This new RP has brought 4 new faces in just a matter of days. Just today I got another PM asking if it was still open for new applications. If this most recent PM joins, that means we have the potential to DOUBLE our ranks with this RP and we haven't even started it yet.
It's because of this that I wanted to have a discussion with you. While our numbers are few and we are doing this mainly to boost numbers, I wanted to talk about these new guys with you. I was thinking that I could send an open invitation out to everyone at the conclusion of the mission, although, it occurred to me that over the course of events here we could find someone that wouldn't mesh well. It's because of this I wanted to post this here and get input from you guys about who you like and who you dislike,etc. To be clear, this isn't a popularity contest. I just want to have a record here of what we think of our potential new recruits. I'll post new profiles as we gain more. For now, here are the starters.
And to be clear: I am NOT reviewing anything about these profiles via PM. These are exactly how they were sent to me and accepted without question. I'm not looking for a profile review as much as a "what vibes are you getting from this person"? Then we can provide further comment as we get to know each other and their RP styles.
The guild is set to Hidden...so no one is reading this but us.
Profiles
Freelance Operatives
Lt-Schalton
Quote:
Name: SSG Trevor Greene
Focus of Training: Special Reconnaissance (UAV scanning, satelite hacking for image data, etc.)
Appearance: "And in this corner, weighing in at one hundred ninety-four pounds with a height of six foot one is the brown haired, green eyed, twenty-five year old from Kansas! Trevor GREENE!"
Personality: Greene is pretty outgoing, despite the fact that the kinds of conversations he makes are always awkward. He's pretty harmless outside the combat zone, never gets into fights or starts anything.
Belongings: Greene carries with him his trusty M110 with Thermal Weapon System, complete with bipod, PEQ box to mark targets with laser in night time, flash hider, and attached range finder (really just his range finder binoculars duct-taped to the top of his TWS); and his standard issue combat knife from when he was in the Armed Forces
Other: During his service, Greene was given the codes to the US Satellites in geosynchronous orbit over the Middle East and various other parts of the world. His callsign has remained the same since he was inducted into the Army; Overwatch. He provides reconnaissance over any area, hot or not.
History: Greene was born in the Omaha, Nebraska whilst his mother and father were on vacation. Growing up in Middle-of-nowhere, Kansas provided Trevor with the chance to play a lot, especially board games and puzzles. Whenever he got to meet up with his friends, they would go through the typical games young kids play, tag, then freeze tag, then hide and go seek. All of Greene's friends hated it when he played hide and go seek, because he could easily remain unseen, and even if he did get caught, it took him seconds upon the game starting to find the first person. Out of High School and with no real direction in life, Trevor enlisted into the Army. From there he went through basic Airborne Training at Fort Benning, Georgia, then through HALO jumping, Marksman school, Special Forces Assessment and Screening, then through intelligence training with UAVs and Satellites. After serving honorably for seven years, Greene left as a Staff Sergeant and moved to England to follow a buddy of his who he had met in Afghanistan.
RP Sample: Greene looked up at the clear star-lit sky. All around him was the vast, flat desert of the Middle East, with the exception of the small town of Jawalabad. His watch read ten at night, that left him with only thirty minutes to find the highest dune in the area with a good overview of the city. By the time he reached his dune, he could already hear the distinct sound of the approaching Blachawks. "Overwatch this is Bullwhip Actual. How's it look down there?" Greene was slightly startled at the voice, but quickly realized it was the Blachawk pilot.
"Bullwhip Actual, this is Overwatch. It's pretty nasty down there, if I were you I'd wait for CAS to come in and make 'em waste their ammo, then roll the infantry in."
"Uh, that's a negative Overwatch. I've got thirteen eager troops in my bird alone, and a hell of a lot more in the other four. CAS says it's ETA is fifteen mics, and I bet they've heard us already. Proceeding with Operation Coolidge."
"s**t... Roger, commencing Operation Coolidge."
