FourtyTwo

Raven Squad : (An Eccentric Military / Spy-Fi RP)

RAVEN SQUAD

Raven Squad is a variant on an RP idea I've had for years, focussing on a military / spy-fi RP that takes influence from a range of sources. It's bombastic, over the top, ridiculous...and definitely an RP that lends itself to not being too serious while having a teeny bit of grounding. Trying to save the world isn't ever going to look totally realistic, right?

Taking influence from everything from an awful lot of video games and films- Titanfall to MGS, Rainbow Six to Arma and Bad Company among many others- with a sprinkle of a little insanity on top and a teeny bit of grounding to set up a near-future foe, this RP isn't exactly focussed on absolute tactical precision nor complete fantastical elements. It's hard to describe but if you're somewhere between The Expendables, MGS, Overwatch and Rainbow Six, it's roughly that with around the right amount of silly and serious and a dynamic team of elite misfits.

Interested? Read on and the setup and all the details are below.

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The Setup:

Raven Squad (RS) is a mysterious task force, working against the forces of global terrorist groups in the near future (roughly 20 or 30 years from now) who often who are armed with quite advanced technology- or nefarious political aims. Al-Qaeda it isn't, so in come our operatives. In a world where mechs are prototypes, exoskeletons, jump-packs, optical cloaking and various other technologies are around the corner, the tide of warfare is changing...and Raven is there to stop the worst happening.

Raven Squad have access to that technology, and six of the most elite operatives that made it through a gruelling process to counter the threat. With different specialists allowing the team to have everything from a scalpel-like precision to brute force with heavy firepower, they act as a counterbalance.

Where an SF team cannot penetrate, Raven Squad come in. When a politician needs to go, they come in. When you have ten foot mechs trying to breach a high-security Gulag and you need those fuckers removed, they come in. Raven Squad are the people that stop the world ending as we know it. Problem is, they're a little dysfunctional- and well, they're not all the most....professional of soldiers, or spies, or agents, or well, anyone who is capable of getting the job done.

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Background:

Not much is known about Raven Squad as an organisation- only that it has shadowy links to the previous "Team Scimitar", a prior semi-independent mercenary group that similarly fought against a range of terrorist threats and organisations.

Though since those days, plenty has evolved in terms of technology and equipment used- and the organisation appears to silently select those who it wants through a contact named "Oracle", who recruits operators on a selective basis. RS after all, is the boogeyman that spies, special forces and various government agencies can't even confirm exists. The operatives have a comfy life on base, but holidays don't come often when the world needs saving.

Based out of a formerly abandoned mining facility in Corsica, RS has access to a short runway, as well as a bunker complex built into the side of a cliffside base- housing a firing range, armoury, R&R facilities (including a pool, of all things!), training rooms and brefing facilities that allow it to be a home away from home- out of sight and visuals from prying eyes.

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More Setup - Character Classes

So Now What?

Interested then? Well, here's how it works. The RP functions around approximately six characters (can be more or less!)- and focusses upon the team having different skills and specialities, as well as entirely different approaches to combat. While there's three main classes, within those their playstyle may be completely different- and may bring a very unique ability that is class-defying. Each character can also have a path to upgrades- after each operation, they are able to use new technologies, experimentally given out to help them get a further edge.

While I'm not someone to put into place strict rules, I'd prefer two of each in each class and a male and female in each class to really help the flavour of the RP gel (we can't have all infiltrators!), as well as a bit more variety in origins- but will happily accept anyone who has an interesting idea and can make it work, irrespective. This isn't all prescriptive- they're put in as ideas and to start of the process of what the team might look like.

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"Light" or "Infiltrator" Characters

Stealthy types, sharpshooter types, all-round silent assassins, here ye be.

These characters are all relatively unarmored, unable to stand up to much in a firefight- often only coming to that as a necessity. But they have ludicrous amounts of mobility and are able to provide support and some assault help in different ways from different perspectives- they're snipers or infiltrators, hackers and parkour specialists- with these characters often being the masters of stealth thanks to their talent and optical cloaking. They're agile, often more than not to almost cat-like levels of speed, freedom of movement using various tech such as grappling hooks to wall-adhesive gloves- and capable in CQC thanks to Krav Maga or other fighting styles. They're potent at working on their own, but as a part of a wider team, add an enhanced intelligence and support function.

They often work as good hackers and sabotage experts given this, working in the shadows of the main team's work- and have the widest range of infiltration and exfiltration equipment, ranging from wingsuits to SCUBA gear.

Five Common Talents:
-Excellent at sneaking and stealth- with or without cloaking, they're ghosts, and incredibly efficient sneaky people
-High levels of agility (Parkour)
-Sabotage (Explosives, Mines)
-Hacking
-Sniping

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"Medium" or "Assault" Characters

The Swiss Army Knives of the team look here. For those who want a slice of everything.

Characters who are well armored, able to take a few rounds, but not like the "Heavy" characters- they are a comfortable in between. They form the assault element of fire- and they offer a lot of versatility through carrying a lightweight exoskeleton- using jump-packs to double jump, wall run and basically throw themselves up into positions that often none of the team could, allowing them to hammer fire from pretty much any angle using slightly heavier weapons than a typical SOF operator would use- be that LMGs, automatic shotguns, MGLs and high-capacity SMGs. They're real jack of trades, and often bring a bit more to the fight, with significant room to specialise and deliver a unique talent that no class can really pin down. Put short, an Assault character isn't a bland choice- they literally will do everything, from the quieter work to the all-guns blazing firefights, but they're not the best at either spectrum. But add speed and firepower together and you get a package that can usually make any situation work.

