Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Ximena Huang
Tarxien, Malta


"Hmm, about two years now I think? But I would have to check for an exact date."

Had it really been that long since her life had turned to ash? Ximena sipped her beer as she ruminated, letting the taste play across her tongue. It was sweeter than she preferred, never having gotten into lagers, but when in Malta do as the Maltese do.

"Admittedly, I've not done much since joining. Patrols mostly, training pilots for different countries, that sort of thing. It'll be nice to see some real action again."

Shattered had been wasting a top pilot on teaching rookies how to joust, probably because they didn't trust her. She couldn't blame them, but nevertheless she was glad they got their heads out of their asses.

"I heard that our new team is already down two planes and one pilot, so hopefully Malta turns out to be more exciting than it looks right now."

@Finetales
Fuka Nakano
Matter Dei Hospital, Msida


Perhaps it wasn't her place to ask such a question, or maybe she should have approached it with more tact, but Fuka felt entitled to an answer. She was one of the few people who could understand Kat, after all. How many people had list an integral part of themselves like they had, and of that select group how many had lost it in battle? They were maimed not by a car crash or a freak accident but through violence, wounded warriors who kept fighting because it was their purpose.

"I know just how you feel." she said, taking the offered seat. "I'm left-handed, and I still try to brush my teeth before attaching my arm. I suppose I should be grateful that I'm able to fly. They told me that everyone adjusts differently, that I might not function as well as I would like. I guess we're just better than most."

Fuka glanced towards Freyja as she entered, giving her a nod.

"From what I hear the people on those boats owe you big time." she said. "Good going."

Who would have thought that the big bad Valkryie, the bad bitch who sent N/UN sailors to watery graves, would find herself on humanitarian missions? Probably not even Freyja herself. Fuka wondered whether her change in allegiance had been due to morals or simple expediency, but that question went unasked.

"Hey, if you haven't paid dues already we can take care of it here. Ask the doctors for a bonesaw and in five minutes we can slice off a body part of your choosing."

Ximena Huang
Tarxien, Malta


"You're probably right." Ximena chuckled. "I guess we'll find out."
+++
Ximena had always loved going fast. Ever since she was a girl she had craved speed, whether it be horses on her family's ranch or the Ural motorcycle her father had bought secondhand. Unsurprisingly, as she got older she got more advanced, slaloming sports cars, speedboats, and eventually, planes. Hurtling forward at hundreds or thousands of miles an hour gave her a high unmatched by anything on Earth; the fine control she had to exert contrasted against the terrifying knowledge that one wrong move would turn her into a red stain. Her hands wanted to shake but she couldn't let them, the blood pounding in her ears deafened the roar of the engines, her survival instinct begged her to slow down but she always told it to shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride.

The scooter she was toodling about on wasn't enough to force her into that state of primal excitement, not even close. The little Euro-bike was pushing 150 ccs if that, but what she expected? The rental place dealt with college kids on vacation, not adrenaline junkies fiending for their next high. It was good enough to get from points A to B, and pretty cheap to boot. Jefe pulled up alongside her new buddy, eyeing the bar.

"Pretoria, like South Africa? Interesting."

Perhaps some Afrikaners had gotten out when the ANC came to power and wanted to remind themselves of home. Whatever, a bar was a bar.

"Sounds good to me."

Ximena killed the engine and lowered the kickstand, stepping into the bar. It looked like more of a spot for locals than a visitor's joint which was nice, the gathered crowd looking more like staff from the various tourist traps than guests. It was clean without being sanitized, the floor recently swept but still stained from years of things being dropped on it. She already knew what the food would taste like, if the place bothered serving any: entirely satisfactory and still tasting of the freezer, not overpriced, trendy crap designed for social media.

It was the sort of joint Ximena could feel comfortable drinking- or at least as comfortable as she ever did. You didn't walk around with a knife in your boot and a hand cannon hidden in a specially made pocket because you were at peace with the universe.

"Hey there." she addressed the woman behind the bar breezily. "Can we get something local?"

Two bottles of Cisk lager were presented, Jefe taking one as she slid onto a stool.

"So Calico, how long have you been with Shattered?"

Hours Later

Fuka Nakano

She liked being a fighter jock, but Fuka had to admit she missed being shot at on the ground. Rounds flew overhead and ricocheted somewhere behind her as she switched from target to target, knocking them down like she were plinking soda cans. Moving with her crew was almost like being in the Rangers again; Valk covering her in a classic bounding maneuver. She took note of the pair the Swede had pointed out and reacted. One man had an old-school Ruger rifle but no idea how to use it, aiming much low considering his angle. Fuka put one in his chest before switching targets, shooting his pal in the gut.

