FourtyTwo

Burning Rubber Three (Bee and kingkonrad)

Zoe shrugged, sighing as she adjusted the way she was carrying the wing over her shoulder, taking a firmer grip with her gloved hands.
"You were going slower, I thought you were coming to me, sorry gal...look, whatever, it is what it is. Come on, we're nearly there now. Neaaarly there..." She replied, almost going into song towards the end, trying to take the sting out of their argument, sighing as she brushed her hair back, getting some of the snow out of it. She probably expected this of Val now, she had a temper about her- then again, she could too, given how much she sometimes came to blows...sometimes it was best to just let it go. She did look like she had taken a bruise, but again, mentioning it would probably get a heap of shit- not like it was the worst that the two of them had suffered on their adventures. Zoe herself had broken her ankle pretty nastily in the past, but well, she wasn't one to be stopped that easy.

She thought to herself, they were on a frozen mountain together, and more likely than not, Val would probably appreciate the good that had come out of this. Despite being like they were the Gallagher brothers at times, they were like Oasis, rockin' the world when they were together. Even Zoe, as headless as she could be at times, wasn't completely apathetic as to why people did the things they did. Her just being mindless was gonna get this, so it was stiff upper lip till they got further down, the Swiss girl taking all her own cameras off and hucking them into her North Face pack.

And that they did, making their way through the thinning snow in the forest down to a small track, where a grey Mercedes G-Wagen was parked. Zoe's credit card certainly worked wonders at the hire car office, and while pretty much any cheap 4x4 would have done the trick.
"Bagsy driving!" She squeaked, throwing her stuff straight into the back seats and bolting into the driver's seat- still wrapped up in most of her gear. Throwing her boots into the back, she grabbed a pair of trainers, a tasteful set of Nikeys, Zoe still keeping her jacket on for warmth. After all, the heating in even a fancy car like this would take some time to really spool up, as she took a good look back to Val, sighing out. She knew she had to say something, or Val was gonna be real, real mad.

"Look, I really didn't mean it. Promise. I know you're mad...so I'll make this up to you, food's on me tonight. I'll get us something fancy to treat after that....we did good, mon ami. That was fucking crazy..."

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

"I only imagine I might..." Skye added, chuckling as she gave the fox one last fluff, before going back to the table, watching as it swung it's tail playfully into Zurvan's gob, a sight that couldn't stop Skye from chuckling. As mature as she was, it was hte little things to her, she just felt it was human and in an environment like this, it came with the territory to enjoy what you did more than overthinking it.

Sam gave the middle finger back to Astrid, a bit drier yet happy to let that go- knowing full well the boss was watching with both eyes squarely at him and Astrid...
"Yeah, yeah, try growing up and living in Rotterdam, Gungnir..." He said, quietening his tone as he took the blunt and lit it, gently inhaling as he leaned back in the chair, taking a bit on board before he replied.

"And uhh, let's just leave it at the fact that you were the one that took him to hell in a fucking cell by suckering him into the septic tank! Ever heard of murdering people more quietly?" Sam replied, taking another strong hit as he sucked it in, chilling back, aware he wasn't gonna come back again.

Just let it go, because fuck it, he knew he'd done his job just like Astrid had- the Dutchman giggling a little to Astrid, shrugging about it all to show he was letting back. Perhaps not perfectly, but then again, Skye had a point- there WERE a lot more than they expected to be interfering with there, and well, most other SOF teams just couldn't done what they had done. Extracting a high value target with a shitload of guards, with a speed and precision that most just didn't have.

Skye only sighed in response to the two, giving an ice cold stare to both Sam and Astrid, almost of disapointment, but more to just kill off whatever they were they were chittering away about, the fox almost seeming to Skye like the more responsible of the three kits here right now. Like the mum she was, she had enough of their shit- and the look in her eyes, sharp as it was like a shard of glass, seemed to very much illustrate her thoughts. She finished the glass, gently washing it out under the sink, taking her gaze off to just give them a moment to reengage. Zurvan's funny admission made her chuckle a little- he was always the underrated team member, more subtle but a goldmine nonetheless. Easier than the other two that was for sure, but still, his own breed beyond all the animals he had brought in. Their reference to the meme even got a chuckle out of Skye, a crack she didn't at all mind showing especially with how much a liking the fox had to the Scottish woman- something that came before refocussing on all their questions.

