Rhona W

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Kat's Hospital Room
Matter Dei Hospital, Msida
A Few Hours Ago

"Well consider your mission accomplished. From what I hear, that thing's a wreck destined for the junk heap."

"Speaking of scars, I've got an insensitive question. Do you ever feel your eye? Rather, do you feel it hurt even though it's gone?"

@Smike

Kat gestured for Fuka to take a seat on one of the chairs beside the bed, smiling at the other woman as she did so. As she mentioned her missing eye and the sensation of it, her fingers moved up to the patch that covered it, almost reflexively.
"Sometimes," she answered without much hesitation; there wasn't any real reason to hide her answer. "Sometimes I'll even wake up in the morning, and have forgot in the first few moments, wondering why I can't see properly. Most of the time, I don't even notice. I've been told over and over I compensate expertly for it, that my reactions are all in the top marks and all that. On the professional level, I couldn't be more relieved about those results. But on a personal level, it's... not the same". She gave a slight nod of her chin towards Fuka's hi-tech prosthesis. "And unfortunately, no one makes replacement eyes that have any function to them - yet, anyway".

“Sorry to interrupt. I thought I would come down and check up on you, see how you’re holding up. Save you from the box of boredom.” She motioned at the T.V.

@Damo021

Kat paused as Freyja arrived, surprising her to see a second visitor even more than Fuka's arrival already head.
"Two visitors? And both lovely ladies as well; the skipper's going to be very jealous. Well, more the merrier I suppose. It's nice to actually get to talk to my wingmates. We haven't really had a chance yet. And thank you," she said with a smile toward Valkyrie and a nod at the T.V. up on it's wall mount. "I was about ready to settle on something I wasn't sure was either a soap opera or a comedy before you two showed up".
She gestured to Peacenik beside her. "We were just discussing our missing body parts... Unless you've got something hidden, I guess you're not part of the club. Although, I don't think either of us would recommend it". A grin crept onto her face and she sniggered at the thought that came into her head, hating the words before she said them, but completely unable to resist the terrible joke.
"...Membership costs an arm and a leg".

* * *

Malta International Airport
Maintenance Headquarters Building
Back in the Present

At the front of the building, Ximena's suppressive fire had the intended effect; fire aimed out of the front windows slackened off, the hostiles inside unwilling to put their heads out against the firepower of the light machine-gun, backed up with Calico's snap-shooting further discouraging anyone trying to be brave.
Yuna backing him up, Scott pressed on into the building, cutting down one of the hostiles who blundered out of a side door into the main corridor. He cut right, entering the first large room, and popping another couple of short bursts off before one of the assailants could open fire with their mini-uzi against him. Another lunged forward, pistol in hand, but Scott's training kicked in, and in flurry of swift movements, the SMG still in hand and utilized in the close-quarter dance of blocks, jabs and strikes, he had them disarmed and on the ground; but the room to the left of the main corridor still held enemy personnel, lurking in wait.

To the rear of the building, Fuka's team kept the hostiles contained, or tagged them as they attempted to escape or move out. Accurate, quick fire from Fuka's M110 had tagged two, and Valkyrie's suppressive fire with her AK5c pinned down others shooting from the windows, giving Mykhailo a chance to pick his targets freely.
The moment almost seemed to turn as a pair of shooters opened up from the rooftop, pouring more fire onto them from a high angle.

Aurelie's object of interest had revealed itself, however; much of the equipment from the airport's more peace-time role was also parked or stored nearby, and a portable lighting tower was placed nearby. Not turned on currently, the light themselves had been left in the upright position, and it would take only a few switches flipped and angling of the lights to potentially make use of the brilliant lighting in the aid of the attackers.

@Smike, @Finetales, @Damo021, @Kensai, @Letter Bee, @Theyra

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Well, it's not essential; just useful to have

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

So Mykhailo's first order of business was to see Gunther 'Wolf' Wolfman, bringing a bag of small pastries with him to signal he wanted to talk, and saying, "You free for a few seconds?"

