Smike

Spearhead: A modern/near future Special Forces RP (Closed to new applications)

Not finished, hopefully wrapping up over weekend

Arsala Khattak

Name: Arsala Khattak

Age: 43, DOB January 22, 1982

Gender: Female

Nationality: American, of Afghan origin

Primary Role: Marksman

Secondary Role: Human Intelligence

Appearance:
At 5'6", Arsala is relatively tall for a woman and very much so for a Pashtun but is still shorter than most of the men she meets. At 5'6", Arsala is relatively tall for a woman and very much so for a Pashtun but is still shorter than most of the men she meets. Her build isn’t overly muscular but well-suited to hiking, lean and toned with a surprising amount of strength behind it. She tends to eschew traditional tactical clothing for simple but rugged western wear, sturdy hiking boots and jeans with a business casual shirt. The prerequisite hat and aviators are of course a constant, as is the leather duty belt.

Bio: Arsala and her parents emigrated from war-torn Afghanistan when she was an infant to Austin, Texas, where she was encouraged to assimilate as best she could. Immersed in the local culture and speaking multiple languages at home, she would take an interest in hunting and basic Spanish skils which eventually matured into hobbies of long-distance shooting and general linguistics. She was something of a prodigy in the latter, demonstrating both great interest and aptitude for languages. By the time she left high school, she was both a champion sharpshooter and a full-on polyglot, speaking English, Pashto, French, Spanish, and Dari and deadset on learning more.

She went to college but dropped out her first year, enticed to Army service by the chance to fight for her home country as well as the promise of Uncle Sam paying for her education afterwards. Joining the 101st Airborne, she quickly demonstrated her ability to communicate with locals due to her knowledge of the language and often used to question and search women to avoid the issues that came with having foreign men do so. After her first tour, she requested she be transferred to the Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center, where she was both a student and an instructor. Picking up fluency in Russian, she began to reach out to pen pals around the world to ensure that her language skills stayed sharp. Her second tour in country saw her attached to Delta Force's G Squadron, taking part in intelligence gathering and special operations. While she was good at it, she wasn't entirely comfortable in the role and was growing tired of Army life. Once her active service ended she went into civilian law enforcement, first in the Los Angeles Police Department and then later transfering to the Texas Highway Patrol to be closer to her parents. Eventually she applied to become a Texas Ranger, receiving her silver star and working through the ranks.

Serving both in regular duties and on the Ranger Reconnaissance team. It was there that her belief in community outreach was solidified, growing to rely on local goodwill and willigness to speak to police to make her work easier. While lacking the traditional 'operator' status of her colleagues, Arsala's experience in HUMANIT and law enforcement as well as her language skills and ability with a rifle make her a solid choice for countering the Order of the Blessed Star. Although she wasn't forced to join Spearhead (indeed, she couldn't have been as the military doesn't have authority over her anymore) she is somewhat relucant to be back in an overtly combative role. One of the reasons she became a cop was knowing that she would only ever pull a trigger when things went wrong, so adjusting to active service will take some time. That said, she's reliable and will do what needs to be done.

Service History:

• Recruited while in college at 19: 2001
• Joined 101st Airborne Division "Screaming Eagles" and deployed to Afghanistan. Took part in Operation Anaconda as well as numerous patrols, distinguishes herself as capable of communicating with locals in stressful or combat situation: 2002-2003
• After first overseas deployment, goes to the Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center, studies Russian and assists in the instruction of Pashto and Dari: 2003-2004
• Second tour is spent as a translator and cultural liaison, in a role similar to the later Female Engagement Teams. Her knowledge of local languages and customs and her being a woman allowed her to interact with locals in ways male counterparts often could not.
• Female soldiers who spoke Pashto being a rarity, she was attached to Delta Force G Squadron. Worked with SOCCOM and CIA Special Activities Division in intelligence gathering and Advanced Force Operations. Earned the Meritorious Service Medal for her actions as well as a Purple Heart after being wounded by enemy fire: 2004-2005
• Finishes active duty component of service, enrolls in Individual Ready Reserve. Upon returning to the United States she settles in California and joins the Los Angeles Police Academy. Serves as a patrol officer, then a K9 handler: 2005-2011
• Returns to school to finish bachelors in Linguistics: 2006-2010
• Returns to Texas to be closer to ailing parents, transfers from LAPD to Texas Highway Patrol. Continuing to work as a dog handler, she shows initiative in community outreach efforts. Involved in a number of high-profile drug busts in rural West Texas and along the border: 2011-2014
• Earns a masters degree in Civic Engagement: 2012-2014
• Spends a year in the Democratic Republic of the Congo as part of an outreach program by American law enforcement and assists in the training of local officers. While there becomes proficient in Swahili: 2014-2015
• Upon returning, begins the highly competitive process of becoming a Texas Ranger. Receives her silver star and is granted jurisdiction over all of Texas: 2016
• Performs standard duties of Rangers, providing assistance to local law enforcement as well as investigating officer involved shootings. In addition, is part of the Ranger Reconnaissance Team. Covertly surveils the border and patrols areas where LEO presence is unfeasible. Again shows herself to be skilled in HUMANIT, displays a knack for interrogation and the cultivation of informants as well as relying on personal bonds forged with the community to open doors. Promotes through the ranks to Captain: 2016-2024
• Approached by Spearhead for Operation Godslayer, initially turned the offer before being informed of her planned role as HUMANIT in addition to Marksman: 2024

