Starlance

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

Boraro
Camp Hannula, 0500

---

Before landing, Ebrima donned his exosuit once again. No way he was carrying that thing, even if it was just into a truck parked nearby. He walked out of the plane, blissfully unaware of the Gurkha in the audience as he watched the minor shitshow unfold. He was missing a lot of context so he remained silent, but it sounded like both sides were talking crap, one making it seem as if Skye was somehow responsible for Rose, the other as if she was the second coming. What the fuck did he find himself in the middle of?

He was working with a very limited sample pool, but so far he’d seen little that would make him shed a tear over the command change. Saying ‘She’s like a sister to me.’ to Freya’s actual sister was… let’s chalk that and the blowout up to fatigue, benefit of the doubt and all. If anything, the new commander made a good impression straight out of the gate, directly to the point without unnecessary sauce. Sauce was good for morale at times, but this was not one such time. Say what needs to be said and let them settle in.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to say something to Athena. Something that probably would’ve earned him an enemy, if he could judge the woman by this brief interaction, but managed to stay his tongue. The eye roll, that was out of his control. But as Adam would later note, he just got there. Perhaps he could run with that little bit of goodwill and leverage it to mediate the next time people felt like arguing. Or perhaps not, Athena hardly seemed like someone who would care to differentiate. A voice of reason finally cut through the air, the Finn speaking sense and hurrying them along from the cold. Ebrima already liked him for that alone.

---

Camp Hannula, 0600

---

”And the blade too. I will not talk of it yet, but you should have a good story to tell, yes?”

Fuck…

Finding himself pitted against a Ghurka had been unexpected enough, but he’d considered working with one completely out of the realm of possibility given his usual line of work, so this was a complication he’d never given any thought to. ‘First time for everything.’ as they say. There would be no story, just a presenting of facts - being economical with the truth in some areas the Gurkha didn’t need to know - and then Ebrima would start barricading his door when he slept. Purna being an infiltrator did not help the Cameroonian’s peace of mind. He doubted there could be any set of circumstances under which a Gurkha would be okay with him keeping the knife. At the same time, he wasn’t giving it up while he was breathing. It was only fortunate that blade’s previous owner wore a helmet to battle and not a terai, because Ebrima would’ve stolen that too.

But for the time being he let it be, stowing away his equipment in the armory, cleaning the three weapons he had on him and finally hooking up the exosuit to charge before finding his room. Normally Ebrima would have eagerly gone out to explore the base after a shower and being released from the one on one with Adam, were it not for the arctic temperatures and the somewhat worrying presence of a certain small man on site. He may have been going a bit paranoid in the moment, but going outside and out of sight felt like painting a target on his back and making it easier to hide the body. In the end, necessity won. Refusing to live in what little he wore under the armor, Ebrima put the undersuit back on and headed out in search of the base’s equipment warehouse.

Some time and a bit of arguing with the Blue Sword quartermaster later, he made the trip back to the house with two sets of clothes, two pairs of boots, a winter jacket and a warm hat. Unloading the haul in his room, it was just about time to see about some proper food to get the taste of what they found aboard the plane out of his mouth.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Three, four, five… where did the next one go? She almost had it when someone grabbed her by the scruff and hauled her to her feet. Good thing Zey spoke before grabbing her, else she’d have probably gotten smacked on reflex. Not a good look on the performance review. ”Fucking… Attack dinosaurs, what is this, where did that even come from, I hate this.” She muttered half to herself, half in response to the Captain in a bizarre mix of English and Russian, still struggling with the magazine and loss of fine motor control. In the end it was the cheers of triumph that fully brought her back to reality.

Huh… So they could die. Good to know.

She finally slotted the armor piercing magazine into the weapon’s magazine well and peeled out from behind cover, only for the boat’s motor to get smacked by an arrow. Not like one would expect, but going sideways. Going back behind cover and looking around, it wasn’t the only one. Force magic. Magnetism? Steel arrowheads! Realizing what was happening and trusting whichever mage was responsible and hoping the locals didn’t have flint arrowheads for this occasion, blissfully unaware fo the soldiers’ plight or the two that got crushed, she steadied her weapon against the boat’s propulsion mechanism, took aim at the remaining beast and started firing, doing her fumbling best to hit the head reliably. It probably had a brain in the head, right?

