cat danny 25

Arachnid Meteors Hit Colony Of Barachian-Nine SNAPSHOT FROM ARCHANGEL-02 Panic spreads across Barachnian-Nine, a young Federal colony still recovering from civil war less than a decade ago. Early this morning, reports came through of an Arachnid meteorite touching down in the Verona territories near the Blue Coast roughly 141 kilometers outside of Vengalar, a port-city with the largest spaceport outside of the capital city. QRF forces have been unable to contain the spread of hostile forces, with evacuation notices plaguing the nearby settlements while the planet awaits reinforcement. SNAPSHOT FROM ARCHANGEL-05 Four other meteorites have been reported touching down across various rural areas on the settled continent, used primarily for food production. Experts believe the largest of these meteors to be roughly thirty-one kilometers in diameter, having completely obliterated a good chunk of the Northern hemisphere. Food shortages are to be expected within the next several weeks, as protesters already gather in the capital in response to the governing body's decision not to ration food. Officials within the parliament have made an official statement, only hours after the invasion. "We will not stand idly by and allow our world to be taken by these monsters. Men and women fought and bled for our right to keep this world in Federal hands during the coup, several years back. Their deaths will not be in vain." This statement was met with much skepticism from the people, as nothing has been addressed regarding the possibility of food rationing, food shortages, or a difficulty with supply importation following the abandonment of the space ports. Military and scientific installations report an abundance of seismic activity, leading locals to believe that the Arachnid forces intend to stay for the long-term. WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW MORE!?

I quite like the visual stuff for this page. It's very nice.

Pink eyes and blue eyeshadow. 🙃

=( I liked this dude

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chronology; Part One Part Two Part Three ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mission Report - First Platoon Abstract Mission Briefing i. First Platoon is to exterminate a bug hive. ii. First Platoon is to establish a Forward Operating Base within the oasis. Mission Log >> 16/11/2298 - 4:32 Federation Standard - Sgt. Stevenson as drop lead. Cpl. Conelly as RTO / SIC. >> 4:50 - Red Wing 1-0 touches down. Platoon deploys. Red Wing returns to orbit. >> 4:55 - Platoon encounters varied-caste Arachnids. Proceeds through the swamp lands. >> 5:12 - Platoon proceeds to establish a temporary FOB, supplies air dropped in by Red Wing 1-5. >> 5:32 - Platoon detonates TON inside of bug hive, obliterating it and by extension, their FOB via opened tunnel. >> 5:44 - Exfil is requested. Little Eagle Two-Three is tasked. 1x KIA (Cpl. Conelly) >> 5:47 - Little Eagle Two-Three lands. Platoon evacuates. >> 6:02 - First Platoon officially boards the Grant, concluding their tasking. Abstract Mission Conclusion Mission was partial success. Bug hive destroyed, area temporarily unusable due to conflagration. Oasis destroyed. 2nd Platoon deployed post-fires in order to attempt to salvage an FOB. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Katherine V. Walcott Character Summary True Neutral Renegade<████████ | ████████>Paragon Morale Awful<███████|██████|██████>Not Awful Name: Katherine Victoria Walcott Aliases: Kat, Kathy Age: 22 Birthday: August 11 Ethnicity: Caucasian Birth Planet: Norilia Heritage Desoric-English Hometown: New Windsor Gender: Female Specialization: Engineer Height: 5.6 Forearms Weight: 9.51 Stone (133 Lbs) Build: Mesomorph Eyes: Blue Hair: Dark Brown Skin Tone: Pale Tarot Card / A Quick Consensus The Hanged Man The Hanged Man shows a man suspended from a T-shaped cross made of living wood. He is hanging upside-down, viewing the world from a completely different perspective, and his facial expression is calm and serene, suggesting that he is in this hanging position by his own choice. He has a halo around his head, symbolizing new insight, awareness and enlightenment. Cold, callous, weirdo; these were but a few words to describe Katherine. The type to leer and brood rather than be confrontational, Katherine has manipulative tendencies and would sooner speak behind closed doors about someone than confront them head-on. Poised with glibness and often-superficial charm, Walcott finds herself predisposed to getting others to do things for her in her stead, whether to shift blame or simply shirk responsibility. Callous and often unsympathetic, many find her praise difficult if not borderline impossible to acquire should not providing it not benefit her. Impulsive, irresponsible and sporting poor behavior controls, Kathy has a tendency to act out of her usually calm disposition under the proper circumstances. Standing at roughly five foot six, the young lady was of average height for her gender. Her body was composed of smooth skin, unblemished apart from a singular mole on the chin as a result of her 'green' nature as a soldier. She could have been described by a physician as having a mesomorphic body type - one typically ascribed to athletes of rougher sports, boxers or firefighters. Framing a pale complexion was a tuft of dark hair that came down to roughly shoulder length. Her shoulders sat slim; also bearing spindly limbs which gave her a 'smaller' disposition than some of her broader counterparts. Her jaw was sharp, her cheekbones high that contrasted a pointed chin, and a hooked, beak-like nose. Set with light blue eyes which tend to observe her surroundings, they were left with straight and distinctive eyelashes, as well as bushy eyebrows. Incredibly hygienic, it's evident that the Desoric takes good care of herself. Preened brows, filed nails, long lashes and white teeth with naught a blemish on her skin save for during long-term deployments. Her voice carries a colonial accent with a scratchy, husky undertone which leaves her with an androgynous pitch that sounds neither too feminine nor too masculine. Psychology Callous * Well-Mannered * Glib * Droll * Abrasive * Introvert Marital Status: Unmarried Habits: Pacing Drinking Nail Picking Compulsive Lying Hobbies: Cleaning Equipment Cooking Working Out Fixing Things Tinkering Learning New Things Fears: Soteriophobia - The fear of losing one's self-reliance. Likes: Desoric People Emotional Intelligence Cognitive Intelligence Neatness Hygiene Realistic Perception Lax Individuals Damp Climate Overachievers Salty Food Alcohol Non-Invasive Tendencies Privacy Dislikes: Psychics Relentless Optimism Lack of Hygiene Non-Desoric People Loud People 'In Your Face' Individuals Overly Friendly People Excessive Femininity Domineering Attitudes Recklessness Being In The Spotlight Brash Rebukes History & Misc General Skills: Engineering Sapper Certification Engineering Munitions Certification M55 Certification CLS Certification Cardiovascular Conditioning Small Arms Training Criminal Record: N/A Anything Else: Given Desoric heritage, Katherine's colonial accent has English roots. Katherine is a hands-on learner. Katherine is an only child. Katherine finds psychics unpleasant. Katherine has a high 'shitty food' tolerance. Awards & Commendations: Engineering Sapper Badge Engineering Munitions Badge Relations to be redone