Primary Weapon:
To be selected from as mission parameters dictate

• Barrett MRAD:
  -Typically in .338 Lapua Magnum, can quickly be converted to other calibers if required.
  -Schmidt & Bender PM II 5-45x56 scope, with HISS-XLR clip-on thermal sight
  -26 inch barrel
  -Barrett AML338 suppressor

• Desert Tech HTI
  -.50 BMG
  -Vortex Golden Eagle HD 15-60x52 scope, HISS-XLR clip-on thermal sight
  -29 inch barrel
  -CGS Keres suppressor

• FN P90 Tactical LV
  -5.7×28mm
  -EOTech Exps2 Holographic Sight
  -10 inch barrel
  -GSL P90 suppressor
  -Inbuilt laser sight
  -Rail-mounted flashlight

Sidearm:

• Nighthawk Custom GRP Recon 1911
  -9mm Luger
  -5 inch barrel
  -Omega K suppressor
  -Rail-mounted flashlight
  -Double stack upgrade converting it from 8 to 17 round magazines

Other gear/weapons/equipment:

• IOTV style vest with SAAPI plates, in black.
• MOLLE II style rucksack, in black.
• AN/PSQ-42 night vision
• Zeiss Victory Rangefinder/Binoculars
• M50 gas mask
• Sordin Supreme MIL CC headset
• "Cinco Peso" badge, typically pinned to vest.
• Randall Made Bowie Knife
• IR strobe
• Encrypted cell phone and laptop with ballistics calculator
• Two M67 fragmentation grenades
• Two M84 stun grenades
• One AN/M14 thermite grenade
• TASER 10 electroshock weapon
• OC spray
• Lockpick set and pick gun
• Video borescope
• Two pairs of handcuffs
• Bundle of flexi-cuffs
• Rappelling Kit: Rope, descender, and climbing harness
• Hydration pouch
• Items for use in dealing with civilians. Khattak has access to a wide range of goods not all of which are carried on her, ranging from cash for bribes and damage payments to toys and candy for children to blankets, cooking oil and water purification tablets for handing out in areas with poor infrastructure.
• "Zaland'-Four year old Belgian Malinois, trained in detection as well as attack and sentry duties. Wears combined-threat body armor and goggles with attached camera so Arsala can see what he's doing. If required his harness can be clipped to Arsala's body so she can carry him.

Other useful information:

• Khattak has only two hobbies, splitting her free time between keeping up her shooting and practicing her various languages. Both are perishable skills, so if she's not with her family or work she's either at the range or engaging with foreign media.
• Besides her native English, Pashto, and Dari she speaks Spanish, French and Swahili with perfect or near-perfect fluency. She has a working knowledge of Russian and ASL, but she's admittedly rusty.
• Arsala is married and has two children, a four-year-old daughter and a twelve-year old son. They're one of the reasons she was reluctant to take part in Operation Godslayer.

Smike's Sheets

Pacific Enterprise Shipping

Often shortened to PacEn, this now defunct company was ostensibly a major air and sea freight carrier with some minor stakes in land-based shipping concerns in various countries. While it did do legitimate business, this was largely to keep itself solvent instead of generating profits. PacEn is considered to be a front corporation for elements of the Chinese Ministry of State Security, with many of its employees being assets or agents under the direct guidance of Beijing.