Greene looked through the Thermal on his M110 at the white figures way out. He switched to black hot, looked through his range finder at the middle of the city, and clicked the distance in. "Five hundred meters, no wind. Perfect." Trevor quickly identified the targets with AA missiles. He counted four, and put two rounds in each one of them, then he saw it. It rolled out from a garage where it had been hiding, waiting for the US to arrive. "Break! Break! We have a Tunguska in the AO! Repeat, We have Triple-A in the city! Objective is not possible without CAS support, over!" But it was too late. Greene watched helplessly as two of the four blachawks were sliced in half by the Tunguska's heavy breath of what appeared to be fire. Although the thought of the incident was horrifying, he couldn't help but notice how beatiful it was, as an image. The tracers from the Tunguska were so close together and tightly packed that they were more like a river of fire than a chain. By then Greene had had enough time to process everything that was going on around him.
"Citizen this is Overwatch, we need immediate SADARM support on target grid 4.928 North by 6.772 West, over!"
"Overwatch this is Citizen, Roger that, SADARM strike inbound on those coordinates."
By the time the SADARMs hit the Tunguska, the other two choppers had landed behind the dunes, and the downed birds were swarming with gunfire from the surviving soldiers shooting at the incoming swarm of Taliban, and vice versa. Greene gave assistance to the best of his ability, shooting rounds as accurately as possible, but also in a timely manner.
"Citizen this is Overwatch, good hit on target. Bullwhips two and four are down, but survivors have been sighted. Please advise, over."
"Roger Overwatch, orders are as follows: Bullwhips One, Three, and Five are to drop off infantry units and RTB, those units are then to make a push for the downed birds, secure those crash sites, rendevouse with survivors, and proceed with the mission, CAS is inbound, ETA five mics. Citizen out."
"Ah, s**t..." Green knew he was in for a long night.
Focus of Training: Special Reconnaissance (UAV scanning, satelite hacking for image data, etc.)
Appearance: "And in this corner, weighing in at one hundred ninety-four pounds with a height of six foot one is the brown haired, green eyed, twenty-five year old from Kansas! Trevor GREENE!"
Personality: Greene is pretty outgoing, despite the fact that the kinds of conversations he makes are always awkward. He's pretty harmless outside the combat zone, never gets into fights or starts anything.
Belongings: Greene carries with him his trusty M110 with Thermal Weapon System, complete with bipod, PEQ box to mark targets with laser in night time, flash hider, and attached range finder (really just his range finder binoculars duct-taped to the top of his TWS); and his standard issue combat knife from when he was in the Armed Forces
Other: During his service, Greene was given the codes to the US Satellites in geosynchronous orbit over the Middle East and various other parts of the world. His callsign has remained the same since he was inducted into the Army; Overwatch. He provides reconnaissance over any area, hot or not.
History: Greene was born in the Omaha, Nebraska whilst his mother and father were on vacation. Growing up in Middle-of-nowhere, Kansas provided Trevor with the chance to play a lot, especially board games and puzzles. Whenever he got to meet up with his friends, they would go through the typical games young kids play, tag, then freeze tag, then hide and go seek. All of Greene's friends hated it when he played hide and go seek, because he could easily remain unseen, and even if he did get caught, it took him seconds upon the game starting to find the first person. Out of High School and with no real direction in life, Trevor enlisted into the Army. From there he went through basic Airborne Training at Fort Benning, Georgia, then through HALO jumping, Marksman school, Special Forces Assessment and Screening, then through intelligence training with UAVs and Satellites. After serving honorably for seven years, Greene left as a Staff Sergeant and moved to England to follow a buddy of his who he had met in Afghanistan.
RP Sample: Greene looked up at the clear star-lit sky. All around him was the vast, flat desert of the Middle East, with the exception of the small town of Jawalabad. His watch read ten at night, that left him with only thirty minutes to find the highest dune in the area with a good overview of the city. By the time he reached his dune, he could already hear the distinct sound of the approaching Blachawks. "Overwatch this is Bullwhip Actual. How's it look down there?" Greene was slightly startled at the voice, but quickly realized it was the Blachawk pilot.
"Bullwhip Actual, this is Overwatch. It's pretty nasty down there, if I were you I'd wait for CAS to come in and make 'em waste their ammo, then roll the infantry in."
"Uh, that's a negative Overwatch. I've got thirteen eager troops in my bird alone, and a hell of a lot more in the other four. CAS says it's ETA is fifteen mics, and I bet they've heard us already. Proceeding with Operation Coolidge."
"s**t... Roger, commencing Operation Coolidge."