You require a Charisma level of 8 or higher to fuck this character. If you're 5/20 charisma does that mean your character is about as interesting as a wet shoe?

Mission Report - First Platoon Abstract Mission Briefing i. First Platoon is to investigate Camp Osprey, a supply depot endeavoring to secure MSR Sierra connecting Mesa Verde to the UCF landing zone that has lost radio communication with Mobcomm. ii. First Platoon is to link up with, and if necessary, recover Second Lieutenant Hector Mercer, Second Platoon leader of the 71st Morita Bat. B. Co. Mission Log >> 13/11/2298 - 22:40 Federation Standard - Cpl. Conelly as drop lead. Cpl. Daby as RTO / SIC. >> 22:41 - Red Wing 1-0 touches down. Platoon deploys. R-W returns to orbit. >> 22:45 - Platoon encounters worker-caste Arachnids. Engages them and prompts arachnid retaliation. >> 22:51 - Platoon proceeds with investigation, finds base dilapidated and worn, signs of conflict are reported. >> 23:31 - Platoon pursues signs of garrison remnants. Warrior-caste Arachnids tunnel to surface to intercept and ambush. >> 23:45 - Platoon finds remnants of team's APC, still active. Signs of conflict and evidence pointing towards abduction are evident. >> 23:46 - Cpl. Daby calls for evac. Red Wing 1-0 is dispatched for recovery. >> 23:50 - Red Wing 1-0 lands. Platoon evacuates. >> 00:01 - First Platoon officially boards the Grant, concluding their tasking. Abstract Mission Conclusion Mission was partial success. (3x) Casualties sustained. (1x) Long Range Radio Manpack destroyed. Base & Garrison condition was established. Arachnid presence significantly higher than calculated. Hive elimination suggested. Recovery of Second Lieutenant Hector Mercer failed; Platoon failed to identify / locate. Suspected abductee. Marked MIA, presumed KIA.