PacEn allowed for the transfers of personnel, money, equipment and arms to various parties around the world, the recipients ranging from quasi-legal paramilitaries to outright terror groups, anyone China wanted to support but needed to do so covertly. While it has since become defunct, the vast majority of the people involved with its espionage activities are unknown, and it’s considered highly likely that the operation has merely broken apart into smaller units to make itself less vulnerable to intrusion.

Ximena Huang states that she began her career in the MSS as part of PacEn, working to smuggle weapons and advisors to Naxalite-Maoist groups in India as well as arranging the transportation of material to various groups throughout the Pacific hemisphere. She was also deployed to the former Soviet Union for a time, working with local forces to track down WMDs and ship them back to China before they could fall into the hands of enemy agents.

The Company

The Company, sometimes referred to as Sam Gor ("The third brother", a reference to the gang's founder) began life as an alliance between Triad organizations to corner the drug market in the Asia-Pacific region, only to be interrupted by the Heavenfall. The immense destruction only temporarily halted their activities, and like many criminal organizations the Company took advantage of new state of the world to increase its own power. Using its drug profits to arm and expand, the Company defeated or simply subsumed a number of smaller gangs throughout Asia and the Americas, expanding both its territory and its ventures. In addition to narcotics, it deals in human trafficking and weapons, as well as black market energy production and simple piracy on both air and sea. It has a notable naval presence and commonly preys on shipping, stealing anything valuable before taking the crew to be held for ransom.

Zuhal al-Saqqaf, the chemical engineer and former romantic partner of ximena Huang, is currently in the Company's custody and is being forced to produce fuel for them, most of which is used by the Company's vessels while the remainder is sold off. It's thought that she had been dealing with them before her flight from New China and was simply taken prisoner when they realized that she was no longer able to find safety in the PRC.

Spearhead: A modern/near future Special Forces RP (Closed to new applications)

I’m here and gonna start working on a sheet tmw. Planning on going either Marksman or Point Man for the primary role and Human Intelligence for the secondary

@Smike

Locking in marksman

Spearhead: A modern/near future Special Forces RP (Closed to new applications)

I’m here and gonna start working on a sheet tmw. Planning on going either Marksman or Point Man for the primary role and Human Intelligence for the secondary

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

March 13th, 2014
Luqa, Malta, the Mediterranean

He just never shut up about the Russians did he? Out of five conversations Mykhalio had while Fuka had been listening, two had brought up Russia. Fuka could understand defending one's borders, but the Great Bear was far from the juggernaut that had spearheaded an invasion of the supposed 'graveyard of empires.' Wunderkind's fear struck the more measured pilot as simple paranoia, and his supposed patriotism smacked of performance to her partisan sensibilities. If things were indeed so bleak, the proverbial Huns breathing down the collective necks of this poor Eastern European Milan, why was he far afield with Shattered Steel instead of flying for his own country? Pilots were investments just the same as their planes, trained to the tune of millions of dollars and hundreds of hours across simulators and actual in-air time. Surely Myk, the good Cossack he was, would be be in an airbase back home waiting for the call to cockpit?

Nope. He was a mercenary like Fuka, sent here and there to squash problems unrelated to his nation's own, real or imagined. He was like many "patriots," happy to talk about duty but going off to do anything but that. As far as Fuka could tell, Myk was a decent kid but he ran his mouth a lot and was overwhelmingly naive, and that was all it took for her to write him off in the moment. It was mean-spirited of her, but Shattered didn't pay her to think pleasant thoughts or babysit boys not even out of college.

She sipped her soda as Scott explained the situation in more detail, glad that it wasn't a total clusterfuck. Whatever they were dealing with sounded too heavy-duty to be crushed by one strike mission, but a few thousand pounds of ordnance dropped on their surplus-helmeted heads would rattle them and hopefully take out their heaviest equipment. If not, then Shattered would repeat the operation and Peacenik would get to do what she did best.

"Understood."

Clown being out of action for the minute was concerning, but it also presented an opportunity. Less wings meant more weight for each pair to pull, and more opportunities to get into a fight instead of just being the eyes in the sky. Carbon fiber fingers drummed against Fuka's leg in silent recognition of the nicotine craving still plaguing her, the need to get up and do something steadily building.

