FourtyTwo

GEARS: Silent Line Redux (Silverwind Blade & KingKonrad)

Ah sorry to hear that :( No worries- it happens man, I'm always here if you want to continue but I've been there before so compeltely understand!

Burning Rubber Three (Bee and kingkonrad)

Street

STREET

Name: Maxwell "Max" Parker
Age: 24

Nationality: British

Location: Bristol, United Kingdom // Los Angeles, California, USA

Appearance:

Max is 6"2, a tall and lanky pale white fella with a cheeky-chappie look to him, the sort of geezer that could definitely drive a motor quickly. Max has moderate-length dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a slight stubble going too. That said, Max isn't weak- he seems gym-fit, from climbing and cardio training, making him a good runner. It's not like he's had to run from police or something...

Personality:

History: Born in Douglas on the Isle of Man, Max always was surrounded by fast machinery and bikes that came in from the Isle of Man TT, though he became more used to four wheels than two. He had some experience of karting at a younger age, but never was anything with potential- especially given he lived on an island with no proper facility for it, nor had any financial backing to follow up his childish dreams. Like most people, he settled on the next best thing- engineering and techncial work.

Max qualified as a mechanical engineer, with a degree from the University of Manchester with 1st, always still maintaining himself in the car scene. However, when you fall in with the wrong crowd at university, and direly need short term-cash to provide for your project car.....well, Max's previous driving skills got put to good use. As a driver working for a county lines drug dealing network, Max was a good wheelman, exceptional at putting foot to floor. This in itself introduced him to street racing in the UK, and across Europe- and next stop, the world, allowing him to cut himself out from the petty criminals he'd once ferried. Dave has realised that not only from track days, but illegal runs has he been able to turn into an up and coming street racer, a new generation willing to push faster and drive quicker.

While by day he saves up money to run his own CNC business from temporary engineering contract work, a venture he wants to go "legit" with, he knows deep down it's to fund his night work- racing for high stakes, and going wherever that may be. Being an expert mechanic helps too- Dave is able to pretty much take anything apart, and happily mods to his heart's content. That, and run a cameo, anonymous Youtube channel called "Firebrand" documenting his journey in the street racing scene....of course blurring faces and plates everywhere. For him, it's not just the UK- the world's streets and various crews are a racetrack, and he's there to race on it and build up his street cred as not just a low-life but a driver fit to race. But small steps first...

Vehicle (at start):

1996 Nissan Skyline R33 GTR

A ragged car when he bought it, this snow white R33 now looks like a real machine, overhauled personally by Dave- and is the love of his life since he sold his Civic Type R. Whilst it doesn't have an extensive bodykit, the engine throws out 430bhp, a healthy figure for a vintage GTR, and has a few stickers here and there alongside nicer Michelin tyres and Ohlin suspension. Like all good projects, it still has a lot of work to be done to really bring it up to spec...

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STREET

Name: Magnus Pal Haldorsson
Age: 32

Nationality: Faroese

Location: Los Angeles, California, USA // Torshavn, Faroe Islands

Appearance:
6"0, blonde and long-haired and with a beard only a Viking would be proud to wear, Magnus is an archetypal Norseman.

Personality:
Magnus seems to emminate a certain type of calm, but his business sense is clearly matched to it, being cold and calculated, almost overtly logical. Magnus's business sense is clear, and he gets on easily with people, though it's clear he enjoys solitude and getting on with things in peace, including design and engineering work. An almost stark duality, but one that echoes dedication, talent and success on his part- sure, but not cocky.

History:

Born in Klaksvik, Faroe Islands to an artist for a mother and a mechanic for a father, Magnus never found himself away from things to do as a child, constantly tinkering with bikes, cars and anything he could get his hands on in his dad's garage. He certainly wasn't stupid, and in youth seemed very switched on, indepedent of others and constantly keen to do things his own way. His artsy style came from his mother- but more in putting it into the engineering he did, designing and sketching to his hearts content.

In spite of his qualifications in his native land and later in Denmark, Magnus couldn't find much in the way of work- he put his long-term ambitions of running an auto shop on hold and ending up working as a marine engineer, and working mostly on ships for several years. Whilst he always had a passion for cars, keeping a beat-up BMW E46 320i back home, the money was never significant enough for him to really break through into making his own money, nor really making any inroads into street racing.

Emigrating to the United States after getting a work visa through a friend's shipbuilding business, Magnus put his nautical engineering skills to good use for a few more years before getting reemployed into auto repair work in Los Angeles- but found no joy in what he did in a day-to-day. Fixing things was of no interest to him- design always stood out, or at least, taking something fast and making it even faster. Magnus being the entreprenuring migrant in America now decided to start a business with everything he had saved, and decided to make his own auto shop, named "Nordic Works". Like every schmuck, but well, Magnus had one trick up his sleeve.