"Quiet, you two. The holiday's not entirely all inclusive, I'll put it that way. Fairly fucking heavy, actually. And well, we don't know who exactly Black Flag are sending. What we do know though..." Astrid said, sitting up on one of the stools in the kitchen area, perching up to look to the three before she continued.

"Is that they have a Yasen-class nuclear submarine in their possession allegedly heading to a meeting at an old Nazi U-Boat facility on the island. I'm not making that shit up. Yes, I know, a fucking nuclear, Russian fourth-generation piece of advanced naval technology in their possession. Codenamed the "Lost Ash", it's something that our handler kept an eye on- I mean, it ain't a fucking set of car keys, now is it? And here we were thinking those fucking Russians were good at getting their property back themselves..." Skye started, sighing as she knew a little more than the team needed to know right now, but she never held back on telling. After all, these were the people who might die for her- as she would for them, and transparancy went a long way in that.

"The sub basically corresponds to a terror attack about a month ago where Severomorsk got raided in a pretty scary chemcial attack our friends in Russia covered up to pretty much every intelligence community out there- they call it "damage control" to stop anyone thinking their potential has been affected. Bad move, because they forgot to mention that a certain group of mysterious, well backed anrcho-terrorists now have an actual nuclear submarine, with actual fucking cruise missiles aboard it- and only now, the Russians tell us they're direly fucked- their own intelligence agencies are probably comprimised too they think. It's a shitshow." Skye's optimism rarely took a dink like that, but well, she wasn't a Queen for nothing- she told her people exactly what went down, and why.

"Anyway, right now they've got zero proper navigational guidance for any weapons system natively installed and are likely running with a crew of absolute retards who got it out of port....but they sub get that jury-rigged to GLASNOST or GPS, get restocked with enough specialists to figure that thing out beyond just sailing the seven seas, like those cruise missiles and the nuclear fuel on board? Bad fucking day at the office for Athens, Rome or Istanbul." Skye added, shaking her head, tapping the desk.

"So things really are fucked. But same time, it's a good opportunity to sabotage a serious element of Black Flag in one go. Cut a lot of snakeheads off, and maybe gain some intel on who actually orchestrated the...." Almost as if on cue, Skye's phone buzzed, the CO looking and seeing Oracle's tag flash up.

"Shit, sorry, gotta take this. But yeah, till we know more, we'll sit tight until we can do something about it." She replied hastily, taking the call and leaving the room to talk, Sam looking across to the other two. She was good at hiding things, but that was a clear, clear tell that she had a call from their boss's boss. Meaning, their conversation mere minutes ago for rest was now gone to shit.

"I can't belive our fuckin R&R just got cut, again. Every fucking time, dammit!" Sam said, knowing full well that the team had already gone through this shit enough- it was almost textbook, especially when Skye went the way she did. They'd spent enough months as a team to see that already- that plan had very quickly gone to shit, and Sam probably voiced that for everyone, even though he knew full well they'd get on with the work.

"So, we taking bets on how serious this is gonna be? This sounds like Piri-Piri, hot spice...like, that ain't a courtesy call, and she knows it." Sam asked the other two, himself already trying to get more serious, even though he definitely was still a little baked.

--

A few minutes later, and the scene on the team leader's face had gone from a playful description to a more concise, hardened look. The redhead had empathy for fucking the team's rest over, but then again, that was why they got paid- and also, why they were here, because they were on watch. And when Skye spoke, you listened- because it wasn't without reason that someone in the world had dialled the last emergency service.

"So, you know that thing I was just saying? Everyone, you've got thirty to sort your affairs- we'll catch up on holiday when the world doesn't want to go to shit....again. Grab your gear- Astrid, Sam, I need you to take rebreathers and quite a fair amount of explosives, diving kit and close quarters weaponry- you're gonna be possibly sorting the sub out. Zurvan, you're with me- standard assault setup for you for us to pin the facility in. We'll meet down by the vehicle pool, I'll get us briefed en route to theatre moment we know what's in play- it appears we have a window of opportunity with the LOst Ash. So let's fucking go, yeah?! Skye barked, the former Major not mincing a single word of what she had to say.