Hell, withdrawal probably wasn't helping her give Mykhalio any leeway. She had woken up pissed and queasy, a telltale sign that she needed a smoke. Talking to her sister had offset any healing powers fresh air might have had, and now she was sitting there grumpy and growling.

In times like these, her subconscious reminded her that there was no one to stop her from grabbing a pack from the PX except for herself.

SPEARHEAD - A military, special forces RP in the almost modern-day

Hi hello it me

Smike's Sheets

Huang Redacted

Name: Born Ximena Huang, [REDACTED]
Callsign/Nickname: [REDACTED] Jefe, a play on how her name is pronounced.
Age: 41, born 1974
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Nationality: Sinomexicana by birth, functionally stateless.

Personality: Ximena's overarching demeanor is one of excess. She appreciates indulgences of all sorts, known for her love of cigars, coffee, and cognac. Thus far she's managed to avoid any major health concerns resulting from such consumption, something she attributes to a family history of smoking and drinking. She's a flirt and womanizer, prone to casual relationships or simple flings, as well as a high-rolling gambler. Much of her paychecks go to feeding the above habits, with some carefully squirreled away. Suave and confident in all things, she is self-assured, bordering on cocky, but genuinely quite competent and very aware of it. She expects perfection from herself in her work, and she often achieves it. This in turn inflates her ego.

[REDACTED]

While there is little doubt that Jefe is an ego-driven perfectionist with a number of vices, psychoanalysis suggests that this is a subconscious defense mechanism. [REDACTED] paranoid, and her anxiety is amplified due to her current status as a wanted traitor to the PRC and [REDACTED]. It is believed that [REDACTED], she's able to avoid confronting the simple fact that she's afraid.

Despite fleeing her home country, Huang is politically and emotionally loyal to China and its interests. She grew up in the late Cold War and came to disdain both the Soviet hegemony and NATO influence, seeing Russia and America as twin imperialists attempting to make the Third World their own. If she had her way, New China and the NCAA would break apart the N/UN and the megacorporations alike. That said, she is considered to be a reliable asset. Her self-preservation outweighs her political ideals, and she know that there is no reward for her if she were to try and defect again. She is stuck with Shattered Steel.

[REDACTED]

History: Ximena Huang was born in 1971 in Mexico City, during the height of the Sino-Soviet split. Her father was Chen Huang, an economist and businessman attached to the Chinese embassy to study Mexican trade and industry as part of early economic reforms predating the wider opening up. Her mother, Renata Torres was a local college student working in the embassy as an attache. Despite the difference in age (Renata was 25 at the time while Chen was approximately 45) the pair began a romantic relationship and quickly eloped, potentially due to Renata becoming pregnant.

The family moved back to China while Ximena was a toddler but she would end up splitting her time between there and Mexico, due to her father's work and the presence of family. She grew up intensely patriotic and very Third World, seeing Chinese opposition to both the Soviets and the Americans as an attitude other nonaligned nations should copy. With the implementation of Dengist reforms came an increase in the private sector of the Chinese economy, and Chen, with his business background and overseas contacts, was well-placed to benefit. Dealing mainly in real estate and stocks, he taught his daughter that the only way to survive and thrive was to be adaptable, getting onto and bailing from trends before anyone else. Ximena took to this lesson, and it likely impacted her outlook on life.

Despite her intense patriotism Huang was something of a problem child. Despite her intelligence she did merely okay in school and had a record of disciplinary issues, mainly disorderly conduct and underage drinking. Records suggest that she was suspected of affiliating with minor street gangs, but it appears as if she was never formally charged with such. Her father kept her out of any serious trouble, and despite her mediocre grades, she got into university, where she began to shine.

Ximena studied both in-country at Peking University, with an emphasis on finance and economics, as well as overseas at the National Autonomous University of Mexico where she was educated in Latin American studies. Her master's thesis was on the interplay of Chinese and LatAm economies and was well-received enough that an excerpt was published in the Journal of Latin American Studies. After graduating she went to work for her father, serving as his representative in Mexico and the southwestern United States.

With the advent of the Heavenfall and the destruction of the old way of doing things, China expands its espionage and counterintelligence activities greatly. The Ministry of State Security was given an increased budget and a free hand to organize itself as required, and its International Intelligence Burea, in particular, expanded and reorganized itself to face new challenges. The "Second Burea" began to recruit unorthodox agents with valuable skill sets, and Ximena was headhunted shortly after the impact. She was an analyst scrutinizing the activities of foreign companies for any impropriety, passing along her observations to investigators.