His mechanical knowledge of Porsches had grown exponentionally while working for certain clients in a supercar shop, and he had develoepd a knack for knowing precisely how to fix them, and how to work on them. To almost a better extent than a main dealer would know, he knew every nut, every bolt, in almost an OCD-like fashion. More than that, he understood the costing process- and how to put himself into the market as someone able to fix them cheaper, better than even dealer repairs could. So a business catering to that made sense- and with California having plenty of Porsches, his shop became rapidly popular, spreading through word of mouth in the local area as the place for repairs. One turned into ten, then forty full time employees including Magnus, and suddenly, "Nordic"-tuned Porsches were all the rage, not just as machines for repair but for paintjobs, custom restoration, and anything you could dream of. Magnus's creative flair, and design talent clearly shone through in really making his customer's wildest expectations become reality.

Magnus invested into his staff and his equipment, including an autoclave, 3D Printing and CNC processes, hugely overhauling just any old Porsche into a bespoke performance machine. In particular, Magnus's business catered for almost any scale or size of project, knowing full well most didn't spend volumes of money- but would be interested in the community and scene there, and thus trust him for future purchases. The business expanded, keeping the same ethos with garages in Seattle, San Francisco and New York, alongside a teeny garage at home and in Bristol, UK.

While some would call the Porsche market a little satured including Williams Engineering, RWB, Singer or RUF in this market, Magnus's approach was one that brought in customers due to his overwhelming care and attention to projects, one that was bespoke and tailored for any machine with the Stuttgartian badge. Hell, most owners of Porsches use his garages as a meeting point- with a comprehensive cafe at each garage, and even a brewery on site in LA brewing up a fine craft beer, Magnus has seen the business expand from just a typical auto shop into a lifestyle choice for his customers. Where there's fast cars and bespoke builds, so too comes everything else-and the community has just lapped it up, with his builds even making it to Porsche's design catalogs.

Porsche won't admit it, but single-handedly Magnus has turned the idea of a Porsche owner from a middle-aged accountant looking for German practicality into a different demographic of sports car or supercar owners looking for fun, creative and fast machinery able to throw it up with any car out there, legal or not. An NW Porsche is not as extreme as RWB's modifications, nor as outright absurd as what RUF can do with a Porsche shell, but a machine that echoes equal parts refinement and bonkers speed.

This effort as a newly expanding car tune-up scene has also seen him diversify into McLaren, and given their relatively underground status in the sports and supercar world now is a long-distant past, Magnus and his team have gone wild with a more upmarket segment of the tuning world. Sure, it may be more fine wine than craft beer, but Magnus has grinned his way through it all and helped the business diversify into a new brand of supercars.

Of course, Magnus hasn't forgotten his roots in going fast on the road. Being affiliated in auto repair means you're likely to go racing once or twice, and Magnus is no slouch, finding himself testing his project cars on and off track. Whilst he clearly lives hand to mouth due to some of the purchases he has made in expensive Porsche projects of his own, that hasn't stopped him running a successful business and having fun while he's at it.

Vehicles:

Porsche 918 RSR Hybrid
1995 Porsche 911 Carrera 2.5 (Custom)
2020 McLaren 720S
Ford Transit Van

F1

RACER

Name: Hugo Afonso de Olivera

Age: 19

Nationality: Portuguese

Location: Lisbon, Portugal // Geneva, Switzerland

Appearance:


Hugo stands at 5"11, with moderately long matt black hair, not unlike many an Iberian in F1, and a slight tanned look. At a physical level you would expect for an F1 driver, Hugo is cardiovascularly fit and seems to have a ridiculous lung capacity, thanks to intense cycle and cardio training sessions.

Personality:
Cool, calm, and way, way more mature than you would think for his age. Hugo seems to almost emminate a sort of chill from him, letting things happen. While the cool demeanour may seem easygoing outside of a racing car, in one he is anything but, with a fiery reflex to overtake and make moves that aren't easy. That said, he can be capable of making cutting decisions- his experience with Ferrari proves he is ruthless when he needs to be, so it's not all chill with Hugo.

History:

Born in Lisboa, Portugal to modestly well-off parents, Hugo always had a passion for going fast. From day one, he was always captivated by speed, and racing was a natural fit for him- one his parents spent lots of time, money and effort upon, putting him through karting and the junior catagories of racing. He was a dominant force in local and national karting, winning championships in Southern Europe and rising through the ranks. Hugo aged 12 appeared to be on the path to F1- like many great champions, he seemed to have it in the bag with success.

Hugo's success in kart racing didn't go unnoticed- he was quickly signed up by Ferrari as a development driver, and had quietly successful stints in Formula Ford (4) Britain (1st), Formula Renault 3.5 Alps (2nd) and Formula 3 (2nd) in 2016, 2017 and 2018.

