Science Fiction Halo Today: Counter Strike.

GMs: Deiskrad and Vangarian

Ramza Edit: Unlocked upon GM request, with intent to supply missing details.

 

Supreme Commander of The Joyous Fleet of Purification, Brtak Hadaspree brooded over the reports. On every front the Heathen Monkeys had proved more tenacious and cunning as time progressed. Truly they had the Spirit of the Forerunners in them...somehow. Now with reports of treason and abandonment of his lessor troops, Br'tak was in no mood to mince words with the Prophet of Hope...and yet that seated toad summoned him for the simple pleasure of watching him squirm under his baleful stare and searing acidic ridicule. He was one insult away from simply blowing the Prophet's head off himself...

It has been, roughly five years since the last chapter of Halo: Today.

Much has been fought over. New discoveries by the human inhabitants have been made. Further exploration of the Antarctic Forerunner facility has been accomplished. With these the human defenders have acquired new weapons at an accelerated rate.

Never the less, the Prophet of Hope is still out to acquire the last piece of the puzzle that will lead him on to the Great Journey. It's up to humanity to stop him and his Fleet from obtaining their objective. A map of the entire Forerunner Empire so that they may find the dreaded Halo Array and the deadly results that activating it will bring.

Welcome to Halo Today: Counter Strike.

The Rules are fairly simple:

1). Please keep a civil tongue when posting and quoting your PCs

2). If naughty words are required for realism they must be marked out in this manner Example: *******.

3). Please! No God moding. Example mere human performs God like feats of strength, agility or speed, etc. Under very special condition this may be allowed. Mjolner Armor.

4). PCs must be within human norms. Example:
No taller than 6' 3". No more than Aprox. 235 Lbs. If Deiskrad and myself release this later then we will see. Example: volunteers for upgrade.

5). For now, CSs will include:

Name:

Rank/Rating:

Age:

Specialty/Major Operational Ability or Skill (MOA/S)

Time in Service: Years. (Months if under 1 year.)

Assigned unit: 101st Airborne Division, US ARMY.

Location of PCs action: Be it ship land or air. Yes even space at the time.

 

Addendum for PCs CS:

Bench Press: Lbs.

Equipment:

Weapons:

Biography: one paragraph is sufficient.

 

One more thing that was forgotten:

Please minimize the OCCs.

Last but not least please enjoy the Forum.

 

GM APPROVED:

Name: Kelsey Conrad Russell

Age: 39

Service: United States Air Force.

MOS: Pilot CV-22B Osprey. Commanding 8th S.O.S. Blackbirds.

Rank: O4/Major.

Weapon(s): FN P90, Berreta 9mm semi-automatic Pistol.

BIO: Born and raised in Kansas City, Missouri, Kelsey wanted to learn how to fly from age six. His Father was one of the few pilots who flew Puffs and Specters on missions against transport trucks used to haul supplies down the Ho Chi Ming trail to South Vietnam for the Viet Cong. Kelsey enlisted just in time for Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm. He saw his first action in Iraq. Later he was involved in the Osprey evaluations for use by the Air Force and thought it had great potential as the perfect replacement for the helicopter. He later transfered to the then newly organized 8th S.O.S. Blackbirds and has seen an assortment of different special Operations Forces. He currently is in command of 8th S.O.S. during all missions out of Hulbert Field, in the Florida Pan Handle. The 8th S.O.S. is currently involved with supply runs to military Forces operating in Indiana against Invading Covenant Forces and also the insertion of Special Forces behind enemy lines in Indiana.

Next PC:

Name: Jerry Vincent Connecky.

Age: 25 years.

Service: United States Marine Corp.

MOS: Pilot/Co Pilot MV-22B Osprey. Second in Command of VMM-268 Valkry Squadron.

Rank: O3/Flight Captain.

Weapons: MK-417 100 rnd snail magazines. Barreta 9mm semi-automatic pistol.