Then he'd tell Wolf how he suspected sabotage on both Scott and the now-dead Sokolov's planes, and maybe others', too.

@Letter Bee

Wolf had been checking the details for the planes that had been delivered, making a note of their maintenance records and carefully checking everything - and carefully keeping a track of the suspected persons he had in mind, investigating their backgrounds and the details he could shake down. He was no intelligence specialist, nor a hacker or information analyst, but he'd been around long enough and in his game long enough to know a few tricks about military records and bookkeeping, and they'd shaken loose a couple of details that were enough to bring to Scott and reinforce his suspicions.
When the young pilot arrived at his office, Gunther was surprised to see him. He nodded as Mykhailo asked him, and invited him in with a wave.
"Ja, please, step in".
He accepted one of the pastries gladly... and then as Myk launched into his remarkably accurate suspicions, Gunther held a hand up to stop him a moment, crossing the room quickly to close the door, before he nodded to the young man, sitting on his desk and speaking in a low voice.
"I have had the same thoughts as you. And I looked into it; there are saboteurs in our ranks".
The older man's rugged, weathered face was a picture of anguish and frustration as he shook his head, picking his cap off his head and screwing it up in one hand, the other smoothing through his short, salt-and-pepper hair as he spoke.
"I have looked into all the background information of the maintenance personnel; and the ones who are all linked with the planes that had the issues. They are recent to joining Shattered Steel. Even though their backgrounds checked out, I found a few things, some little things of suspicion, you know..." he looked back to the young man with a tight-lipped grimace. "I feel like a fool now, for not noticing. That I have failed the squadron and especially for Sokolov... but also I am angry at these people, that they have come among us with this as their reason, put this on us..."
He shook his head again, standing up from the desk and nodding to Mykhailo. "Go to the armoury, sign out your weapons, find the rest of your fellow pilots, and then meet me at Heartbreak's office. I think it is time we tell him of what we've learned"

Meanwhile, at Matar Dei Hospital, Msida

"I heard you beat a hole in the instrument panel with your head. Glad you did more damage to it than it did you."

@Smike

Kat had a small room in the hospital all to herself. She sat atop the covers on the hospital bed, boots off and her flightsuit down around her waist and tied off, her top half clad in a black sports bra. She'd been tapping her feet together idly as she flipped through channels on the TV, trying to find something tolerable to watch, before Fuka entered the room. She grinned at the other woman's words, setting the remote aside as her visitor stepped in. She laughed - a rough, coarse sound - at her comment.
"Well, when that ungodly slab of a plane decided to crap out on us and die, I thought if it was going to try and take me down, I'd do my best to kill it first", she joked back, smiling gamely.
"Thank you for coming to visit though. The doctors prodded and poked me a bit, blasted me with some X-Rays, and said I should be fine. They just want to keep me in for observation." She lowered her voice conspiratorially, a gleam of amusement in her single, pale blue eye as she leaned slightly in Fuka's direction, putting one hand up to her face in a stage whisper.
"Between you and me, I think they're confused. Lost track of the injuries, and they're just trying to work out if any of the scars are new ones. Don't want to admit their mistakes...!"

Hours Later

Fuka Nakano

"Boss, this whole thing reeks. If they got to our ground crew they could be paying off anyone. I think we should assume our security is compromised until we can prove otherwise."

@Smike

Scott grimaced and nodded.
"Wolf has looked into the information; it seems like the sabotage was orchestrated by recent additions to the maintenance team, but they only took action once we arrived here. Their background checks were obviously all right when they first joined Shattered Steel; they wouldn't have ended up here otherwise. So this is obviously some kind of long-term plan or action. What, I currently have no idea.
You're right though, there could be others involved, but if we start suspecting everyone, we won't be able to do anything. As it is, we have a definite link between what happened and the identified maintenance personnel, so they might be able to give us a link to anyone else - and it might prod them into action as well. I've already sent an encrypted message back to HQ as well, notifying them of the situation. But you're right; keep alert and aware.
"Considering they took action when we got here, I'm betting this is linked to a bigger picture involving something we don't yet know about going on in this region, involving whoever is supplying and financing the attacks".