Sam kept his tongue locked down as he stood up, dropping the blunt and doing his best to get back to reality, one that would come right back down on the ride into theatre. The dark-haired Dutchman walked past, and headed for the armoury, very much aware that him and Astrid no doubt had a pretty fucking thrilling job on this op- but no less one to take seriously, and get done as professionally and cleanly as they could. The team may have been dysfunctional, but when it came to doing the job efficiently and effectively, there were no second-bests.

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

We have three slots about for this RP- if anyone is still interested we are still open to applications!

Foxtrot Oscar (A less-than-serious Military RP)

We have three slots about for this RP- if anyone is still interested we are still open to applications!

Foxtrot Oscar (A less-than-serious Military RP)

We have three slots about for this RP- if anyone is still interested we are still open to applications!

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

No worries! I've got no preference for post orders, so if you feel you have a witty reply, get posted!

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

Skye's initial concerns with Sam almost felt like they doubled with Zurvan coming in with....holy shit, was that a fox? He had a way of making friends...and the fox looked tame, as if the big man's presence itself calmed it down to a complete stop rather than its' ordinary hyperactive movement, waving across to him and his fox.
"Awww...now that is cute, Zurvan. Looks almost like you want to fit in with all the redheads or something? Good to have you back." Skye remarked, using her whisky glass to remark out, sitting up on the sofa as Sam looked across, a little disgusted, given that while his fox was cute....well, he felt a little triggered.

"What, so Bruce Almighty here can bring a fox, but we can't have puppies on base? Oh, and yes, Zurvan- this weed is the best we get now. Not even proper zest to it, schmoking this is a fucking joke." It got a reciving glance from Skye, with a distinct sigh, almost as if the youngest member of the team was just asking for this shit.
"Yeah, because Zurvan doesn't keep his guests permenently. Or at least, in a method that means I don't know anything about them, now do I? For a guy that murders people in the shadows, subtlety isn't your specialism." She replied, a sharp tone cutting to Sam that he rather drop back his line of enquiry before sipping the rest of her whisky down with a delightful swig, wiping her brow.

Leaving her glass at the table, she walked up to the tall First-Nations giant of the team, and the fox chittering and sqeaking away, as if to almost chat with him.
"Aren't you a playful little thing?" It was a mystical talent, but no less impressive, as Skye gave a playful brush of the fox's coat, to an awful lot more chittering, before being interrupted by the other sight and sound of black fabric outside filling the view, before a small black figure landed right in front of the lounge's window. Ah yeah, Astrid had gone out wingsuiting again. Right. And boy, was she getting lower every time she pitched. A sign she was getting bored of not doing anything on base, Skye resolved.

Within a few minutes Astrid had come in after changing her stuff over, enough time for Skye to give the Zurvan's fox a few more strokes and a playful smile, the team leader easy-going enough to be distracted by the cute fox Zurvan had tamed while waving back to Astrid. The sight of the red and blue haired Norwegian coming in and crashing on a sofa was almost a reminder to Skye- her and Sam were almost diametric opposites for light operatives, one in wintery, long-range and sniping-based roles, while the other was a close range, runner and urban warfare specialist. One could crush your windpipe and the other would slice it open. But they worked alright, and did what they did best, though arguably, were the most dysfunctional part of the team for it. The Scottish operative turned to have a look out the window, finding her own seat by Sam again, before turning her attention back to Astrid.

"Glad to hear you enjoyed yourself- bluebird day, so it was either that or you'd have gone skiing, love. Nothing much to report on that front, Astrid. Mostly post-op mop-up. Considering that El Presidente Alvarez isn't dead, and quite a lot more FARC than I intially thought are, so just a few loose ends. Luckily we don't have to deal with a lot of the usual red-tape a SOF team deals with, so it's onto the next clusterfuck, eh?" She retorted, sitting up and heading back to the lounge, realising she had another comment to make- one she made after pouring a half-measure of whisky, pouring another full one for Zurvan and Astrid, and passing it over to them both.
"Here. This shit is a vintage, so you aren't asking if you want it. To a good job done, hey?" Skye said, raising her glass, not for a proper toast but a litle tipple while they were all here.

