FourtyTwo

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

Ross struggled to put two and two together, as he realised for a second, who this girl was, more and more, the image clicking that this wasn't a stranger from even a one-night stand one day, it wasn't anything like that. It was Ellie fucking Dorian. It was hard for Ross to get his head around who she was entirely. Life had split them, then put them back in this moment for some weird, strange reason. The past that they had. It felt like things were going, pacing, as he just let the words spill his tongue.

"No way." He almost froze for a moment, his brain fucked for a second in confusion and then clarity which didn't action itself the noise calming down of the music that was playing in the background, as a grin began to open up on his face. She was absolutely beautiful, not like Kimberly, but the face, the look, everything just seemed to come back to mind. A childhood they missed, in some ways, the dreams that they once sometimes told each other, the flame of his youth, but one he just didn't see any more in..well, he somehow assumed that wasn't a thing. No. Looking back at Kimberly, he saw the look of turmoil in her eyes, he had learned to see past her straight face, as he sat up a little still smirking madly.
"Your Scots accent's changed...but I know who you are." With that, Ross chuckled, smiling at her, his concussed, slightly buzzed state picking up piece after piece, knowing things had changed greatly, they were two different people. Seb and Ellie had to be the wingsuiters, he realised, that was what she did. Part of Ross was in amazement. But here he was, racing cars too. And quickly, illegally, and with a good tempest to run. And yet even Ross understood that. He could see Ellie's eyes burn like golddust, the spirit of something that he now remembered seeing.
"Kimberly...we were friends a long, long time ago. Can't believe this. Wait, so you follow Seb on his antics?" He asked, talking to lots of people at once it felt like, in a little confusion. Sebastian laughed, sitting by Ellie's side, watching her blush a little almost, as he looked over.
"Yeah man. That's crazy, dude. Can't believe you two knew each other years back!" He said, the Austrian a little amused by the sight itself, that this weird coincidence had played up in the way it had.
"Yeah, we did. Shit, that is something." Ross said, as he shook his head, almost in disbelief again, as he drank down a little more, smirking.
"So, how've you been? God, it must have been more than ten years...more....you've got to have had some adventures." And with that, Ross started the conversation up, and they realized there was a lot to catch up on, on both sides, stories of speed, adventure and love that they'd both found.

--------

"I promise!" Ryan said, chuckling, as he clanged his cider down, chuckling.
"Only racing a 600bhp rallycross car, that has enough speed to blow a hangover away. I'll leave it." And with that, Ryan finished his cider, knowing Regina wasn't looking on approvingly.
"Beer's shit anyway."

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

Edward looked back at the Norwegian, just hoping he wasn't being mistaken for an Australian by Viking, he seemed to respond that way, but not acknowledge it yet. Most people did. Christ, their flag was a lot alike, and they sounded similar, but even so.
"No, I suppose Vikings don't. But they're kinda scary anyway if you ask me. Old warriors, right?" Edward replied, as he finished up with his gear, hearing the call out from Romek. A little blase, but still, it was something he knew he was well equipped to serve.

"Scooter, I'll take you up on that, mate. I'll get my ghillie and spotting device set." The Kiwi added, as he took the rest of his equipment with him. Taking a lush green ghillie suit, one of many that appeared to be now being set up within the armoury. It was going to need a lot of work done to it, that much he knew, it would need a lot more natural foliage, but it would slip well over the uniform, covering his back and a little of his front, though not as much so as to not make him fucking boil to death, or become a stationary wookie. With spiders making nests on the bipod, no less. Christ, that was a scary thing to see when waiting, but getting local foliage would help, as he finished up equipping his full set of gear.

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

@Gunther

Hmm, would it be cheeky to get a response in? I can have Ed with Romek, if you like, as he's got a spotting device, and already operates as a designated marksman.

