that matters. You make my pain go, you red-faced brute." Natalie said, a hard smirk on her face as she reached up and kissed him, holding on for support knowing that they were out of the mess, and almost at the safe zone. They were going to a medical inspection, and Natalie couldn't imagine the next few hours being easy.

---

Two days later

"Merlin, this is Falcon, encrypt is going, I've got a secure line."
"Understood Falcon. I assume you've seen the news. We're still compiling the body-count, but this is to the scale of 9/11, if not worse. You know exactly what they used."
"Russian firearms. AK-12s, AN-94s, PKPs, fuck, they used the latest shit, and that isn't good. Even fucking forensics points to this..it's no fake."
"Yeah. As you may understand then, we're not looking at some non-aligned bunch of Taliban here. This goes deeper. From what intel you recovered in the destroyed ammunition dump in the Chechen mountains a few months back, and from our Chinese manifest, we know that this is a Transnational Facilitator, or in other words, imagine the guys above the Cartels and the shitty little groups that has the loosest connection. They're the kind of people that make Chinese weaponry show up in some Sierra Leone junkyard by some way, and organize for drugs to go from some coca leaf grower in Peru to a celebrity's nose in the US. Criminals really but on a mass, intra-governmental scale. You know what a TNC is? Trans-National Corporation? Well, imagine the criminal version of that, but as a supplier, not as a doer. We're looking at a thinner and thinner selection of groups that could do what happened in Brussels, and we are seriously running out of options here. So we're going to make a stand here that Ahmed Masood, or callsign "Fletcher", is one of the cogs we want out of the picture. We think that if we pick him out, we find out what we need. Of course, we need more speculation on the Russian end, and why the fuck these guns have actually gone over, rather than just him- but leave that to us for the moment. You're making a start."
"Right. So the Masood and his Transnational Facilitator is our issue in terms of how these fucking terrorists got their guns?"

"Not entirely, Falcon. Now, we've got several documents, above your pay grade, that they had an aircraft and several distribution points in the Southern Tajikistani mountains. The former of which you aren't classified to know, I tried to fucking ask but they will not go any way about it. There is an issue- and that is that this group, whoever they were, are still significant in number. They've got no real demands, they're quiet. That rules out Al-Qaeda, the usual suspects. Nobody, I mean fucking no-body came forward. But we know this much- they used modern gear, they used gear that the Spetsnaz would still call new. Female and Male members, this isn't a regular cell. No country is connected, we found multiple ethnicities, it's a mixture of everything in the pot. Mercenaries, perhaps. Worst of all, we know some got away, but we know they had some union. Suicide bombings, and advanced explosive compositions- C4 and various PETN mixtures that we ain't seen the likes of in a very long while from a group this technically skilled. Langley gives the best bet that this is an Eastern group of some sort, perhaps funded directly by a government and bolstered by mercenary forces, though we see little connection between this group and a governmental organization. All I understand fully is, the world wants answers, before NATO flips the table and decides to go off what little we have. The TF we've identified to stem from Dushanbe, and we've got local agents already on the ground working on it. If I'm honest, you're just a pair of snipers, but considering your talents and your abilities on several missions, both with Knight and autonomously, we want you to fill this one. Our guys will deal with finding Fletcher. Your job is to remind him why it's a bad idea to sell guns to people who hate the West. Orders may change to capture him if needed, but for now, he's a dead man walking. Your kit should also come too with your ticket- you won't be alone, but when shit hits the fan, be careful. He's well guarded- remember, Transnational Facilitators aren't exactly small gangs. We're talking above the Cartels and the Gangs, we're talking the people who have direct political influence- and in Tajikistan, we can bet that Ahmed has a good line on the President and the government, as well as his gang having a widespread influence over the Central Asian ballpark. Now, this is something Interpol and local governments are better to deal with, but when it comes to shit like this, I don't care what agency is meant to deal with scum like this. Bullets are louder, and you need to recover whatever intel he has on him, in conjunction with our agents on the ground that will purge both his legitimate and his illegal offices. We collapse this, whoever was behind this will feel like they've got a ballsack trapped in the door."
"Understood Merlin. Creative description."
"I only aim to make it clear Falcon. You've got 2 hours to get packing, we'll keep in contact and once it's done, get you out of that place."