Greene looked through the Thermal on his M110 at the white figures way out. He switched to black hot, looked through his range finder at the middle of the city, and clicked the distance in. "Five hundred meters, no wind. Perfect." Trevor quickly identified the targets with AA missiles. He counted four, and put two rounds in each one of them, then he saw it. It rolled out from a garage where it had been hiding, waiting for the US to arrive. "Break! Break! We have a Tunguska in the AO! Repeat, We have Triple-A in the city! Objective is not possible without CAS support, over!" But it was too late. Greene watched helplessly as two of the four blachawks were sliced in half by the Tunguska's heavy breath of what appeared to be fire. Although the thought of the incident was horrifying, he couldn't help but notice how beatiful it was, as an image. The tracers from the Tunguska were so close together and tightly packed that they were more like a river of fire than a chain. By then Greene had had enough time to process everything that was going on around him.
"Citizen this is Overwatch, we need immediate SADARM support on target grid 4.928 North by 6.772 West, over!"
"Overwatch this is Citizen, Roger that, SADARM strike inbound on those coordinates."
By the time the SADARMs hit the Tunguska, the other two choppers had landed behind the dunes, and the downed birds were swarming with gunfire from the surviving soldiers shooting at the incoming swarm of Taliban, and vice versa. Greene gave assistance to the best of his ability, shooting rounds as accurately as possible, but also in a timely manner.
"Citizen this is Overwatch, good hit on target. Bullwhips two and four are down, but survivors have been sighted. Please advise, over."
"Roger Overwatch, orders are as follows: Bullwhips One, Three, and Five are to drop off infantry units and RTB, those units are then to make a push for the downed birds, secure those crash sites, rendevouse with survivors, and proceed with the mission, CAS is inbound, ETA five mics. Citizen out."
"Ah, s**t..." Green knew he was in for a long night.
Lieutenant Bumm
Quote:
Name: Pvt. Jarekki "Ghost" Nocturne
Focus of Training: Careless. Jarekki seems to act like he doesn't care about most of the things anyone says, as if he were a higher level than what he truly was. Other than stated, Jarekki is into sharpshooting and melee. During his sniper tasks, he usually smokes cigarettes and stays on-topic, but is probably one of the most relaxed sharpshooters this group of humans had. As for his melee skills, they are unique and quick. Jarekki would be known as a true assassin.
Appearance: Age: Eighteen. Height/Weight: 5'11/169lbs. His hair is short in the back, but long in the front. It's colored black, with a purple streak going down one side of a bang. His eyes are light blue. He's one skinny b*****d, but a tricky one. Jarekki wears baggy, black/cargo jeans, with a dark undershirt. He wears a dark fedora with a cross on it's side most of the time, otherwise its a bandana.
Personality: Jarekki is one careless b*****d. He acts emo, goth, scene. Whatever you'd like to call him. But he isn't. Jarekki doesn't talk so much, only when spoken towards. Sometimes he's a smartass to higher ranks, but most often he keeps to himself and does his job.
Belongings: M40A3 Marine Sniper Rifle, Throwing Knives, Gerber LHR Combat Knife. Always has a pack of cigarettes and a couple matchbooks on him.
History: Jarekki was born July 2, 1992. He had survived being almost drowned by his mother and was shot twice by his father at age 5. His mother went to the state asylum and his father's whereabouts are unknown. Growing up alone was a hard task, until he went street-smart. At age thirteen, he was surrounded by five members of the Sadistic Skull Bashers (SSB) gang. The next thing that happened left the leading man with his arm chopped off and his head half buried into the ground, with his comrads backing away slowly and running without hesitation. At age fifteen, Jarekki affiliated with the Faceless Assassins, which lead him to be the scariest teenager around. After that year, he bailed out on the J.A.W gang, the only thing of remembrance is the J.A.W specialized tattoo on his back. At age seventeen, he signed up for the military, but was refused. He proved them their decision was a mistake (in cases not to be specified) and they let him in.
RP Sample:
Focus of Training: Careless. Jarekki seems to act like he doesn't care about most of the things anyone says, as if he were a higher level than what he truly was. Other than stated, Jarekki is into sharpshooting and melee. During his sniper tasks, he usually smokes cigarettes and stays on-topic, but is probably one of the most relaxed sharpshooters this group of humans had. As for his melee skills, they are unique and quick. Jarekki would be known as a true assassin.