A spot in Formula 2 followed with Prema- and this was another year of quiet success, coming 4th in the overall standings. Hugo's lack of success was perhaps down to bad luck- a nasty crash at Austria's Feature Race put him out of commission for the Sprint race and the next round, really denying his chances of scoring poitns. While this result sealed him with enough Super Licence points to join F1, sadly for him he was denied a place in the team at either Haas, Ferrari or Alfa Romeo due to other competition and a lack of sponsors that were willing to back him into a backmarker seat.

The reality with F1 was that without being a champion in F2, and with Hugo being too young to have picked up more experience in lower formulae, no team was willing to take a risk on him. His F2 seat had fizzled out too- and the Alfa Romeo Academy, whilst still wanting to keep Hugo, had nowhere to put him. Hugo, in spite of his talent was not what they wanted- perhaps not as attractive as an Italian in the team, or a big-bucks bringing sponsorship material posterboy for any of their teams. A fuck you really, Hugo saw it as- after everything, he kept quiet but was enraged.

With his career in the lurch aged only 19, Hugo was about to change career tack- his sponsors egging him on to take a year in Formula E, following in the path of the other Portuguese driver who had competed in F1, Antonio Felix da Costa, and he nearly signed up to race with Audi for a year in something completely different. That was, barely three days before he signed up, paperwork landed for a brand new F1 team looking for new drivers. Not even just a reserve or test driver slot- an actual seat in Formula 1. His Ferrari Academy paperwork was promptly shredded.

In his maiden year of F1, he's been invited as an equal terms driver to CASTROL Valkyrie Racing F1, a brand new team willing to take a risk on Hugo's raw racepace and talent. He's a very unknown quantity to most commentators- whilst having one or two poor races in the past, Hugo has been recognised as being able to deliver some incredible zero-to-hero drives, treating the car smooth in race conditions and really getting the most out of it.

Driver Sponsors:
MEO (POR Telecoms)
Sagres (POR Alcohol)

Extreme

EXTREME

Name: Zoe Pascal Mercier

Age: 22

Nationality: Swiss

Location: Geneva, Switzerland // Miami, Florida, USA

Appearance:


Zoe stands at 5"0, teeny in stature but very athletic from hard physical training and the various extreme sports she is involved in. With almost apple blonde hair and blue eyes, Zoe stands as an almost archetipal Swiss gal, beautiful in every sense of the word. Her equipment follows her own "brand"- a heavy use of yellow or pink, from beanie to boots.

Personality:
Explosive, fiery, and spontanious, risk-taking and like a ball of energy, Zoe is a rich kid who got let off her chain way, way too soon. She's incredibly entitled, with a lack of a full understanding of why money really matters, given she's been insulated from a lot of financial decisions quite often. She seems cold to most, but for the people she loves, she's nothing but passion, fire, love and care. While Zoe is incredibly intelligent, a gift of her well to do education and ability to speak multiple languages with ease fluently, it's clear she seems to barely care about bigger issues and just lives for the moment.

History:

Zoe was born to an investment banker father and a mother also working in finanical services in Geneva- brought up in palatial conditions, and educated privately at the best schools. Whilst away on business trips, and bored shitless by nannies, Zoe was always doing something stupid, going out and getting drunk or doing something more- but eventually, found herself pulled in by her father's skiing friends.

This set of a chain reaction of adventure that she never had- leaving home early with her father's blessing, she spent her "travelling", really just doing lots of sports. Aged barely 16, she accomplished what most might never do in a lifetime- and her highly driven and inteligent style of play meant she got everything she tried first time. In five years of adventure, she has transformed from a teen into a highly fluent extreme sports athlete, with her own mini "brand" called "Wanderlust Queen".

Barely 22 and Zoe is now an accomplished wingsuit BASE jumper, skiier, snowboarder, climber, diver and extreme sports athlete extraordinare- filling her time with nothing but adrenaline. Zoe has clearly proven herself- but certainly isn't finished yet.

Interpol

Name: Mark Henry Torridon
Age: 36
Nationality: Scottish

Location: // Anywhere, Everywhere //

Appearance:


Mark is 6"4, a muscled and ex-army figure with short ginger-blonde hair and a fuzzy ginger beard. Mark has a tattoo of a Kraken that wraps up the entirety of his left arm, with multiple scars and cuts along his face and chest from his previous experiences. He seems like someone who has lived through an awful lot of experience, but puts the effort in to look good when he has to.