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

Merlin watched, sizing up Captain Upton, or JB, as he was better known. A formidable operator, the same age, and of US Special Forces calibre. That he already knew, he was a US Marine, MARSOC maybe, or something more niche. UGAs, or unnamed governmental agency, perhaps, he was shady, but known to Merlin, at least. The bearded Special Boat Service CWO itched his beard, listening to the rushing brief. Covert agency, check, dangerous and radically, well armed threat, check. This was at least different to bearded sheep-shagging fucks in Syria that were killed by a bearded....actually, that was the domain of the Welsh, Merlin just killed them! Or at least, he hoped one of his old squad mates hadn't kept something from him while on a recce op, he mentally hoped. Still, Valkyrie sounded fierce, and unrelenting. A covert and silent sword in the dark would keep them from expanding, and getting started on intel and information would keep them in check. It was a lot to know, and deniability wasn't a big deal to Merlin. He'd done a few of these already, and going out for glory wasn't the approach that best served Queen and Country, it was duty, and loyalty to your men that did the trick. If it meant black bars, so be it, and aftermaths could always be dealt with, some way, or another. The Captain was certain, confident, and knew what was going on with the game, and if time was of the essence, then they would get it done, one way or another. A baptism of fire. That, and the fact that like Erik, like Seb, Merlin too, was an alcoholic. But he enjoyed cider far too much to tell.

Standing up, Merlin looked up to JB, as the other recruits began to leave the briefing room. He stood from his chair, at his height, a distinct smirk on his face, as he approached the Captain.
"Captain. Chief Warrant Officer Merlin Bastion, at your disposal. I'm told I'm your 2IC. They call me Wizard. For the obvious reason." Merlin simply said to Captain Upton, or JB, a part of Merlin's mind wanting to already chuckle at what that meant. Jack Bauer? James Bond? Jason Bourne? Justin Bieber? If he was Canadian, the motherfucker, even if he was his Commanding Officer, was going to get the literal shit ripped from him by Merlin, he thought to himself, that was literally not going to fucking end, ever. But he wasn't, he calmly reminded his mind. He was an American. Still.....JB. Maybe not as bad as his name, perhaps. Though he did look a lot like that guy from the Bourne Identity...maybe his mind was playing tricks. Reputation, and the operation at hand first.

"I've heard about your work, no doubt you've heard of mine. We're both men of the sea. Both weathered." Merlin said, as the last man left the room, that being Cpl Edward Thatcher, the New Zealander following behind the last that headed swiftly out from the brief, to the armoury on the enormous ship. Looking back at JB, Merlin leaned against the steel bulkhead, adjusting his beanie, sighing. He'd seen enough bullshit in this briefing room. A girl who didn't look like she could cut it, another who was clearly only a little better, two Poles who were poles apart in his mind, and another American, an unknown, but someone who looked like they'd seen enough SOF work to know best. There was the Canadian Sergeant, who was another unknown, and the other Canadian, a CBRN specialist who even Merlin had heard of, "Blacktail" a distant memory from a tour in Afghanistan. Then there was the Norwegian, a fellow Kraken, someone again, from Afghan. And last, there was Edward. Jesus, he hoped that fucking lad understood the gravity of this. It felt like there was no room for error, and Merlin didn't hide that on his face, as he looked icily at JB, his face stern, his voice, if you had to really get imaginary about it, like the sound that you would expect a German Shepard to make, if it could speak Human. Almost growling, hard, cold, and loud, unrestrained when he knew it had to make some impact on the CO, even if it wasn't much at all.

"Some of those lads are fucking fresh meat though. With all due respect, I'd keep a fucking eye on them, and I think you already know who. Just as a word to the wise, JB." Merlin simply made the comment, as honest as he could be, no venom spared on his tongue, as he looked back at the operational map on the wall, and the insertion, the approaches, the compound.

"I'll be gearing up. We've got lots of approaches on this run, Captain, I can already see the jungle's ripe for us. If we want to capture one of these men, making sure they don't blow up is a start, so stealth can be considered. Or we go full fucking Tropic Thunder, I grab the Minimi and we hose down any fucker we encounter, and we don't stop till we find ourselves some intel on paper or on a hard disk, not in someone. After all, a Wizard can arrive in a puff of smoke and mirrors, or a fireball." Merlin smirked, knowing that perhaps he was unorthodox, but however JB rose to this, was going to be the mark of whoever he was going to be serving in this unit. He just hoped that he'd take it well, the bearded, beanie wearing CWO awaiting a response.

------------

Edward followed behind the group, and to his side, he saw the Norwegian on the team, Erik, he believed he was called, wanting to make an acquaintance on the team, as he spoke in his usual Kiwi accent.
"I heard you're the Viking? Crazy to think, we're in this team. And we should be allowed into our armoury about now, after I checked earlier on. I mean, last time I entered an armoury on a base, the quartermaster bollocked me...can you believe that? Told him I was new to the base, still wasn't happy. It's only the room with guns, anyway!" Edward chuckled, laughing, as they made their way inside, the quartermaster nodding them in, as Edward found his patch, ready to go with the kit he'd requested, and had a brief glance at a few hours earlier.