BIO: Born in Miniapolis, Minnesota on Febuary 28th, 1984 Jerry thought his dad was the greatest man alive. His father served in the Marine Corp. after the end of the Vietnam era. His father never came back from the first Persian Gulf War. Jerry wanted to do something with his life that would make a difference and so chose to follow his father's footsteps into the Marine Corp. recruiter's office. He qualified for piloting and chose the Osprey. He never regreted his choice. Now he faces a new challenge as his former commanding officer has been gravely injured in an attack by the Covenant. Now he must command the Valkrys and rebuild a Squadron that has been devistated with the lose of fellow Marines who gave their lives in service to their country.

 

Name: Todd Stephon Michaelson

Age: 40

Branch of Service: USMC

MOS: Pilot, Airborn Recon Special Assignments and Operations.

Rank: Major

Weapons: Personal Weapon
HK-417 Recce Model w. 16" Barrel 7.62mm x 51mm High Capacity Snail Ammo Magazine.
Includes under barrel mounted 40mm grenade launcher capable of launching MEI
Mercury Grenades.

Side Arm
Para Ordinance P-14 45 Cal. RR based on Colt 1911 model with 15rnd magazine x 8.

Osprey Ramp Gun
Dillan M-134D Mini Gun 5.56mm x 45mm.

Defensive Armor Dragon Scale II*

Bio: Born June 30th, 1968. Todd was not your usual child. Always seeking why things
were the way they were, he was an odd mixture of energy and curiousity. Then came
the day his uncle showed him a rare cover of Life Magazine's April 19th 1954 issue.
It was an unauthorized photo cover of Operation Bravo. The second and last Hydrogen
Bomb detonated by the DoD. He marveled at the H-bomb's darkened region in the center
of the blast with white spots. Reading over and over the official quote of the
scientists about the photo, but never quite accepted what it claimed. It wasn't
until in his teenage years that he knew why. At 18 he joined the Marines and aced
their exams for technical aptitude and engineering. Todd, however wasn't content
with this. On his 25th birthday he saw his first UFO while on leave. From then on
he knew that everything he'd been taught about physics was in question. Having heard
how others were treated, who reported their sightings, Todd just kept his mouth
shut. Time passed and he started taking classes in advanced mathimatics. This and
Todd also investigated the secrets of Maxwell's 200 some odd quarternian mathimatical
equations in electrodynamics. These were the originals that Maxwell had made before
Oliver Heaviside simplified them before and dumped the scalar values from the
equations. He knew then WHY! Why the UFO he'd seen had levitated, how energy was
accessible from the environment surrounding matter. After submitting his findings
in his thesis, Todd earned his second Doctorate. This one in Electrodynamics.

Post Graduate Degrees: Doctorate in Electrodynamics.
Doctorate in Maechanical Engineering.
Masters in Combat Strategy & Tactics

Name: Anthony Ramone Estiphon.

Age: 30.

Service Branch: US Navy

MOS: SOCOM Seal, Assigned to DEVGRU/ST-6.

Rank: Lt. Cmdr. In command of two platoons from DEVGRU.

Weapons: Personal HK-417 20" barrel "Sniper" model 7.62mm x 51mm w. Night Sight/Infrared
scope. High capacity snail magazine plus 30rnd x 8 backup magazines. Also 8
grenades.

Personal Side Arm SOCOM HK Mark 23 Mod. 0 45 ACP w. under mounted Infra-red
laser sight working in conjunction with Inra-red night vision goggles when
needed.

Knife Navy Combat Knife.

DEVGRU unit's Weapons: Let's put it this way! Lots!!!

Defensive Armor: Dragon Scales II*

*Note concerning Dragon Scale
Body Armor:
Plasma Pistols/ Up to two shots limited protection; though
wearer will still be incapacitated.

Plasma Rifles/ One shot will crater the Body Armor but save
wearer's life, though wearer will be incapacitated.