"Oh, and Sam, Astrid- and I'm not gonna let you two kick the shit out of each other in the Cavern again, dammit, that was a lot of extra fucking paperwork and needless broken ribs."
"We really fucking went at it, you have to admit that, right Skye? Astrid's fat bu.." Sam commented, Skye almost spitting as she heard it, chuckling and interrupting straight away. Kid had some balls, she'll give him that.
"Get a fucking room if you're gonna do that, you two. And get some more protection than you had last time, if you're gonna fight, or else I'll show you just how seriously I feel about venting my anger about paperwork to the team. You want a Mason special on the lake, till you pass out?" Skye replied, sipping whisky in response with her witted and sly response, as veiled a threat as it could be- the Dutchman not often left speechless, but forced to conceed the point, sighing as he finished up with the blunt he was making. He would provoke shit like that sometimes, being a merc, he worked with that often- Skye, not so much. The Scottish lady put the bottle of fine vintage back away, before looking across to the three, her motherly disposition needed to keep this wild gang together.

"That's what I fucking thought. So we're basically on R&R till tomorrow evening. Oracle is keeping me in the loop on a potential Black Flag facility on Crete, something our inteligence friends gathered that we might find ourselves putting a hole in. Till then, try not to kill each other, yeah?"

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

We're live!

Three paragraphs I would say are a good guide to stop making posts too long- though of course your intro can be a little longer to extend what your character is up to. I've left it open- but it gives a nice platform to show what your character is about and start chatting to the rest of the team!

After the intro things will start cooking with gas, so have fun getting set up!

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

Somewhere in the Swiss Alps
"La Serpentine"
1500 Hours

The "La Serpentine" facility was a rather incognito one- most people would barely make it out in the high and snowy Swiss mountains, nestled in a valley above a large reservoir and among a set of mountain glaciers, peaks and ridges south of Arolla and Lac des Dix on the mountain that bore its namesake. Most tourists that might have seen the small anomaly in that landscape from afar would have guessed the short slope-level inclined runway and small concrete structure next to it belonged to a billionaire's private lair, another random concrete bomb shelter like all the other random ones Switzerland had, or something like that- but to the team of Foxtrot Oscar, it was their home that they had out of harm's way that allowed them to deploy to much of the world. There was a tiny road through the ice and snow that led to a service route on the Lac des Dix, but getting up here was half the challenge- if you weren't stopped by an array of gates, the hairpins might bore you half to death, as might the fact that any visitors could be seen coming from a mile away.

The facility itself was a fairly plush one- a renovated mining complex, previously left to rot before FO's arrival. The main feature was an incredibly short and tight tarmac runway laid out ontop of an existing gravel one on the facility's tiny precipice- barely large enough to let a light aircraft land given it was barely longer than the length of an aircraft carrier's deck, but more specifically, it helped a V-22 Osprey and a handful of fast jets use it as a stopping point and a supporting role for whenever Foxtrot Oscar needed more firepower than the team of six that were normally sent out. Beyond the runway, the concrete structure was only a fascia- the mining control room and supply rooms ripped out and replaced with living quarters, including a living room that looked out of a large open panoramic window of the mountain scene the base faced onto, flanked by a gym, a pool, rooms and a tactical briefing room. A very cosy lounge, with a full bar, sofas and beanbags helped with making this place feel "lived in", rather than purely for function. A very specific decision by Skye- they weren't Spartans, they were gonna be here for a long time, and good decor cost....actually, about £50K, so she spent it to get the work done. When you're the one calling the shots, you get to be an interior decorator, right?

Beyond that however, the appearance of a typical bilionaire's weird holiday retreat changed into a facility built into the mine, built into the granite walls that once housed mineshaft and larger storerooms. Antoher twelve support staff roamed in this area, looking after a small motorpool, an weapons range and armoury built into a particularly long tunnel of the mine, another pair of briefing rooms, a server system, alongside a VR training facility and a whole heap of shoothouses, training rooms and facilities right at the back. Perfect for testing each of the operatives in any kind of environment, virtual or half-real. After all, new tech came in all the time- and honing skills in that place was how they got so damn good. The team specialising in so many different ways meant that sometimes Skye wanted to see how it all sowed together- and right at the furthest, deepest cavern of the mine was where that happened. Oh yeah, and of course, Fight Cavern. The place to see some poor new recruit, or prospect get kicked the shit out of them before being offered entry into The Devil's Cooker. First rule of Fight Cavern is that you don't remember how you got to Fight Cavern....