The closest comparison one can think of are the "Pilots" from the Titanfall universe- a perfect blend of fast and hard-hitting in a hot firefight. They're nowhere near as agile as the lights, but offer a lot more momentum- allowing them to flank and provide fire from any angle. They also have special abilities of their own that neither class has- be that the deployment of a personal protective bubble, a personal drone, or anything else that pertains to the fact that they carry a bit more into the fight than a typical operator would.

Five Common Talents:
-Balanced Operative (Jack of all Trades)
-Jump-Pack based mobility
-Versatility
-Unique Abilities
-Fast in Firefights

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"Heavy" or "Juggernaut" Characters

Lots of firepower, brute force, big explosions. No less sophisticated than the rest of the team but just a lot louder, Heavies are for those who just want to blow shit up and get blown up.

These characters are giants. Literally, they're over seven foot and immensely tall, strong, and able to basically punch through anything they want. People, walls, armour, anything. And that's without their heavy armour! In their super-heavy armor clad in head to toe with Trophy Systems to boot, are nigh on impossible to take out with most munitions- which means that more often than not, they're the centre of attention, the guy or girl turning up fire to the next level, and Raven Squad has TWO OF THEM. They're a Boss Battle for real, and you bet they enjoy that ego trip. Even up close, they're often absolute beasts in CQC without weaponry- often carrying melee weapons like an axe or a mace to club people they can't get with any of the plethora of weapons they carry. While a light might make that work through silently picking people off, a heavy will make those people shit themselves- one-on-ten, you probably can't win that fight unless you're very specially skilled. After all, a heavy isn't often stupid if they've made it into Raven Squad- they're often far smarter than you think. The Mountain from Game of Thrones? Nah, this giant can do much, much more.

They use heavy weaponry and carry even more support weaponry that puts them almost on the level with a mini-mech- from miniguns to automatic grenade launchers, flamethrowers to prototype electric or laser-based weaponry, or SMGs, heavy pistols, and all sorts of exotic secondary weapons that allows them to take on a wide variety of foes- specialising in AT on top of their usual anti-personel usage. For them, might is right- and bar much, they are incredibly difficult to counter. They're killable all right, but it takes a lot. They do suffer from the least versatility in infiltrations and their sheer size and operations weight means that they often need special methods of insertion. But do you think that they don't make a big deal about it? Not when they're the boss battles of the warzone.

Five Talents:
-An actual bullet sponge
-Close Quarter Beasts
-Versatility in Combat
-Heavy Weaponry
-Terrifying, centre of attention, frontline operatives

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Post your interest below if you're up for this- I'm looking for around six but can be flexible up or down!

Character Slots Availible:

(Can be flexible once all are filled!)

Light (M)-
Light (F)- VeyrinDay (temporary reservation)
Medium (M) - BigPapaBelilal
Medium (F)- FourtyTwo
Heavy (M) - Jamesyco (temporary reservation)
Heavy (F) -

The Conflict

Bethan chuckled as Yekatarina came over, and then proceeded to load her GSH-18, the modern Russian pistol a tool even the Welsh girl was impressed by. Much nicer than a Makarov, far more functional somewhat. The dirt and dust had begun to make her lightly blonde hair look almost a darker tone altogether, perhaps a reflection of all the shit that they'd gone through with the truck and the running through the slum, Sean nodded as he dragged a cut-open oil barrel over to the fountain, to where the other two were sitting.
"That's true. But if we scavenge, I'm sure we'll find everything we need out there. Seems to be the way it works. Places to stay too, hopefully. I don't care what it is, so long as it has four walls and isn't going to be ringing with gunfire all night long. Not much takes this much out of me, but I'm feeling fucked. In between carjacking and killing people, you know?" Sean replied, sighing as Yekatarina asked about the map, a comment that the Irishman behind on the rolled over barrel could comment upon.

"You think I would have left it?" Sean drew it from his back pocket, throwing it Bethan's way.
"Not much, but I thought it was worth a steal." Bethan sighed to Sean's comment, but felt almost impressed by him in that moment, knowing while he was a cunt, he was a resourceful one at times. She reached over to take it, and flicking through, whistled, passing it to Yekatarina.

"Not bad. So that's most of the city. And the basics of the region, main roads, main towns. Looks like a holiday map mostly." Bethan mused, the look of it something a tourist would have, not a military unit. On that note, she got to work on loading her own Glock up with nine-mils, taking magazines she had kept and filling them in with a few more 9mm rounds, aware she hadn't actually expended much ammunition herself. A brief moment, but a chance to say the least. The few rounds into the mag were easy to place, with a slight push on the spring and they simply slid into place.

She slid her Glock out after holstering it and reholstering it again, and offering it to Yekatarina, reaching out after knowing the Russian would be nearly finished.
"Mind if I take a look at yours? That's an interesting looking piece." Bethan asked, the Welsh girl aware it was a little strange to ask, but it was a curiosity to her. Sean in the meantime finished up loading his FAL, a nice cock of the rifle and another check giving him a rare moment to appreciate that as little as this was, it was a proper bush-level FAL.