 

Tag Deiskrad, any body care to send us your CSs and we'll review them.

 

CS Sheet Approved

Name: Vincent Irvine Valunza

Age:27

Branch of Service: United States Army

Unit: ODA 5116 (War Dogs), A CO, 1st Battalion, 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne)

MOS:18A, Special Forces Officer

Rank:Captain

Weapons: M4 w/ACOG, PEQ-15 Laser, M320 grenade undertachment and silencer. Maintains access to JSOC/USASOC Armory. Favors a 1911 .45 as a sidearm.

Personal Bio:
The oldest son born to Major Generals Michael Wharton Valunza Sr. and Victoria Anne Valunza, the profession of arms was in his blood from early on. Quiet, honest and immensely dedicated to his education as a youth and entered West Point, graduating second in his class four years later. Vincent served as a rifle platoon leader and company executive Officer with the 2-505th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 3rd Combat team, 82nd Airborne division for three years. He enjoyed his time with '2Panther' and after two deployments he was promoted to Captain, soon after coming down on orders to serve as a Company commander for the 173rd Airborne Brigade in Vinzna, Italy. Wishing to avoid leaving the states Vincent put in a request for SF selection and Assessment and after being selected entered the 'Q course' Pipeline. Graduating three years later and now serving as ODA 5116 Commander , War Dogs.

Graduate of SFQC, Ranger School, FreeFall school, US Army advanced Airborne School and Air Assault School. Wears either an 82nd or 173rd Combat insignia.


Name:Michael Wharton Valunza Jr.

Age: 19

Branch of Service: United States Army

Unit: D Troop, 5th Squadron, 73rd Calvary Regiment (Recon), 3rd Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division

MOS:11B, Infantry

Rank: Private First Class

Weapons: M249 SAW

Personal Bio: The baby boy of the Valunza military family, responsibility and dedication were two things Michael had no interest in. Girls, heavy metal and sports laid at the forefront of his mind so there was no need to apply himself out of any other realm. Far from stupid, if only lazy he barely escaped high school thanks to his All-American football status, attending Texas on a full ride scholarship as a middle linebacker. All that changed when he was caught with underage drinking and driving on the way back from the BCS National Championship game victory. The university withdrew his scholarship and kicked him out of the university and he was sentenced by the courts to 1000 hours of community service. With no money and very little options he enlisted in the US Army as infantryman with an Option 40 Ranger. Michael graduated Airborne school and Ranger school successfully. Sadly, unable to leave his party animal habits behind he was caught underage drinking on a four day weekend while waiting to start RIP and was sent to 5-73 Cav (recon) of the 82nd Airborne, never allowed to return again.

 

I will have an introductory post later today. It will just cover the basics. The tone and filling in some of the blanks of the last 2 1/2 years will be done over the course of the first few pages of the game. Glad to see old faces and new alike. We'll try not to dissappoint.

 

OOC:

As a suggestion I would assume since there has been no formal negotiations with the Covenant over combat rules of engagement, all rules are out the window concerning types of ammunition employed against the Covenant, types of tactics and so on.

 

OOC:Intro post?

 

OOC:

No. Just something I've noticed during the past chapters that was never really address nor directly posted about. This opens the door to ammo creativity such as incendiary rounds becoming more common place against, say methane breathers. Penetrator-Explossive rounds for the insect variety. Finally Rosch rounds for elites where possible. Just a thought.

 

OOC:

Deiskrad. How's that update post coming.

 

GM Approved: Name: Michael Kevin Bastin, AKA

"Red" Bastin. Age: 24 years. Service: United

States Marines (Force Recon). MOS: 0302

(Infantry Officer). Rank: First Lieutenant.

Weapons: Knight Industries M110 (w. Night

Sight/Thermographic Sight) 7.62 x 51 100rnd

Magazine with 8 backups. Side arm Para-

Ordinance P-14 in 45 caliber w. Rhino rnds.