Wraith, or Ed, began gearing up, going through his equipment from the base to the top. AOR1, a digital camouflage in forested/tropical was the choice, a lovely pattern that went well, as he donned his BDU, the Plate Carrier, the boonie that covered his head, as well as facepaint. The Mk14 sat nicely, all it's usual attachments already mounted, sprayed in the usual pattern of choice that he preferred for it. He went through magazines, grenades, the secondary MP7A2 with this loadout, and his trusty P226. Sliding a clip in, before peeling it out, just for his mental sake, he smirked. He had more to go through, and more to still inspect over.

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

Cool- mind if I slightly pitch things forward into the armoury with my next post? I can get some sweet-talk going in there, between the various operatives in some quick-fire stuff if needs be, or even collabs :)

I also put in a really cheesy moment that only me and @ONL are gonna understand, it's a bit of a throwback to my first post in a MW RP, very similar to this....six years ago when I was new to RPG.

Also, there might be some unrestricted savage in my post, at least, mentally. Because I think Merlin's good at that. Rise to it how you like :D I do want to play him as a complete cynicism to the team and it'll make him/me look like a complete asshole for a while, but every member of the team will get his respect, one way or another....promise ;P

@Crossfire

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

@Crossfire

Hop to it! :D

@Banana

Merlin's kinda a grenadier, but he might not use the UGL on his SCAR a lot- or, for special stuff, he might just take a full-size shotty over his 870, such as an M1014, or AA-12. With a drum. And potentially 12 gauge frags.

Why bother being a grenadier when you can carry an automatic shotgun that fires explosive rounds? :D (although practicality means that it can't be used for 99 percent of things that you'd normally use a shotgun for, eg. closer quarters, and half a dozen reasons that I could start reeling off....)

Merlin's SCAR actually makes him a bit more of a Designated Marksman if he had to be oto, with a close-up effect if he puts a longer barrel and stock adjustment into it, he handles that 7.62mm round rather nicely. For diving stuff, perfect, otherwise, a 7.62mm FN Minimi (I thought about the FN MAG, and other bigger GPMGs, but I thought for Merlin's role as more of an Automatic Rifleman who can move about, yet fire a harder round, the Minimi is a better shot) lights shit the fuck up. Hurrah.

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

Scwheet! I'm gonna have fun with Merlin. I think with half the team, he's going to be a judgemental arsehole, and the other half, he'll be pretty amicable. By judgemental arsehole, I will advise you ahead, his swearing is gonna be good....Edward on the other hand, I think is kinda gonna be getting on with anyone :P

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

@Grey Rain

Ah, awesome.

Cross, going to move it along? I think we all posted in :) (after Big)

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

Chief Warrant Officer Merlin Bastion looked operator-esque, not formal, not even like he was trying to make an effort, his long, black curly hair poking a little out from the back of his beanie, his blackbeard at full drive, to Hell's Angels extent with a simple ponytail knotted in at the chin, wearing a blue thermal shirt and a pair of MTP-fatigued trousers. And being on the carrier already, sent ahead of the Captain, he had acclimatised to the excess that was an American aircraft carrier, the USS Washington no less. Everyone kept ranting an raving, and he'd been on one before, it was too fucking much. He would rather prefer a smaller ship, a smaller place, more basic. That way, you could actually smuggle a box with a couple of bottles of cider in, the decent tipple. This place was too locked up, in it's own ass, he thought to himself.

He headed down into the bowels of the ship, past the armouries he'd been sitting in for the last three hours, adjusting his weaponry, past the enormous aircraft storage and barrack areas, and past at least a few dozen people already, all shaven, all formal. Then there was him. He knew he didn't fit the usual remit of a soldier, but nobody would dare question him when details were presented, not when the record and track details of who Chief Warrant Officer Merlin "Wizard" Bastion was shown. He headed through another corridor, close to the briefing room, the noise of footsteps behind.