---

Dushanbe, Tajikistan
2200 Hours

"Vanguards"

Andrew opened the door, walking into the small apartment, looking out behind him as he shut the door, looking over at Nolan. Andrew wore some hand-me-down brown Tajikistani robes along with a sachel on his back, with a bit of a beard that had grown recently- being useful in this area. He wore a Shemagh over his mouth, and a wool cap, nondescript or exactly notable- but that was the point.
"Fuck me, that was boring as shit. I got a bead on the way that Ahmed's coming with his convoy to the other side of town, through the abandoned industrial park. Place is ex-Soviet, that cooling tower is going to make a hell of a bird's nest for you. As for his transport, I got a reference on what vehicle it even is- up-armored goddamn SUV of some sort. So that Tac-50 of yours is going to be nice." Andrew asked Nolan, as he checked his own G17, checking the clip and taking a seat, quickly pulling the sachel out as he slid the tablet across the wooden table to Nolan.
"We've got eight hours mate. How the fuck we got this intel, I don't know, but we're coming down on this guy hard. Our guys must be deep now in finding this sort of thing out, makes our job easier to snatch his ass. Still no change on if it's a kill or capture order, though I still like the first myself." He said, Andrew putting his G17 back into a hidden holster, as he quickly flicked to a white face, away from that of some elderly Arab-looking businessman slash terrorist who practically kept a large, inter-governmental syndicate practically making the world's criminal, paramilitary and terrorist connections click. Ahmed was Amazon, for terrorists. But this bloke was different- and Andrew wanted to explain.
"Oh, and this guy seems to be riding along. Grigori Konstantin, just another representative of an arms dealer that we're already getting tabs on, and thus, just another black hole- it solves fucking nothing on who actually connects which people selling the shit through the whole system, especially guns like that. He's like that guy in China, just like that- but I think we could kick a notch out of him. Torture works good, and those Chinks were holding back most of the time on the worst. Still fucked me up didn't it. Anyway, we might need to recover him, and any documents on the convoy. I suppose that puts me and my Mk18 in good steed, plus the rappelling rope." Andrew said, flickering away, as the light jumped for a second, before it came back.
"Fucking lights. Power's shit here." He just remarked, looking out the window, the late night of Dushanbe being dusty and bleak. Andrew got up, walking over to the couch, a ripped and torn thing, and managed to scoop his hand under, pulling his tan-painted, silenced and sighted DD Mk18 out of there- the hiding place for his weapon different than Nolan's, which was located in the second room, within a secured cabinet along with their BDUs and miscellaneous kit, such as harnesses and a couple of M2 SLAM mines for a little fanciful anti-vehicle munitions.
"This thing is just an M4 in wolf's clothing, I swear. Does the job though." Andrew said, a smirk on his face as he knew that they'd be going within the hour, and that they had to get kitted up, keeping their robes and local clothing on top for the moment until they got to the site.

[BigPapaBelial]

In Belguim

The giants had been gathered up by an ambulance shortly before reaching the safe zone. And taken to a medical area. After having the bullets removed and placed in side by side beds, bandaged up and injected with painkillers. Natalie and Victor had rested for a time. Hours later, in the early hours of the evening Victor had opened his eyes after a nap. Sitting up and looking over at Natalie. He reached over, pulled his jacket close, then nudged her, "Babe?" As she turned to him he pulled a purple velvet case from his jacket, opened it and grinned, "A 7.62 round in my shoulder...about a dozen 9mm rounds in you...and this is the best time I can think of to ask...Will you marry me?" He smiled at her, showing her the gold, platinum, ruby and diamond engagement ring.

---

Tajikistan, Safehouse apartment

Nolan looked up at Andrew as he came in, the Canadian sniper bent over a side table reassembling his Tac 50. He nodded in greeting, "Boring is a good thing, it means nothing is going wrong. It's when things get exciting that we need to worry." He slid the gas system back into his rifle carefully, "So the industrial park huh? I was looking at maps of the area. That cooling tower is a prime spot yeah. Clear view of most of the grounds. I'll bring some AP rounds along just in case. The normal FMJ round ought to be enough to punch through the armoring on anything short of an APC. Otherwise we ought to be good."