That brief exchange was followed by Hayden coming over, Sean looking at the thing and almost in a moment not even wanting to stay put with his FAL. Now that tool Hayden had, that was a thing of beauty. A relic. And only one part of his brain came on at that moment. A reference to be sure.

https://youtu.be/4yQeyi2Fc40?t=79

"Don't you think you could have brought something a bit more practical? Fucking hell, he's brought an anti-aircraft gun..." Sean remarked, a glowing smile from him as he stood and took a look at it, looking back at Bethan. She got it, but on a drunk film night in getting something from a movie delivery service, and sighed, as he looked back at Hayden.
"Ehh, you won't get it. Fuck, I used one of these a while back. That looks to me like a Bren Mk4,.303 cartridge, hits like a fucking fridge but handles like one. Jesus, that is a fucking tool. And you got the pan mags. Fucking hellfire...a man of fine taste." Sean seemed impressed, the automatic rifleman taking it in, nodding in approval to Hayden. That moment too was broken by Victor turning up, the two enormous guards flanking him, towering over even Sean. The comment about "asking a few questions" felt a little unnerving, but then again, they hadn't gotten tooled up with no good reason. There had to be something afoot here, and no doubt, they had to be on their shit.

On that note, Sean looked directly at Bethan and nodded, a pact almost without words, keep your trap shut about the objective and remain on cover. Of some vague kind, at least. Details might get a bullet in the back of their brains, the right ones to keep them alive, the wrong ones would be their end. Following the group over, Sean and Bethan got back into the limo, knowing that they had another contact in the chain to go meet.

The Conflict

@BigPapaBelial

Cheers thanks!

Had that post sitting on my pad for a while and thought I'd get it out of the way before going off till tomorrow evening. Will check for typos as soon as

The Conflict

The surreal feeling of the limo was a shock to both of them, as they stepped inside. It was fucking surreal, and made zero sense at all. This was too nice, too good. As if they stepped out of the poverty out there and back into the west. It was a culture shock, and a total confusion at first, well, until they found the champagne and mini bar.

Taking the bubbly, Sean could only chuckle, looking across toe the group.
"Fuckinn get in, lads!" Sean added, pouring a glass of it as Bethan grabbed a few sandwiches, some for now and some for the long run into her pockets, starving and completely in need.
"Yeah, why not...this is mad..." Bethan simply commented, sighing as she leaned back in the seat, looking across to the team as they drove across the capital's rugged and rough streets, heading away from the compound and to the market. And that market was a deep jungle of itself, and going through it after leaving the limo left nothing to the imagination. The limo dropping them off and the introductions made to the market felt even more surreal, Bethan and Sean following the team through and over to Victor. Even in a world gone to shit, free market capitalism still reigned true. After all that had happened, Bethan had pushed down that part of her that felt what she did about what had happened merely 20 minutes ago, understanding now it was follow or die with this madness.

Standing by Bethan's side, Sean saw the case get opened as Victor slid the case over to Hayden, walking over to him and looking him up. With barely a flinch, he took his machete and seperates 20, 20, 20, and another 20, looking to the three others as he flicked a few aside going through them. It showed that he knew product, and while he might have been a thick, sometimes plain Marine, he knew how to make these things work.
"As per earlier. It's safer and fairer, if anyone decides to go and get greedy, they won't have any ideas either. Keep a few in change, food, water, accomodation and all that." Sean simply stated, letting the others take their share as he took his, the best part of 20 stones each and enough to go do some light shopping with. Looking up to the two Amazonians and Victor, Sean nodded, diamonds in hand, as he eyed one of them up to take a look at it's glimmering sheen.
"Not a bad shout, Victor. They could fit an engagement ring pretty well. We'll go and get tooled and regroup."

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Sean went his own way at first, finding a trader towards the end of the market, after walking through and getting a general gist of what was going on here. With the Mosin Nagant in hand, he approached the last trader of the road, knowing it was quieter here, and a little less filled with hustle and bustle.

"Hey, big man, you got any FALs in stock, any R1s? Got this thing to offer you up in exchange, and I'm paying in stones." Sean asked with the confident swagger of someone who normally sold cocaine to rich people, the Irishman half clued up on what was the local variant of the right hand of the free world, made into the third world's favourite people thinning device that wasn't an AKM.

And with the trader coming back in, Sean chuckled, as the trader pulled out a relatively decent looking version, from where he did not know but that backroom seemed almost infinitely filled when he had peeked through the mesh door. It had Rhodesian markings on it no less...and a fucking weird looking flash suppressor. But then again, the Mosin Nagant he put on the table was fair barter, worth something.

"Rhodesian FN FAL rifle, Halbeck flash on the end, selector switch. Taken from their reserve storage, it is as if brand new, sir. 12 diamonds. Your rifle and ammo is worth two to me." The trader said, selling it up beyond what Sean could very much see. The rifle's flash suppressor was odd, but the solid stock and the dusted paint on it said it wasn't brand, brand new.

"7 diamonds for the FAL. That thing is at least 40 years old. And the markings show it's been used, but maintained. Not in storage. I want a good tool. So seven." Sean replied, the man angered but aware that Sean was not a regular tourist given he looked very shifty and willing to walk away as he trued the rifle in his arm, no mag inside, checking it over. It was definitely well looked after, this thing not looking like it would explode, but then again, it was old- and it needed to be cleaned and checked over in the mud and dirt of this place more than a rifle usually would.