Whatever breathing room she had bought was quickly spent by the appearance of another pair on the roof, Peacenink having to duck for cover as they opened up. She could see them only by the light of their muzzle flash, indistinct figures disappearing back into the darkness. Looking around to take account of the team's circumstances she spotted Aurelie heading for the light stack.

"Valk, Myk! Cover her! New girl, stick with me!"

Ximena Huang

The sabotuers didn't seem interested in taking their offer, which was a shame indeed. Jefe, always eager to please, opened up again with her machine gun. Her drinking buddy seemed bored now that all the targets were ducking out of the way, Ximena noting how she flicked her MP5 from 'for your eyes only' to 'to whom this may concern'.

"Have fun." she shouted back. "I'll follow behind you guys in a bit!"

She laid down fire as Calico dashed for the door, one genius sticking his arm up to blindfire just as bullets swept his window. It was hard to tell at that distance, but Ximena was pretty sure she had torn his arm off at the wrist.

Whoops.

She snickered cruelly, keeping the carnage coming. She could see a hint of movement as someone crouchwalked from one window to another, the very top of their head bobbing in and out of view. Ximena didn't bother aiming for such a tiny target, instead letting a burst of .300 Blackout chew through the thin wall and whichever mechanic was behind it.

"Come and get some you fucking traitors, I'm right here! I'll do this shit all night!

It was probably karma for her to be fighting 'traitors' since she herself was one, but that was a problem for the future. In the meantime she had good, solid cover in the form of a concrete barrier and a thick lightpost base and about fifty rounds in her current belt. It was a recipe for a fun time, but not exactly what she had signed up for when she defected.

@Rhona W @Finetales @Letter Bee @Damo021
Fuka Nakano
March 13th, 2014
Malta International Airport


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

Fuka snickered at the black humor, even as she sized Kat up like a tiger encountering a rival. It was just second-nature at this point, she analyzed people who seemed dangerous and broke them down into compartments. Kitten was immense, an inch taller than Fuka herself and broad as all hell to boot. It wasn't a body type suited to long rucks or rapid insertion raids but there was no doubt that she could throw a punch...and take one as well, judging by her looks. Like she said, Kat had been chewed up long before she arrived in Malta.

Some of the details had been beyond Fuka's reach but the gist was all there in the personnel files. Rich girl from the royals got kidnapped by the Commie Mob and then bounced around the world in the aftermath of the Heavenfall, lost her eye and gained a bunch of scars and somewhere along the way she got saved by Heartbreak. Depending on how you looked at it, she was either incredibly lucky or unlucky.

Her scars were more impressive looking, but it wasn't like Fuka was any slouch in that department. The reconstructive surgery she had done (really more for her parent's sake than her own) left telltale marks speckled across her cheek and brow-and of course she was down an arm.

"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?"

Her arm plagued her even now. She could feel pins-and-needles as if she had merely slept on it, the sensation so vivid that she would have sworn there was still flesh and blood under the mechanical casing. Some days she woke up and was momentarily surprised to find nothing but a stump.
---------------

Ximena Huang
March 13th, 2014
Malta International Airport


"I forgot you speak Mandarin in Singapore." Ximena noted, retrieving her lighter and a half-smoked cigarette. She paused to light the stub, taking the smoke into her lungs before letting it pass through her nose. "Guess that means I can't shittalk behind your back."

Her own crooked grin had widened, Jefe already moving for the door.

"I've never been here before, but Google tells me we're four klick away from the biggest city on the island so I'm sure we can figure it out. You wanna walk, or see about renting scooters?"

@Finetales @Rhona W
March 13th, 2014
Malta International Airport


Fuka Nakano
After that fucking shitshow, Fuka was glad to be back on solid ground. Getting back had been easy, with Lampedusa basically blown to bits the remaining idiots on the ground hadn't dared to tempt her into a strafing run. They had been well-supplied, but gear didn't equal training or skill.

That said, skill didn't count for much if your gear kept catastrophically failing on you. Half of the birds had been taken out of action without a shot fired, and then two more dropped from the sky. Two injured and one dead in one operation against scruffy pirates? Awful.

It wasn't her problem for the time being. She was alive and Rook was not, whether it was because she was the better pilot or the luckier didn't matter.