Personality: Aggressive, fearless and with swearing like a sailor, Mark does not give a shit as someone who would at first glance easily be seen as a hardened criminal. He is relentless, and will do whatever it takes to get the job done. He isn't stupid however- and intelligence officer training has given him the edge in reconaissance, weapon use and social engineering in order to get deep into cover most wouldn't believe. In a gunfight, he's remarkably collected, though couple this to his nature and he is highly effective.

History:

Mark was born in The Gorbals, Glasgow to an alcoholic father and shopworker for a mother, being brought up in an increidbly violent and distunctional environment. He hhad an incredibly rough childhood, moving away with his mother aged 10 to Clydesbank after they seperated, and grew up without a proper father figure to look up to. This meant he joined gangs, and quit school early on, perhaps about to be someone about to drop out of the system altogether.

His saving grace was his choice to join the Royal Marines on advice from his grandfather- where he took to soldiering incredibly well, abandoning his past life. It straightened him out massively- applying his wayward ways into a controlled, regulated environment where he applied . He served on multiple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, and bcame a Warrant Officer following his fourth tour, leading soldiers and serving his country for a decade.

Mark's traits were quickly recognised by superiors as not suited to just special forces warfare, but of a suprisingly intellectual kind, the sort that would be suited to covert work back home working in counter-terrorism. The profile Mark had was one that was almost perfect- and after quietly being approached by an MI5 asset, he was recruited into domestic counter-terrorism. Mark's rough attitude, former Marine background and appearance made him look like the perfect "mark" for an undercover operative- he fit with Neo-Nazis, biker gangs, drug dealer networks perfectly as an ex-serviceman with nothing to lose. Mark was involved in Ross's gang for a period, but in a rare show of compassion, chose to let the driver go- seeing he'd moved on and was not involved in violent crime, knew the case against him wasn't strong enough. Perhaps he made his own justice right there and then- going for the big fish rather than the little guy.

The rules working for MI5 were loose and thin. The reality of domestic espionage wasn't James Bond- it was wearing a hoodie, growing an unkempt beard and being a terrifying psychopath, doing drugs and kiling people in cold blood. Mark took down scores of dealers, terrorist networks and never saw a single reward for it- while knowing what the black hole in his employment woudl look like, he was paid enough for his efforts to make what he did worth it, and he loved the lifestyle.

His transfer in emplyoment in Interpol wasn't a shock to him when he was reallocated to a new task force, as a part of a highly covert team looking to take down an ex-Soviet major transnational crime network (TCN). Mark's role as a double agent in this network gives him credible deniability- nobody really knows his true motives, bar his handler and his fellow agent, Athena. With the TCN expanding into data-sensitive intel and affiliating with major terrorist networks, the stakes couldn't be higher and Mark is the crazy bastard who will not stop until their activities are put to an end.

Burning Rubber (Bee and kingkonrad)

The hairpin bends were an absolute joy to take in the 911, a distinctly analogue, raw feeling of torque and oversteer from the 911's rear-engined setup throwing the car into bends and making it feel wildly like it wasn't gonna stick from Ross's steering wheel. Yet it was just so, so satisfying, going into the next right hander to get that going, the difficulty of keeping traction making it even more rewarding to put all the car's power down on the way out, Ross grinning liek a madman. The two duelled down the mountainside, the steep road's sheep running off it at the sight of the two cars, keeping their distance as Ross braked hard into one of the last, giving a little clutch kick and keeping intentionally wide to let Kimberly thorough. It was time to follow her for a little bit, the Scotsman mused, time to let her enjoy some of these bends rather than stay behind.

It had to be said, it was good to be back at this. But it was only a brief respite now, not his entire life. Maybe that was what he needed. Moderation, control of some sort. And while the petrolhead in him would never leave, he had commitment now to stick with. A family to look after, and in some ways, perhaps it filled that gaping hole in his heart. Not for love of another, but to make a positive, more productive mark on his planet. Perhaps he was realising now just how lucky he had been before in the past, getting away with what he had when he did, and finding Kimberly at exactly the right time in his life. In moderation though...planting his foot down was just still paradise.

Into the flat section that headed towards the inlet's end at Funningsfjodur, the road had opened out into a two-laned, albeit still narrow gently curving road that Ross now had a bit more throttle on, the less corner-y part the remote Faroese road. The 911's engine growled, the flat six purring and just accelerating the car faster, the raw vibrate-y feeling of sitting inside a properly-old school 911 making it a fun place to be indeed.

This wasn't driving into the sunset, it was driving into a now overcast morning on a remote island in the Atlantic, but for him, this was right where he wanted to be. As it began, in a duel with the woman he'd now grown to love, going way over the local speed limit....