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

Boraro
A400M, 1600 hours, Approaching Haneda airport

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”I haven’t known you long enough to tell.” He replied to Skye’s question about trust bluntly, suppressing a chuckle about apparently being trustworthy. Either Skye wasn’t aware of the list of criminals, rebels and illegitimate governments he’d worked for over the years long enough that it might as well be printed on toilet paper, or Raven was even less scrupulous than he thought. He liked the latter thought a lot more than the former, that would be some awkward explaining.

A great shadow blocked out the light, the American eclipse extending his hand toward him with a greeting. ”Ebrima Arendse. What did they feed you people growing up?” Ebrima shook Chuck’s hand, imagining the giants’ daily intake to have been around what he had to eat for three days, his hand getting absolutely lost in Chuck’s palm. It’s been a hot minute since anyone made him feel small. These giants, nope, he didn’t mind never having faced one, at all. The handshake over, he was left with the dilemma of someone who saw and wanted to pet a dog and someone who knew it was a military working dog, the most adorable lethal weapon ever used by mankind. To save your hand, or pet the dog and risk losing it? ”And I wouldn’t overstate my contributions. Skye just needed a chauffeur while she hogged all the fun with the turret.” He chuckled, anyone’s contributions paling compared to two walking tanks strolling into the middle of the fight like two raised middle fingers and beating the tar out of Artemis until their muscles tore. How do you beat that?

---

A400M, Leaving Haneda airport

---

Ebrima kept well away from the open rear ramp, the view tempting but fear of falling out being stronger. ”Maybe she forgot something down there?” He noted dryly when his brain processed what his eyes were telling it. The new team leader didn’t leave a strong first impression after weeping for the previous one and now the one person in the squad he did get to know at least a little bit had thrown herself out of the plane without sharing a plan and before agreeing on any counter-Rose recognition method. At least they could be reasonably sure that was the real Skye that had just yeeted herself out of the plane, Rose probably would’ve killed Vincent, crashed the plane, died along with them and resurrected somewhere else. Unfair advantage was one thing, but this was plain cheating.

With the whole team - well, sans Skye, for obvious reasons - gathered together in the back of the plane and Chuck making introductions following Skye’s stunt, he figured he might as well join. ”Since we’re all here and getting situated, I am Ebrima Arendse.” He went around for a round of handshakes with those he hasn’t met yet before looking between Oliver and Freya, ”A Nord fighting beside Freya herself. Must be a dream come true.” If as little time ago as yesterday you’d told Ebrima that Joakim’s weird obsession with pagan faiths would ever be useful to him, he’d ask when you’d hit your head.

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

Boraro - Japanese airspace

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Ebrima’s eyes were still at half mast when he collected his meal - MRE menu 14 ‘Mexican Rice and Bean Bowl‘ two months before its best buy date - and found a seat. Trying to alleviate Skye's confusion, he looked at his wrist, then rolled back his sleeve and only then realized he left his watch in a pouch on his armor with an annoyed sigh. ”I might need a cup of maddener to wake up. This thing has to be a well-kept secret, otherwise Mexico would’ve declared war over it.” He said, looking at his ration of stale beans and questionable rice with disdain before glancing at Freya, Tahlia and back to Skye again, ”But I’m good, all things considered.” He answered Skye's question. ”New blood comfortable? Doesn’t chafe?” The Cameroonian grinned.

Ebrima greeted the Kiwi with a wave of his spoon, quietly wondering how his fellow African had managed to stay awake and alert behind the yoke for that long. Clearly he has, they weren’t dead nor being escorted by JSDF fighters for not answering the ATC’s calls. ”That is hardly surprising.” He chimed in after Skye’s admission, ”Stolen identity is a once-in-a-few-lifetimes occurrence. A doppelganger like yours is unheard of. Nothing to lean on, you’re writing the handbook so to speak. No shame in taking time to think things through, a rushed plan can do more harm than no plan at all.” If they had a bad plan, they were acting on it, potentially making mistakes. If they had no plan, they were staying put. Plus the high-level thinking was being done, well, on higher levels. Beyond elite they may have been, but they were still grunts. It might actually be beneficial to leave Skye out of planning. If she could think of it, why couldn’t her clone or whatever Rose was? Good thing it could also work the other way. ”If you are not compromised and you and your double think the same way, killing you would do more harm than good. Preventing further confusion could be as simple as a challenge and countersign. Something she cannot infer, and changed frequently. And no more biometrics for you.”