"What's the policy for overkill? Do we have to capture the enemy for interrogation? Or should we kill them all?"

@Letter Bee

Much to his credit, Scott didn't explode at Myk, and managed to maintain his composure at the bloodthirsty request. Though, the rest of the people in the room might have wondered if he might have dislocated an eyebrow as well as his ribs, given how high he managed to raise it.

"Put it this way:" she said cooly, hoisting her M110 over her shoulder. "Handle anyone who's a threat. You go farther than that, I'll handle you."

"Oh don't fault the boy for wanting to play with his food a little." she snickered. "A killer like him, we should be grateful he's taking it out on the enemy.

@Smike

Scott was thankful for Fuka's interjection, and he pointed to her and nodded at Mykhailo, choosing to diplomatically ignore Ximena's comment for the meantime - though, he resolved to keep an eye on her catty sense of humour when it came to comments about other.

"What Peacenik said; we're not looking to go on a murder rampage of revenge. Just to secure things, and hopefully gather some information. But survival is the priority. Shoot anyone who's shooting at you".

@Smike, @Letter Bee

Spearhead: A modern/near future Special Forces RP (ON HIATUS)

Unfortunately, due to changes in my time and lifestyle after starting my new job, I haven't got enough time to run Spearhead alongside Shattered Steel to the standard and involvement I'd like, as well as having time to also have a life otherwise. I've also lost interest in the premise a bit for the meantime, alas.
As such, I'm putting it on indefinite hiatus for the meantime.
I apologise for the disappointment, but I'd rather do it officially than just letting it die by negligence and disinterest.

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

I'll be making a cs late next week then.

@Doughboy

Excellent, I'll be glad to have another new player!
I would suggest you join us over on Letter Bee's Discord, as we're all very active on discussion over there and it's a good way to get to meet everyone, and discuss any ideas you might have for your character. The link is in the first OOC post.

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Is this still accepting new people?

@Doughboy

We are still accepting new players, yes!

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

March 13th 2014
Late Evening
Malta International Airport
Luqa
Malta

Hours had passed since the recon flight had returned successful from their part of the mission, a short while after the rest of the squadron had landed. Heartbreak hadn't called a debriefing immediately; he'd been rushed to the local hospital following his crash landing, and Kat along with him.

Gunther 'Wolf' Wolfman stood at one end of the aircraft apron, away from the area where the built-up, sandbagged revetments for the squadron's active aircraft were. He hadn't ordered the maintenance crew into action yet, so the sleek machines stood silent, gleaming in the reflections of the few lights that were on, what with the blackouts in effect to protect from possible air attack.
Wolf hadn't ordered the crews to work, because there was a suspicion that had been gnawing at him, and it was something he didn't want to acknowledge, despite the evidence.
He knew how hard he did his job, how well he trained and instructed his people. He made sure - as sure as sure could ever be - to look after the planes under his care, for the sake of the pilots in them. Enabling them to carry out their missions and get back alive was the whole reason he had dedicated himself for the whole of his career to maintenance, and trained generations of maintainers.
Having as many planes fail as they did on a single occasion, that was something that he couldn't allow to sit as a mark against his career, or his personal reputation and standards.
He'd checked through the electronic 'paperwork' that had been filed, and he'd found something that had pointed to a situation that had raised a suspicion with him, and it was one that worried him.

Out of the eight planes the squadron had had before the start of the mission, four had been worked on by the team of technicians and maintenance personnel he'd overseen personally - Brightspark's F-16, Peacenik's F/A-18, Chevy's Rafale, and Valkyrie's Gripen.
The other four, they had been overseen and maintenance checked out and signed off by his second in command. Appointed only a few months earlier, he'd had an average, though not spectacular, career before that. And the second team was comprised mostly of newer personnel taken on only a short time earlier.
They had been responsible for the rest of the planes; Clown's Typhoon, Stingray's F-117N, Heartbreak and Kitten's ASF-14.
And Rook's Yak-141.
That last set of signed maintenance documents, affirming that the Yak-141 had been free of all errors, was fit to fly and fight, and was in perfect shape...