He slid the last few pieces of his rifle back together, then racked the bolt to make sure it works. An ominous click-clack of the bolt sliding back and forth, he then pulled the trigger hearing the tick of the firing pin. He smiled, "I can take the engine out, and given a little time, the driver too, right through the wind-shield." He sat in a seat, his rifle beside him. He nodded slowly, "Is Konstantin a mark? I got this gut feeling deep down that if we don't consider him a threat, it'll come and bite us in the ass later." He smiled at his partner, "You'll get your payback on the Chinese, my brother. The way this thing sounds, the sheer size of this facilitator thing, it's got tendrils and feelers out everywhere. The bastards that took you will feel it eventually." he nodded then got up.

He made his way into the next room, coming out a little later with his PP-2000, newly refitted, the black tactical design with fitted laser sight and RDS atop it. He began to clean it carefully, "Eight hours...eight hours...I'd say get some sack time. We want to be rested and alert. I'll go find us something to eat, then we get over there and set up. explosives, cover, everything." He nodded, smiling broadly, "Oh we'll have everything ready for this guy. First steps man, for all those people who died in Belguim."

[FourtyTwo]

Natalie gave just a single yell as the last, and worst nine millimeter, was withdrawn from her. She felt like that would have been the moment she would have passed out- it had been in her hip, barely missing her bladder and intestine, and it had been something that she had demanded to stay conscious during, contrary to the doctor's advice. She looked over at Victor, a smile on her face as she leaned back into her pillow, just knowing that time and the fact that she had recovery to make. No matter how her will was, even she would know that today, they had stopped the worst of the shit.

Natalie awoke, looking at Victor as she looked out the window, noticing she had been out for a while. As Victor sat up and said what he then proceeded to say, she smiled, a smile like nobody really saw of her ever having. The darkness and gloominess, the bitter revenge and pain that almost felt as if it could manifest into a radioactive aurora of misery to all that saw the Russian on her bed, just melted away. Natalie's grin from ear to ear was just intoxicating, as she smiled, sitting up a little as words barely formed.
"Yes..." She said, Natalie letting Victor take the ring out and place it on her ring finger, the ring being one of the most beautiful pieces she had seen in a very long while. Victor sure knew how to treat her.
"Get over here..." Natalie said in a lustful tone, as she rose towards Victor, both hands hugging him tightly but not too much as she knew they'd both be a little stiff from the wounds, as her lips smooched against his, the kiss seeming to last forever, as Natalie dragged him down on top of her and carried on, the moment of pure love and the big Mohican atop her just enough. It wasn't the usual that Victor and Natalie had gone through before, it was just the most tender kiss she had to give, just a feeling that in her life. The idea that he had finally declared that she was the only woman he would spend his entire life with was something Natalie knew was going to one day happen, but even in her pain, it just evaporated away, just with pure affection.

---

(Not sure how to expand on it from here- I do want some urban inflitration, kinda avoiding the police to get to the OP and jump to it- I may do it in the next post in some sort of transition.)
(Also, spot the reference. Ignorance is bliss for these two- they never saw anything remember...)