He accepted the bottle more for the gesture than thirst, returning it wiped with one hand while offering the other, introducing himself properly. He didn't laugh at the joke, and for a moment the tired cheerfulness in the pale African’s eyes was replaced with unfiltered hatred, not directed at anyone present but still easily noticeable. That comment about magic rituals and sacrificing body parts hit close to home. Too close. ”I understood until around ‘...tattoos are from…’.” Japan wasn’t the only place he knew next to nothing about, ”It’s a lot of effort Artemis took from you.” He could relate. For almost the past year, he’d been putting away savings and paving the way to setting up his own small, permanent merc outfit before Mossad threw a whole bag full of wrenches into that plan.
”What are you going to do about it?”

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

Boraro - Airbus A400M, somewhere above way too much water

---

So, Japan. That was a new destination for Ebrima. He didn’t choose the life he lived, hated it for a long time before learning to embrace it, which made it that much ironic that whereas ordinarily he would’ve lived and died in a corrugated metal shack in Southern Cameroon, the mercenary life took him around the entire world - from Cameroon through Nigeria, Mali, Sudan, Somalia, Burma, Thailand, Mexico, Colombia and more. But Japan was a country far too stable for his career to lead him there, so far removed from any conflict that didn’t have anything to do with North Korean submarines that he didn’t know a single thing about it. Well, except for Enri Uemura, Avital’s cyber security expert. A woman who bowed when she greeted people, was guaranteed to be the smartest person in the room - as she never passed up the chance to remind people - ate fish raw for some reason and left this world way too soon in a Los Zetas roadside ambush less than two months ago. In a way he was looking forward to visiting it despite the circumstances, chiefly because it’d be the last stop before a place he knew equally little about. Finland. It was cold, it was dark for months at a time and people spoke in tongue breakers. He hated the place already, its sole redeeming quality the rally stages and giving birth to the likes of Mika Häkkinen and Mikko Hirvonen. Not Valtteri Bottas, we don’t talk about him.

So, Japan: The last stop where he could grab some warm clothes. Because boy, would he need them.

But Artemis had made a critical mistake, although it didn’t look like it at the time, but they turned a professional reason to fight into a personal one for the team. Few things pissed people off more than violating their home. As for him, well, he had been looking forward to living in New Zealand for a little while. But right now, they needed rest so unless anyone was feeling chatty, he’d snoop about the plane for a little bit, and after finding out that there was no way to hook the exosuit up to the plane’s power outlets to recharge it along the way, Ebrima sat down in a corner of the cargo bay and untangled himself from the struts and armored plates - still a bit of trial and error on his part - and went to find a place to lie down. Sleep while you can. As the past few hours have proven, you never know when or where you might be able to do so next.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Repeating the previous maneuver two more times, she managed to empty the first magazine before the attackers called it quits, or at least switched up their tactics. ”That’s right! Run, fuckers, shoo!” That line of thinking didn’t last long, however. Nice of them to signal a change of intentions with a horn, but the Humans hardly could have prepared for what was coming. If someone had seen the Jurrasic Park, maybe, but Vigdis never was a fan of the antiques. The sound quality was awful.

Vigdis peeked up over the wall. Nope! She only caught a glimpse of what was coming before she sprung to action, driven by no conscious thought, just autopilot in full self-preservation mode. There was a lot of shit she didn't sign up for going on, but becoming paste or worm monster chow was where she drew the line. Vigdis repositioned as quickly as her foot allowed, putting the heaviest and sturdiest thing available - the ship’s propulsion mechanism - between herself and the nearest creature. Some might’ve thought of it as a calculated maneuver, but Zey and even Nellara would’ve recognized panic for what it was. Especially when Vigdis dropped a magazine as she tried to reload her weapon and spilled the armor-piercing darts everywhere, cursing loudly as she tried to gather them back up and repack the magazine.

Now would’ve been about the right time for grenades, thrown or launched, but nobody thought that was needed. Maybe the Yanks were onto something, peace through superior firepower and whatnot.

