FourtyTwo — Roleplayer Guild

It was highly discomforting in the arrival to the slum, the two Brits staying quiet as they took their weaponry and followed the Russian, the South African and the two tall, imposing figures of the larger African women. They seemed out of their depth, this slum feeling less poor, yet even more on the brink in what horrors they were likely to come into. For now, the two held back from the free samples, and just followed, curious about what they were getting. Neither were fully prepared, and even in spite of Bethan's willingness to try and see some good in humanity, felt like she was seeing none of it. Not even Sean would, becuase when they walked into that room, that all changed.

The bodies all over, and absolute brutality was like if someone rolled the worst of Bosnia and Iraq into one for the two, the sight of dead people, bodies flayed and hung up on barbed wire like some fucked up, insane trophy. There was no words for it. Sean was sickened, but Bethan was positively horrified. Shit, it made putting those poor bastards out of their misery seem like an actual positive. Perhaps a bullet to the head was a compliment, a mark of respect compared to what these fuckers were doing to themselves. And these were the good guys, the people paying them, Bethan wondered...she like Yekatarina hoped the other guy was at least worse, or a lie. And as the Russian muttered to her, the Welshwoman muttered back too.

"Same for me too. Fucking hell..." Bethan tried to keep quiet, Sean keeping his stomach together as he followed through, watching as Victor got a bollocking from Melani, the big shiv in her hand clearly not without use. 

Diamonds may have paid, but in here, they were good as dead money or not, when this Melani was angry. She had that fire in her- like the Amazons almost, yet she seemed even more positively fucking possessed, and dismissive of Victor. He let Yekatarina do the talking first, walking into frame and nodding to Yekatarina.
"The sort of problems we seem to be able to fix. We have tools, and we're happy to abide. Like she says, just here as the fella says so. Now, between you, what's the gig?" Sean started, knowing full well the tension in the room was high, but even in spite of everything, he had to defuse it a little, and the Irish wit just trickled through.

"Please don't say we're turning more people into kebabs though." 

@Laser Kiwi@Jamesyco

Laura chuckled in her characteristic laugh, looking to Oliver, watching as he came over with all of his gear, ready to go and ready for anything. What Laura had in dedicated flames he had in versatility, a walking pillbox with supplies to boot, able to take on an army alone. No doubt he had, Laura wondered to herself. Then again, all she needed was her ass, a flamethrower, a Trophy system to not go boom, and that would do her fine.

"Alright then, Oliver. If you're dropping in, big Star Spangled Banner on your parachutes, just remember, you can shoot back, but your parachutes are not as armoured as you, ja? Though you'd be coming in hot as fuck...normally as you do....shit, did I say that out loud?" 

Laura giggled, looking across at the Stingers that he was casually dragging, as well as the cargo container of gear he was carrying. Oliver was ready to go, and well equipped for the job. The other heavy clunking of Tylar and her big railgun, well, an impressive tool and no less one that would get even more accurate with every shot. 

"That is why they call me Big Bertha, Tylar. Hit like an artillery shell...and makes a softer landing. Very fun!"  Laura giggled, as she looked across to the other pink-exoskeleton wearing heavy, as they all headed outward, the sight of the fuck-off sized railgun that Tylar carried a sight to behold. Inaccurate, but when it hit something, it no longer existed as matter. No doubt Oliver would have the pick of helis, her the pick of anyone with skin, and Tylar anything else.
"And oh, yeah....you know, the you know, it helps. Know you know it. Momentum, ja?" Laura chuckled heartily knowing full well what Tylar was looking at, the lift shifting the whole team upwards, and towards their awaiting beast.

---

The sight of the crew gathering in the V22's hold was quite something, Skye adjusting her helmet and setup, seeing one by one, the team filter through. Ready to go. Her glasses popped up with the mission's intel, and her blue buff sat out of the collar of her combat uniform, perhaps an identifier for the team lead if the red hair wasn't a dead giveaway.

"Comms check, team?" Skye called out, gently cradling the MG3 in her arm, looking across as the team, one by one, got on board. The sight of warriors, an unorthodox team, but the one that got the job done. The noisy aircraft demanded hearing protection, either with earplugs, headsets, headphones/earphones, or the hell else they had, because even with the fact this thing was optimised towards stealth, it still made a hell of a racket.