Platoon Weapons: M32 six shot Grenade

Launcher w. 40 mm Mercury Rounds, M110 w.

20" barrel AS 50 or M82A3 (AMR w. Night

Sights/Thermographic Sights), AA12 w. 32 rnd.

drum magazine and Frag12 HE rounds. Also

Para-Ordinance P-14 Semi-automatic pistols w.

Rhino rnds. Equipment: Dragon Skin II Body

Armor. Demolitions (C4), Radio transmitter w. radio controled primers.

BIO: Red wasn't the kind of Marine who just marched in to die. He was the kind of Marine who was smart enough to do his best to make the enemy die instead. He was tapped for Officer's training and did well he's been out to do just that with his Platoon for about 2 1/2 years.

IC:

Red scanned the surrounding terrain through his IR goggles. The digitally corrected view was exceptional even with Covenant invisibility fields
Engaged he could still pickup their infrared signatures like red flags. Since he'd heard that the UN had conglomerated into the UN Alliance, counter tech was coming fast and furious. He'd heard SOCOM was issuing "special" invisible suites for their operators. Suites that could bend light completely around the wearer at very high resolution. This included fully enclosed facial and head gear with the same capabilities. They were nicknaming them Predator Suites. Red caught some movement to his left zoomed in, then noticed the platoon sized group of Ungoy rising up from a trench way running parallel with the road. Resourceful little buggers. Taking advantage of their shortness whenever possible. He couldn't blame them. They looked like infiltrators sent in to scout around except for one odd thing. The lead one had what looked like a yard stick with a white colored piece of bed sheet tied to it. That and he was waving it in his general direction. Red called it in.

OCC:

More forth coming.!

 

Sprite moves

Sprite was nearly three quarters to the new objective. One of the major items from the Frigate had been removed. It's engineering data core. Somehow relocated from the large watery basin between continents 1 and 3. To inside the confines of continent 3. Sensors picked up some form of pursuit approaching from behind and overhead. She actively scanned the craft. Which was composed of materials consistent with Forerunner technology. Sprite took control of it and sent it away at great speed. No doubt the miscreant piloting the craft would try and return but not before she found her objective. Sprite adjusted course while crossing over the shore line. Suddenly there was a flash from overhead. She instinctively snapped on her shields to full power. It was barely enough to withstand the plasma licking past the shields at the shuttle's hull. Some one had acquired the use of Forerunner weaponry. She applied evasive maneuvers in a random sequence. That one strike had cost her the shuttles shields. Sprite swept the heavens and found the source of the attack. A cruiser sized space craft had come out from behind the planet's only moon and had begun firing upon her shuttle. The ones attacking her were not Inheritors but Miscreants. She shot the shuttle into overdrive and raced against the next plasma volley while continuing her evasive maneuvers. The volley came but this Time was evaded. She was within sight of her objective. Then suddenly the facilities lights went out. An emission of radio waves was burst forth but Sprite was too busy to bother with analysis. Missiles leapt out from the grounds surrounding the facility she 'd come to seek.Sprite evaded all but one and crashed. Suddenly there was an even brighter flash as something was fired from a hidden turret within the area of the facility. A second flash flared in response to the first followed by a hasty departure by the cruiser. For it had been hit...hard.

OOC:

Sprite's engineering core is very important due to it's ability to interface with Forerunner Engineers and assist in the creation of Forerunner Engineers. Engineers are available at Atlas Base. They'll be able to help once completed by the engineering data core. Hence the reason to get them to Atlas Base.

Van

 

Tag:

2Panther.

 

OCC:

I apologize for an earlier misquote on my part concerning one of my PCs having been fighting against the Covenant for five years. That actually would be a bit much. Deiskrad came up with the 2 1/2 year statement which would be a lot more realistic given the rotational effects war can have on personnel. So for this war's calendar, it is at the start 9-11-2011. The 10th anniversary of 9-11-2001.