"9. No funny business, mister. I promise, it's good." The trader's reply got a wry smirk out of Sean, as he nodded.
"Deal." Sean added, as he chuckled, looking at mags. 7 spent total, trade in completed.

"Gimmie six magazines, and 120 rounds, standard NATO 7.62, all FNJ. No Chinese crap."
"That's another eight diamonds, sir. I've got South African, that good?"
"Nope, five. Whatever it is, it better shoot straight."
"Seven."
"Six. Last one." Sean's last offer was right there, on the money.
"Fine." The trader replied, as last but not least, taking a look at his other selection. 13 spent.

"Need 30 more rounds of 9x19 too."
"That's two."
"One."
"Just for you, one. You drive a hard bargain, mister. I have a family to feed." The trader jested, knowing he could at least guilt him on the next purchase. 14 spent.

"I feel like you're going to get a lot more business from stupid westerners soon. I know how it feels to have a family to feed too. It's the market rate, I've already checked." Sean chuckled, as Sean took the two boxes of rounds, and the FN FAL, eyeing up the iron sight, and smirking. There was a reason he went for this. It was a classic British service weapon, the L1A1 had been much loved before the SA-80's jamming and shit operation had replaced it. In the old days back in Bosnia, Sean would take it any day over the L85A1 if he wasn't lugging around an FN MAG as a tool for use. While old and dated, it did the trick and felt tried and tested, even for the third world.

"One more then...have you got a tactical pack lying around? That and light webbing. Got anything?" The trader took a moment to think, and after going to the back, brought something out, noting the DPM that Sean was wearing. A 28L assault pack, MOLLE-set with zips and straps on the back, similar to the kind he dropped in with, in fact. The webbing was similar, a tactical vest that would be a better replacement for the coat he was using, lighter and able to carry mags. The coat would be handy in a pinch, put inside the bag, but he'd been boiling in the heat. The trader eyed up Sean, knowing customers weren't often as specific as he was.

"You are English, I think? That weird accent. Where are you from, sir?"
"Northern Ireland, pal. Place here looks like it's got more trouble than home. That I appreciate, good tools. Two." Sean ignored the fact he was just called English, that was a no-no, but then again, fuck it. Worth letting those things go when you were being a hard cunt.
"Three diamonds. Just for you, this is special."
"Two."
"Fine. You are a hard bastard, Irishman."
"They all tell me that. Pleasure doing business." 16 spent, it left enough to get food, drink and keep a couple of diamonds spare if shit hit the fan, Sean leaving the market on that note.

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Meanwhile, Bethan had gone to another trader, and finding her AK worth a little bit more. She didn't like the platform - and while aware Yekatarina might have been more familiar, it looked like absolute shit, rust everywhere and like it would explode probably if cycled through two more mags. It felt very, very wonky- as if the weapon had been totally neglected and was more a mantlepiece item. The hustle and bustle made her feel exposed, like she wasn't belonging in this place, like a fucking white saviour with blonde hair here to shoot a charity ad rather than buy a gun.
"Afternoon, mate. I've got a list of stuff to look for. This AK, how much? Diamonds, yes?"
"Three diamonds for that, it looks like shit. Merde, I should give you two, but just for you being pretty three." The French-accented trader made Bethan chuckle, as she left the Kalash there, looking up her.

"Well, you'll make me blush now. Okay, so I need a few bits. What's the going rate on rifles at the moment?"
"Pfft, you ask, you get anything you want. A good AK, 10 diamonds. I even have M16s in there, twenty. Though just for you...I've got a special shipment of FNC rifles. Straight from in from the DRC."
"I mean, I don't believe that, but fuck it, whatever. How much for one of those?"
"13 diamonds. I promise, all good. Special price. Battle used, but still capable. Skeleton para stock, selector, standard length." The trader turned and took the FNC out from the storeroom behind, placing it on the table, Bethan truing it up. The rifle looked pretty much as good as it would be, and she'd known this rifle to be something decent- better than the equivalent in an AK or AR family. It beat the AKs that were out there- those would be near enough unusable in her western paws, while an FNC might stand a chance. More unreliable, but then again, more accurate, more modern, and more tactile to use when travelling. It still looked maintained, but even in spite of being newer than Sean's FAL, it looked like it'd gone through the same sort of life in that span of time. Full auto 5.56 always worked, and she knew her Swedish pals always raved about their AK5s. So it was 10 diamonds spent in total.

"Fine. I need five mags, 150 rounds of 5.56, 20 rounds of nine mil, a tactical pack and some pouches."
"That's another eight diamonds." With that, Bethan nodded, the trader bringing out the goods and Bethan simply paying out the 18 total that was spent in this little transaction. Wrapping it up, she handed the stones over, and after a brief inspection, was off on her way, carrying a slung tactical pack over her shoulder and a basic mag carrier vest, with enough room to fit the 5.56 mags she'd also gotten.