"Konstantin's a mark, but I'd like to have a word with him. I'll go and get him, after you're done so to speak." Andrew said, loading a PMAG into the Mk18, cocking the weapon as he checked the EOTech sight on top, and the AFG foregrip mounted along with a compact but substantial silencer.
"Aye aye. It'd be better to sleep you know, there, wait for the target if anything changes, but an hour won't kill us. It isn't that far." He added, putting the weapon on the couch as he sat down by it's side, looking out the window before back at Nolan.
"They mentioned a plane that they had, in what I heard from Merlin. It got taken down and they found some intel aboard it, how the fuck you do that quietly in this world I don't understand. I mean, we could all blame it on these giants that I heard about back in Helmand, everything that has no ties they blame it on these days. Apparently, these two had like a minigun and a fucking GMG, and were like walking tanks. Not like Ross and Carl, they say they're like eight foot tall fucking tanks. Fucking hell, as much as I want to believe that, I think some people just like to dream up the idea that those sort of people exist. I mean, who even has that kind of size? I'll believe it when I see it, but I think they seem to just have underrated CAS runs and JDAM strikes- it's got as much plausibility as the Tooth Fairy." Andrew said, looking out, as he retracted the stock, flipping the magazine out again since it was uncocked to inspect the rounds inside, before clipping it back in.
"Anyway, we'll have to think on our feet. M2 SLAMs do a good job, I could remote detonate them and smash the other vehicles in the convoy. The armored one I'll leave to you, then I can head down and kill any stragglers, as well as see if Konstantin is a securable asset or red mist from your 12.7mm. I might need to chase any runners, so you should just keep ventilating anything that doesn't move till we have what we need. Something gives me a feeling we're just cutting the head of the snake, and I suppose it will buy time for the agents that we've got here time to dig into the transfacilitator, and figure out where the dots go to. And probably what's going to happen next with what movement of guns. Total disorientation, they'll have no clue when they're leader's dead and a arms dealer's representative is either in the same unmarked grave or having a car battery wired to his balls. Then, we have to pray that our way out is going to be one not involving every local gang, corrupt police or even military contact on hand." Andy said, itching his beard, as he thought on.

"I got a feeling we'll kick something in an area it doesn't like to be kicked. But this doesn't feel right. Not this op, but in general. With Belgium, someone is pissed, and someone might come out and take responsibility, but it isn't going to be Terry Taliban, or Ahmed of your specific fucking franchise of Al-Qaeda. They're like McDonalds, but less burgers and more suicide bombings now, I swear to God with how they work. Can't be them, so who the fuck is it? Chinese government? Fuck no, and it isn't the Russians neither. Can't be any government, otherwise they wouldn't have multiple ethnicites. Someone wants something out of the picture, and unless every bad person from the buttholes of this Earth have banded together into an Anti-Western group, I don't think it's going to be easy to find a real lead that tells us exactly their demands. They could in days, maybe a few weeks, just come out, proclaim a new world order or some shit that they'll bomb the West into the ground. Worst thing is, if they've got guns like that, I swear to God, if they have WMDs to reinforce that, it's going to take no encouragement to turn this world to shit. They got chemical weaponry, fuckknows what else." Andrew said, shaking his head, as he looked over, aware that Nolan was deep in maintain his PP-2000- a Russian weapon that was pretty unique in firing overpressured rounds from a large mag, and was not significantly huge on a sniper's kit.
"If you don't mind me, I'll get a powernap, and come back to the world of the living in an hour, get you up too. We should move ASAP, I'll shit there if it means you can ventilate that sonofabitch."

[BigPapaBelial]

[Short post is short because now we can get into the real deal.]

Nolan left the house shortly after Andrew had gone off for his nap. He wanted something to eat before everything went down. There was a little cafe down the street a short ways that he really had a thing for. Great place. One of those places where you're afraid to eat there at first glance, but where you can find some of the best food in the area because they don't hold back. He ordered up a pair of meals, soup and non with dips and the like. And as it still surprises him, even though it shouldn't, he ordered some bottled water and a pair of diet sodas. He waved to the owner, who he'd managed to get somewhat friendly with in passing. The man recognized him as a expat-local now. Someone he could trust, and didn't for a second think that he was there for anything but working some odd job.

He made it home and spread the food out, beginning to eat while waiting for his partner to wake.

In the meantime he brought out his phone, and started to flip through the news. Alot of it was still on the attack in Brussels of course. When 9/11 hit it was world wide news too. The Brussels attack was something just the same. Huge, far reaching. A group of terrorists, and death all around. As he read a story he started to notice a trend though, something about a pair of giants, a former Russian Olympian and the current WSM champ. What with this years tournament having been canceled because of the attack he still held the title. What got him though was that the pair were heralded as heroes. Saying that despite what should have happened, the pair hadn't ran and hidden like many others had, and taken up weapons and killed quite a few of the terrorists themselves, saved civilians, and managed to rescue an entire police station from being annihilated

Nolan had always thought trust fund babies like them wouldn't have tried to do that. But sometimes in times of extreme stress the oddest people did the most amazing things. He wasn't so sure he'd have been able to do the same thing. The shock of the moment might not have allowed him to pull off the same. He kept flipping through the news while waiting for Andrew. Then the game would be on. And they had killing to do The thing they did best when behind a long rifle.