"So, you all know your jobs, yeah? Do that, and stay on focus. On that note....get yourselves a couple of hours of shut-eye. We'll stop for fuel and then hit the base. I'll go through the plan when I get more details of what assets we have to hand."  Skye seemed firm, and while a few team members would truly be wondering what the fuck was going on, that would come in time. A time closer to when they got there, when all of Skye's plans lined up.

Skye checked her comms, the voice of the Senegalese pilot coming through, the man, the myth and the legend that was Vincent Cisse, an FFL trained combat pilot who Skye had grown to love. A charming, sweet man who could fly just about anything, including this warbird as elegantly as his tones had.

"Queen, we are on track for our fuel stop. You sure this plan of yours is going to work? I don't like the idea of getting hit, non?" Vincent asked through her radio, Skye reassuring as ever.

"Affirm. I've always kept you alive, Vincent, no plan on changing that today. My team will do their job. You know yours." Skye replied, as she took a seat and put her own earbuds in under her helmet, putting on some old Ben Howard, shutting her own eyes and taking a moment to just think it through. Play out the scenario. Play out the plan.

Execute, and the rest would flow.

================================================================================================================

"The Boar's Nest"

Wildspitze, Austrian Alps

The base itself was a fairly simple setup- on the southern side of an Austrian mountain, a large hangar containing vehicles and other equipment, with server rooms, a control room that stood as a monolithic server base for highly sensitive storage. Kinda like their home base, it was a relic of the Nazis, but this one was far more incredible, perhaps even an old V2 manufacturing facility buried high, very high in the mountains. 

The place was modernised, but had an industrial, gritty look with walkways and gantries all over, corridors lining the insides both wide and narrow, hard to mine and completely cover. It had an open area outside with a helipad and a small motor pool, where AA and other vehicles had been parked up, as well as enemies encamped. A tiny windy snow-covered pass went down the mountainside into the green valley below, far below the snowline and a pass that would be hard to climb otherwise.

Breaching it would have been nigh impossible given the defenses and the lack of knowledge to find it, but still, Black Flag had taken it, and set up shop while they broke into the servers.

But Raven would take it back. A challenging operation for any special forces team, impossible given the numbers Black Flag had there, almost a company strength. But nine people were about to even the odds.

==========

"Snow Way Out"

@BigPapaBelial@VeyrinDay@Theyra
0430 Hours

The scene of the early morning Alps was incredible, the horizon from this height visible as a pink, splattered smear past the clouds, the V22 suprisingly low on the mountainside and out of the view of the base itself. The drop that the lights would have would be minimal all things considered, given the V22 was using the mountainside as cover from the AA platforms on the other side. They could drag radar-guided missiles high, but not THAT high, after all....

The first part of the op was critical, and the bit that Skye knew would be the difference between a soft landing and a hard one. 

"Alright then. Dollface, Lasanga, you two are up first. We're dropping you on the far side of the mountain, and you'll need to be stealthy. Lasanga, recomend you direct her in and cover, Dollface, you get in close and do your thing. Stay the fuck out of sight from choppers, and don't go direct into infantry- there will be patrols all over the mountainside and at the entry to the base itself

"It will be infested with soldiers, and there's two Buk radar-guided missile units, and four Tunguska SPAAGs that somehow got to the top. Man-portable Stingers are also a thing, so Lasanga, you snipe anyone carrying it when they realise the air that's coming in. The platforms need to be eliminated, either by killing their operators, or sabotaging the units, ideally, both. Either way, get creative. I leave that to you sneaky fuckers." 

"I've got another asset in play who might be able to help you out, Dollface. If you see someone else cloaked, he's probably sorted the AA. Jaguar happened to be in the right place, at the right time..." Skye added, walking up to the two of them, her imposing stature changing, her steel, firm demeanour for a moment, warm as ever.

"You've both got this. Black Flag might be scary. But we're fucking better." Skye firmly said, a wry smirk coming up as the rear door opened, the pink horizon on view, as the pilot's intercom buzzed.

"Standby for drop. We're a thousand feet off the deck, low pull zone!" The Senegalese pilot called out, Vincent's smooth French-African tones a charm, and well, they weren't far off the deck. Enough time for the lights to leap and deploy their chutes, clamber the mountain, get an overwatch and get to work.