Gunther bit down on the stub of the cigar he habitually carried, his teeth biting clear through it and the bitter, acrid taste of the soaked tobacco leaves on his tongue. He spat it out, angrily.
There was no way this was negligence, or carelessness. The same work had been done by the same people prior to the transatlantic flight, and that had been uneventful, with no problems for any of the pilots or their aircraft.
This was sabotage, and he had a list of suspects, but pursuing them alone, that would be too dangerous - and the pilots needed to know about the danger they might be facing.
He was interrupted from his thoughts and contemplation of the sad wreckage of the three planes, as the thundering roar of jet engines intruded, and the runway landing lights came on long enough to guide the planes in, their navigation lights glowing and blinking in the twilight.
The leading aircraft were a quarter of modern aircraft. The first was a Sukhoi Su-33 in a striking red-white-black camouflage scheme. The next was a swing-winged, stealth jet that was the replacement for the ASF-14, the F-22N Sea Raptor and this one in blue-blue-white Ukrainian camouflage. The third he recognised right away; he had a personal connection to it's pilot, and his anger of the moment was curbed somewhat by her arrival. The delta-winged EF-2000 Typhoon was very similar to Clown's aircraft behind him, but this one carried a lightning-themed paint scheme that he knew personally.
Bringing up the rear was a plane that was a reminder of recent events, and one that only galvanised his desire to strike back at whatever treachery was afoot within their organization - a Yak-141 Freestyle, the same make and model of plane that Sokolov had piloted.
As the four fighters moved to taxi off of the runway, the final arrival came in behind them; the lumbering shape of a gigantic Antonov AN-124 transport that held inside its' cavernous hold replacement aircraft for Heartbreak and Kitten, as well as additional supplies. It would also fly out the remains of the other planes that had been damaged.
The enormous four-engined cargo plane touched down with a light squeak of wheels, and then the engines kicked into reverse to slow it down with a rushing roar of air, slowing it enough to turn off at the runway end and taxi toward the apron, where it would be unloaded.
He'd deal with it later; there were things he had to do.

* * *

A few hours later, and in the dark of the middle of the night, Scott had returned from the hospital in Msida. His injuries weren't too severe; some heavy bruising, minor cuts, and slipped ribs on his left side. Kat had had the worst of it; her spine had suffered some bruising, and her neck heavily jarred and shocked, leaving her with a mild concussion after her head had collided with the instrument panel, along with a dislocated wrist. Her prognosis was good, but the doctors wanted to keep her in for twenty four hours for observation. The fair-haired pilot was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to shower, and to sleep. He was still wearing the same flight suit he'd had on when they'd taken off that morning, and when the plane had come to rest on the runway. It smelt of burnt insulation, smoke, and fire retardant foam, as well as all the buckets of sweat he'd expelled during the dogfight, and then the crash-landing.
Gunther was waiting for him when he reached the barracks, and the expression on the mechanic's craggy face told him that he wouldn't be sleeping for hours yet.

* * *

Scott was waiting along with Wolf a half-hour later as he called the squadron's pilots to the office he'd commandeered in the Malta armed forces HQ building. He'd sent the summons as an urgent requirement; something not to be ignored - and it had included the new arrivals.
What had made it seem even more serious was that he'd requested them all to come after drawing their sidearms and longarms from the armoury.