Appearance: Age: Eighteen. Height/Weight: 5'11/169lbs. His hair is short in the back, but long in the front. It's colored black, with a purple streak going down one side of a bang. His eyes are light blue. He's one skinny b*****d, but a tricky one. Jarekki wears baggy, black/cargo jeans, with a dark undershirt. He wears a dark fedora with a cross on it's side most of the time, otherwise its a bandana.
Personality: Jarekki is one careless b*****d. He acts emo, goth, scene. Whatever you'd like to call him. But he isn't. Jarekki doesn't talk so much, only when spoken towards. Sometimes he's a smartass to higher ranks, but most often he keeps to himself and does his job.
Belongings: M40A3 Marine Sniper Rifle, Throwing Knives, Gerber LHR Combat Knife. Always has a pack of cigarettes and a couple matchbooks on him.
History: Jarekki was born July 2, 1992. He had survived being almost drowned by his mother and was shot twice by his father at age 5. His mother went to the state asylum and his father's whereabouts are unknown. Growing up alone was a hard task, until he went street-smart. At age thirteen, he was surrounded by five members of the Sadistic Skull Bashers (SSB) gang. The next thing that happened left the leading man with his arm chopped off and his head half buried into the ground, with his comrads backing away slowly and running without hesitation. At age fifteen, Jarekki affiliated with the Faceless Assassins, which lead him to be the scariest teenager around. After that year, he bailed out on the J.A.W gang, the only thing of remembrance is the J.A.W specialized tattoo on his back. At age seventeen, he signed up for the military, but was refused. He proved them their decision was a mistake (in cases not to be specified) and they let him in.
RP Sample:
Jarekki caught the vodka and listened to what Skylar had to say. Of course he didn't respond, but listened as Skylar walked away with Angie. He took a drink out of his glass and slammed it down before listening to somebody breathe on him from behind. Jarekki didn't bother to turn around, as two more shadows hovered over him. He blinked once and sighed before attempting to take another glass. When he raised it, a hand came down and slammed the cup to the table.
"... The hell are you doing?" A deep, strong voice said.
"You're too young to drink. I suggest you leave," Another said.
"Yeah, you don't want to cause trouble, do you?" The third called out.
Jarekki felt three smirks behind him before a gun was pointed to his head. He continued to look at the desk as they threatened him. For what it was worth, he could tell the three attackers were Skull Bashers. All he lived for was to get back at the SSBs to get revenge. And to help him succeed is his family, the Faceless Assassins.
"Yo!" The first voice boomed," I'm talking to you, kid!"
The sound of a gun cocking ran through Jarekki's skull. Jarekki's elbow smashed into the second gangster's ribs while his body turned to the man behind him. He felt the trigger pull as bullets sped over him, while his hands wrapped the man's arm. The man's arm was successfully in Jarekki's pit before he turned, hearing a satisfying pop and the sweet sound of severe pain. Jarekki caught the gun with his hand and pulled the trigger at the third gangster, the bullet successfully whirling through the man's forehead.
"Yo man, what the ********?" The second man said," Dude, you just ******** up my crew..."
"Go ******** yourself," Jarekki said coldly before denying a plea for freedom and shooting the man in the head. He tossed the gun down before going back to his seat and sitting down, taking a drink from his glass.
"... The hell are you doing?" A deep, strong voice said.
"You're too young to drink. I suggest you leave," Another said.
"Yeah, you don't want to cause trouble, do you?" The third called out.
Jarekki felt three smirks behind him before a gun was pointed to his head. He continued to look at the desk as they threatened him. For what it was worth, he could tell the three attackers were Skull Bashers. All he lived for was to get back at the SSBs to get revenge. And to help him succeed is his family, the Faceless Assassins.
"Yo!" The first voice boomed," I'm talking to you, kid!"
The sound of a gun cocking ran through Jarekki's skull. Jarekki's elbow smashed into the second gangster's ribs while his body turned to the man behind him. He felt the trigger pull as bullets sped over him, while his hands wrapped the man's arm. The man's arm was successfully in Jarekki's pit before he turned, hearing a satisfying pop and the sweet sound of severe pain. Jarekki caught the gun with his hand and pulled the trigger at the third gangster, the bullet successfully whirling through the man's forehead.