[FourtyTwo]

Andrew yawned, waking up, as he saw Nolan watching the news, stretching himself as he looked over at the screen.
"Fucking hell, what a mess right? Reminds me again what we've got to go and cut the head off, to say the least. Alright, give me a moment- get whatever's left of kit together, I'll get my gear on under these fucking robes. Considering you have some color to your skin, you do blend in better here, if you know what I mean- not that you know..." Andrew said, trying not to put it impolitely, than Nolan's Metis heritage did have an influence on the color of his skin- and in this part of the world, Andrew was reasonably pale compared to most. Andrew headed out with his Mk18 into the room, quickly ditching his local and perhaps more traditional tan robes to grab a plate carrier underneath, and a pair of Oakley SI Tactical Gloves, in no other color than black. He put his brown robes back on over the top, and buttoned them to conceal the fact that he had some body armor on underneath, though the sub-carbine rifle in his hands gave a little too much away none the less. Aware he wasn't the sniper but a spotter, he checked his gear for his Rangefinder and the couple of M2 SLAM mines he'd use to remotely detonate a vehicle in the convoy, be it at the front or the target's- either suited him fine, depending on what was the situation. Coming back into the room where Nolan was, he looked over, looking out the window again, as he knew that they were going to have to get set up, and quickly.

---

(Sadly, there might be quite a lot of jumping in this scenario, due to the way I want to play it out.)

Three Hours Later
0300 Hours

"Area's clear Nolan. Up and over." Andrew said, from his position hanging over the brick wall, as he clambered upwards, and came down with a quiet drop. He advanced slowly forwards with a crouched combat pace, the abandoned Soviet warehouse a very shit place to be when it was almost pitch black to be in and infested with mice. He scanned his Mk18 around, the silenced and Holographic-sighted weapon trusty for him right now. Though they had no NVGs, it wouldn't be needed- the shot was in the daybreak, after all, at 0600 hours. Andrew kept moving, through the side of the empty hall, when he heard a rumbling.
"Fuck, Vehicle, sounds like a lorry. Sounds like it's stopping too. Get down." Andrew said, the spotter of the sniper team moving slowly, aware that it was better to avoid than go straight into. He threw himself on the floor by a steel beam, keeping against it as watched on. The light of a flatbed lorry appeared at the opposite end of the desolate and dark factory, as it stopped, pulling left, and a flare was thrown out the side by the driver, lighting the area up a bright red. Something sent a shiver down Andrew's spine, when he saw the driver and a passenger, both balaclava'd, get out and move to the back of the large lorry. Opening the ramp, they pulled out one figure, then another, both tied up. They had weapons- a pair of AKMs, and Andrew had not a single doubt what would happen next. He realized that it was a simple choice- possibly compromise the operation for a pair of mystery hostages, or do nothing, and identify them later for whatever intel they had. Comms were too risky, it would be pointless to break out and say "We see hostages", as it was in reality, a non-essential communication in a situation where minimizing radio chatter counted. That would defy the entire point- this was as clandestine as it got, and Andrew didn't like the idea that in three hours time, a convoy would roll past to find a truck with a pair of dead armed militants- who probably belonged to the Transfacilitator anyway. If they had radios, then there was no chance of a shot. In Andrew's mind, he had to just say it to Nolan, no matter how cold-hearted it was.

"Nolan, hold fire. Let them pass, they're going to kill them and leave- I don't want to miss the shot on the bloke that gave the chance to kill almost a thousand people to save someone I have no idea about. We can't comprimise the shot." Andrew said, watching on as they taunted the hostages, who had cloth bags over their heads. The shots rang out, almost instantly doing their work, as the hostages were killed without a a plea or a yell prior- they had literally no idea of what had happened when they had arrived here, and it had come from out of the blue. Part of Andrew knew that death was something you learned to deal with, especially when you had the capability to do it from long range and see your target's face. But something didn't click. The fact, the absolute fact that he had little idea and were completely helpless because of his own will hurt most- perhaps they were CIA agents on reference to Andrew and Nolan's operations, with key intel, or just plain civilians killed in cold blood, made Andrew think it through. The two men left the bodies, and got back in the truck, reversing and driving off, as Andrew got back up.
"Fuck...there's nothing we can do. Let's keep hustling." Andrew said, moving up slowly, as the truck turned off, fully clearing the area.