I'm getting some mad pink guy vibes from this.

Epilogue. August 27th, 2298 Isolation Room 3, BCT-481 'Bernard Montgomery', Orbit Above Terra Operation Helios - 52 Hours After Drop Gerald Pomeroy, Warrant Officer "That's it," Gerald let out with a shaky breath after the retelling of his tale. "That was the last time I saw the two of them. Last time I probably will," he followed up with. The doctor sat there, pensive as he looked at him. "You're certain?" he asked. "Of course I'm certain!" Gerald snapped back at him. "I --" There was a moment of hesitation in the operator. He sat back and took another pull from his cigarette. "What are you playin' at, doc'? What's your angle here?" "You've got a letter, mister Pomeroy. Would you like to take a gander?" he inquired as he pulled a letter out of the portfolio. There was no envelope to accompany, just a folded piece of paper. "If you think it'll help me; You're the doc, doc." Monroe unfolded the paper and put his glasses back on. He passed the document over to him, it read; 'I've always been bad with sentimentality. What feels like a lifetime ago, a great friend once told me; 'Never pass up on a good thing'. I don't suppose goodbyes are always for the best, but I do think that closure can be a good thing under the right circumstances. I'm no good at writing letters, but I've been thinking a lot lately, and there's one thing that I want to do properly in my lifetime. There are some things I need to tell you, but I think that it's best I start simple. So, how's this for simple? Dear Gerald...'

August 26th, 2298 Arlington, West Virginia, Western Hemisphere Operation Helios - 31.5 Hours After Drop Sean Weston, Private First Class They were coming up on the remnants of a firefight. Weston checked his magazine to ensure that his Morita was properly loaded and ready for bare. It was raining out, uncomfortable. A bunch of shouting came over Davis' manpack about twenty minutes prior, something about an ambush. He hadn't really been paying attention at the time, figured it was no big deal. Wasn't his guys, right? Once they got to the scene, his opinion changed pretty quickly. On the road lay nearly a dozen dead progenitors, some smouldering and others shot so many times they were almost unrecognizable, save for the blue or red makings that crossed their dull bodies. The smell of gunpowder and metal clung to the air. The street was ripe with fresh blood, stuck primarily in the gutters of the street where the water had carried it. Some a murky, foreign color, some red; Weston's eyes caught the sight of three figures near a tipped over lorry. One of them was a pale looking woman, unmoving. The other a similar case - another power armored fellow with two holes in his chest. "We've got a live one here!" the men who had ran ahead called, prompting a medic to begin to sprint over. The Private scanned the scene, reaching up to wipe his face with his sleeve to clear it of droplets. It was hard to look at, three Pathfinders all fucked up. Lieutenant Korvus spoke up finally, once the last of the platoon had caught up. "Radio for airlift! I want this whole place cleared up. Delta and Fox companies are gone, they want to pull everybody out! Saddle up the wounded and get 'em ready for transport!" he ordered. Weston took a knee by the lorry and propped his rifle up on the bumper so that he would have a clear line down the street in the event that any more Progenitors came back looking for trouble. The fellow the medic was tending to was unconscious, propped up with his back to the vic'. He had six or seven grazes on him, and a shot through the middle of his chest. He was still smoking by the time they got there, and was only now starting to look like he just might make it. The lady treating him slowly eased him down onto his back. "Hey - I need you to help me lift him," she called out to Sean. "Y- yeah - yeah alright. Okay," he let out a little shakily as he let his rifle dangle from the sling with the safety on. The Private moved over and took the man by the legs. "On you," she called out to him. "Alright. One, two three, up -" and then they lifted. He was a heavy son of a bitch, but they got him down onto the stretcher. The two, along with the help of a third man got the stretcher into the boat once it landed. The medic made her way back to the bodies, while Weston couldn't help but just stare at the PJs as they began to strip away the melted torso of the injured fellow. "<:: Alright. We're solid for take off. Get the doors shut, we'll see you boys on the other side." "Wait!" the medic called.