He was sitting on his desk as they entered, having changed out of his flight suit at last and into a simple white T-Shirt and olive BDU pants. His MP5 lay alongside him on the desk as well, and his thigh holster was strapped on. He bid the last one of them in to close the door.
"Everyone, please welcome our new arrivals - I had hoped to introduce Calico, Sparrow, Ironhand and Jefe in better circumstances with a proper briefing, and a debriefing from our previous mission. But Wolf has important information, and I need to share it with all of you as a priority".
He looked them all in the eye with a serious expression as he continued.
"I know we haven't had time to decompress or go over what happened yet. But you're all aware of the problems we had before and during the mission. That many issues with maintenance is incredibly uncommon".
Wolf spoke up, his deep voice hard and his craggy expression matching it as he spoke, arms folded across his barrel chest, the baseball cap he almost always wore bunched and screwed up in one bear-like hand.
"Maintaining those planes, and keeping all of you flying and safe is a matter of pride for me. And so is having the best people doing the best job on my maintenance crews. Which is why this is so... personal to me, and why I looked into all of it. I would never let so much go wrong".
Scott tapped the table laying on the desk in the office he'd commandeered for his own.
"Wolf has shown me the information, and verified it. The maintenance records for Clown, Stingray and my own aircraft were falsified". His lips formed a hard line, as he continued.
"And so was Rook's. Which means him getting shot down, probably wasn't just a bad deal of the cards. There's a small, tightly-knit group in the maintenance team that actively sabotaged our aircraft".
He pointed to the four whose planes hadn't been affected.
"You four had your aircraft maintenance personally overseen by Wolf and none of the same personnel worked on them as did on mine and the other three. So that's why you suffered no issues, and why we know who within the maintenance pool can be trusted".
He gestured to the quartet of new arrivals.
"-And the same with you; your planes were maintained before you left the Forge, by different personnel, so they won't be affected. So as of right now; if anything comes up, the eight of you are the ones we can get in the air to do anything about it.
"My new jet is here, as is Kitten's. But neither of us are in a shape to fly right now, and the planes need to be checked out after being stowed for transporting here. But we can't do that, and give the rest of our planes the maintenance they need with only the people we can trust. We don't have the time or manpower to expend drawing them out - so, we're going to confront them. Our security personnel have locked down the perimeter of the airport, as well as securing the ordnance and fuel dumps, the vehicle pool, the flightline and the armoury. That's stretched them and the locals pretty thin, so we're the only people we can spare.
"We're going to go confront the issue now. I'm expecting things might turn ugly - so be prepared. Let's go"

Scott slid off the desk, picking up his MP5, and lead the way out of the door, and out of the headquarters building, in the direction of the maintenance workshops and stores, the night around them suddenly having taken on a very quiet, and almost eerie air.
Scott moved with purpose and familiarity, moving into an easy, tactical lope through the airports' shadows, sticking to a route that kept them as much out of sight as possible.
As they approached the building, he used hand signals to bring everyone to a stop in cover, kneeling in the cover of the service vehicle garage. He spoke in a quiet, hushed tone; one that didn't carry too far.
"All right, listen up. I know some of you won't have fought a gun battle before. Or maybe not for a long time, if you have. There's not time for a refresher, but all I can say is, remember your training, keep your heads down and stick to cover, and watch each others' backs"
He nodded to Fuka, noting the way she moved with experience and skill with her marksman rifle expertly glued to her shoulder.
"Peacenik; take half the squadron and move around the rear of the Maintenance building. Tag anyone who tries to run, and get an entry point through the fire exit"
He nodded to Jefe, the sinomexican having lugged her light machine-gun. "Jefe, I want you around the front of the building; suppressive fire with your LMG if they fire on us, so we can breach. I'm gonna assume they're not looking for a peaceful resolution to this, and that they're going to be armed. Stick to cover, keep low while moving. Shoot back first if they're shooting, and then go for surrender and capture".

He looked to Fuka as the rest of them moved out and shook his head briefly, a tight, tiny smile on his face.
"You know; this ain't what I expected this mission to go like. I swear, it isn't normally like this".
He nodded to her before he shouldered the MP5 again, moving around the cover and sticking to it as he headed to the front of the maintenance building.

As he approached, he pulled the SMG tighter into his shoulder, his posture moved into a perfect tactical flow of motion. He stayed below the level of the ground-floor windows as he moved in a crouch.
As he approached the door, he directed them to stack up on him, and Ximena to cover the front of the building - and then gunfire opened up on them from inside, rattling out from the rooftop and the windows along its' front. Scott wheeled around the door, hugging the wall, and rattling short bursts from the SMG as he moved in.