[REDACTED]

She instead sought out alternate opportunities to serve her country. At the time the MSS was collaborating with military intelligence to create a PMC for deniable operations, allowing the projection of force without risking open warfare. This PMC, Lucky Dog Defense, is ostensibly a publicly traded company taking on jobs for a variety of parties, but it was very much an arm of the Chinese state.

Similar to Shattered Steel in scope, Lucky Dog had an eclectic mix of personnel and equipment from different countries and eras, combining its varied inventory to perform operations on land, air, and sea. Ximena pushed to become a fighter pilot, a departure from her previous role. She managed to convince her superiors to allow the transfer [REDACTED]. That and her tendency to play fast and loose in office politics made someone above her happy to make her someone else’s problem.

She transferred out of her analyst role to Lucky Dog's fighter wing, doing well in training and given the opportunity to serve as a fighter pilot. Lucky Dog had bases around the world, but much of its manpower was fleet-based, giving it a reason to invest in carrier-born craft. That explains why they had access to the Navy Advanced Tactical Fighter (better known as the F22 'Sea Raptor') but now how. The best guess is that in the aftermath of the Heavenfall, rogue naval officers sold off their stocks to the highest bidder, but it's unclear. Regardless, Huang ended up flying a purpose-built air supremacy craft and found she had both the talent and inclination for dogfighting.

[REDACTED]

Three years into Ximena's time [REDACTED] she moved what cash she could to offshore accounts and dropped everything, including Zuhal. The week after the conversation she reported to work as usual and requested time in-air for maneuver training. Once airborne she simply veered off, using the Raptor's high speed and stealth capabilities to flee.

She defected to Shattered Steel after three years in Lucky Dog, and after the mandatory debriefing and background checks to ensure she wasn't a double agent, allowed to keep flying the same plane she stole.

Personal Gear:

• MGA SAW K in .300 Blackout, with attached laser, flashlight and suppressor. [REDACTED]
• Smith and Wesson Model 629 in .44 Magnum snubnosed, capable of being concealed in a specially enlarged jacket pocket. [REDACTED]
• Buck 102 Hunting Knife
• Ximena is a heavy drinker and smoker and so keeps a stash in her personal locker, both her preferred cognac and cigars, as well as cheap rotgut and cigarettes. Dice and cards are stored in the same place, if not on her person.

Personal Aircraft: Lockheed Martin F-22N "Sea Raptor"- Carrier-capable variant of the F-22 Raptor, largely the same as its progenitor save for the addition of variable-sweep wings and strengthened landing gear.



Aircraft modifications: A short, bulleted list of what has been altered or modified on your characters' plane

• Ukrainian-style sky camoflage
• Depiction of La Calavera Catrina alongside the nose.
• Modifications to the payload system allow the Raptor to equip a variety of Chinese and Soviet ordnance in addition to the standard N/UN munitions.
• Scorpion Helmet Mounted Display
• Updatedd avionics
• Upgraded Radar: AN/APG-81
• AN/AAQ-37 Distributed Aperture System

Anything Else: Completely optional, but if there's any other information you deem relevant to your character or wish to include, such as a particular song, quotes, additional art, or so on; please feel free to add it under the relevant headings.

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

March 13th, 2014
Luqa, Malta, the Mediterranean

She would do anything for her family, and as far as requests went, checking in every now and again was pretty doable. International calls weren't cheap, but it wasn't like Fuka did very much with her paychecks anyway. No, what made her hesitate was not money but pride. Every time she got in contact with her relatives the same infernal question would be asked, a landmine nestled beneath the peaceful path of conversation. And what made it particularly annoying was that they never meant to needle her, they simply did not know how much their inquiry offended her. Fuka had often thought about explaining herself but could never muster up the courage, resigned to bearing her weight in silence.

It was early as all hell in Malta, the sun just beginning its ascent over the little republic, but in Japan the day was well underway. Thus Fuka could ring up her sister without guilt, leaning up against an old church dedicated to a saint whose name she could not read. The signage was faded to the point of near illegibility, the provenance of the place known to the locals and uncared for by anyone else. Fuka's run had taken her to the town of Luqa, a scant half-hour away from the airport but seemingly transported from another time. Densely packed with buildings constructed by the grandfathers and great-grandfathers of those living in them, it was archetypally European in that way. So much history and yet so abandoned by modernity, a pocket dimension where people still lived in villages and relied on the tolling of church bells to mark time.