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

Boraro - D'Urville Island

---

Good thing they stole the six wheeled version of the Cougar, the heavies would’ve had a tough time squeezing in the back of the short four wheeler. Stepping on the accelerator, the added weight confused the automatic transmission a bit, shifting too early and lugging the engine, the hunk of American steel and aluminum persisting through stubborn determination and the turbocharger working overtime to provide enough air for the amount of fuel being injected. Inertia worked both ways however, and once the MRAP got moving it’d be as hard for Artemis to stop it as it was to get moving. Once they broke contact, Ebrima killed the lights, relying solely on his NODs to navigate. They'd still be about as inconspicuous as one of those inflatable advertisements that looked like a stickman flailing his arms on thermals, but between the darkness and the rain they were pretty much invisible to the naked eye. Frankly, they were still four people in an MRAP and not aerosol hovering around a crater due to several factors out of their control: chaos with a lowercase ‘c’, Chaos with an uppercase ‘C’, shit Russian optics on the surviving Havoks and luck.

That was when the report came, callsign ‘Boomer’ warning them that Artemis knew of their evac boat. Unacceptable, he wasn’t swimming all the way to Wellington, even if the suit probably made it possible. At the same time, the radio set up for use by the front seat passenger was in easy reach, allowing them to listen in. Obviously Artemis knew an MRAP had been tactically acquired, but with the amount of teams out of contact they couldn’t exactly tell which once they lost visual contact. Crossing the island wasn’t a particularly comfortable affair at the speeds they were going, but time was not on their side and Artemis brought enough to occupy a small city. Since they leveled the house instead of clearing it, practically nothing was stopping them from making a beeline for the dock.

Approaching the dock, he spied the sight of a familiar Land Rover Discovery parked nearby. Good to know at least those two had made it, but by now Artemis had wisened up to the fact the squad they sent to destroy the boat went silent and the missiles had likewise been intercepted and were hustling over. ”Chaos should check the sea. They had a submarine, a gunboat catching us once we sail doesn’t seem far fetched.” Ebrima called over his shoulder, parking the Cougar about 50 meters away from the boat and getting out to take cover, expecting trouble.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Marit quickly turned Archie’s torso downward, trying to shield the cockpit as best as she could. ”Ow. Ow...” She complained to the warm air in Archie’s cockpit over the din of missiles raining down around her, more annoyed than worried, at least so far. The clown and his voodoo man needed a damn calculator if they thought that was enough to reduce her out of the problem. ”OW, fuck!” She cried out as ten missiles slammed down into Archie’s right torso at the same time, her helmet bag tearing free of where it was secured and a metal buckle smacked her across the shin. She started backing up, checking the rear-mounted camera display in her helmet to make sure she didn’t step into a pile of burning wreckage or slip on the greasy stain that used to be an aerojock. She wasn’t running, she was advancing backwards to a more advantageous position! Damn Hunchback was too close. Turning Archie’s torso to the right as she went, she got an easy lock on the fleeing MechBuster, its thrusters turned toward her, and sent ten missiles its way, not lingering to watch and turning back to the BattleMechs.

And BattleMech things were indeed happening. Tank things, too. She could vividly imagine the grins and jeering inside the Von Luckner as a round from it knocked the Hunchback off its feet. To his credit, the Crimson Fists MechWarrior started moving almost immediately. Shame, be nice if he broke his neck and left the ‘Mech intact. Almost simultaneously, the Panther decided to change careers and become a roman candle. She couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the guy, knowing what’s coming and being powerless to do anything about it. Sod that, just send an AC/20 round through her cockpit without a warning, literally fighting until the last breath. Behind the Crimson Fists, the unmistakable form of a Marauder appeared. They were about to eat shit.

Speaking of, Hunchback. No TAG on this one, but that hardly mattered given his horizontal position. 25 missiles arced over Ingrid, about half of them peppering the prone Hunchback. Not great, not terrible
<Ammunition: 75%.>
Plenty of canned hate left in the racks according to Betty and still almost ten tons of armor left. From where she was sitting, things were starting to look gloomy for the Fists, still getting outgunned in support vehicles despite reinforcements and now outnumbered two to one on BattleMechs. Almost two to one if one counted the Ostroc and Raven as half ‘Mechs in their current state. Checking the sky to her right where she hoped to see a plume of black smoke and falling debris, she was greeted by the disappointing sight of a disturbed cloud of chaff and flares and a MechBuster shrinking in the distance. ”Yeah right. Run, coward...” She muttered under her breath as she tried to police the loose bag with her left hand, knowing that wasn’t the case.