 

Location: Hills of Missouri
Time: 11 September 2011

“There used to be sunny days.”
“War simplifies a lot of stuff. In this case, the weather.”
“Yeah. ‘What’s the forecast?’ ‘Cloudy and cold.’ ‘Just like yesterday?’ ‘Yup.’”
Gallows humor still existed. Even with the probability of extinction in the near future.
Mark and Ricardo were crouched in a soggy foxhole, below an orange and gray sky. Night was coming on. That meant night actions. Among the delightful possibilities included strafing by the Covenant fliers, or an artillery barrage by Wraith plasma mortars, or infiltration by cloaked Elites. Or if they were really lucky, a full on night attack, and all the horrors that entailed. Blinding plasma and needle fire, painful enough to see in daylight became excruciating at night. The flashes left streaks on the cornea for almost an hour.
That was when things were happening. Mostly the nights were full of boredom, fear, and hunger.
In the two and a half years since the covenant had first come screaming out of the sky to vaporize New Orleans, humanity had been reduced to a bizarre state of stone age and hyper-modern life.
“Yesterday was Halloween.” Mark said.
“Yeah.”
“Happy Halloween.” Mark pulled a fun-size snickers from his mess tin.
The candy had been sat on. Flattened by the vagaries of warfare. Mark opened the package and twisted the mashed candy in half.
It tasted like a food orgasm. Rations had been reduced to Oatmeal & Protein paste. Once in a while they got MRE’s. A few times in the last few months they’d had hot chow. Candy was now a luxury item. Mark probably got the Snickers through underhanded means.
“Damn that was good. Pre-war too, I bet.” Ricardo said.
“Sure was. Might be the last one there is.”
Ricardo paused a moment at that.
“Well, I’m even more glad I got half of it.”
The blasted landscape of what had been the hills of Missouri began to shroud in darkness. The burnt orange of the choked and occluded sky was beginning to move towards black. The two soldiers began slipping into their thermal suits. The first frost had come two weeks ago. Particulate mater thrown up by the conflict had reduced the global temperature noticeably, and each winter since the covenant arrived had been longer and more brutal than in decades.
Mark had been in the army since right after the attack on New Orleans, but because of poor vision and general lack of athleticism, he had been remanded to second echelon. Mail handling. Until the gradual (and sometimes quite sudden) diminution of combat personnel made him report for a physical, and soon after receive orders to join a straight-leg infantry unit as a replacement.
That had been five months ago. The unit had been reconstituted after the battle of Albequerque. A debacle in which an entire army group consisting of American, Canadian, and Mexican troops was defeated on the field, and destroyed as they attempted to flee east. The few that managed to escape continued east -abandoning equipment in many cases- until they reached the hills of Missouri, establishing a shaky line of resistance. As a straight-leg unit with next to no mobility, they could only dig in, hope that they could hold off the enemy, and pray that mobile units and artillery would bail them out when things got real.
In those months, the company was whittled down from 120 troops down to about 50. A hardened core of veterans and extremely lucky novices now held a hilltop that commanded the approaches to Springfield. Somewhere to their rear was an armored battalion that would sweep in to deal with heavy contacts. Hopefully before they were wiped out.
A rumble rolled through the hills. A rumble that up close would be more of a sudden loud bark. The bark of an anti-personnel mine going off in the no-mans land, somewhere in the valleys to the west.
Infiltration.
A thrill of terror roared through Mark. The covenant were moving in, and obviously moving to attack. He tried to be thankful that some careless Grunt had stumbled into one of the mines or booby-traps that engineers had laced through the hills before them. He tried to be grateful, because it meant that they would have a far better chance of holding the attack off than if they’d gotten surprised.
He tried to. And tried to square that with the churning fear that these were the last few hours or minutes left on Earth. Earth, that they’d so fiercely defended.
But maybe, just maybe…
They could hold them. Stop them cold. Hold fast until the armored battalion hurled them back.
Ricardo held binoculars to his eyes, a faint trickle of smoke from the IED blast seeped between the branches on the left side of the canyon before them, clearly marking where some covenant were moving stealthily towards their lines. They were about three kilometers away. Close enough for the Covenant to snipe, but not close enough that they’d probably try it. This was probably a reconnaissance in force.
Or not. A flicker of cyan and 6 plasma comets rose from behind a hill and arced through the air.
“DOWN!”
The plasma artillery splashed in and around the main line of resistance. This was no probe. This was a full on attack! All Mark could think was ‘Get to the bunker’. He ran, hunched over, dimly noting that Ricardo was on his 5 with the same idea. The outpost had the same idea as well. A hummer came barreling up the road towards the MLR. The gunner in back was firing bursts of .50 cal on his pursuers. Mark leapt into the slit trench that led to the bunker and watched.
He could not see the pursuers, but he could see the plasma stabbing all around the vehicle, as well as flocks of pink darts that quested for human flesh. All the while, the plasma mortars continued to gout and burst earth, trees, and sometimes flesh in their quest for fire superiority.
Figuring these were his last moments on earth, Mark stuffed the last of the snickers bar into his mouth. What would it matter in a few minutes when they were overrun?