The cold of the white mountains at dawn could be felt, and watching the two lights bail and onto their parachutes quickly, the V22 dived steeply, away and out of the combat zone briefly, knowing they'd return soon enough.

---

"The Fury of the Pantheon"

@Laser Kiwi@Jamesyco
0530 Hours

Stealthily breaking in? Well, okay, it had its merits. The Lights, whatever their action, had done what was needed to at least buy them something resembling an opening. It was enough to roll the dice, so Skye hoped.

The Heavies were gonna blow shit up.

And the cargo bay with the drop-pod was now the next scene, ready to send the second wave, the biggest one, straight into the mix, doors opened, the glowing orange sky now fully in view.

"Right then, you big bastards are next. You have about half a dozen Lynx helicopters to take down that intel says are patrolling the high valley, all armed with 20 mil cannons and rocket pods. They can definitely blow you up, so blow them up first. Nord, your big GAU and Stingers should shred them, Thirteen, you should focus on the insides, take out any entrenched machine gun positions or serious firepower that could hurt the rest of us. Big Bertha, you uhh...do you."

"The base's outside is well defended, but needs to be completely clear for us to come in. Then you can get to work on the inner area, mainly the hangar. Remember, you'll be totally surrounded, so capitalise on your firepower, blow shit up and don't allow too much heavy shit to focus on you. Go get it done, team." Skye retorted, again, a mum, but to a fucked up pyro and two relatively normal heavies, well, Skye guessed so. They knew this gig. 

"My pleasure." Laura replied, opening up the pod and clambering in through the narrow entry port, securing up Oliver's Stingers in his seat, and setting herself up. It would have been enough to probably carry almost half a squad worth of soldiers, but in this case, enough for three. The seats could take a heavy and their big packs, and were designed in mind with the size that they brought, Laura's less so, but still. A hydraulic cylinder would literally fire the Tylar and Laura out in those seats, in a similar manner to an ejection seat but nowhere near as powerful, helping the heavies to avoid becoming a big RPG target and instead actually scattering them so that they had spread to blow shit up in a pincer. Instead of a parachute, they had a weird airbag-looking item underneath their seats, a device Laura was very, very proud of. For a very nefarious reason, as it would turn out. 

Sitting down, she hooked herself in, looking to Tylar, lying down on the flat seat, head facing up, legs tucked in.
"The bit between your crotch, pull that big red handle when you see the red turn to green. Within two seconds, your seat should fire you through your window, have an airbag fire out of the bottom of it and kill the fall before you go splat. Or you go splat inside here. I don't know, it's your life, ja?" Laura retorted to Tylar, sighing as she pulled the gas mask over her head, peeking out of the two narrow holes, taking deep breaths as she checked her arm-mounted PDA, the flamer ready to send it.

"No pressure, right?" Laura's awkwardness continued, even in spite, as the door opened once again, and ready for Oliver, Tylar and Laura to go. Skye sighed, looking across, the pod centered in the middle of the V22's bay, and well, ready to be sent to whoever was now addressed "The Occupier".

With a pull of a cable ratchet in the bay the pod was yanked out, and Oliver would no doubt follow after it, the pod falling faster and faster, accelerating through the winter skies towards the mountain, the pod itself steering its' own way in thanks to some fancy airbrakes.

The whole thing fell like a brick out of the V22 with the two inside, but it was a fun brick to be inside.

"Wooooo! Tiny Nord, you sure you don't want in!?" Laura screamed, looking across to Tylar, the display showing the landing zone below right in the base, and it was rapidly coming up.

"Oh, and I packed something special for ze airbags, yours too....the boss doesn't even know!" Laura had the look of a girl who had pissed her pants at Prom, totally giddy and excited with glee as they fell, Laura getting herself ready, tanks at the ready. The look in Tylar's eyes no doubt reflected the madness in Laura's, staring through the holes of the gas mask, her wild looks still burning bright. No doubt at this point Oliver would see the groundrush hitting hard as he followed the pod, but for Laura and Tylar, they were still going to the floor.