@Kensai, @Letter Bee, @Smike, @Damo021, @Finetales, @Theyra

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

In the skies above Lampedusa

The ferry had no chance to avoid the SLAM-ER. Anchored and at rest, and with none of the defences a military vessel might have, it had no means to escape the hit. Missile pierced the side of the ship just above the waterline, the kinetic energy of the heavy missile punching it through the unarmoured hull, before the 500-pound blast fragmentation warhead detonated inside the ship, tearing through decks, walls and bulkheads, and igniting anything flammable within reach. The blast heaved the ship sideways and rocked it off axis, and rolling back put the gaping tear in the hull under the waterline, instantly starting to flood the ship. The explosion shattered glass in windows around the harbor, sending people running for cover. All too late, air defences started to search frantically for the source of the missile, as personnel threw themselves to cover at the worry of any follow-on attacks.

Over the airport, the Mirage F1's rose, climbing rapidly to meet the intruding Shattered Steel planes. As they grew closer, it became easier to pick them out to the pair. They didn't wear the same camouflage as the other planes sighted, nor the same Libyan national insignia either. Instead, they were coloured in two-tone grey splinter camouflage on their upper surfaces and dark grey-black on their undersides, their logos hard to see in low-viz grey.
Chevy's shot was a good one, pulling the trigger as the first of the pair rose put them already on the defensive, and when they had little room and power to manoeuvre at that. Desperately, the pilot triggered countermeasures, a spread of cloud-white trails arcing out as flares burst across the skies. He hauled over on the stick, trying desperately to avoid and risking rolling the jet into a spin as the missile closed in. The Mica's proximity fuse detonated, and it tore up the starboard side of the jet, leaving ragged tears in the aluminium skin and structure below. As the pilot hauled into the turn, the strain on the damaged areas grew, and the wing buckled in half, at the same instant as the engine inhaled chunks of debris from the damaged intake. The pilot punched out as the doomed jet turned on it's back and began to tumble and spiral through the air, trailing flame and smoke.

The wingman rose, cautious of the hunting planes now that his leader had gone down. He was more canny, and instead of climbing straight up, they extended; going shallower and flatter and hugging ground cover to attempt to scatter radar signals, before pulling into steep, sharp banks to lose the visual against the surface of the sea and the island below, before ascending as the dark shape of Fuka's Superhornet flashed by. The F/A-18 had more power with its' twin engines, but it was heavier and the Mirage F1's pilot used that to their advantage, turning inside the bigger, heavier carrier jets' circle as they sought for a lock-on, and were rewarded as the recticle in their HUD turned red and the buzzing growl of a positive tone sounded, and a Mica leapt off the wingtip rail to scythe through the air toward the gleaming black F/A-18

@Smike, @Kensai

Raven Squad: Second Storm (Military/Spy-Fi RP)

>Port Ibex, Île de la Tempête, Reunion

>Fireteam Shadow

>Dawn Chorus

>0620 Hours

Eloise crouched on the roof of a storeroom not too far from the comms tower. She'd knocked out more of the EM devices en route; they were becoming more numerous and it was becoming a considerable aggravation, slowing her down as she had to move around them, eliminate them, or otherwise deal with them being there.
However, she was in place at the tower. The hacking device rode in a pouch attached with MOLLE to the outside of her quiver, and she remembered the instructions; open the necessary electrical junction box (or whatever it was), and attach the cables. The rest would take care of itself, more or less.
A trio of sentries guarded the base of the tower from where it stretched up into the lightning skies, red anti-collision lights aglow.
Smoothly, the svelte woman drew back the bowstring and let fly with a standard, composite arrow, a second on the way before the first even hit, thudding into the throats of the sentries with ghostly silence. The third didn't even hear them die, and he barely had time to get a gasp out as she appeared before him, the blank, gleaming mask of her helmet and the billowing folds of her cloak and hood combined with the tactical gear and holsters strapped over her almost like some kind of mil-spec ghost. Her fist rammed out like a piston as he reeled back in surprise, bending double as the air rushed out of his lungs. As he folded down, the knife held in the same hand came up, through the soft bottom of his jaw and up into his head, and he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. She turned with the weight and motion, letting it pull the blade free of his skull, wiping it on his uniform before she slid it back into the sheath and moved into the fenced compound around the tower.
A few moments work had the device installed and she moved on, heading for the rendezvous with Purna, keeping to the shadows and avoiding any contact as she moved, only pausing to eliminate any more EM devices as she moved.
She listened to him explain the command centre as she moved, absorbing the information and replying with a soft, 'confirmed; keep it quiet, keep it fast, and break things". Despite the non-formal wording, her voice was still the same whispery quiet almost monotone... which almost somehow made her casual wording all more amusing.