I'll bite. I went a little above-and-beyond the few simple questions in order to elaborate a little bit on the characterization that has occurred to contrast civilian Quinn and Sergeant Caffrey. Caffrey began as a trashy civilian charged with a couple of felonies coupled with some lesser degree things. Her aptitude as a psychic opened up the possibility of penal service which she opted for over going to prison. In lieu of a penal battalion, she was stationed in the 112th given that they had only one psychic at the time. Psychics are rare, and the Federation tends to make good use of them. Posting one in a penal battalion to go and die immediately seems a waste. Originally a character of crude mannerisms, 'give no shits' attitude and naught a care for a single fellow trooper save for perhaps one or two. i. Caffrey was an addict to fentanyl prior to her enlistment. She had originally regretted her decision to serve and had voiced prison as a preference to 'serving with these idiots'. About a year and a half later OOCly, I would say that she's glad she chose what she did. ii. Caffrey originally did not care much for the Federation, as they served to impede her habits and chosen lifestyle. It took her a long time to realize that the Federation was not the problem, but rather her outlook on life was the piece of the puzzle which did not fit. Quinn was allotted a pardon after the civil war, yet instead opted to re-enlist with the Coalition. iii. Caffrey at one point in her earlier years vyed strongly for something other than the life she led. In a way, serving in the Mobile Infantry turned into an 'out' that she neither regrets nor is terribly fond of. Of late, she's grown tired of adventure and looks to how she will settle in the future. With Caffrey's characterization came a lot of traits I had never anticipated I would instill within her as a character. Vickers was the first character to really 'pick up the pieces' when it came to Quinn. She had been a terminal lance for almost an OOC year before she was given the opportunity to try her hand at Corporal after having risked her life for all the wrong reasons. When asked why she did what she did, Caffrey lied to Vickers and told her that it was in order to save her men. What she was really looking for was an opportunity for attention, to be in the limelight after having spent the majority of her professional career in the background. Vickers ate the bullshit up and took to Caffrey in what felt ICly and OOCly like a genuine mentorship, something that had never happened prior with the character. I decided that this would be the turning point in this character's run on the server, and chose to instead instill her with gradual thoughts of self-doubt as a leader, the eventual pick-up of humility, and a sense of duty to those she was placed above.

August 26th, 2298 Arlington, West Virginia, Western Hemisphere Operation Helios - 31 Hours After Drop Yael Avraham, Staff Sergeant The Staff Sergeant opened her eyes to the sight of Gerald looming over their injured comrade. "Don'tchu' fuckin' die on me Sebastian, you son of a bitch," he called down to him as he packed his wound, pressing the dying operator's hands over it in order to keep pressure after he pulled away. It was all that Yael could do to keep her eyes open, blinking as she looked on helplessly. She saw the fingers of her hand twitch a few times, the dull ache in her side flaring up into a fiery hot iron as she opened her mouth to speak. No scream escaped her, no noise, nothing. Breathing was difficult, moving was not something she could even fathom. Help me, say it. Help me. "We're gonna' get you out of here, buddy," Garry murmured to him before he reached up to touch at the communicator on the side of his helmet. "Korvus, goddammit! I need you down here, I told you!" The response on the other end of the radio sounded like naught but white noise to Yael as it took all of her willpower to keep her eyes from closing. "That's not good enough! I need you --" Gerald then took a graze to the shoulder, singing his suit with line of plasma. "Son of a -- Sebastian, you're okay, pal! You're alright!" His attention remained on DeVantos, despite the fact that he was pinned down. Yael could hear her own wheezing echoing through her helmet. Say something. Anything. The woman opened her mouth again; She could hear herself utter out a single husky breath, unable to draw up the voice she needed in order to address her partner. She saw Gerald resorting to chest compressions while his voice cracked; Something in him broke when his closest friend and confidant stopped breathing. "C- come on! Breathe, goddammit - breathe! Don't you fuckin' leave me -- don't you fuckin' leave her, you selfish - stupid mother.." he trailed off, choking back what Yael could have sworn was a sob. The pavement beneath Van was covered red, slowly sinking down the street as it was carried by the rain. From the corner of her eye, she caught a trail leaking out from under her arm -- she was dying, of this she was certain. There was nothing she could do to tend to herself while Pomeroy tended to Van. Whether or not she had been dressed was uncertain from the way she lay. Her eyes looked around, lids feeling as if they were weighed down by rocks. Not like this. Another wheeze echoed through her helmet, more shallow than the last. "Don't you -- don't you fuckin' - fuck, aw' fuck!" Gerald cursed aloud as he smacked his hand against his dead comrade's torso. He sat back and looked around frantically, before he actually took notice of Yael. Pomeroy hurried over on all fours and rolled her down onto her back. Her vision swam as the compression squeezing her chest was finally lifted. She gasped for breath, which only served to make her hock up a mouthful of blood. It pasted the inside of her visor, obscuring parts of her vision with the crimson mess that was plastered against it. A wheeze escaped her as she gasped greedily, sucking as much air into her burning lungs as she could. Her mouth tasted like ash, mouth dry and chalky with hints of warm metal from the blood. "Hey! Hey, lookit' me! Lookit' me, Yael," she heard him call down to her. Overcome by another bodily conniption, Avraham writhed and choked out again, causing a hoarse gushing sound to erupt from the depths of her throat. She was about to hock again. Gerald reached down to pull off her helmet; For the first time in a long time, Yael felt truly alive. The cool air nipping at her neck while the cold raindrops pattered across her face. Out came another hock of blood, shooting up and covering her cheeks in a warm, burning coat. "Gerald," she murmured out through her bloody teeth. The Warrant Officer reached down to take her by the hand, glancing at her from behind his visor. Yael couldn't see his face, and she desperately wished that she could. "I'm here, boss. I've got you," he promised her. "D-don't leave me, -- don't leave me here," she choked out. They were the last words she ever said to him.