The pod's parachutes fired barely almost 200ft from certain impact, the noise of gunfire rippling the drop pod, no matter how low they were, it wasn't enough to make them target number one falling out of the fucking sky. Like a lander coming in onto the surface of Mars, it wasn't exactly a significant brake, but enough to at least jolt them back to a survivable speed, or at least, their next phase.

"Wait for it...wait for it.....now! Schnell!" Laura yelled, as the light above them reflecting in the panelling went from red to a green, an indicator that they had just hit 50ft off the deck, the spot that Laura had calibrated this for. Low enough to live, high enough to not go splat.

If ever there was a time for a practical joke, it wasn't then. But oh, Laura felt it had to be. Laura pulled the big handle between her legs, and the thick heavy was fired out of the side pod with a whoosh, knowing in a split second she'd seen an enemy gun post right below the pod, and she was aiming right at it. The seat was still at a 90 degree angle, Laura aware that she was flying straight towards a machine gunner...

And the gigantic pair of breasts with a German flag across them inflated to the size of Laura herself from the pouch below the seat, the boobies shaped airbag bursting violently to life, one that suddenly enveloped the poor machinegunner's view, and well, was the last he ever got. Laura was sent forwards through the sandbagged position, sending her flying out of the seat and skidding on her ass, aware of enemies pretty much everywhere around as she stood up, the adrenaline roaring inside of the pyro's mind. And being an engineer, and a narccistic girl at times...well, it had to follow form to someone like her, right? 

A fucked up mind, but one that only got the giggles from actually doing that....again. Laura hoped Tylar enjoyed that install she had on hers as much as she did, or well, she was getting a serious slap later.

"Wilkommen all....it's time to heat this mountain up!" Laura's flames began, and the madness continued, the pyro covering the other two as she headed towards gunfire and towards an enemy squad, flamethrower in play.

--
"Rally Point"

@BigPapaBelial@Gunther
0540 Hours

"Fuck me, they've done an number on the base! Not bad!" Skye called out to Ban and Mazi, nodding as she looked on at the damage below out of the rear door on the "porch" of the site, the front of the base pouring with fire of literal kind and gunfire too. How that had happened, well, that would come in the debrief later, whatever it was they had hit. 

"We've got Austrian security forces down the bottom of the pass giving us a cork to the bottle. So it's just us and these bastards. Lock and load, you two!" Skye excitedly called out, for someone who was about to get shot at and jump around, well, it made no sense. The sky turned to a bright shade of yellow, the sunrise on the mountain glowing the whole complex, aside from the innards that were dark.

The lights had set themselves up. The Heavies had landed. And now, it was the rest of her team's turn, as she looked to them.

"You guys take the ropes, and remember, stick to the narrower corridors. The Heavies have the hangar and the main routes through. There'll be a lot of resistance, so fluid, nice movement wins." Skye advised her two, as the V22 came on final approach, jolting into place as Vincent elegantly parked it right over a small clearing of the base's outer area. 
"I'll take the express." Skye ran forwards, and without even taking the rope out of the back, leaped directly down almost two storeys, clattering with a gentle roll as she took the MAAWS and prepping it, sent a round into the hangar, seeing past where the Heavies had created a beachhead, the one that gave them room. The sight of a corridor getting blown to bits was sufficient, as she went back to the MG3, and Queen found her flow.

The sight was quite something, as Skye leaped over a container stack, unloading her MG3 on a group of stray hostiles, running off them and dropping onto the floor, seeing the others start to come into play. The symphony was playing its tune, hitting its crecendo and amping it up to the next level...wait, was that a deflated pair of boobs? Two sets? Never mind.

"Queen to all callsigns, let's fucking hustle, rally up and let's keep going. Heavies, you have the floor, clear the main hangar and secure our rear against any movers. They'll likely have emplaced up, so blow anything apart in your way. Lights, snipe and shoot away at reinforcements outside and any helos left, though Dollface, get your arse down here, stat. Grey Wolf, you've got the lower walkways, I'm going up to the top end of the hangar to lay out some fire. We'll move to the main server room through the right of the hangar and secure that!" 

"Oh, and Shimura? Go do your thing too...you know." Skye added, the momentum of the Scot enough to keep her out of harm's way, moving from cover to cover and knowing the medium team could now go between the chaos and anarchy to pick off the sides and pierce the facility where the heavies took the heat.

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