"Yo man, what the ********?" The second man said," Dude, you just ******** up my crew..."
"Go ******** yourself," Jarekki said coldly before denying a plea for freedom and shooting the man in the head. He tossed the gun down before going back to his seat and sitting down, taking a drink from his glass.
Partydude11
Quote:
Name: Ezekial Erwitz
Focus of Training: Saboteur/Demolition
Appearance: Stands at en even 6 feet. 36 years old. Has light, almost blonde, brown hair in a typical militairy cut. Has a lean build to his body, though his legs show a bit of defined muscle. His eyes are a forest green color, and his skin has a fair tan to it. Typically wears hawaiian shirts when in civilian locations and not on a job. Wears a pair of jeans in various colors all the time, liking how hard it is to make them unwearable. Wears sleeveless shirts around base, with camo jackets during the colder months.
Personality: Tends to borderline psychotic at times, especially when explosions are involved. Acts serious when on the mission, but acts like an oversized child the rest of the time. Highly insecure in new places, tends to act even more childish at those times. Reads up on the newest ways to blow s**t up in his free time. Absolutely loooves overkill. Tends to change his appearance weekly.
Belongings: Uses a slightly modified G36C, with a grenade attachment added to it. Carries at least five pounds of C4 on his person at all times. Usually carries a jar of hair dye of various colors in his pocket, along with a two pairs of sunglasses. Carries a M9 with a silencer attachement for when he needs to do things quietly. Carries explosive weaponry during missions in which they are appropiate, like an RPG rocket launcher, or explosve grenades. Has special tear gas grenades for his gun's grenade launcher.
Other: Knows Russian, English, Spanish, and German.
History: Lived an average life in southern Indiana, was a city boy for most of his life. After graduating from high school he joined the Navy as a marine. He served for four years in the militairy before being dishonerably discharged for accidently blowing up several US boats. Immediately afterwards he joined a PMC going by the name of ShadeWraith, a PMC specializing in assassinations. He spent 12 years in the company until he was used as a scapegoat for an operation gone wrong. During an operation in which a team of three were to assassinate a corrupted government official in a hotel, something went wrong and they were discovered before they could complete the mission. His two partners got away, leaving him behind to take all the blame. After a narrow escape he went on the lamb, changing his appearance to held make him hard to find.
RP Sample: Ezekial adjusted the fancy tie around his neck, having trouble getting comfortable in it. "Remind me again why I have to be the one in the monkey suit?" "'Cause you drew the short straw. Now get a move on." He grumbled to himself as he placed the lid over the meal he was about to deliver. After making one last check that his M9 was properly loaded and was clean, he began pushing the cart toward the elevator. He took the chance of being alone in the elevator to check on the G36C underneith the cloth covering the cart, to make sure it was in a spot he could easily pull it out if needed. He quickly dropped the cloth back down to cover the gun as the ding signalling he'd arrived at his floor hit his ears. The only sound in the hallway was the sound of the wheels of the cart as he headed toward the room. He stopped the cart and knocked on the door. "Room service. I have the meal you ordered." The door opened to reveal a large muscular man standing in front of him. The mountain of muscle moved aside enough he could roll the cart in, closing the door behind him. Laying on the bed, counting a large amount of money was his target. He stopped the cart, then took the lid off the meal. He stood aside as the bodyguard went to test the food, placing his hand on his M9. Before he could pull it out however, the earpiece in his ear turned on. "Abort! Abort! I repeat, abort!"
The muscular bodyguard suddenly stood up straight and reached into his jacket. "s**t!" He quickly pulled the gun out of his pocket and unloaded the entire clip into the mountain of mass. The man fell backwards, the object he was pulling out flying onto the bed. A notebook hit the soft matress as the target dived for cover with a scream. He quickly reached under the cart and pulled out his G36C just as two more bodyguards burst out of the bathroom. He quickly unloaded an entire clip at them, one of them getting a shot in the head while the other just took a couple of shots to the arm. He quickly ran past them and opened the door quickly, slamming the door onto the living guard to knock him out. He reloaded his gun as he headed toward the elevator.