She was out of place in her running shoes and tracksuit, and the mechanical limb holding a high-grade satphone to her ear may as well have been artifacts from aliens.

The phone rang only once before someone picked up, a familiar voice filling her. It was Japan's Minister of Defense and the right-hand woman of the Prime Minister, the second most prominent voice in the JDSF and thus one of the most powerful people in the Pacific. Yōko was a born and bred war hawk, her long and successful career built off the back of military service and a vocal interest in making Japan not just a power player but the ultimate force in its sphere of influence. She was cunning, crafty, and at times domineering-, but Fuka still remembered her as the awkward teen she had watched grapple with high school romances and nightly curfews.

"Fuka! It's been a while."

"Yeah, I guess so. I didn't want to bother you; I know you've been busy."

"Not too busy for a phone call, or just a text."

Yōko laughed lightly as she said it, but her politician's mask didn't hold up under familial scrutiny. The lack of contact hurt her and Fuka didn't know how to apologize for it or even explain herself. So she didn't bother, the sisters letting the moment pass in favor of other topics.

"I got a call from another contractor, this one claimed they can deliver rifle optics for twenty percent less than what you pay now."

"Mhm. Sounds great...if I could believe it."

"I told them you'd say that, but they wanted me to come out to their factory and get the grand tour, see the setup so I could relay the good word."

"And how'd that go?"

"It didn't. I told them you had a secretary and it's not me."

More laughter from a hemisphere away, and this time it was genuine.

"Keep fielding calls for me and we might have to make it official."

At this point they might as well have. All sorts of suit-wearing strangers kept seeking Fuka out, ranging from slick Madison Avenue types representing this or that weapons firm to sweaty-faced, shabby-suited engineers looking for a trial run of their newest gadget. When every single member of your immediate family held influence in military or political affairs, plenty of suitors sought favors and friendship. Put in a good word for us with your father, ask your sister if she could listen to a proposal, hey doesn't your brother know people in the Ordinance Department, do you think you could drop our name to them?

No one ever wanted to talk to Fuka because of what Fuka did. She didn't get callers who wanted to grill her on her career path, no one ever sent emails inquiring if they could ask about the amazing journey from elite soldier to fighter pilot. Nope, she was just a stepping stone to the more important Astor-Nakanos. It was funny and irritating in equal measure, her wounded warrior status getting plenty of cred in bars and on dating apps but no love in the world her family occupied.

"But really," Yōko said dismissively, her shrug almost audible. "I'm not sure why they'd want to talk to me. The administration's hardly been the most interested in expanding our arsenal."

"Yeah, and everyone knows that won't be the case if you and Chieko get your way. They're saying you're looking at the PM position yourself."

"Oh my, I didn't realize I was speaking to the kingmaker. Tell me, Miss Backroom Dealer, who's saying that?"

Fuka snorted, watching an Egyptian goose hunt for crumbs on the church lawn.

"Mama and Papa, for starters. Your partner-in-crime Chieko for another, every pundit that mentions your name these days, and also anyone paying any fucking attention at all."

"...maybe I'm considering it."

Oh she was considering it alright, like the rooster considered whether or not to crow at the sun. Her boss was well-liked but considered to be too high-strung to keep the job for much longer, an assessment he seemed to agree with if the rumors were true. If he stepped down it was all but guaranteed that Yōko would be going to every Diet member she could reach to cajole them into giving her the okay, all while Chieko beat the war drums and Ayako would be off to the side in Arizona, waving a banner in support.

The question was whether Japan was ready for them.

"I guess you're going to have to campaign on a military platform, at this point no one would believe you if you said anything else was your main focus. That and the birthrate I suppose."

"Guilty as charged." the presumptive PM said, the pop of a beer top telling Fuka that her sister had gotten out of work for the day. "People know me and my credentials, and they know what I stand for."

An old-school warlord in the modern fashion, interested in strengthing Japan's position and undercutting anything that would threaten it. That's what Yōko was, and she was more popular now than she would have been twenty years ago.

"I mean, your odds are probably pretty good. You're not a shoe-in or anything, don't get a big head, but people like that kind of talk now. Fuck China, fuck their cronies; the Soviet Union doesn't exist anymore so maybe we can be friends with Russia so we have an ally that isn't a million miles away, expand the JSDF and put it to use offensively; it's a new age now."