Burning Rubber Three (Bee and kingkonrad)

Welcome to a world of speed. A selection of racers, adventurers, thrillseekers and rogues, in an interlinking, deeply woven narrative. As we move towards a new group of characters in our network narrative, here's our lineup for the third season of Burning Rubber:

The Street Racers: ??? and Dave Parker (Manx (GBR)), Magnus Per Haldorsson (FAE)

--

Interpol: Athena Rossi (USA) and Mark Torridon (GBR)

--

CASTROL Valkyrie Racing F1: ??? and Hugo Afonso de Oliviera (POR)

Team Principal: Kimberly Rossi-Hartley (USA)

--

Extreme Sports: Valentina Rosa Días Calderón (COL) and Zoe Pascal Mercier (CH)

--------

CS Skeleton:

Name:
Age:
Nationality:
Appearance (picture/short description)
Personality (Brief)
History:

GEARS: Silent Line Redux (Silverwind Blade & KingKonrad)

Hey man- are we still going with this? Just wanted to check in to see everything was alright!

GEARS: Silent Line Redux (Silverwind Blade & KingKonrad)

No worries- hope it's all improving on your end, that doesn't sound good!

Yeah, it's been a bit odd but same time, was definitely good as some well-deserved rest. Not too complex actually!

Sounds good- yeah it'll help us trim down posts, and just get things moving- much as I love writing for Viper it isn't sustainable for either of us to produce essays!

GEARS: Silent Line Redux (Silverwind Blade & KingKonrad)

No worries- I've been busy like hell too, and have just gone abroad!

Hmm, okay- maybe let's set some rules then, as this is getting a bit out of hand for both of us:

No more than three paragraphs per post (two per main, one for side team, or three for main)

Editing on the go for longer exposition (let's try and breakthrough with more direct posts, with exposition only where required)

Continue the main plot (where we are) in the current RP we are in- keeping it going but now looking at sidetracking Viper/Python onto other tasks at hand. I might indulge in one good Viper post here and there but for the sake of this RP I think that might work to put us forward a bit better.

I know it seems odd- but it'll speed up our posting and allows us to control a smaller contingent a little more rapidly- so we can write our main characters much more!

GEARS: Silent Line Redux (Silverwind Blade & KingKonrad)

Max grinned, the feeling of the GEAR's joystick wobbling under his hand, even in spite of all the technological wizardry at play perhaps an example that no matter how smart the systems you had were, there was always an organic element to this.

"Roger that, Silverwind. Viper, stick close through the clouds, no funny business!" Max called out, the wingpack-equipped recon team did just the funny business that Max really didn't want them to do. They hung almost a meter out, Anna even closer right by Max's cockpit, a feat that even the lion was almost spechless at. If he could see her face through that visor, she'd have a shit eating grin....but he didn't, as the turbulent cloud came into immediate sight and they all went through without much of a hitch. The sight of the orange glow on the horizon was becoming more and more powerful, the darkness all below in the rolling hills and green pasture-like farmland in Arbrentia.

The LZ itself was a steep hill and a meadow that it naturally flowed in, one Max knew complimented an aggressive, hard landing without the use of the GFDS's parachutes- a more risk averse operator might have said it was a stupid move and prefered deployment, but Max was not that, neither were the team. And Silver had a point, when the Lion Rampant's own C3i systems picked up the ping of infantry. Either risk losing the advantage and getting spotted by trying to deploy and becoming a sitting duck to whatever mess they had, or hit them before they could react. The literal momentum of falling out of the sky was not exactly easy to counter, not when it weighed over 10 tons and was also firing hot lead. Mind you, Max knew he wouldn't be any immediate use down there, not unless he really threw himself into the absolute mess. A split-second decision had to be made, and the wisened Warrant Officer knew what to do.

"Copy, Silverwind....I'm gonna try and land higher up the hillside, I'll target high-value as best I can from afar! Viper, switch to the alternate LZ and get some fire support running as soon as you're down!" The lion called out, diving fast and dropping a little quicker than the rest. If he was going to be there to provide fire support, he had to beat them down, and Max knew these things could do that if he needed to, the GFDS and the GEAR shifting downwards and picking up speed. It would put him on a much steeper part of the hill, and worse, at higher speed.

The landing was hard, very, very hard even for an experienced operator such as Max. The GEAR like the rest of Python and Silverwind didn't naturally flow but skidded nastily along the grassy hillside, kicking up mud and dirt as he struggled to dig into the hill, a nasty landing but one his GEAR could survive, Max reminded himself, well, also be operational after! Coming to a halt as the hill flattened slightly, Max engaged the GEAR's non-GFDS systems and threw the GEAR forwards against a rock outcrop, swinging the 30mm rifle off the GEAR's back. Already picking up thermal signatures, Max loaded a AT magazine into the oversized rifle, watching as the other three came in hot and already were lacing targets on their way down.