After landing and changing clothes Fuka had made her way to Msida, her worn-out boots stomping down the pristine hallways. From what she heard Kat was the most battered between her and Heartbreak, so it was Kat that got the well-wishes.

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

She had never crashed before, and she was happy to leave that experience to other people.

Ximena Huang
Once upon a time, Ximena had thought herself fearless. She was smart and quick on her feet, capable of running circles around people in the field or the boardroom. Closing million dollar deals? Easy. Meeting with a double agent inside some guarded compound? Light work. Fear had been something other people felt, a victim's mindset she simply refused to entertain.

But then she got older, more experienced, had more close calls. Time had stripped back her shielding like layers of paint, giving her a glimpse at the tender flesh below. Ximena was afraid of a lot of things, actually. She feared death, of course, but getting old terrified her. The thought of being caught and tortured by enemies abroad or back home made her stomach twist itself into knots, almost as much as knowing she had made her parents' lives much harder when she fled. Thinking about Zuhal filled her with an all-consuming anxiety, a mix of nervous rage from being betrayed and the abject horror of knowing that she had abandoned the one person she had felt safe with.

These fears weren't new. They were just the most recent manifestations of things she had tried to ignore. Ximena had been afraid for the past decade, if not more. It's what made her such a good spy and a fantastic pilot. That said, she didn't actually enjoy the feeling. It drained her, made doing anything more than the motions an impossible task. Mitigation was best found in bottles and bedrooms of strangers, but those weren't always accessible. When Ximena couldn't medicate her way out of her issues, she turned to rituals, habits made meaningful by sheer repetition.

Whenever she touched down at a new base, she took a shower and read the personnel files, and when possible, she did both at once. She slid on her shower shoes and dropped her work tablet in a plastic bag that used to hold toiletries and took up position directly under the head, the splash of water against tile droning in her ear. Reading about her coworkers signaled that it was time to mask up, like a five-minutes-till-opening-call backstage. By the time she had committed faces and names to memory she was already smiling crookedly, amused at the colorful cast she was with.

----------------------------------------
Someone had beaten her to the bedroom. The Singaporan, Yuna, was already unpacked and out of her flight suit, Ximena looking her over from behind her ever-present sunglasses.

"Hey Calico." she greeted casually, fishing in her pockets for a lighter. "You trying to hit the town?"

The faster she got started drinking the better.

Hours Later

Fuka Nakano
Fuka had more experience in ground combat than most on the team, what with being a Ranger and all, but that didn't mean she liked doing it. Any situation that required a pilot pulling a longarm from the armory was a bad one. There was a reason Shattered had a separate security force, and if it was stretched so thin that the air jockeys had to play Rambo then they were already on the backfoot. Peacenik didn't enjoy being surrounded by POGs with guns, quite frankly. She didn't relish trusting her life to someone who might never have been shot at. Dogfighting and house-clearing weren't in the same ballpark; they weren't the same fucking game.

But there was nothing to be done. Someone had sabotaged their planes and they had to be cleared out. Listening to Heartbreak gave her flashbacks. Unscrupulous criminal elements with heavy weapons and too much cash, locals overwhelmed and reaching out for assistance, bribed support staff making her life harder, it was Mexico all over again.

Maybe she'd lose the other arm.

"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."

Wunderkind opened his mouth, earning him a glare. Fuka looked over the kid and saw his red face and white knuckles, not exactly the cool head one wanted walking into a firefight. Again she mentally cursed POGs and POGkind, those necessary evils that she appreciated but wanted far away when shit hit the fan.

"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."

There was nothing more to say, nor the time to say it. Gunfire broke out and instincts kicked in just like over Lampedusa, Fuka dropping into low cover and taking aim at the building. She saw a torso draped in an ammo vest, a mouth opened to shout a warning-a burst of red dust as she put one through his forehead.

Her second target was dashing for cover, spraying wildly with her Uzi as she did so. Fuka fired twice, one shot going wide but the other striking home.

Two down.

She wasn't going to lay down suppressive fire or chop it up in close quarters with her marksman's rifle. Fuka stayed back, letting others draw heat as she picked off targets of opportunity.

Ximena Huang
Impressively, this was probably the worst introduction to a flight team Ximena ever had. Sabotuers in the mechanic bays? A crew of them? What, did Westerners not do background checks?

At least her new pals were amusing. There was the preteen with the angry eyes and the look of someone who bought guns to brandish in bars (Brightspark, a name that was either sarcastic or stuck through bribery) and his big angry babysitter (Peacenik, rather fitting for a kill-crazy Yankee), both of which seemed fun to pester in their own ways.