"That's what I told Mama yesterday, but she's more conservative in her outlook. Hell, she was saying I'd be dead in the water because of the-"

"-nuke question, yeah. I mean, she's not entirely wrong is she? Asking Japan to jump into the proliferation pool seems a bit like asking an arson victim to buy lots of gasoline."

"It's more like asking someone who's been mugged to take up self-defense courses."

Yōko cut her off with an intensity that was uncharacteristic of her in private conversation but very reminiscent of when she held a press conference or stood at the podium. There was a dangerous sort of enthusiasm in her voice, a kind of controlled mania wherein she could acknowledge that someone disagreed with her but was sure she could make them see reason.

"Mama's from an older generation. Her brother was conscripted to fight in Manchuria, and she had a pen pal whose dad helped rebuild Hiroshima. In her time, the bomb was a no-go, totally verboten. But I don't know if you remember, a decade ago the sky fell on us and shattered everything. It's like you said, we're in a new age. People want security, and right now? We're not secure. The N/UN is a stopgap, and we need to be fearsome in our own right. We shouldn't have to ask for help from the Americans to deal with enemy planes poking at our airspace."

"Fuck me then, I guess." Fuka muttered, Yōko blithely ignoring the comment.

"-the enemy should be terrified of even accidentally crossing us. The people want security, and they want respect. This is how we get it."

Fuka pinched the phone between her head and shoulder, holding her hands up to the receiver so it could pick up a sarcastic round of applause.

"Is that the speech you'll give when you announce your candidacy? You practice it in the shower?"

"Ha ha, very droll. What about you? You have anything exciting in your life right now?"

There it was, the damnable question. Her parents and siblings, full or half-blooded, all asked her in various wordings and tones but it meant the same thing every time: Are you still pretending to be an action figure, or do you plan on settling down and stepping up in the world?

"I'm still flying planes. Now I just do it for a mercenary outfit."

"Right, Evan mentioned that. How's that compare to military life?"

"The pay is better, the gear is a mixed bag, the coworkers are a mix of laidback, greedy, and bloodthirsty. But overall, it's a lot of the same."

"Well, at least you adjusted easily."

"I guess I did."

"You deployed anywhere interesting?"

"I can't give you a location, obviously, but as far as deployment zones go this sure beats Juarez. It's a vacation spot usually."

"Lucky you!"

Lucky her indeed. Fuka eyed the early morning sun to estimate how much time she had before needing to leave, and mercifully it was almost none. If she hung up now she could make it back to the barracks with enough time to shower and grab breakfast before the meeting.

"Alright, I need to head out. Enjoy your evening."

"You too, and stay safe."
—----
Malta Defence Forces HQ
Luqa International Airport
Malta, The Mediterranean

Fuka sipped her soda as Scott gave the run-down, finding the situation about as bad as she had expected. Malta's defense forces remained a joke in the wake of the Heavenstrike, a few ragtag ceremonial troops with outdated weapons and absolutely no artillery or aircraft worth speaking of. The closest thing to a real country was fifty miles away by water, and it was too busy dealing with its own concerns to have a fulltime contigent guarding the archipelago. That meant that the ragtag pirates or terrorists or whatever they were had free reign save for Shattered Steel, mercenaries and renegades duking it out with the fate of the islands hanging in the balance.

It was a bad time to be Maltese, but people usually didn't hire mercenaries when things were going well.

Peacenik visibly slumped in her seat when Scott gave the bad news, rather dissapointed that she was going to be on babysitting duty while the others got to have fun. Shooting in self-defense and at high value targets marked out for her was fine, but if most of the flight was going to be recon she was going to be very bored. There was nothing she could do about it except hope that the mysterious bad guys were feeling ornery by the time she made it to them.

She noted Sokolov's entrance of empathy, glad to see that she wasn't the only one who showed up to the squad late for a briefing. Another Slavic on the team, and hopefully not a Russian. Myk was liable to do or say something stupid if so.

"Heartbreak, question: How long have the Italians known about this? It seems hard to believe that'd they just miss some airports and harbors being taken over, unless there was literally no contact between them and the mainland."