"Contacts, fucking everywhere! AT's loaded!" Max called out, shouldering the 30mm rifle and lacing a third GEAR down at the bottom of the hill about to cross over a small stream, quickly picking out it's "head", before firing another decisive round into it's power unit, disabling it in a non-dramatic fashion before switching the magazine out. Going with a standard 30mm round, he put a few rounds into a couple of soldiers running towards a machine gun post, quickly dicing them up with the rest of the magazine, the large 30mm rounds making easy pickings of their position.

-----

The others meanwhile had flown low and dirty on the other side of the hillside, barely flaring on the side of the ridge to get the very last speed out of the wingpacks, and stall them out to safely land in a manuever that Max himself would have been proud of. After all, they weren't going to be as tough as those GEARS were- they still needed parachutes, and didn't have the luxury of being able to hit the steep rocky hill and survive, and pulling very dirty low meant they had to at least try and make sure their openings were as clean as possible. Altimeter going off and screaming at her that they were far too low, Anna flared out and deployed the wingpack's parachute, the deacceleration jolting her upward almost as she looked across to the chaos to her left hand side.

Floating down under the grey parachute, Anna was speechless as she watched five GEARs all pile in, the steep hillside allowing them to avoid the use of the GEAR parachutes and instead slide down, in a highly dramatic fashion. She and Max had done some insane shit, but that was quite something, especially that hot. Whatever it was, it made the jaguar tense up and get a hold of herself fast, steering herself quickly down to the ground as she took her helmet off.

"Holy shit...." She simply commented, the noise of explosives and rounds flying on the other side of the steep hill something to behold in the dark morning. It was still dark enough to be using NVGs, but the explosions were making it light enough like it was day now.

While steep, a tiny terrace was right below her, something Anna was steering towards and already putting herself on a landing pattern. Due to the exceptionally low deployment they had barely less than 20 seconds of canopy time, it gave her little room to react, but enough to get down to the surface. She'd done more stupid, but the wingpacks allowed for some degree of confidence when it came to low-altitude deployments.
"Copy Viper, we all alive?" Spectre called out, waiting a response eagerly as she focussed just on her own accuracy for right now.

"Yeah, not bad, Spectre. Kestrel's with me, we're all good. What's the sitrep?" Hopper replied, the rabbit deploying a little higher up, under her own grey parachute too, and only just taking in the sight of what was going on beyond the hillside.
"Lots of them, our guys are handling it but there's a few weapons platforms up ahead. This wasn't in the intel...mobile AA guntrucks, AT, shit, technicals too. Follow me down, team." Anna cooly replied, the sight of the other side fading from view as they fell beneath the horizon into the dark hillside. Pulling the riser down and turning hard right, she picked up speed under the rectangle-shaped parachute and flared hard onto the rough grass, enough to kill her speed and put her right on the edge of Viper's alternate LZ.

With a gentle exhale, Anna looked up to see the other two coming in, already dekitting her stuff and wrapping her parachute around her wingpack, the wings folded back in and now in a lightweight carrying configuration. If this fell into enemy hands, they'd be confused as hell at first, Anna thought to herself, but they'd certainly be curious as to what the fuck was coming- so they had to try holding onto them as much as possible. Thanks to their relatively light-weight it wasn't too bad, but even so, it was an extra few kilos on top of full combat gear, the type she was adjusting on herself as she took her M23 into her hands. Sliding a 6mm magazine in, the long-barreled M23 Grenadier was back in her trusty hands, as she took a knee and checked their sectors.

"LZ's clear. C'mon, let's go." She called out, Anna confident as she ran with a formidable, confident pace up the hill, NVGs on her helmet and a silenced rifle back into her hands. Exactly how she liked it.Running up to the apex of the hill, a short two minute jaunt, Anna took cover by a stone wall, peering over with her M23 and taking a moment, as Kestrel and Hopper joined her.

"We ain't gonna survive if we join them. Shit, we've had worse but that's heavy down there. Alright, Kestrel, give Hopper your rifle, you're lasing shit and spotting- let's pick off targets from here. No fucking arguing." Anna called out, as the two did exactly as she said, Anna adjusting her combat optic as she rested her arm on the stone wall, Hopper taking Kestrel's longer-sighted battle rifle and adjusting its grip on the stone wall, looking down the long-range optic down towards the engaging GEARS.

"No kidding, Spectre." The rabbit gently replied, adjusting her sight and taking a few deep breaths.
"Alright, Hopper. Weapons hot then. Let's not keep them waiting." Spectre replied, giving a wave as she spotted an infantry fireteam further down the hill, another group moving along the GEARs flank and quickly started putting accurate semi-auto fire down their way, quickly dropping two soldiers with ease as Hopper found her mark too. The silenced 6mm was drowned out by noise, so they were almost invisible from their position up top, knowing they could pick stragglers off with ease. That was, until Spectre punted a 40mm round into a machine gun nest on another part of the ridge, the sight of two soldiers being blasted out of a foxhole being the mark for the infantry element to relocate further down the hill, using a thin dirt path to the nest they'd destroyed.