Andrew kept moving at his low profile, coming to where the bodies were, his heart bitter and his head just trying to counteract that with more rage and counter-thought. He just wanted to leave it behind, stop thinking. Shit happened- and Andrew knew that he had cracked under worse. Things weren't all roses, and they could only just accept that had happened. Moving to the door, he looked on the street, the Mk18 lowered but at a position that it could easily be brought to fire. Looking both ways, he saw their sniping position- midway up a cooling tower on a factory roof, with a cramped and small metal platform being their position for shooting the convoy- though Andrew knew he'd be hitting the floor and cleaning up on the floor after giving Nolan an effective assessment of shooting ranges and the vague direction of fire that the shots would be channeled down, before staying on the factory roof himself in a different OP.
"Okay, clear." Andrew said, moving quick but low as he moved across the darkening courtyard, towards the entrance of the old factory, a few crows flying off as the city lights of the Tajikistani capital city could be seen to their right, a little more active than this abandoned complex.
"Turns out they've got a really large stash of AKs on the other side of this complex, a couple of warehouses down. Must be what the boss is inspecting- but if those were agents, we're going to have to pray he sticks to his plan. We'll have to waste them quick, and get out of here much faster than we came." Andrew said, looking back at Nolan, as he approached a wooden door, a side entrance of some sort to the friendlier looking side of the factory. Kicking the door down, he let Nolan take the lead, turning his Surefire flashlight mounted on the side of his Mk18, as he followed in behind, walking into a small lobby that gave way to abandoned machinery and tools loitered around huge segments of the factory. This place was a metalworking plant- making knives and forks in the Soviet times, now being completely abandoned and probably owned by nobody due to the fact that even the richest developers had no reason to level a place like this to replace it with a block of flats. It felt eternal, a time warp, and the place was only illuminated by Andrew's rifle-mounted torch, as well as the little moonlight. Moving through slowly and surely, Andrew saw it first- a set of stairs, that he almost could guarantee was the way upwards.
"It must head to the roof. Come on." Andrew said, coming back on point, as they moved past the machinery, moving upwards through a broken-off door and past some graffiti, towards the second floor and subsequently, the roof.

[BigPapaBelial]

Post1: fail

[BigPapaBelial]

Fail post 2

[BigPapaBelial]

Nolan tossed his PP2000 up onto the top of the wall, then with a soft grunt leapt up and caught the edge. Combat gloves giving him purchase, and he kicked up and atop the wall. He grabbed his SMG, scanning the area around them quickly through the holosight atop it. He then hopped down. landing in a half crouched position. He spun in slow 360 degree turns, scanning the dark hall carefully. He could hear metal creaking, wood groaning, the sound of a place on it's last legs, starting to fall apart bit by bit, day by day, year by year. The Soviets had left it when they pulled out, and no one had bothered to try and keep the entire complex up.

He turned, pointing his weapon at the sound of something clattering and following the sound of something skittering off. He grumbled, "The Army sends up to all the fashionable parties..." He turned back around again, falling back into step with Andrew. Then got into a low crouch at the sound of an engine. He froze and blended into the darkness as best he could in his ghille. He marshalled his breath and whispered, "Come on...pass by...pass by..." He winced when it came true that the truck stopped just like Andrew thought, "Crap crap crap..." He raised his PP-2000 up, sighting on one of the cab's occupants and almost shot immediately upon seeing the hostages, "No...damn it..." He was about to pull the trigger, but then lowered his gun, "Yeah...no shot...blast...I don't like leaving this...but the shot on the HVT is more important you're right." He waited, watching, weapon ready to jump up again.