She joined him wordlessly at the entrance to the building, falling easily into tactical movement with him through muscle memory and plenty of training. She likewise moved cloaked; she always compared it to the phrase 'oil across water', the sliding of surroundings across the smart material of the cloak and gear. Purna explosively vaulted through the window and she took the door - more boring and conventional, but nonetheless effective... especially as she leapt into a forward roll, bowling one down and shooting him as she came back up with an almost casual afterthought without looking from the Beretta Cougar, a pair of throwing knives into another that Purna had wounded and not killed. They parted ways, and she flowed up the stairs, picking up speed and springing off the steps, to launch herself off of the wall and over the banister railing, her foot whipping out and smashing a woman across the face. She crumpled, and Eloise rolled forward, another pair of knives into the man ahead of her; one at his knee to bring him down, another into his hand to stop him firing his handgun, and a rapid punch to his face to put him down. The woman behind her struggled up, only in time to be taken out by a shot from her suppressed machine pistol, another putting down the man ahead. The other guards on the floor moved toward her, sub-guns drawn and voices raised; She moved fast and hit hard. Stealth wasn't necessary now they'd seen her, but she could move and fight quick enough for them to do much about. She sprang forward, launching off of the walls and into her assailants. A flurry of throwing knives, suppressed shots, and bone-crunching, acrobatic hand-to-hand combat or close-in knifework.
The racked servers and related equipment for running the security systems lay ahead, and she debated the best way to deal with them, before opting for the most simple; picking up a pair of the dead security's guns and just going full auto on the racked equipment - the building was soundproof, and the equipment would be out of action for long enough for the rest of the team to do their job. Smashing the butts of the guns into the equipment and ripping out handfuls of cables or components and smashing them under her heel.

As alarms sounded and the rush of booted, running feet along with it, she took aback in alarm; where had this sudden surge of reinforcements come from? Had they been discovered, what had changed? Nonetheless; Eloise's instinct and training kicked in and she fell back on her normal mantra; escape, evade, survive, strike back.
She slid into cover in the shadows of the room, ducking behind equipment to exit through the door the would-be search party entered through, swung over the stair rail and then down its' side, and out through the window Purna had entered through.

*-------------*----------------*

Eloise crouched on a rooftop, like a shimmering, almost invisible gargoyle. The directional mics on her suit, along with her ever-present comm link to Purna transmitted the words, and the zoom on her optics followed the scene as this new man spoke.
Already, she hated him; he postured and posed. Confident in his own skill and status; but arrogant with it, revelling in his link with Raven and Purna to indulge his own sense of superiority and his ego.
However, none of that stopped him from both being dangerous, and also having Purna at his mercy. Her lips were pressed into a tight, thin line under her featureless mask and her hands balled into tight fists, clenched around her bow until her knuckles ached as she watched the moment unfold and her mind raced as she looked for an opening to act.

As the Heavy walked into the scene, she felt that sense of dread mounting, but even then; she refused to admit defeat. That wouldn't come until there was literally, physically, mentally, nothing she could do. And at that point, it would be because she was dead - and it wouldn't matter at that point.