"Spectre to all, Viper's down safe. We're giving you fire, Kestrel has a lase on a distant two IFVs, looks like a temporary encampment down there, about five tents and a fuel truck. Wait...."

"Fire's sent!" Max replied, already one step ahead of his 2IC, the AT round already in and targetted at the distant base. While it was almost 1km away, the round felt like it made shockwaves when it hit, the sight of the large explosion on the horizon lighting up the dark morning even more, as the lion chuckled, Max engaging his wheels and following down to the rest of Python Team, aware they could use a little more close in help after his fire support. The explosion had lit up bits of a nearby tent, and the fire had already picked up, spreading across the grass as he reloaded, picking out a technical with a couple of rounds and quickly taking it down before the rest of the team engaged it.
"Alright, Viper, move and take out any stragglers, clear up anything we can't hit. Once we've wrapped this up, get your shit off us and let's get moving fast, before we get tied up in a long-term firefight. Maximum aggression. No fucking around!"

GEARS: Silent Line Redux (Silverwind Blade & KingKonrad)

Took some heavy inspiration from Halo I see there, it's a friggin awesome scene :) Just about to post!

GEARS: Silent Line Redux (Silverwind Blade & KingKonrad)

Max chuckled, shrugging his shoulder.
"You know what they say, Silverwind....an old man in a young man's game is a scary bastard indeed. Especially one who has a disability sticker on the dash of his GEAR...." Max chuckled, already knowing how to tease his CO, to whatever effect it would have, taking the GEAR helmet resting in his hand and sliding it over his locks-covered temple.
"Politely speaking, let's go kick some heads in, Sir." Max added with a grin knowing Silverwind would react well to that. There had to be a little bit of banter, and Max was almost certain he was gonna get some thrown back, twice as hard in all due course.

Meanwhile, Viper were finalising their checks, the wing-pack equipped squad giving themselves their last checks over, Anna running through Logan, who then ran through Maxine, who then ran through Anna in turn. A logical, systematic process no less- nothing short of what any of them expected for a run like this, Max reminded himself, as they loaded up the last of their things into the squatting GEAR of the Lion Rampant.
"Checks complete, we're set, Actual." Anna coldly commented through her radio, the team now on their own O2 systems, already at a completed pre-breathe for their drop, Max walking across to see his team before they dropped.
"Aww. I thought I'd be able to hang onto one of you for the ride, Spectre." Max sarcastically commented back, rolling his tongue at her, the jaguar not getting the sarcasm just yet....
"Get in the fucking GEAR, Max. Or I'll ride you down." Anna replied, unknowingly slipping her tongue as Max giggled like a schoolgirl, Logan and Maxine hearing the same. A moment of catharsis for pretty much anyone that heard it, as Anna merely flipped him off and Max just slowly walked away, adjusting the cuffs on his pilot's suit and the tilt on his helmet's comms channel.

"Don't ever change, Spectre. Alright Viper, like Silverwind says, door's gonna open in a bit. Remember, nice, calm, easy. Don't make uhh....too many shenanigans. We still have a job to do, so let's not fuck it up right now." Max said succinctly and to the point through teh radio, heading over towards the Lion Rampant's entry hatch, punching his code and sliding himself inside. With a flicker the holographics were online, the displays back to life as the GEAR stood upright once more, firing into action.

Gently checking over the GEAR systems, the lion engaged the GFDS wingpack's extensions, the wingpack locking into place and giving a position to rest the Lion Rampant's arms onto. The HUD altered, displaying a more pilot-styled azimuth and heads up display, complete with altitude, glide ratio and speed. The datalink was already working its magic to already recognise the other aerial-oriented GEARS, pinging them up with a square box for distant visual. In fact, the system was fairly clever- it wasn't an autopilot, but for flying a GEAR in, more than just a pilot's brains were required. An augmented-reality DZ marker linked to an optimal pathing projection, almost like a GPS checkpoint system that the pilots could use to set up a formation or use. Flicking it aside, he checked the comms link to Silverwind, the lion's blue and green illuminated face seen in the link.
"The Lion Rampant is wonderful as always, Silverwind. Viper, sitrep?" Max asked, waiting for his team to chirp up.
"Spectre, all good!"
"Kestrel, ready to go!"
"Hopper, all set!"