"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.

She lagged behind somewhat, in part because she was lugging an LMG and belts of ammo, but once the shooting started Jefe got right to work She slid into cover alongside Calico, bullets bouncing off the shipping containers as she took a moment to steel herself The kitty-cat had the right idea but the wrong weapon, Ximena setting up the bipod and letting the SAW rip Immediately the tempo of the fight changed, the cobbled-together small arms drowned out by the chatter of proper machine gun fire.

Good thing I didn't put the suppressor on.

She paused to let the barrel cool, shouting as she did so.

"Make it easy and surrender while you can! We got enough ammo out here to cut the walls down!"

@Finetales @Letter Bee @Rhona W
March 13th, 2014
Over Lampedusa, the Mediterranean


There wasn't time to ogle the destruction wrought (as much as Fuka would have liked to); the Mirages were climbing fast and their friends on the ground were searching for targets.

The fox call naturally drew the eye, Fuka turning just in time to watch the missile detonate, shredding the flight lead's bird and sending it tumbling to the island below. The sky-pirate had gotten out when the getting was good, lucky him, and once they shook off the sensation of their brain rattling around skull from a rocket-propelled dismount they'd be shitting themselves with the memory of just how close they came to getting killed.

That left one, and they were a smart fucker. Fuka grumbled to herself as the Mirage tucked low to the ground, the terrain scattering her lock as it steadily slid inside her circle. It was just a physics problem: lighter plane plus good thrust equaled faster turning. It was what she would have done had their positions been reversed.

Fuka snarled wordlessly as she threw the Black Bunny into a rising loop. G-forces pressed down on her like the palm of God trying to smother her out, a synthetic finger hovering over the control panel. The HUD flashed a hateful red, RWR bleeting in panic. The plane itself knew it was being hunted and screamed in warning, and Fuka, the shepherd she was, saved it.

A two-fingered punch of the touchpad sent chaff and flares scattering across the sky, the magnesium-laced cloud of aluminum strips thrown to the wind by the passage of a missile. The Mirage had missed, and now Peacenik was coming down on top of him.

They were on a path to intercept one another, hurtling closer and closer to oblivion. Getting a lock at that range was almost instantaneous, firing instinctive. There was no fox call, no time for one even, just the whoosh of a Sidewinder being launched and a fiery wreck of a plane falling out of the sky.

Another victory for her.

"Sorry about the blind fire," she chirped, leveling out to begin banking back around towards the hill. "Was a little dicey there. Gonna kill that radar and then mop up with the rest of the ordinance."

It was an entirely exposed stationary target; hitting it was a near-automatic process. Flash it with the targeting laser, wait for the tone, give Chevy a hearty "Magnum out!" and peel away as the crater that once been a radar installation smoked like a chimney. The SAMs were near-worthless now, and Lampedusa was nothing more than a bunch of sandcastles for her to kick.

She went down the line, locking onto targets as they appeared in her sights before destroying them.

"Rifle out."

The second SLAM-ER smashed into the remaining ferry, carving a gash through the centerline. She wondered idly whether it had been purchased or if some poor businessman was going to turn on the news and see his missing boat sinking into the Mediterranean.

"Going in for that corvette."

Fuka was taking her time now, lazily lopping back over the harbor with a waggle of her wings. The people on the ground could see her and down nothing about it, and she put on a show for them. The Bunny rolled languidly, belly facing the sun momentarily as its pilot homed on the warship. She selected her shots carefully, aiming for just above the waterline. As she turned right side up Fuka let the JDAMs fall away, two thousand pounds of boom gliding towards the enemy.

"Pigs away."

They hit home, the ship suddenly engulfed in a cloud of smoke and dust. However badly the escort mission had gone, no matter how tits up the rest of Cobalt had ended up, Fuka had done her job.

"I'm spent, ready to head home?"

@Kensai


April 27th 2025
Rebel Hideout

Vaquero didn't have all that much weight north of the border either and Arsala was damn sure that Clint Eastwood had nothing to do with it one way or the other, but what the hell. Far be it from her to keep nitpicking. She was more interested in the details of the mission than she was in linguistic niggles for the moment.

"Understood." She said to Jamison, motioning for Zaland to come towards her. "We'll see how it goes."