Dark Space - A Mecha-Focused Space Opera RP (RP Suspended)

HB-202
Hoyland Station

HB stood near the growing group (presumably their new comrades) but not in it, snippets of conversation noticed but not interacted with, distant squalls unrelated to the raging storm. They knew that this would have been a good time to start noting names and putting them to faces but did not do so, indulging in the frenetic rush of anxiety instead of the clinician approach Zealots were trained to approach missions with.

Lorei wasn't there. The Synth whose siren song in the form of a silent plea for space had dragged HB out of the criminal underworld and into the light was nowhere to be found. Why? Where was she? She was supposed to be in this unit, HB had only put their name on the transfer list after triple-checking it for hers. Had she backed out, or been reassigned? Had there been some accident, a collapsed engine or a bulkhead breach perhaps? It was possible that Lorei was no more, her already shattered mind erased from existence by laser fire or unfortunate disaster. It was unlikely, but it was possible. Oh so very possible.

Their mind seized upon their increased heart rate and morphed it, the drugs in their system instructing the body to take this negative feel and make something addictive out of it. The spike in adrenaline was as intoxicating as any hallucinogen, HB riding a wave of nervous energy that crested just as the VF's canopy opened.

HB saw her and stiffened, every muscle fiber tensing as if struck by lightning.

Her.

her-her-her-her-her-her-

It took everything they had to not sprint straight for the Beloved Synth, and it was a strain that could not have lasted. Each step Lorei took brought HB closer to giving in, to bound forth with a million questions and hoist her into a hug so tight it would dent her plating. Had the man in charge not shown up, they probably would've.

As it was they instead snapped towards the approaching Cerasian, but not before giving Lorei the briefest glance. Their eyes, a deep red and seemingly pupilless, crinkled as their lips curled into the ghost of a smile, HB trying to convey every emotion but only really showing one:

Relief.

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

March 12th, 2014
Women's Barracks, Shattered Steel HQ
Malta, The Mediterranean

Fuka had no idea what to think about Myk, the too-young and too-emotional little guy with the Russia-sized chip on his shoulder. The consideration of her spirit animal was interrupted by the sound of sobbing over the comms, the veteran unused to overt displays of emotion in the field and now very sure that she didn't like them.

So she shut her mouth for the moment and listened to the others jabber, watching Circus show off and pondering a question that seemed symbolic of her new career:

What kind of outfit is this?

She found normalcy in Malta for a moment, setting down her gear and grabbing a bunk like she had done so many times in so many bases. There had been a time in her life when she would get homesick, but that was long gone. Nowadays she felt weird if she stayed in one bed for too long! Always on the go, always on the move, flying her to do something for Shattered Steel and then flying back to the States to talk to the docs about her arm, back to Shattered Steel and then every once in a while onwards to Arizona or Japan to visit some relative or another.

The sense of not owning your living space became normal, and Fuka had grown accustomed to the sterile nature of barracks life.

Now that it was after hours she had changed from her work gear to sweatpants and an undershirt, lying in her bunk with her datapad charging nearby. She had just fallen into a catnap after skimming personnel files when emotion again invaded her sanctuary, the Valkyrie storming in like a typhoon crashing against the coast.

The crash of a fist against metal shattered Fuka's light doze, training and experience shaking her from Rest into Fight. She was reaching for her pistol before she was even really awake, and it was only once she registered Freyja as the intruder that she let it remain in her bag.

"Goddamn girl, are you okay?"

Fuka wasn't the only one disturbed; the other Steel women in the bunkhouse had heard and seen the commotion. Questions bubbled up in a variety of languages, and to top it off Wunderkind had to start spouting off at the door:

You're not allowed to get yourself bent out of shape till you save more lives than you've killed

So that was what this was about. Christ.

"Valk take a breath, please." She pleaded, padding for the door. "The rest of you mind your business."

And for the visitor at the door-

"Mykhailo, thanks for bringing food. Maybe don't announce people's business at the threshold like you're our town crier?"

Her voice was a low hiss so that only he could hear, her flesh and blood hand gesturing for the tray.

"And next time you need to get something over to this side, ask someone to take it. Do me a favor and don't show up to the women's barracks unannounced."

You met a lot of unrepentant horndogs in the military; it came with being surrounded by people barely in their twenties. Myk was very quickly exhausting her patience. Hitting on her in their first meeting was funny. Trying his luck with Freyja on the flight was immature. Taking it upon himself to bring Freyja her dinner while she just so happened to be in the women's quarters?

Tone deaf, perverted, take your pick.