She'd gotten what she needed, and checking the black FN over, knew she had something a bit more proper to go to work with. Bethan, like the awkward tourist she was, didn't haggle. It felt more transactional, like she wanted her shit and wanted gone out of this place. Emerging out of the market, she found Sean at an old abandoned fountain, loading rounds into the mags, FAL between his legs, looking up to see Bethan turn up with her FNC.
"Not bad, not bad...can't go wrong with a trusty Fabrique Herstal tool, ain't that so?" Sean noted, nodding to the rifle in her hands, the black and tanned rifle a paratrooper's dream given it was a neat little carbine.
"Well, they work. Mine is definitely better than yours. 5.56 is lighter, nicer to handle too." She smirked with a reply, the seperation somewhat good to give them both distance from each others' malice.
"You definitely overpaid. Newer, but harder used. And you're forgetting that this thing in full auto with a compensator is a Rhodesian's wet dream. Fuck, my CO told me about these. Full auto 7.62, no problemo." Sean chuckled, Bethan disaproving but almost bantering along now.
"What, and you went from one genocide tool from that Mosin to a Rhodesian FAL? Fuck, you kill any more people today and we'll be off to the Hague next..." Bethan said, to almost a cathartic laugh from the two of them. They could be knocked back on their asses again. But this morning, they'd done something more important. Gotten tooled, and while they had gone to hell and back, wanted to shoot each other, and hijacked a truck in a slum and ended up in a dirt-poor market, at least they now had something to show for it. Sean realised that this world could take, but so could they. The laugh almost felt like a "fuck it" moment, the two of them so broken and worn through all that had happened, that they couldn't just remain constantly at each others throats right now.

"What next then? What do you think Victor has for us?" Bethan asked, Sean shrugging as he finished his second from last mag, and started feeding bullets from the last of the plastic bag into the last tan-looking 20-round NATO magazine.
"No idea. But I have a feeling the diamonds were an investment. Not payment, you know? And look at that gun market. Everyone's merchandise is top-notch, not just AKs, SKSs and Zastavas like I thought it would be. The Hyena has resourced every single one of them. I bet our C8s are back in for sale there. Makes you wonder, why aren't we asking them?" Sean asked, musing on the question for a moment.

"You think they know the network? Chances are, no way. The fish above them probably don't know. I've got to guess that they get their instructions and go point to point, drop to drop. The buyers are the people that matter- they're the people who likely interact with The Hyena directly. And those are Victor's bosses, or maybe, their bosses." Bethan replied, shrugging as she got to work with her mags, loading 5.56 rounds into the old, dusty looking STANAG spec steel mags.
"True that. Well, either way, we need to keep going. Whatever we're doing gets us respect from Victor. Gets us diamonds and we can buy what we need from that. Finding transport is gonna help us long run too." Sean sighed, finishing the mag, loading it up and cocking the rifle up, chuckling as he checked the bolt, and then the overall profile of the tool he'd spent his hard earned stones on.

Bethan- 2 diamonds
Sean- 4 diamonds

The Conflict

Bethan lobbed Hayden the keys, quite astonished with the haul that was in the truck. High explosives no less, a shitload of mortar rounds, mortars and then some. The sort of firepower that was more than just a gang war, it was conflict-brewing and no doubt going to set the seeds of war up in this crumbling state. As Hayden got the keys, she looked at him with a grimace, sensing more was going on. But for a moment, Bethan had a calm about her, almost a mum-like reassurance, like she was looking directly into that damaged soul that she had seen reflected back at her.

"Don't lose yourself, Hayden. We've all got demons, all we can do is go on better. We're here to kill one man and anyone that stands in our way to him. The others are distractions. The Caddy's yours." Bethan said, sighing as she walked to the front and knocked on the cab, AK in one hand as she sighed and then went back to take a seat, on top of one of the crates.

The dusty kickup from the truck blew into the road, and into her blonde hair, as she sighed once more, head resting against the canvas, for a brief moment, alone. Bethan's character despite being strong, internally felt conflicted with all she was seeing now. She had fixed people, put people back together and saved lives in Afghan. Bethan had done that without question, and doubled down on her talent. She had been highlighted as being up to SFSG operator standard, and no doubt, she would have made it. Bethan always held that bitterness, that bullshit stopped her going forwards and it just had to be something she swallowed. So it meant her then settling for a mellow life. Nursing, putting old people back together in a hospital in a remote bit of Wales. Running up and down mountains like there was no tomorrow. Some part of her knew what it was to be here, yet she felt like an alien to be back to this, away from the routine job. Like it wasn't her world at all. Bethan with that C8 in her hands in the early morning felt like she knew exactly what she was doing, back at just being an operator again. But here in the bustle of the city and working with other mercs she felt detatched, like the rules were twisted and there was no good to be found in this place. Only the people next to you mattered, and right now, she was even wondering about that. Perhaps it was why SIS had sent her too, a shakedown to see if she had the fortitude to cut it mentally working for them if this panned out. The most fucked up job interview there was perhaps. In her mind she wondered if they wanted to see if Bethan wasn't just a good soldier, but someone willing to do what nobody else did. The more she thought about it, the more the distant Caddy behind the truck came back to mind, as she gulped, realising that Hayden was corresponding more to the outcome that reality more than Bethan wanted to admit. He didn't talk a lot about his past. And Bethan now understood more why, her smarts coming to that conclusion as it began to turn in her head.

But there was no other choice, Bethan reasoned. She had to adapt to this, bite down, and be a good girl about this. It'd work out in the end, it had to. So long as it got her home and out of this mess.