Her heart leapt as the confrontation built, and then the transfer of control to her. She grimaced, biting down the rising acid in her throat. Fifty to one... she knew her worth and her skills, how lethal she was and that wasn't her arrogance. She could take on two, maybe three on one with odds in her favour and stealth on her side. Maybe more, if they were arrogant, barely-trained cartel 'soldiers' or criminal organisation thugs. But fifty to one, knowing she was there and actively looking... never; even with all the best luck in the world, they'd run her down through exhaustion, attrition, and she'd run out of weaponry.
But, she still had tricks. Still had those skills; and plenty of weapons. It wasn't over yet.
Purna's words hit true, and she was already in motion as Bakker started to count out loud.

Eloise's archery was olympic standard in quality for her accuracy and her range. She had learned from a range of forms and styles, blending their tenets and practices into something of her own hybridised, fluid, practical and lethal style. She might even have been better than some of the professionals - as Purna's thoughts had said, William Tell could fuck off. And Robin Hood right behind him.
But how fast she could shoot, how tricksy her shots were; that was another thing.
Hawkeye and Green Arrow were two of her favourite comic book characters, and she had, in her own downtime, attempted some of the things she'd seen them do... and there really was no good way of firing more than one arrow at once. Especially if you actually wanted to hit something.
And especially when you were moving too...
As such, it was, unquestionably, some kind of world record as three arrows, within heartbeats of one another, hit the necks of the regulars standing guard around Purna's prone form and were messily decapitated as the frag heads exploded. Barely moments after, a pair of throwing knives whacked into Bakker's gun arm; an EMP and an explosive in twain, before she launched herself at him, feet first as they detonated, using her weight to throw off his arm and get the guns' muzzle as far enough away from Purna as possible. She didn't wait to tangle with the opposing Light; instead the Heavy ahead of her, the mountain of armour plates and that enormous Kord machine gun and thermite launcher that were already moving to bear on her, were her concern.
She kept moving, flowing forward in a sprint.
Towards the bigger, more heavily armoured, man.
Every last explosive throwing knife and the last of her EMP ones were flung toward him, before she dropped and rolled as they detonated, the machine gun thundering and chattering, the whines and screams of ricochets around her. Then her bow was back in her hands.
Acid arrows and armour-piercing next as she fought to slow the heavy, shooting from prone, flowing around their movement and shooting from all angles, then explosives, as quick as she could to get them off-balance, open up and exploit whatever damage she'd caused.
The machine gun thundered and hammered, and thermite lashed and rained out, eating away at her cloak and leaving it ragged with a close hit. She sprang aside as she over-calculated, grew too daring, and that massive machine-gun roared too close, close enough that the huge 12.7 mil rounds whipped past her, close enough to tear past her side and send her staggering and spinning to the ground with a close hit.
She gasped in a ragged breath, rolling aside with a titanic effort as one of those armoured fists smashed the tarmac where her face had been a moment earlier. She rolled to her feet and made to spring back, but one of those massive, powered hands grabbed the smouldering remnants of her cloak and hauled her back. She weaved, dodging another swipe that parted the air with an audible whoosh; but the follow up caught the edge of her mask, shattering the visor and sending it spinning.
She used the motion, launching into a spin and landing, shooting a grapple arrow that tangled in the workings of the heavy armour, exposed by her attacks. She ducked and weaved, pulling the cable with her and tangling it around the heavy.
Her last arrow to him, she didn't even shoot at him, instead snagging it through the looped cable and then moving, dashing away and dragging Purna with her, gasping ragged breaths, her eyes wide and pupils tiny with fear and adrenaline, hand clutching her side where the kord's heavy round had winged her.
"Move, fast. That last arrow, well. It was a beacon. He literally has a target on his back right now"
As they ran, she sent the signal to trigger the explosives she'd planted, and threw a pair of smoke and flashbang grenades in their wake.

Spearhead: A modern/near future Special Forces RP (ON HIATUS)

In terms of the post; feel free to have your characters describe and elaborate on the surroundings and the specifics around them as we move in; I'm happy for that to be fairly free-form. I deliberately left out any details about hostiles; that'll be coming soon too.