Rise of Rasalhague

The thermals were utterly useless for navigation, as with everything outside being the same freezing temperature they turned his view into a uniform gray canvas. Karel kept to the right flank of the formation, using his ‘Mechs’s speed to keep pace while moving in an irregular zig-zag pattern, hopefully making himself a harder target to hit and letting him see a wider area despite the worsening conditions. He kept an eye on the sensor pings marking the other enemy lance as they moved up, but nothing happened as they approached the enemy base until they were right on top of it.

It was a strange thing of beauty, the wake left by the autocannon shell in the thin atmosphere visible in the snowfall. Not the Hunchback, that thing was everything but beautiful, especially ‘terrifying’ and ‘a fucking problem’. Karel leaned against the throttle as he ran parallel to the Hunchback’s charge, giving it enough space to be able to adjust if it decided to come after him and using the speed and nimbleness of the Mad Goose to safely ignore the VTOLs. All he had to do was command the ‘Mech to slightly lean to the side via his neurohelmet and that was enough to turn a few degrees, like riding a motorbike. The jumpers would be given no such quarter. They were far too big a threat by virtue of being hard to scrape off once latched on and he had a small laser and, by god, he was gonna use it. He managed to clear out half a squad worth of them, not wanting to even think about what fresh Hell Remy was probably putting the crunchies through, before reaching his turning point, making a hard left 90 degree turn and keying his mic. ”Hold fire, crossing over.” He warned his lancemates, turning his torso to the left and raking the back of the Hunchback with his three medium lasers and quickly getting clear to allow the others to resume firing.

He didn’t know what exactly he stepped on, must’ve been a flatbed buried under the snow or something of the sort, all Karel knew was that his ‘Mech had suddenly jerked up, just barely missing the intended target and forcing Karel to move the reticle down toward the ground to avoid hitting a friendly. He could hit a jump trooper but not a fucking BattleMech, seriously? Couldn’t these peasants keep their base properly maintained? Swearing up a storm to rival the one outside the ‘Mech, he turned 90 degrees right again and sought shelter behind the building with the ‘Mech Bays, hoping the Hunchback wouldn’t have the time or the intent to turn around and take a shot at him as an AC/20 hit anywhere on him would take out a part of the Mongoose, including the center torso.

Rolls

3x Medium Laser, HBK-4G: Miss

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

Boraro - D'Urville Island

---

“...and you shouldn’t have to worry about it too much, I’ve seen it get run over by an MRAP. You’ll break the launcher before the FCS module.” The bespectacled boffin finished, notably more relaxed now that Ebrima had put his helmet on. Before that, he kept staring at his pale face and Ebrima had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing, aware he had that effect on some people and not about to grow tired of it anytime soon. The tube attached on top of the scope indeed looked sturdy, the Cameroonian merc giving it a good whack with his fist to verify the claim. To his credit, the engineer just winced without any protests. Loading a magazine of frags into the M25, Ebrima had to admit it was a useful gizmo: The grenade’s flight path was projected on his HUD as a white line, ending in two translucent, concentric spheres indicating the kill radii of pressure and shrapnel, updating in real time to reflect the airburst settings. Shouldering the launcher, he picked out a target, sending a round down the valley and obliterating two dummies behind a low wall with an echoing, rumbling boom.

…that wasn’t the grenade…

Turning to face North, the trio of men watched in various levels of disbelief as a cloud of dust and smoke rose above the hill. Soon after, the roar of jet engines cut through the wind and rain. Alright, let’s unpack this: An explosion in the base’s general area and a fast mover. Ebrima wasn’t officially on the active roster yet, so he didn’t have access to the squad’s comms and the two eggheads busied themselves explaining the toys to him and neglected to monitor the radio in their Discovery parked a few dozen paces away. Ebrima tried the link to the squad’s leader he’d been given, but that line was dead. Hopefully just the line, not its other participant. The first piece of useful information came from the Land Rover’s radio, a looping message for the staff to evacuate. ”Do you know where the evacuation point is?” He asked.
“Yeah.” The first engineer nodded, his skin tone now closer to Ebrima’s than a minute ago.
’Good, because I don’t.’ He thought as he threw out the remaining blank mags from his pouches and replaced them with live ones from the Land Rover’s trunk, ”Then go. Keep your lights off and don’t stop until you’re there.” He handed his spare NODs to the engineer, leaving it to him to figure out how to use them without a helmet to mount them onto. They had duct tape in the car, they’d manage.
“And where are you going?!” The other boffin asked.
Ebrima simply pointed in the explosion’s direction before taking off.