Khattak wasn't an idiot. She understood the reality of the operation and that there was little room for conduct reviews, but she didn't have to like it. She would do what needed to be done as quickly and cleanly as possible before washing her hands of the whole ordeal, like she had tried to do twenty years ago.

In the meantime she had to kit up. Her P90 was freed from the pile of Pelican cases and made ready, fifty rounds of armor-piercing 5.7 locked home. Spare ammo, grenades, chemlights, all the various bits and pieces she needed were packed into pouches or thrown into a bag as required. Last came the badge, the silver star dulled and scratched from years of wear. It had been stupid bringing it, a moment of weakness resulting in a desperate attempt to clutch onto a good luck charm. She should have left it at home on the nightstand, where her family could find it if she didn't come back.

But it was with her now.

-------------------------
April 27th 2025
Order Compound

If Zaland was bothered by the bumps in the road, he gave no sign of it. The dog was in work mode, scrunched under Arsala's chair with his head between her boots. He was ready for whatever came, his body thrumming with energy. Arsala was much more cool about the situation, sitting motionless until Christopher coasted to a stop.

Showtime.

She flicked her weapon from safe to full-auto and turned on her night vision, the world suddenly lit up in a hideous green. She gave a thumbs-up to their driver as she and her partner piled out, Zaland taking up position alongside her as she crouched next to the others.

"All building entrances we know of are covered by cameras, right?" She whispered to Sohee. "There's one on the side gate, then one on the front door and garage internally. Seems like they'll either see us coming or we'll already be shooting once we make it to the security room. That said, me and Zaland will follow you. Better no one wanders off alone."


















March 13th, 2014
Over Lampedusa, the Mediterranean


Was the enemy ingenious, or was Cobalt just not worth what Malta had paid them? Fuka couldn't say; this was only her first operation after all. That said, she wasn't overly thrilled with how her new career was shaping up. There was no quality control for mercenaries, no Better Business Bureau reports detailing their rankings. You had to judge them based on reputation and price, find the midpoint between quality and affordability. Hopefully these early issues were flukes and not signs that Shattered leaned too close to the latter.

"Good copy, adjusting angle."

The Black Bunny nosed up, rising steadily as Linosa began to shrink against the sea. Lampedusa was little more than a hop away, not even 30 nautical miles judging by how rapidly it grew in her field of view. Fuka leveled out and switched back to the targeting pod, scanning for threats on the ground.

And there were plenty of those.

"Woah, it's busy down there. I'm picking up active radar sweeps, looks like they've got SAMs scattered around. Mark one Herc and two Curls stationary on the tarmac, there's activity in the harbor as well. A couple of ferries with all sorts of military shit, one proper warship and a bunch of little boats too."

She spoke as much for her own benefit as Chevy's, verbally marking off the targets as she captured them on video. The enemy had much more gear than she had expected, and she probably hadn't even seen all of it!

"Scanning again, be advised that there's a radar setup on the hill and a few stationary AAs, got two Fitters and two Mirages parked as well. I've got a clear line at the ro-ro in the harbor, gonna strangle their landing force in its crib."

She had been told not to go looking for trouble, but what was this if not a target of opportunity? That ferry was loaded down with vehicles, ammo, and who knew what else, and more importantly it was the only thing capable of carrying a sizable force. Without it OPFOR would have to rely on a few big, slow transport craft.

The Litening's laser brushed across Lampedusa's surface, stopping on the keel of the ferry. It was close range for a SLAM-ER, close enough that she couldn't miss. The ferry was blown up across her screen, dead center of the crosshairs and locked-on.

"Rifle out."

A tap of a button and the missile was away, a barely visible blur that ended in a gout of fire and smoke. She could almost hear the thud of the warhead, the echo of steel on steel that would go forgotten in the roar of sheer concussion. Waves of sound and pressure rippled across the surface, tearing apart metal and flesh with equal ease. Peacenik was only human; she couldn't process information fast enough to see the process. But she could picture it clear as day, picture it and be grateful that she wasn't on the receiving end.

"Target hit."

Peeling away Fuka could see her handiwork, a gaping hole torn across the stern just starting just above the waterline. It was taking on water fast, a problem compounded by whatever damage had been done to the internals. Fuka didn't allow herself the chance to gloat, already scanning the island for threats. The radar was still searching but had yet to lock, the Black Bunny's low cross-section and iron ball paint buying her time.

Not enough however, as there was finally activity on the ground.

"Bandits are taking off! Moving to engage, trying to catch 'em on the ascent."

@Kensai
© 2007-2025
BBCode Cheatsheet