August 26th, 2298 Arlington, West Virginia, Western Hemisphere Operation Helios - 31 Hours After Drop Yael Avraham, Staff Sergeant "You know, Chief," Van began as the trio stepped through the hole in the wall of an old storefront. He patted the side of his rifle once he stacked up near the front door, ready to move out on Gerald's order, "I could blow up the whole goddamn world with this thing," he followed up with. The fighting had died down a little, resulting in a stalemate somewhere in the middle of Arlington. Van, Yael and Garry were tasked with finding a weak point in the Progenitor line so that the infantry could lead a spearhead through in order to push straight to the target building with a single, daring offensive. The door slowly opened up as Pomeroy peaked his head out, scanning the area. "Whose turn is it?" he asked. They had been rotating first runners. Everyone wanted to go first, considering you were less likely to be shot if you were the first man across the street, rather than the second or God forbid the third. It was raining out, probably cold and windy, from the look of things. "Mine, I think," Yael spoke up. She hadn't been paying attention. "Oh, you little fuckin' cheater!" Van stage-whispered with a chuckle. "You went before Garry did. We all know it's my run, but listen, because you're afraid, I'll letcha' go first." Yael knew he winked at her, somehow she knew that he did, even if he had a helmet on. It was too much of a 'Van thing'. Yael wasn't about to turn him down, either. She wasn't so certain why, but there was a little something in the back of her mind that told her not to, as much as she wanted to usher him out the door. The operator took hold of her Morita by the carry handle, getting ready to bolt. Nervousness accompanied her, but she didn't really have anything to be nervous about. One, two, go! She didn't. Yael hesitated and took a deep breath. Garry and Van watched her, and it only made the woman feel all the more antsy about it. Another bout of cold feet. She was slipping, she figured. Happened before the drop, now it was happening again. Avraham took a deep breath before rushing out and into the rain. She bolted across the street and ducked into cover behind the tipped over lorry. Yael watched Garry and gave him a nod accompanied by a thumbs up. She slumped back against the car into a sit, making to catch her breath for the moment. Garry and Van both rushed out after her. Yael looked up for a moment, droplets of water covering her visor in the process. She glanced back down after catching a faint glint of lighting up in the sea of grey clouds that loomed above. The Earth itself wept for the dead, she figured. Long had she been a spiritual person in the hopes that it would somehow bring comfort to her in her moments of fear, moments of sadness. It didn't. It did, once, but that was a time long ago. No longer did the faith in some supreme Lord bring comfort to her; What good would He do, way up there in the sky while she was stuck down on the ground? Yael's thoughts were interrupted by a brief 'crack' that shot through the air, followed almost a blink later by a loud pulsing 'boom!' Garry slid into cover beside Yael, who caught a glimpse of Van dropping to his knees in the middle of the street. He let forth a gasp, followed by a deep, greedy gasp for breath. Yael could hear him wheeze during a long, breathy inhale. "Van!" she cried as she got up and made to run to him. Garry held her down, and for good reason. He dropped his rifle, causing it to land with a faint 'clank' before a second round boomed out and hit him dead in the centre of the chest. The cowboy fell onto his back while Gerald reached for his belt, pulled free a smoke grenade and tugged out the pin. Once the safety spoon spurred off, he chucked it over the car and waited for it to fill. The ten or so seconds it took for the smoke to fan out over the street felt like an eternity of waiting. Droplets pattered against her helmet, though she could focus on naught but the sounds of Sebastian's wheezing through the internal comms of his helmet. Without allowing it to fill all the way, Yael threw Garry aside and ran out to grab her companion. "Yael, don't you fuckin' -- !" but she was already gone. The Staff Sergeant fired a few bursts down the street with no clear sight of her assailant, he could have been anywhere. She was panicking, and it only served to give away her position through what parts of the street were concealed by the smoke. Avraham hooked Van by the drag handle and aimed to pull him back. Just as she set him down, a stinging sensation caused her to choke on her own breath once she felt like something bit her right in the side. Yael fell down into a sitting position with the wind knocked out of her, head spinning. It was hard to breathe, but she managed. The operator took a few deep breaths, though couldn't focus on anything for more than a second or two. She could hear the sounds of Gerald shouting something or another, yet he couldn't keep her attention well enough to get any kind of message across. The last thing she remembered was her helmet smacking against the sidewalk.

