Chronic
Izurich
Noctis
JohnRoleplay
Hitman
Fetzen
Tortoise
Fish of Oblivion
Guardian Angel Haruki
Whoever had supplied this intel was either a traitor or had been tortured and left for dead by the Jinrai. Either way, Kaz was going to beat the entire intelligence team to death if she made it out of this alive. With a squeal of tires on pavement the APV careened towards the squad, Kaz gritting her teeth in a silent snarl as she did her damnedest to splatter the Jinrai across the sidewalk before they could reach Takai. Three of them where smart enough to throw themselves out of the way of the massive hulking slab of speeding steel but the operative carrying the DMR wasn't. His first panicked shot went wide and buried itself into the ground a ways away. The second and third snapped off one after the other, managing to tear away the side mirror and crack the bullet resistant windshield glass.
There was no fourth shot. The APV barely budged as its grill impacted the idiot's body, Kaz slamming on the breaks and jerking the wheel sideways. A bump and wet squelch and the unfortunate terrorist was feeling the weight of a small elephant crushing his bones and pulping his organs. He was dead before the car stopped skidding, being dragged another few feet under the beast of a vehicle so that he left a red smear. Even with all their military surplus weapons and gadgets, brute force and the laws of momentum could still beat out the Jinrai.
The poor bastard's comrades had to managed to recover the time the APV stopped, spraying its side with bullets. The window cracked under the first salvo, unable to stand up to heavy slugs and FMJs. The door held up much better, Kaz dropping low in her seat as she tried to figure out what to do. Her gear was in the back, a minigun simply not able to fit up front. Even if she was able to climb through to get to it without being filled with lead she couldn't exactly fire the damn thing from inside a car. Not without going permanently deaf at least. She hadn't bothered carrying a sidearm, a stupid mistake she would not be repeating that was for sure. So that left her with one option: go absolutely fucking insane.
She hated doing this, Kaz sweeping some of the glass shards from her hair as she rested her boots on the door, waiting for her moment. The intermittent firing died down, the metallic sound of dropped magazines against the ground letting her know that the hit team was reloading. Judging by the sound of footsteps they were getting closer as well. Perfect. Kaz took hold of her left wrist with her right hand, breathing heavily as she tried to steel herself. The first couple of second where always the worst but after that it was manageable. She could handle it. She twisted her wrist nearly 180 degrees, the metal hinges that allowed her to do so sending a signal to the injection system connected to her heart and brain. There was a brief chill, like her blood had been replaced with ice water, and she swore she could heart her heart pumping faster and faster. The synthetic coils of her muscles tensed up like snake waiting to strike. And in less than a second that brief moment of deadly calm was replaced by an explosion of black rage.
A roar ripped from Kaz's throat as she kicked the door off its hinges, the thing knocking one of the thugs to the ground. She was on the other two before they could even react. They weren't even human to her anymore, just fleshy targets that needed to be stomped or shot or crushed until they were unrecognizable piles of mush. The first victim she got her hands on hadn't even managed to finished loading his rifle, fumbling it incompetently as a gloved fist shattered his skull in a single blow. Kaz kept punching, two, three and four more hits raining down on his face within seconds, ruining any semblance he had of being a person. Kaz hated how they would try and trick her, how they would scream and gurgle incoherently for mercy through shattered teeth and torn lips. They were nothing but mulch and she would make them mulch, break them into pieces and scatter them!
With a grunt she she shifted her position and tossed the dying man at his friend who was still standing, using the distraction to close the distance and wrap her hands around his neck. There was no ultra-violent outburst this time, the hot blooded instinctual need for violence having died down to be replaced by a cold hatred of anything she got her hands on. The Jinrai were all killers, no different from the terrorists she had fought in Iraq and Afghanistan and Mexico and Columbia. She would treat these ones the same as she did all the others. A quick twist of her hands and his neck was cleanly broken, just like when she had killed chickens and rabbits for dinner on her grandmothers farm.
And then there was one. The final Jinrai managed to struggle to his feet, holding his ribs where the door had broken them. In his free hand was a knife, nothing fancy or high tech. Just 8 inches of sharpened steel that was perfect for tearing into soft flesh. He was holding it like an ice pick, lunging forward to stab down at Kaz. The attempt was swiftly blocked, the raging bear catching his hand and breaking every bone in it with a single squeeze. Before he even had time to scream Kaz slammed his head against the APV, denting the hood and stilling his movement.
The fight was over. She had won.
Kaz was covered in bits of glass and bone and flecked with blood, a look that was sadly not unfamiliar to her. The career soldier scooped up one of the empty rifles from the ground and snagged a magazine from the vest of the man who's neck she had broken, rushing towards the house to assist in the apprehension (or more likely the killing) of the suspect. She hadn't taken more than two steps when the building and the one next to it erupted into twin balls of dust and debris, whatever explosives that had just been set off unleashing a whirlwind of shrapnel. There was no time to admire the sight, Kaz's training and experience in the Middle East sending her toppling to the ground with her legs crossed and her ears covered. Bits of metal and wood rained down on her, piercing through her light armor and embedding themselves in her, each one a searing needle digging just under her skin. When the awful rain ended Kaz stood up on shaky legs and turned to look at the scene.