TAG: All

OOC: Sorry about the delay, but Here we go. Anybody who wants to be in this can either be in the missouri defense or with Vangarian.

 

IC:

1st Lieutenant, Red Bastin US MARINE Force Recon.

Sept., 11th, 2011.

18:33 local time.

Lenawee County Airport, South West of Adrian, MI.

Red wasn't sure if he should jump for joy or sulk when the Ungoy Grunts showed up. But he figured he made the right call when DoD sent in a flight of the 8th SOS in with Navy, Army and CIA operatives complete with methane canisters to accommodate the new short desks who'd chosen then to surrender to his unit. He had an almost giddy feeling he'd not had in many years like maybe things were starting to crack in the enemy's camp just a little bit in humanity's favor. Just a glimmer of hope trying to punch it's way through the hazy sky. The Collection of Ungoy were searched from top to bottom for any unauthorized tech and escorted on board the Air Force Ospreys, which immediately departed there after. Red spit a wad of Beachnut out onto the ground just beyond the trench line. He scratched his head then called in his junior grades for a little update.. He knew either things on this front were going to change or he and his men were going to change location soon. It was getting too tame, to predictable.

Tag:

2Panther, Deiskrad.

 

OOC:

Obviously, guests was meant not desks in my last post. : / .

 

OOC: Van which post is the starter? or is your second post continuing?
I'm going to have both characters at both locations

 

IC: Captain Vincent Valunza
Hubert Airfield, Florida
September 11, 2011

'Only Easy Day Was Yesterday'

"Look it's only going to be six months and then i'll be home." Vincent grunted as he pulled on his boots and attempted to balance his phone upon his ear. Out of all days today was the moment his wife decided to start up an argument.

"You said last year, remember. Four months, then it turned into nine, twelve and now it's back to six months. The boys are tired of getting their hopes up to have them crushed and frankly, i'm tired of having to be the one who breaks the news". A cold silence could be felt through the mouthpiece as Vincent sighed and placed the phone on speaker. She was right after all, they had spent time apart. His tour of just four months seemed to constantly be extended with every loss the human forces took from the Covenant, soon it had been nearly a year and some change since he saw his wife and kids. "It's a complicated situation Lauren, not one that is going to be fixed overnight" Vincent started to say before he was interupted." Yeah, tired of hearing that too" his wife said curtly.

Three knocks on the door did little to distract him even less so was the door swinging open revealing a tall middle-aged blonde man in multicam holding a manilla folder . " Hey boss, all the boys are in the team room waiting-" he started to say before Vincent pointed to the phone and put a finger to his lips, immediately silencing the older man. Chief Jackson Drake was the ODA's Assistant Commander, second in charge. With nearly twenty years of military experience he was a special breed of warfighter. SF operator, Jumpmaster, Ranger, Pathfinder...he did it all.As a Warrant Officer he was a hands down subject matter expert in his MOS, a small percentage in an already dwindled force...and as a expert in Special Forces warfare? almost unheard of. The silver bar with three black dots demanded respect from all who worked with him. The team, Vince was lucky.