6 + years ago and these niggas still have better boot models than we do wtf

August 26th, 2298 Arlington Outskirts, West Virginia, Western Hemisphere Operation Helios - 30 Hours After Drop Yael Avraham, Staff Sergeant Van flopped down beside Yael and Garry after they finally made landfall. There was a war going on, and there sat three bumblefuck operators in the dead centre of a mortar crater. Van reached up to slide his helmet off, setting it down in the dirt beside him. "You know, guys," the cowboy began as he slid a cigarette into his mouth. He struck the wheel on his lighter and brought it up to his smoke. He took a toke into the flame in order to get it going. " - we've really got to stop meeting like this," he noted with a shit-eating grin crossing his dirt-caked features. Pomeroy and Yael both turned to look at him, watching Van as he sat without a care in the world despite the fact that there was lead and plasma flying a few inches above their heads. Were he a foot taller, he'd probably be dead. "You know, Sebastian, I really think I fuckin' hate you sometimes," Pomeroy chided from within the safety of his helmet. Yael could only scoff as she sat with Garry's launcher over her lap. DeVantos' only reply was another toke from his cigarette, which he exhaled through his nose. "Alright. Gerald, buddy. Listen. Listen.." he began. There was a pause in the exchange of rhetoric, leaving both of them looking at Van expectantly. After a few moments of not saying anything, Garry got impatient. "Well go on then, hotshot!" he exclaimed. "Oh, you're waitin' on me?" Van retorted with a bemused huff. With that, he quickly tossed his cigarette out, threw his helmet on and vaulted over the dirt pile and up into the open field. "Once more into the breach, eh!?" he shouted back as he began to run off towards the fight. "Oh, mother -fucker-!" Gerald shouted as he and Yael suddenly got up to follow him. Stupid bastard, she thought. She loved every second of it, nothing was better than Sebastian and Gerald's banter to her. The three came upon First Platoon's bird about a quarter mile through the field. The boat hit the dirt and the top of the two back doors tore off in the fall. The interior was pretty bad, a dozen or so dead mobile infantrymen with a few more scattered around outside. The men who were still alive were getting themselves re-organized. The pilots weren’t so lucky. The cockpit landed up against a rock, the jagged face of which came right into the cockpit and crushed the both of them to death, everyone in the back was hardly worse for wear. “Up! Get up!” their Lieutenant called. By that time, Yael was getting to cover and setting up a perimeter. Adrenaline spiked, it carried her onward for the moment given that they had just run through an open field with automatic plasma fire barreling down around them. Van took his rifle out and set up against the rock face. They were on the far side of the city, by the coast. They could see the spotlights from the R-V. It was getting dark and the district was crawling with Progenitors. They had to get there and find out what was happening with the rest of Chalk-Two from B Company. It was a couple miles of hiking through a battle-infested concrete jungle. How hard could it be? Mid-way up the beach in the rock formation, Van caught the glint of a Progenitor's glow and ushered his team mates into cover. “Down, down!” he let out on internal comms. “I saw him,” Yael contributed. She readied the launcher, but Pomeroy shook his head. “Hit him with the fifty,” he instructed Van. “Yeah?” the cowboy asked, “Let’s show this som’bitch how we boys from Iskander do.”