"Two minutes to red, everyone!" Anna called out, the jaguar in contact with the jumpmaster at the apex of the ramp, taking responsbility for this side of the aircraft operation alongside the quiet-mask wearing German Shepherd standing near the door. While Catriona was certainly running things in Max and Silverwind's absence, Anna taking control of that was seemingly something nobody was complaining about, or at least, Anna didn't want to hear it. Time felt like it ticked forever inside the GEAR Max was inside, the displays all reading five by five and suggesting that the oxygenated environment inside of here, as per any CBRN attack, would keep him alive.

"Red is on!" Anna yelled out on the comms, Max looking over his GEAR's right hand side to see where Viper were walking out, the red light and the warning klaxon punctuating the fact that soon, the very air they breathed inside of here would be sucked out with barely a moment's notice. The wind howled beyond the mechanical-sounding ramp as it slowly opened, Viper holding at the front of the door, right in front of the Lion Rampant, in a position to at least not get squished when Max pushed the GEAR forward onto the ramp.

The sky beyond the opening cargo ramp was an impressive sight, the very distant sun beyond the clouded sky revealing a slither of glowing orange to Arvara, contrasted with the still glistening and bright white stars in the sky above. The light pollution even in spite of the sunrise showed the stars brighter than most would see in the cities of back home, a glistening blanket of silvery white on navy blue. The noise of whistling could even be heard from inside the GEAR, even in spite of the layers of armour, it was a howl, a shriek, almost a yell to the abyss. An abyss Max had no problem whatsoever looking into. It seemed strange, but after enough of this, you just accepted the void that you went into on a regular basis. Trust yourself, trust your equipment, trust your team, and it's a void worth travelling through, Max reminded himself...

With a gentle turn, Max stood on the edge of the ramp's downcline, bracing himself as he saw Viper move to the side, getting out of the way. If Viper went first, they could risk having a GEAR fall on top of them if their GFDS system failed- and that was pretty much game over, so knowing that the Viper operatives could catch up, they would wait and wave their collegues on by.
"Standby, Actual. All callsigns, prep for deployment, aircraft is on 250 bearing, speed 220kph- adjust for bearing 265 pathway on exit. Bastion, Python, Blade, you're all first. We'll follow you out." Anna commented, the jumpmaster giving her all the details she needed, the red light still on. Viper had fully deployed their Corvid packs, the sight of their protruding wingpacks on their backs an odd and strange one to see, the sight of Arvarans who looked like they'd looked to birds for ideas.

"Green is on!" Anna yelled out, the lights lurching from red to green on both the panel and across the cargo bay as the klaxon changed tone, going to an even harsher buzz. Like a "get the fuck out" sort of buzz, because when the green was one, it was go time.

With a gentle flick of the controls, the GEAR wheeled itself down the last remaining part of the ramp and fell right off the end, the intial inertia making the Lion Rampant sink with the wing surfaces braking hard, using the momentum to turn barely a couple of degrees, and ultimately, pivot immediately into a sharp, steep glide.

And it was a rush.

"All systems good, tracking on flight pathing 265, all datapoints live, holding pattern. Fuck....this never gets old!" Max called back, his head professional yet his heart just all himself. The GEAR's glide flattened quickly as he adjusted the wingpack's dive, giving him a good position to hold at the front of the pattern, or at least, hold in a spot to give Silverwind room in front.

With the other GEARs sending it to the end of the plane, Spectre, Kestrel and Hopper were running out of the back, throwing themselves out sideways and in probably the coolest fashion the jumpmaster alone would be able to witness, flying onto angle immediately from the exit. As if a bunch of GFDS-equipped GEARS wasn't enough, the three other Viper team members were following into the breach, already keeping an eye on the cluster down below as they turned and caught the wind effortlessly.

Flying down to the main group, flying a few degrees onto their bearing the three wingpack-equipped SOF operators had actually flown fast and caught them up, hanging right above the main group. It was something to behold, both from Max's and Anna's perspcetive, the sight of not falling but gliding GEARS and Arvarans into the dark black sunrise from high altitude. The fluttering noise was howling even with earplugs and their helmets, Anna holding steady above Max's GEAR and the rest of the group.

"Viper, sitrep?"
"Right on top of you, Actual!" Anna, or Spectre called back, in a rare show of her exited self, as Max chuckled back, running through the AR checkpoint system as Max saw them come up on his camera, chuckling to himself.

"Blade, we're all green here- should be about a ten minute flight to our DZ....the visuals are just mad here. There's a patch of cloud on the path, want us to re-round around?" Max asked, calm as you like as he gently gave a slight adjustment in angle, the GEAR turning back onto angle and onto pathing, the wingpack-wearing operators following suit as Anna dived to barely within a couple of meters of Max's rocket anchor, quite the sight to behold. It had to be said, Viper weren't kidding when they said they could fly very tight to Max, their Corvids making it look effortless as they kept right on top of the Lion Rampant, out of the burble path and on the collective flight route.