It was like she was back on patrol in Kabul. Car alarms blared over the dismal sound of the moans of the dying, mothers dragging themselves through the wreckage in a desperate final attempt to find their babies. Mere inches from her foot was a child's arm, coated white with plaster except for the end where it had been severed. The dark red blood leaking from it was a morbidly entrancing contrast to the dirty grey of the sidewalk, Kaz kicking it aside as she went to retrieve Takai. A couple of minutes ago none of this would have been a problem to her, but the combat drugs were wearing off, the haze of battle-fueled hatred giving way to tired revulsion.
Takai was only half buried, Kaz lifting away heaps of drywall and broken beams. She half expected everything below his waist to be gone but he was only missing a good chunk of his leg. Lucky him. Stripping off one of her gloves she checked his pulse.
Slow, but still there.
Kaz was no medic but she knew the basics. The wound needed to be disinfected and tied off, medics could take care of the rest. With a gentleness that didn't fit her imposing size or rough demeanor she scooped her comrade from the rubble and carried him off to the APV. The back had a first aid kit, enough antiseptic and bandages to keep the injury clean. Kaz did what she could, picking away debris and disinfecting the jagged gash before wrapping it in bandages. All there was left to do was call it in.
She tried to prepare herself for the call, tried to keep as calm as possible to preserve some semblance of professionalism. That was a failure from the beginning, Kaz screaming at the top of her lungs as soon as the channel was open.
"It is Bykov here, Takai is wounded and not responding. There was a trap, lots of collat-collater- colla, oh fuck it!" She switched into her native tongue, relying on the presence of someone who could speak English on the other side. "It's Kaz, the whole situation is absolutely fucked! Whatever son of a bitch gave you the intel on this shitshow in the Exclusion Zone is a fucking traitor, you walked us right into a goddamn ambush! The building was rigged to blow and I count at least four dead civilians and there's probably more. Get medics over here now damnit! And tell the fucking morons in Intelligence that I hope they all fucking choke to death!"
Was that childish and likely to damage her relationship with the team? Yes. Did she give a shit? Not in the least. Within ten minutes the medics had arrived, loading Takai into the field ambulance and covering the bodies. The news wasn't far behind, the vultures circling the carnage to try and get an explosive quote, a picture, a live feed for the world to see just how effective the brave and noble NSF was at combating the threat of the Jinrai.
Without saying a word Kaz packed up and started walking. She would make it back to base eventually.
---------
If there was one thing Daiyu hated it was people with overblown senses of self-worth and slaves to traditional forms of address. Well that was two things but it seemed Suicidal Seo fit the bill for both. She didn't break eye contact with him until he dead, listening quietly as he lived up to the stereotypes about Korean rage. "As you wish. Forgive me Kamenashi-san. I didn't mean to cause any offense, and I certainly didn't mean to imply you need any babying."
You uncontrollable incompetent idiot, you need someone to hold your hand as you cross the street to make sure you don't die trying to backflip over a speeding car.
The notion of training not killing him was almost laughable. Training shouldn't be lethal, but his idea of a good workout was catching a bullet in the back. "I'm almost always free in the morning. Perhaps we can cross swords tomorrow if you're available?"Seo would be an interesting one to face. He was undeniably talented, but also undeniably reckless and foolhardy. What was the point of fancy flips and twists when your enemy would be on solid ground? Daiyu would enjoy knocking him back to Earth.
She listen to Ashton cautiously, taking a sip of her tea as he apologized for his "unprofessional" (obnoxious brown-nosing) behavior and brought up Kazonkova. The half-Russian, half-American mercenary with the anger management issues, Daiyu had exchanged a few words with her but couldn't claim to know much more than her previous occupation. "Ms.Bykov, yes. A tragic story to be sure, but just how much research have you done? Has there been any similar cases to hers? If I recall correctly the system that caused it was a prototype that she later modified herself, so it's unlikely to find someone who's gone through the same thing. And how wouldn't part of her brain have to be removed and then replaced? Wouldn't that affect her memory or bodily functions adversely?"
Did Ashton really care about Kaz at all, or was this just a ploy to make himself look good? Either way, she'd play along for now.
"I apologize for all the questions Hyuga-kun but business tends to make people analytical and make inquries everything. If you'd permit me one more, do you have a rough estimate on the amount of money needed? You're asking three of the wealthiest people on the planet so I believe it's fair."
Chris seemed fun at least, genuinely taking an interest in Margo and not being an immediate stick in the mud. Sure he was disheveled and a little boorish but that was a million times better than stuffy and uptight. "I see a flatterer joins our ranks. Well never let it be said that I can't be swayed by compliments. I am Daiyu Li, but please call me Daiyu. Titles, ranks and honorifics make me feel old."
She tittered quietly, only to notice that Chelsea's tears. Without a word she produced a handkerchief from one of the inner pockets of her kimono, extending it to the bolt-on bimbo with a kind smile. "Do you need to take a moment Chelsea?"
@LetMeDoStuff @Letter Bee @MK2 @silvermist1116 @Landaus Five-One