"Vincent Irvine Valunza are you listening to what I just said?" The voice on the voice asked impatiently to which received an eyeroll by both men. "I AM listening. See, I just responded to your question, i'm listening right? Chief Drake just walked in" Vincent sighed, rolling up his green beret and stuffing under his belt.

"See this is why we have the problems that we have now, you care more about your job than your family."
"TWO BILLION PEOPLE! THAT'S HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE LEFT ON EARTH! FIVE BILLION PEOPLE ARE DEAD! DEAD! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?" Vincent roared in the mouthpiece of the phone, applying a death grip to the colored plastic. Another silence fell in the room before the woman spoke up again. "Well, Captain. Go be a hero, that's what you want the most right? ...we have to go, our cab is here".
"You're not taking my boys to Missouri, you've got no right to do that!" He continued to yell angrily. "Oh now you care? you sure have screwed up timing." she shot back with equal anger. "We had an agreement Lauren! You are not taking my kids to Missouri!".
Dialtone.

Vincent threw the phone on the ground and shouted numerous obsenties in the air before turning his direction to Jack. "YOU SEE WHAT I GO THROUGH WITH THAT WOMAN?". Jack nodded simply, letting the younger senior officer vent his fustrations before handing Vincent the folder. "Just came down sir, straight from JSOC. The fellas are already in the team room, A and B bags are packed and molle's are rigged." Vincent sighed in defeat. " I just wish she'd be patient, just a little more...you know?"

"They don't understand sir..Trust me when Lily left me, I had to realize that fact" Jack said grimly, following his commander through the door as they made their way to the conference room. Opening up the folder Vince scanned to contents looking up once"How could she understand? there is no possible way for her, anyone to know what we go through." He closed the folder and handed it back.

The two officers strode down a dimly lit hallway brushing past a few MPs and other personnel concentrating on whatever task they were involved in until they reached a door with an official looking plaque that read " Operational Detachment 5116 Conference Room. 'Authorized personnel only'. Another sign written on a piece of cardboard had an amazingly well drawn tiny baby bulldog with a combat helmet on its head read simply 'Wardogs team room. All Cats will be shot on sight'. The humor was only intensified because the puppy had an huge exaggerated mouth with a cat in his jaws, two x's for eyes signifiying his death. Vincent couldn't help crack a smile as he stepped inside the team room.

The lights in the room were blue florescent and the walls were covered with movie and maxim hotties posters. A plastic table covered with snacks and a coffee pot was pushed against the far wall beside a set of wall lockers. In the middle of the room was a long conference styled table where every chair was filled by people. A large overhead project hung from the ceiling pointed at a whiteboard wedged in the wall facing the table. The low tunes of Tupac's California love wafted through the air from a pair of large speakers that hung from all four high corners of the ceiling. A relaxed enviroment produced some of the best plans.
Master Sergeant Gibbs, the senior enlisted man on the the Team and the primary intelligence collector at the sight of Vincent entering the room immediately stood to attention and barked to the rest of the men "ON YOUR FEET!". Ten chairs flew back from the table and the men followed suit."Rock Hard Sir!, the team motto was yelled with exuberance.Vince waved them off and shook Gibbs hand. "Carry on gentlemen, rock hard."