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Letting Yekatarina drive, Sean had time to at least think through the mess that had just happened. He kept his pistol at close reach, aware that he would react faster if the man in the middle tried anything, no doubt because he had just winded him and realistically, the guy wasn't gonna get more than one of them. Sean reminded him of that, as Yekatarina seemed quiet, at least for the first bit, winding through traffic. The Russian was quiet, Sean reasoned, well, focussed at the least on the job at hand. Well, until she broke that ice again, asking about what happened. Sean didn't know how to react. He felt like he'd changed, rolled along with what had happened, followed Hayden's lead and well, followed up. He couldn't help but be more rational though, and as fucked up as it was, what she was asking was certainly touching on somehting that he could tell she had gotten direct from Bethan.

"Hah, she told you about what happened? Well...she probably left out the bit where she never asked where the money came from while she worked a job for fuck all money. I never said I was a good guy....but then again, you find a Marine who is. Most of my friends are fucking addicts, homeless, dead or working some mundane 9-5 where they're trying not to let their PTSD kill them, Katarina. Bethan pretends that's not real. So I decided to put my skills to use and be better than that for the sake of us. And it wasn't enough, Katarina. She got tired." Sean asserted, sighing, knowing it was bullshit, but it was half-true. And that was enough for him at least, to keep him going. The other half of it felt like it would come through better to Yekatarina though, easier than it did Bethan. Perhaps the Russian would make her own take of this.

"You know what though, selling drugs....I was good at it. Most dealers are fucking terrible, using their own product, never actually knowing how to think shit through. At the end of the day, it's a product that will never stop being bought, don't matter who supplies it. Anyway, I never wanted to stay in the county lines game for long, I wanted to move onto security for the cartels, had some fellas that were asking about me. They pay a lot for Westerners, a fucking whole lof of money and it's a good life. Coke is very, very lucrative...Bethan and I were already arguing over me looking at contracting work, and we split long before she even knew about what I really did. I got caught because I made the wrong call. And fuck, I wish she wasn't here now because of it." Sean didn't hide any detail now, sighing as he looked to Yekatarina, knowing she would roll her eyes, or perhaps tune into why he had his reasons, poor as they were, moving to the other part of her concern over Hayden.

"Anyway, we did what we needed to do. Not ideal but he did it without saying it, taking prisoners would have been difficult. I reckon we can all work together, keep each other on a lead when we get further into this. We still got a lot more to fucking do, after all. Besides, I can see the fire in your eyes y'know. You seem to get why, like this seems more normal to you than it does her back there. It's a funny world, but a fucked up one we seem to be in." Sean retorted back, watching as Yekatarina took them back towards the compound, back on the smoother roads and back into the confined parking lot.

Stepping out, Sean pointed his P226 at the former driver's head, motioning him to get out, and the man did as he was shown, quiet but now compliant realising that him and the crew hadn't fucked around. The SAMC mercs that were tarping the truck came over and cuffed him up, applying a zip tie behind his hands and with that, he was gone. The prisoner now gone, Sean had the opportunity to walk back over to Yekatarina, hearing her ask about hierarchy and staying quiet, as Bethan hopped out of the back, following suit to meet the group. While it seemed like Yekatarina was fairly calm in her approach to Hayden, Bethan knew under the surface she had a point- a lot of different plans.
"It seems like the situation evolves here fast. Kinda like the contents of what the gun trucks are bringing. I say we get paid before those munitions start getting used, then get to those discussions eh?" Sean asked, a wry chuckle as he knew that as novel as this Mosin was, he wasn't sure if he'd keep it or get some resale from this rusty piece of crap.

The Conflict

Posted- that one felt like a bit more of a hard-hitting post, wanted to really explore something there and Big's post gave me the room to do that.

The Conflict

Sean saw the man pop around, barely even making it to Yekatarina as he fell down with a bullet through the head, cleanly pulled from Sean's position, the fire from the AK Hayden had picked up now staccato'ing everything else and making the pistols feel like pea shooters almost in comparison. He'd done his job well to get the heat off of Hayden, letting their CSOR merc do his job. Exhaling, he joined, moving forwards, pistol raised as he walked over a body, yelling the same as the Canuck did. He looked in his direction, and could see it. The look on his face. It was one that looked cracked, broken. Sean had done some evil shit in his time. But when he looked at Hayden's cheek with his left eye in that very split second, he saw exactly the fire of a thousand suns that was going to just engulf whatever it now touched.

The scene felt like it disintergrated the moment Hayden opened fire, the clatter of the AK within a close range splattering the poor militants that the Canadian had killed, in completely cold blood. Sean could have been somewhere else in that moment, but he was right by the Canuck's side.

He was there, right there, and for that moment, knew what Hayden had brewing.

And he understood exactly how he felt. There were no laws of engagement. No rules of war here. They would have been surely tortured and murdered in cold blood in that jungle if they had been caught. Sean made his decision. As if almost Hayden's fire had caught light on a cloth, Sean's switch simply flicked.

Click.

In the moment Bethan was moving in with the driver, Sean walked forwards as one of the men on the ground screamed out, bleeding heavily from his abdomen as Sean rolled his chest over with his foot and without so much a wait, put a round through his head, and clean into the other man next to him who was crawling from a round in his shoulder. He wasn't going to have any chance of living to tell the tale. The militant who looked older, perhaps more of a leader among this little social gang, his face paling as the life simply fell out of him. The last of the gang to die here. And Bethan felt every shot like an exclaimation mark.