He knew Death, Nolan the Sniper, and the Angel of Death were close friends. Nolan had left alot of gifts for the fictional myth of an entity through out the years with the long distance touch of a rifle round to the chest, or a shot to the head. Yeah, Death and Nolan were not unknown to each other at all. So he watched the whole thing, an angry look on his face as the shot rang out and the hostages dropped. He breathed a sigh and shook his head, "Bastards...everyone of them...they all deserve a shot to the dome...execution style...no last rites...everyone of them." He followed Andrew up, spitting on the ground as if to rid himself of the taste and thoughts of the murderers. He moved on, watching the back as usual.

They left the bodies, though Nolan wanted dearly to move them to give them some kind of respect. But he knew that wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. If someone happened to come this way, and see the bodies moved, it'd be a give away that someone was near. They left them and moved on.

They reached an area they could see the cooling tower, and he looked up at it, removing his ghille hood briefly and wiping some of the sweat off his face, "Well don't that look like shit...gonna be cramped up there once we're there. Just be glad you get to come down, I need to stay up there to have a bead on everything." He waited a second or two as they reached the courtyard. He threw himself into a crouching run, trying to get across the open space as quickly and as quietly and as unobtrusively as he could. Once across he took a side of the door, then once Andrew had gave the door a boot he took the lead, sweeping into the room, SMG raised to his shoulder, scanning the room beyond. He scanned his sectors. Checked walkways and corners, a small tapped on combat light on the left side of his PP-2000 let him see a little better, but the slim beam didn't provide alot of illumination, which was totally on purpose really. He was just finishing up a quick circuit of the room when Andrew called out about the stairs. He joined him then nodded, "When in doubt...go up." He followed Andrew this time, through the door, past the graffitti, onto the second floor.

There a bunch of offices, and a long, ratty corridor, and finally a hatch up onto the roof. He breached the hatch first, and lead the way up top. He crouched just off the ladder up, scanning the area, having let his PP-2000 swing, and having replaced it with the heavy long barreled TAC-50 now. He swept the roof carefully, he had fitted a canted iron sight to the side of the 12.7mm rifle, wasn't the best outfit, but better then looking through the high power scope atop it. He waved Andrew up and stepped out and away from the ladder up. He sniffed and motioned towards a steel walkway that lead out to the cooling tower over at the end of the rooftop, "There's out way up...that stairway up the side of the tower though is an iffy thing though isn't it?" He started towards the tower. He reached the ladder and stair combination that would allow them to get up the tower, "Better if I head up first, this way you don't need to jump over me when you have to come down." He lead the way up carefully, "How long do we have until our marks arrive?"

[FourtyTwo]

(Shorter post than I usually do- I didn't really have much in the way of ideas, though I will write a long one as it all escalates to set up the shot with a transitional.)

Andrew looked over, moving up onto the roof as they came out of the main factory itself. moving through a ladder that was covered by a hatch for roof access. Scanning the area, he switched off the rifle's light, letting Nolan ahead as they now had to head up the ladder, which went mid-way up the cooling tower on this roof. Andrew kept his Mk18 high, keeping an eye out for any movers down below as he kept the weapon readied.
"Let me know when you're up." Andrew said, looking towards Nolan, as he then checked the area of sniping- aware that the sightline was excellent for what they were going to do. He'd come back down here anyway, but he wanted to co-ordinate range markings, as well as get a picture of what his partner's view would be like- before setting a rappel on the side of the building to use, before then setting a few mines. They had a long, long time to wait, but snipers did that, and would wait as long as it took for the targets to arrive.
"Another two and a half hours of waiting. Better to have more time than less." Andrew said, following Nolan upward on the ladder, clambering up as he exhaled hard into the cold morning of Dushanbe- just another poor Central Asian country, with little to no political and economic stability. This was a part of the world you didn't hear about much- and the post-Soviet republics in this part of the world weren't exactly spewing money everywhere neither.