"I know we haven't got much R&R, I'm sucking too right now but it's the nature of the beast. We chose to be operators and we got work to do. Fresh off the press we got a mission, so ears open." Vincent said, turning on the projector, dimming the lights. The team paid attention, some drinking coffee, eating chips or lighting up cigarettes. Vince placed an overlay on the screen and pointed to key sections. "We are being sent to retrieve a sensitive package and escort it to the eggheads down in Antartica where they can study it, who knows they may find something useful". One of the younger guys made a comment under his breath about being a 'sucker'. Vincent looked at the man, he was an SF baby or an Xray. Xrays, a product of entering the armed forces being trained from day one by Special Forces cadre. Guys like Vincent and others were forced to prepare themselves for the rigors of a career being operators, coming from other regular and SOF units. A sense of entitlement exhumed from the Xrays. "Something on your mind Sergeant Rivers?" Vincent asked, leaning on the desk, gaze deadset on the outspoken youth. "It's just...we should be doing what we do best Sir. Behind the lines fighting the convenant. I just feel like we're glorified UPS carriers." Some guys nodded in agreement.

"Feelings noted.Our orders take the highest priority, they come directly from both the Commanding General of JSOC and USASOC and are to carried out with the upmost urgency. Our job is do whatever we're asked to do and win the fight as professionals". Vincent cut his eyes from Rivers and turned back to the projector and placed a map overly on top. "So here is the plan concoted so far, we'll be riding with the 8th SOS Blackbirds on CV-22B Osprey's. We will conduct a combat jump into the target area, rally up and make our way on foot to the pickup zone where a DOD element will wait for our arrival. Once we make contact we'll be split up into two elements, White and Black. White element will be the transport unit led by myself. We will ensure it's safe arrival to the ordered destination. Black element will serve as force protection and will be led by Chief Warrant Officer 3 Drake. Chief Drake nodded and stepped forward. "It'll be up to us to deter all threats...Covenant or others".
Vincent cut off the projector and the lights were flipped on. "Well, any questions? No? alright then, gather your gear, let's move out." The scraping of chair legs filled the room as everyone stood up and gathered their molle's from the wall lockers, snapping their ACH's upon their heads. The team fell out of the room by twos making their way through the rigging hangar and out on the tarmac where a series of Osprey aircraft were parked waiting.

tag: Van
OOC:The 2nd is about to get posted

 

Name: Kelsey Conrad Russell

Age: 39

Service: United States Air Force.

MOS: Pilot CV-22B Osprey. Commanding 8th S.O.S. Blackbirds.

Rank: O4/Major.

Weapon(s): FN P90, Berreta 9mm semi-automatic Pistol.

BIO: Born and raised in Kansas City, Missouri, Kelsey wanted to learn how to fly from age six. His Father was one of the few pilots who flew Puffs and Specters on missions against transport trucks used to haul supplies down the Ho Chi Ming trail to South Vietnam for the Viet Cong. Kelsey enlisted just in time for Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm. He saw his first action in Iraq. Later he was involved in the Osprey evaluations for use by the Air Force and thought it had great potential as the perfect replacement for the helicopter. He later transfered to the then newly organized 8th S.O.S. Blackbirds and has seen an assortment of different special Operations Forces. He currently is in command of 8th S.O.S. during all missions out of Hulbert Field, in the Florida Pan Handle. The 8th S.O.S. is currently involved with supply runs to military Forces operating in Indiana against Invading Covenant Forces and also the insertion of Special Forces behind enemy lines in Indiana.

IC:

Kelsey was finishing up with preflight Black Bird 1, when the cargo carriers rolled up three special packages for transport one was declared hazmat by its placards with cryogenically sealed insulation. The forklift gingerly eased on up into his CV-22B's cargo space. The container was made of high grade steel for Krypton gas chilled to near absolute Zero. Empty it weight around 300 lbs. Loaded it weighed twice that. It was the only way to safely transport nano probes. The other two packages went to Black Birds 2 and 3. BB2 got the Forerunner Guardian named Sprite 174. Black Bird 3 got another package of unknown capabilities but extremely important non the less, as in-vital to the war effort-important. Within minutes the respective loads were double secured. The Hazmat one was given the same protocols as a hydrogen bomb.

 

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Guys.