"What the fuck are you doing! You fucking animals!" Bethan yelled, the man she was holding hostage wanting to yell as she put her gun tight against his neck, holding him back as she would have let him go and put a gun to Sean and Hayden's head if she could. Every part of her was in shock, because the only part she saw was him summarily executing the guy.

Sean didn't react the way he had before. Almost as if something had been unlocked, he raised the gun from the man's temple and looked dead, square at Hayden, then Yekatarina, then Bethan, a dead, hardened stare.

"Right now, it is us or them. Shut your fucking mouth and start acting like you don't want to die. These pricks tried to kill us." Sean was vicious as he pointed, almost to the point where if anyone ever thought the burly Northern Irishman was acting weak to his partner, the truth was, he was merely holding back. Like there was something deeper inside that he had chosen deliberately not to show, not out of cold blooded professionalism, but out of warm-blooded retribution.

"They were surrendering, you fucking morons...." Bethan exclaimed, waved off completely by Sean, as he shrugged, looking around at the scene around him, the Ulsterman picking up an old and dusty looking Mosin-Nagant, the Three-Line Rifle as Yekatarina would more likely know it, with a 7.62mm rimless cartridge that was like shooting someone with a train. Russians knew their guns, Sean thought to himself, as he pulled the bolt back, walking around the scene, then back to Bethan, walking up to her, the snarling, enraged look in his eyes.

"There are no fucking places to go. Look around you. You live by the sword or die by it. No fucking laws of war here. People talk in these gangs, and if they do, we are dead, Bethan. You forget they'd do it to us if they could?" Sean's menacing tell was dominating, the Welshwoman for the first time actually taken aback her usual demeanour of strength suddenly melted by a response like that, a potent, almost unseen response in Sean. Bethan had felt barely a trace of it in their personal lives, and realised who had emerged. Not just the banter-having Marine, no, this was the guy that sold drugs and was happy to bend every rule he could. Do evil shit to other people. The scumbag who lived rather than the guy trying to get by and not die.

"Well....I didn't sign up to killing people in cold blood. We're soldiers, not parasites. Remember that." Bethan was quiet in her reply, Sean still on the offensive as he walked past her, looking at the guy she had a gun pointed to, seeing Yekatarina come over to search him for his keys, as Sean covered something else.

"Well, this guy might live. See." Sean took the stock of the Nagant and slammed him in the stomach, looking up.
"No bonuses for him being in good nick though. He won't fucking remember our faces. Will he now?" Sean looked directly at him, and though he could barely understand, he could just about form a nod, in agony with how much it hurt as Sean took him away. He kept the rifle in one hand as he kept the pistol against his neck, and with a subtle movement, put him into the passenger's seat of the truck.

"Yekatarina, you may as well drive this heap of crap. Let's salvage what we can and go before we make any more mess." He said, his anger beginning to boil back, but still there, underlying in every tone and thought.

Bethan in the meanwhile, complied with Yekatarina, completely silent and grabbing Hayden's AK, barely making eye contact for half as second as she moved quietly, away from the shitshow that had happened and getting whatever was left. She gathered as much as the weaponry and ammo as she could, snatching a spare mag for the AK and keeping one ready in case, while Sean took the Mosin with a spare stripper clip to his name., guarding the man who was winded, and in pain, unable to react as he knew it would mean near enough certain death.

Stepping into the back of the truck, Bethan looked around, whistling as she turned around, looking at Hayden, the thought of even helping him a fleeting thought but something she did almost as if by automatic. It was that motherly feeling, yet she wanted nothing more than to fucking hit him, just for enabling Sean and doing what he fucking did. She knew he had his reasons, he had a lot going on, but she didn't care. What they did was wrong. And no part of her wanted anything to do with any of this fucking psychotic mess. Strong as she was, she had her rules, and while killing a bunch of militants was one thing, killing a bunch of what looked like adolecent kids in cold blood felt brooding and wrong. Pulling him up if he took it, she looked in the back, seeing a whole set of crates and containers.
"Looks like a hell of a setup. Can't tell what's inside. All of it's locked up fairly tight. Yekatarina, hit it." She added, butting the AK into the cab of the tarped-up MAN, leaning against a container as she looked out the back, then back at Hayden.

"I don't know the sort of shit you got yourself into. But that wasn't needed." Bethan said it to Hayden as if it was a statement of fact, which in her mind, it was a confrontation, but one she felt like she had to let go. A judgemental look, to be sure. Like a catharsis even, the blonde-haired boonie hat wearing Welsh girl all of a sudden wanting even Hayen to show a shred of remorse, or understanding of why what he did was fucking bad.

The Conflict

Posted while on holiday over in Sweden- apologies for my delay.

The Conflict

"Agreed, Katarina. Though on this one, I'll join you. If there's more of them let's not waste our time- and if that driver runs, trust me, they won't last long if I'm chasing them. You go forward, I'll stay in cover when we get close. Guess we're adapting and improvising now.." Bethan followed, the Welsh woman following behind the Russian, opting to follow given what was going on. The change of circumstances had fucked things, but then again, their truck was sitting and waiting for them, right where they wanted it to be, albeit guarded and now, with other lorries trying to dazzle them. She'd taken Sean's knife for the moment if she wasn't taking it, now unsure if they would even come back to the car if things went really, really south.