Coming onto a tiny metal platform, Andrew squeezed past Nolan, sitting down and letting his legs hang over the edge. He pulled his Rangefinder out, bringing a card out too with a marker pen.
"Okay..road is uphill and then flat when it meets the industrial area by the factory, goes from NE to SW. Goes right past the factory, though you don't want to shoot almost straight down, so the best place to shoot is where the road and the far end of the factory go parallel, roughly 600m. The massive puddle slash pothole just before that is 502m, so you can count that as 500m for the shot. Keep that as a backup if you can't get a bead at 600." Andrew said, watching on through his rangefinder, and marking the card up, setting it in such a way that Nolan could use it to mark up his shots.
"Vehicle is a modified Chevy of some sort, but up-armored. Resistant to all small arms, except 12.7mm AP rounds, simular to what you have. Now through the window, that'll just sheer it, so make sure that the first shot neutralizes the driver. The second follow up is for our guy, expected in the back- you should have shallow enough an angle to shoot Fletcher, or Ahmed at the 600 marker, but if he comes to 500, the shot will be too elevated. You can clip only get the driver at that point- and I'll have to make sure he stops, both Ahmed and Konstantin. I'll hold position by the metal pipes on the roof in cover, and once you cause enough confusion, I'll rappel down after I have it set, and clean the rest. I'll try and get the documents and Konstantin secured, either unconscious or willing, or dead if he's a threat, or if he didn't join your bullet's tip." Andrew added, still observing, the complete darkness only being killed by the distant street-lighting and moonlight keeping a little illumination around, as well as the fact the sun would be up any second now.
"Once I get him, I'll try and drag him into the factory- remember where we parked the vehicle? We'll get out of here and head across town, we've got a Land Cruiser stashed there, better than this local piece of shit- we'll get out of here and head south, towards the badlands- and deal with our guy in terms of well, what we want to know. Or at least get clear of here" Andrew added, watching Nolan set his rifle in, as he looked on, before looking back.
"Alright- I'll get to work getting the SLAM mines down. I'll detonate the first vehicle in the convoy- you know the rest." Andrew added, getting up so he could throw himself onto the ladder, and head down. He quickly came downwards, moving fast across the rooftop as he moved to his rappel point- where he'd go down it quickly, and use it to come back up when the mines were down, by clambering up via the rope.

(Retard moment at the end of this post- can you edit yours again? Sorry.)

[BigPapaBelial]

Nolan made his way up the ladders and short flights of stairs, letting Andrew by when they reached the platform. He unslung his rifle, and set it up, resting it on the platform, then brought out the customized camo he had made, a length of tarp, with bits of cardboard treated to looking like the metal of the cooling tower. One rule was to always blend in with your environment. Snipers in urban environments would pull pieces of trash over them to hide them, they'd hide around corners, positioning themselves so they would be shooting through loopholes in rubble and debris. Nolan had the foresight to try and make himself something that looked natural to the environment, atleast at first glance. If someone on the ground looked hard enough and long enough they'd be able to discern the outline of a man under the tarp in comparison to the rusting steel of the cooling tower. But it'd do for awhile. He snuggled up under the tarp, then grabbed up his rifle.

They started going through ranges, he swiveled his rifle to each point checking the distance through the scope. Andrew called out six hundred meters at the top of the hill, "Yep six hundred, just about on the dot." He let the crosshair of the scope fall to the puddle, he had to make an adjustment to his dials abit at that point, "Yeah five oh two, you're right I can make it for five hundred at that point." He checked the card when Andrew put it down, running through the numbers in his head really quick, "Looks good." He reached into his pack under the tarp, he had three magazines of 4 differant types of ammo in there. Raufoss penetrating, 12.7 Armor Piercing, 12.7 FMJ and a new little thing the CIA decided to let them try, EXACTO proto-type ammo. Supposedly it is fire-and-forget, fin and internal gyro stablized technology. He had heard it was in development, didn't think it was ready for field testing. He didn't intend to use it, but who knows it might come in handy. The little laser designator attached to the side rail of his .50 would key in it's guidance systems. If he used it. He found one of the Armor Piercing magazines and carefully slotted it into the rifles receiving port. He drew the bolt, sliding a round into the chamber, "Ready to roll. Be safe down there. I don't want to have to come rescue you again so soon." He grinned at his partner as he made room for him to head down to the ground.

He tracked his friend through his scope, keeping an eye on him, not wanting to leave it to chance at all. There was too much at stake for them to bungle this up. He smiled though, then keyed in his radio, "A minimum in terms of noise you say, talking to the guy with one of the loudest guns in existence." He chuckled a little over the radio then clicked clear.