--

The figure of Skye on base was remarkably casual for the team lead, the red-haired Scottish CO of Foxtrot Oscar wearing an old-school navy-coloured "Slayer" T-shirt with a pair of navy jeans, a pair of rounded sunglasses finishing the look of the fiery and fierce person that kept the team in check. Death metal was her shit, though you wouldn't think it beyond all the highland fiddle and softly-softly stuff she normally listened to. Her FNX at her side as per always, the team lead never seemed out of pace no matter what environment she was in spite of her casual Friday look. Heading up the stairs into the main lounge, she could see the team's resident Dutchman, and a handful of others about, enjoying R&R after their eventful last op. It could have gone much smoother, but all things considered, they'd done a good job. Extracted the Colombian president from being kidnapped by a drug cartel, without it even making the news he'd left his villa. A brow of sweat wiped off everyone's head. But that was just another Wednesday for FO- and for Skye, an annoying recurrence. Looking to the team's parkour and general spiderman, a shitty plan came to mind, as she walked over, noticing him snoring away on the sofa.

"Sam! Get the fuck up!" She yelled as she slammed the table, the Dutchman waking from sleep with a yelping jolt, the bong falling off his knees and smashing on the floor, the Scotswoman trying to hold back the chuckle in just as she crashed down on the sofa, the sight of his face changing from fear, to shock, to annoyance painting everything the Scot wanted to get.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked, Skye shrugging as she inspected his weed over that was on the floor, having a look through.
"That is an utterly pish-shite grade. I dunno, mebbe don't fucking fall asleep stoned or something when your boss is on site? You get nightmares, remember?" Her sultry Scots cut back, making her almost giggle more at the sight of it all.
"Yeah, but ever since we took back that Colombian last week, you know how fucking hard it is to get good weed? Like, I can't even do mail order from Colorado anymore! Shit...sorry." Sam replied, Skye shrugging, sitting down opposite on the next red sofa, feet up, sunglasses off as she giggled, shrugging her shoulders. He wasn't a happy bunny, but he'd calm down soon enough.

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't smoke weed anyway in a highly secure facility where we have a zero drugs tolerance policy? I mean, if you get drugs tested...you seriously think I'd piss in a cup so you avoid getting booted?" Skye retorted, Sam chuckling in reply, grinning.
"Maybe 'cos you love me enough you would. Where you gonna find a guy who does what I do with my professional standards, eh?" Sam added, giggling in retort as he got his grass back together, scooping it back onto the table and sighing, Skye not sure how to reply.
"The fucking things we do to keep us together....so long as you do what you do best and don't make my job too fucking difficult, I couldn't give a shit what it takes to keep you on side. Fucking give me strength sometimes though, Sam..." She mustered up, standing up and heading to the tabletop in the lounge, grabbing a bottle from the cooler, a dulled Highland Whisky she had very much gotten into of late and had no second thoughts in pouring.

She rarely found herself on base sitting about doing nothing, but given her body had physically given up after her last round of running and swimming, a glass of fine whisky would do her joy for the moment, as she went back to the sofa, legs up, sipping down the liquor as neat as she could. The rest of the team might come by soon, or be out on their activities, wherever they may be.
"The whisky a part of that leadership method, Miss Mason?" Sam asked, putting a neat blunt together, well, out of whatever was left of the weed from the bong, and looking to get that down his system.

"Fuckin' course it is." Skye replied smoothly, sipping the braveheart juice to heart's content.

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

And done! Thought up Sam as a bit more of a casual character compared to Skye- he's the Dutch Spiderman, who likes weed, waffles and making sweet music (while snapping necks on the side) and certainly should act as a bit of a foil for Astrid and Skye.

I think tomorrow evening I'll kick things off as we've all hopefully had a lovely Christmas.