we back August 26th, 2298 Arlington Outskirts, West Virginia, Western Hemisphere Operation Helios - 30 Hours After Drop Yael Avraham, Staff Sergeant With the D.C invasion having been an utter disaster, Fireteam Grizzly had been assigned once again with the 11th Morita Division in order to push for the teleporter pad that would carry them up to the mobile gun platform that was the target for their joint operation. The objective had been completed, but things had gotten much worse over the course of the next day once enemy reinforcements had arrived. With the shields down, Progenitor forces gathered within the Arlington courthouse across the river in order to keep their pad on the roof secure. Garry had been put in charge of Second Platoon for the duration of the operation, given that they had no remaining officers or SNCOs save for a single Staff Sergeant. “Here we go, boys n’ girls,” Pomeroy piped up as he walked down the corridor of the boat. Sat inside was what remained of Grizzly Team; Yael, Garry, the cowboy along with two more men who had managed to link up with them after they’d set up a foothold in D.C; Staff Sergeant Vincent Delevingne and Warrant Officer James Dale. The UCF was pushing further into the city, though there was far more resistance than anticipated. During the battle of the Potomac, the Progenitors' counter attack in the form of a landing force had managed to sneak in two smaller gun platforms, both of which unloaded an entire legion each of ground forces within the confines of the AO. They took over the city and sacked it while the infantry’s landing parties were occupied elsewhere. A bold, but very clever move. They had been outsmarted. “This one’s for all the chips,” Garry said as he racked the bolt of his rifle. “Check your gear, check your magwells and get ready for some dick-to-butt with some goddamn aliums.” Van pulled the charging handle on his anti material rifle back, watching Garry in passing as he addressed the men. The plan was that they would be landing roughly six blocks from the target building. Yael figured that, that was a load of bullshit, given how the boat was already beginning to rattle from idle plasma fire and progenitor triple A. The boat shuddered and groaned as it caught fire from a progenitor plasma turret positioned on a rooftop. The flight wing broke formation, but it was too late for First Platoon’s bird. The right engine caught fire and promptly exploded, taking half of the wing with it. “<:: Charlie Foxtrot! They’ve got triple A - I can’t hold her!” the pilot screamed. Their own pilot piped up soon after, a young woman, “<:: Everybody hold on! Asses down, heads up! Brace yourselves, we’re goin' in hot!" With little warning, a sudden hole was torn in the side of the boat. The suction tore the four or five men closest to the hole straight out of the ship and into a free-fall with no means of saving themselves. Yael figured the majority would die before they even hit the ground. Pomeroy maglocked his boots to the floor and put his helmet on, "We'll be alright!" he screamed as he looked over the shouting men and women inside of the dropship. "Keep your heads and we'll -" The breach in the hull got worse as the metal around it gave way. The carrier compartment of the boat tore in half, launching the group out into a flail. Yael disengaged the lock from her seat and spread her limbs like a starfish in order to stabilize herself during the fall. She peered briefly over her shoulder in order to catch a glimpse of both Van and Pomeroy, alongside two-dozen mobile infantrymen all flailing through the air. So much for having two-platoon at their back, she figured. It wasn't long after that that the ship was hit directly by a bolt of plasma, prompting the fuse lodge to combust, taking the entire boat with it.

t bone

"Did she have a penis, Sergeant?" "Sir, I fail to see why that's rel-" "But did she have a penis, Sergeant?"

T-Bone pls