Walking past, Ed bumped into the large Warrant Officer, Merlin looking down from his stout frame, through the narrow corridor. Ed was not as tall as Merlin, and wearing a Auscam shirt and trousers, a boonie hat slung around in his hand, he seemed rather different. Slim, and young, he was newer to this, clearly.
"Shit, you're Merlin Bastion, right?" Ed asked, as Merlin chuckled in a brushing-off tone, Ed sounding confident and keen, already aware of who Merlin precisely was.
"Nah, we get confused a lot. Sorry mate." Merlin said, as he was about to walk away, not really rating the Kiwi he had just spoken to, as Ed ran ahead.
"No, it's definitely you! I've been told you're 2IC of the team, we're meeting in five minutes! Couldn't mistake you, could I?" Ed was keen, too much so, filled with the energy that came with being put into Echo, with the big leagues. The stories he had heard about Merlin were enough to really keep him interested, though Merlin seemed to not care.
"Mate, I've heard the stories, you're a fucking legend in the SOF circles, and-"
"Close to ventilating your eye socket. Calm your shit." Merlin sighed to the Kiwi's keenness, as he turned back to the New Zealander.

"We are meeting in five. You seem like you're gonna be fresh meat, so don't get fucking fried on the fire too fast. What's your name, lad?" Merlin asked, as Ed stopped, taking in the stature of Merlin. They weren't joking, the man stood at least six inches taller, but it was the sheer frame on him, he looked like he could pick up a Minimi and handle it like a rifle, probably terrifying it enough first.
"Cpl Edward Thatcher....they call me Wraith in my old team." He keenly said, still a little enthusiastic at it all.
"Well, you appear to be anything but fucking one, because it's difficult to bump into someone like me." Merlin chuckled slightly and yet sounded terrifying in his tone of voice, his normal sound carrying through the corridor with ease. The Devonian was barely even caring at this point, knowing he was scaring the everloving shit from the younger soldier, sighing, his West Country drawl coming through clean as day. If this was a different era, he'd be a pirate, no question or doubt about that, he already sounded half like one.

Turning back, Merlin kept walking, Ed following behind, as they headed towards the briefing room. Ed seemed to calm himself, as Merlin looked back, feeling a little bad for what he did. Poor lad, he didn't really deserve that. Merlin was like that, he could be a little wrathful at times, well, he could just blur out and not really care at times, he didn't really have a respect for what Ed seemed like he could be at times. He had to at least keep the conversation going.
"I'd suppose you ended up here for good reason then. Haven't really seen Kiwis deployed much."
"Couple tours in Afghan, nothing like you though. I heard that story about that IS executioner, did you seriously decapitate him or-"
"I don't know really, I mean, I think that was the second one that week. I mean, I can't really tell you the truth, or I'd end up in some fucking court somewhere. Let's keep it at rumors, yeah?" Merlin said, knowing that well, a few good people he trusted knew exactly what the last trip to Syria had looked like. Bloody, bloody mess. Though that said, there was a hardened terrorist cell that didn't want the bearded Brit to come and back and hang them in bits on wooden crosses again. Things like that, Merlin didn't enjoy telling people.

Entering the briefing room, they took a seat near the front, Merlin nodding to the Sergeant, as he leaned back in his chair. He turned and saw a woman in a dress of all things, an African-American, and a Pole. He gently locked eyes with each person, his dulled brown eyes firm, and they seemed to take in the mind of every pair of eyes that they saw, weighing them up, evaluating them, processing them analytically, in how they outwardly projected, and seemed to already be. Merlin liked doing that, just knowing what he had on side.

Task Force Zero: A Special Forces RP

@Gunther

My intention there really, to really project Merlin into that. I didn't actually know that far into it, but I would have thought he'd make good for being a relatively high rank at about that pitch, given his age and experiences (an awful fucking lot), to know what he's doing. Stuff like RSMs are very, very specific and not really relating to what Merlin would be doing, so WOs are a nice area to place him in, if he's a 2IC.

I originally had him as an officer, but actually, for this RP, CWO1/2 is a relatively nice position for him, the more I think about it. He's not officer material (you can't see him going pip-pip, chaps) because he'd way prefer to kick some fucker's head in than sit behind a desk, or keep back. Though he could, I think it can be justified by that. As far as the States go, I only know that it's a specialism, but not that, actually.

It seems like a combined task force, from the looks of things- lots of countries (NATO, I take it, plus friends) into one task force.