Running with an exosuit was a strange sensation: Faster than ordinarily possible, with less than half the effort. With a long gun and a grenade launcher on his back. It allowed him to reach the top of the hill and get a good view of ‘the house’ just in time for the second JDAM strike. Those fuckers just destroyed his model collection… Deep breath. Fuck it, violence is the only language these people would understand. Ebrima started running again, downhill actually being harder than up to avoid busting his ass, more sounds becoming clear as he got closer. Gunfire, explosions… helicopters? He didn’t have much time to ponder what on Earth was happening as he came upon an eight man infantry team bearing markings he didn’t recognize as friendly. But why were they marked as friendly on his HUD? Safely hidden from view by foliage, he turned his attention to the suit’s controls on his left arm, navigating through a couple menus to confirm the suit was still set to training mode. Disabling it with an annoyed grunt, the green tags over the infantrymen turned red. Unloading the M25, he swapped from frags to thermobaric shells, firing one at each end of the staggered column while picking up speed, their blast areas overlapping in the middle. He didn’t have to stop to mop up.

Approaching the base from the direction of support personnel housing, there wasn’t much going on. Good, that likely meant that the support staff had evacuated already, less people to worry about. Now just follow the gunfire-

BANG!

…or an explosion not fifty meters away, that works too. With the Origin in his hands, he cleared the fence around the compound in a single jump pack-assisted bound, hitting the ground running. Yeah, he could get used to this. Rounding a corner, he was somewhat surprised to see the backs of two infantrymen and one exo operative, the latter turning to face him as he spoke. “The bitch went that way! Ramirez, take the rest of the squad and follow, I’ll circle-”

The exosuited man’s commands were cut short by a series of seven impacts against his armor. Ebrima didn’t have high hopes of the flechettes making a dent in the exosuit, having not had the time to swap magazines, but it ought to keep him off balance long enough to deal with the rest. The infantryman farthest away was brought down by two shots, the tiny steel darts tearing flesh and snapping bone wherever they found a piece of him not sufficiently protected. The other infantryman reacted quickly, actually having fired before realizing he found himself between a rock and a hard place. Two sections of chest armor turned yellow on Ebrima’s HUD, warning him that there’d be bruises tomorrow, and although he definitely felt it even without that, at that point there was no stopping the charging Cameroonian’s momentum. The infantryman got squished between the wall and Ebrima with a wet crunch, probably the sternum, and got finished with a kick to the head as he slid down the wall, the exosuit making quick work of the helmet and the head inside it.

He’d already been raising his weapon partway through the kick, just in time to hit the enemy exo picking himself up. It gave him enough time to drop the shotgun and draw his knife - well, on involuntary long-term loan from the Nepali government - and charge. The other guy refused to go gentle into that good night, using his exosuit to stand up and kick in the same stroke, a knee to the damaged plates definitely felt, in turn allowing the Artemis exo to draw his own knife. His combat knife may have been about half the size of Ebrima’s kukri, but what mattered wasn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. He clearly knew what he was doing, his first strike aimed at Ebrima’s throat to feint followed up by an upwards thrust to the armpit, trying to get at the brachial artery. With a puff of his jump pack, Ebrima got his arm clear and his knee into the Artemis exo’s chin, hacking halfway through his right wrist on the way down and finishing the job with a draw cut. The sounds the exo operative made as his hand was held in place by nothing but the exosuit were not pleasant, but fortunately only lasted as long as it took Ebrima to load a magazine of slugs to put the bastard out of his misery.

Reasoning that following the Raven operative directly was a good way to get shot, Ebrima took a page from the dead exo’s book, vaulting the fence and taking a wide arc around the forest, following the chatter of a lone machine gun until he spotted a figure. A tartan-patterned exosuit, that could’ve only been one person. ”Queen! Friendly, eight o’clock.” he called out, standing out in the open between two trees with his weapon pointed down to look as unthreatening as possible. ”I would appreciate full team comms. Couldn’t raise you.” He said, pointing to his ear. He’d love to say he was fashionably late to the fight, but he was just late. At least now that he found the team leader of all people, he could stop running around like a headless chicken.