If they didn't have that plate of that truck, they would have been shit out of luck- and even if it was the wrong truck, Bethan agreed with the Russian's logic, it was hardly like they'd had it written in blood what they were hunting. She kept her distance behind Yekatarina as they got closer, letting her do the distraction, aware one girl looking for directions at a tanker station in a slum would be a better option than two- it looked sketchier. Yekatarina more than likely knew she had little cover, so Bethan kept her distance, making sure not to affiliate too closely as she raised the phone, catching glimpses of those guards.

"Damn, that's some vintages. They might be crap but rule of the jungle I guess, scavenge, steal, get what you need once you drop them." Bethan added, nodding to Yekatarina as she went her own way, using the crowd at the side of the road to go between a few shacks and pacing herself there, get into position, finding a thin metal shack to conceal herself behind, right on the far side of the forcourt, aware that given the hubub and everything else going on, it was unlikely she would have been seen.
"In position. Five tangoes visible from here."

----

In the meantime, Sean turned to Hayden and nodded.
"Sounds like the Russian has us set up...copy that, you two. Get to work and give us a distraction, we need a few seconds to clear the road. Hayden, if we're in shit creek, let's go whitewater rafting.....let's do this." Sean nodded to him for the latter bit of the sentence, knowing that once Yekatarina would make her way across, it was gonna be all guns blazing, literally, and a run to clear the road. They needed to get across and get behind the truck, and drop the two guards going for Yekatarina. Shooting after a hard sprint was never a fun option, especially when it meant trying not to clap someone friendly, but then again, Sean had no intention of being haunted by Russian for the rest of his days for a stupid mistake.

Make this count, he thought to himself, as he moved up, taking the lead after patting Hayden and giving the nod, moving across the road as he could catch her moving out. With a hard run, Sean used the distraction afforded by the Russian to get across the road, sliding awkwardly behind a batch of tyres on the far side of the forecourt, popping from cover and with one hard exhale, picking up one of the targets. He hoped Hayden would be on this, because right now, this was about to open up.

With two clean shots, Sean managed to get one of the men in the abdomen and one in the upper chest, throwing him onto the floor and at the very least incapacitating him for this fight, picking up another target in the cafe. With a three more rounds down range, the running militant didn't have the chance to stop, as he keeled over, Sean looking to Hayden.
"Cover me, moving!" Sean called out, running from his position and sliding into cover by the rear of the truck, a few rounds pinging off the side as he peeked under the tyres, a round flying perilously close as he pulled back, knowing he might have given a bit of a distraction at least for Hayden to spot them.
"Two more, slot them Hayden!" Sean added, peeking as he fired five rounds in that direction, a little less accurate now but able to suppress them so Hayden could get more accurate fire down on them at least. In the meantime, he knew Yekatarina had the chance at least to now get her own heater out and start shooting, and at this point, they had a better control of the area. All that was left to get the keys or hotwire the thing, and get the hell out. Oh, and find out where that driver had gone...

In the meantime, Bethan had herself moved in closer, and saw one person that wasn't armed, and looked if anything more petrified about the situation. No doubt he knew how to defend himself, but being shot at wasn't part of his equation, and so he was heading to the back of the shitshack, and towards the back. Bethan wasn't gonna let that happen, as she broke into a run, knowing that if she could get a lead on him, that would at the least take one job out of the rest of the team.
"Driver's a runner! Guys, just get the truck running, leave him to me!" Bethan put her phone back in her pocket and ran hard, taking the flank and barging through whatever crowd were running away from the gunfire, knowing she looked completely out of place yet in the panicking mentality, could make advantage of that.

The guy was just wearing a vest and shorts and she was wearing a full on DPM jacket, but even then, Bethan made it look easy, spotting him and quickly picking him up. Clearly he realised that this fight was about to go awry, and at the least if he got back out of there, the others might struggle to get the truck moving before he got back to it. An almighty bollocking from the Dry Trail, but then again, better to live than give away information if captured, perhaps that was why, Bethan wondered, as she turned the tight corners of the slum alleys, keeping him constantly in her sights. Like a leopard going after a gazelle, the explosive power Bethan had through the corners was unrelenting, unlike Sean's aggression it was more flowing, crisp even. And it was enough to close the distance, as she found a cut-through he didn't, using half a shack structure to get ahead, cutting him off at his next turn. Even upon pulling a knife, Bethan quickly jabbed him in his ribs and drew Sean's machete straight against his neck, gently pressing the flat against his throat and making it very clear a slight bit more pressure was gonna open him up.
"You even move, you die. We are going back to the truck, and you are coming with us." She spat, exhaling hard, the man beneath him even more so, as she yanked him by the scruff of his vest, switching to her Glock as she pulled him back up, aware he was larger than him yet in no position to parry a tool like what she had at this range. She drew the Glock as she did so, the opportunity sufficient to make sure he knew full well she had a piece at his back.
"You might run fast you little bastard, but I've got friends that run even fucking quicker, so don't try anything. Let's go back, shall we?" She added, the Welsh woman's words as cutting as that machete could be, her sing-song demeanour dropped completely as she pushed him to move, knowing that the team would need the driver alive, or at the least, not in the shit. The route back through the slums was quieter given that everyone was hiding out of out of view, which helped with the fact she was openly carrying now. She just needed to get to the truck and if it was secure, throw him into the back of it with the rest of the team.

The Conflict

Yeah it's a more compact one- more of a bushcraft tool than a full on weapon.