Ezekial stopped in his tracks as a ding rang through the hallway, singaling someone was coming up the elevator. He dived into a doorway, using itas cover as bullet shot down the hallway. He peeked out, and got a glimpse of their numbers before he had to pull it back as they shot some more at him. Ok.. there's at least three of them. I can't get to the other elevator, and I'll get shot down if I try to shoot them. It was at that time he noticed the laundry chute on the wall immediately across the hall from him. "Well.. I can't think of anything better." He fired wildy at the bodyguards in the elevator as he quickly moved across the hall. He opened the chute and dived in head first. It was at that moment he realized that if the cart at the bottom was empty, he'd die anyway. Lucky for him he landed in a pile of soft dirty clothes.
Ezekial pulled himself out of the cart and quickly heaed out of the room. He eneded up in the garage, and looked around for a way to escape. He noticed a car driving toward the exit at a slow rate, and he quickly heaed toward it. He got next to it, knocked on the door, and pointed his G36C at the man. "GET THE HELL OUT OF THE CAR! Leave the keys in there too!" He kept his gun trained on the man as he climbed into the car, then drove away at full speed.
Focus of Training: Saboteur/Demolition
Appearance: Stands at en even 6 feet. 36 years old. Has light, almost blonde, brown hair in a typical militairy cut. Has a lean build to his body, though his legs show a bit of defined muscle. His eyes are a forest green color, and his skin has a fair tan to it. Typically wears hawaiian shirts when in civilian locations and not on a job. Wears a pair of jeans in various colors all the time, liking how hard it is to make them unwearable. Wears sleeveless shirts around base, with camo jackets during the colder months.
Personality: Tends to borderline psychotic at times, especially when explosions are involved. Acts serious when on the mission, but acts like an oversized child the rest of the time. Highly insecure in new places, tends to act even more childish at those times. Reads up on the newest ways to blow s**t up in his free time. Absolutely loooves overkill. Tends to change his appearance weekly.
Belongings: Uses a slightly modified G36C, with a grenade attachment added to it. Carries at least five pounds of C4 on his person at all times. Usually carries a jar of hair dye of various colors in his pocket, along with a two pairs of sunglasses. Carries a M9 with a silencer attachement for when he needs to do things quietly. Carries explosive weaponry during missions in which they are appropiate, like an RPG rocket launcher, or explosve grenades. Has special tear gas grenades for his gun's grenade launcher.
Other: Knows Russian, English, Spanish, and German.
History: Lived an average life in southern Indiana, was a city boy for most of his life. After graduating from high school he joined the Navy as a marine. He served for four years in the militairy before being dishonerably discharged for accidently blowing up several US boats. Immediately afterwards he joined a PMC going by the name of ShadeWraith, a PMC specializing in assassinations. He spent 12 years in the company until he was used as a scapegoat for an operation gone wrong. During an operation in which a team of three were to assassinate a corrupted government official in a hotel, something went wrong and they were discovered before they could complete the mission. His two partners got away, leaving him behind to take all the blame. After a narrow escape he went on the lamb, changing his appearance to held make him hard to find.
RP Sample: Ezekial adjusted the fancy tie around his neck, having trouble getting comfortable in it. "Remind me again why I have to be the one in the monkey suit?" "'Cause you drew the short straw. Now get a move on." He grumbled to himself as he placed the lid over the meal he was about to deliver. After making one last check that his M9 was properly loaded and was clean, he began pushing the cart toward the elevator. He took the chance of being alone in the elevator to check on the G36C underneith the cloth covering the cart, to make sure it was in a spot he could easily pull it out if needed. He quickly dropped the cloth back down to cover the gun as the ding signalling he'd arrived at his floor hit his ears. The only sound in the hallway was the sound of the wheels of the cart as he headed toward the room. He stopped the cart and knocked on the door. "Room service. I have the meal you ordered." The door opened to reveal a large muscular man standing in front of him. The mountain of muscle moved aside enough he could roll the cart in, closing the door behind him. Laying on the bed, counting a large amount of money was his target. He stopped the cart, then took the lid off the meal. He stood aside as the bodyguard went to test the food, placing his hand on his M9. Before he could pull it out however, the earpiece in his ear turned on. "Abort! Abort! I repeat, abort!"
The muscular bodyguard suddenly stood up straight and reached into his jacket. "s**t!" He quickly pulled the gun out of his pocket and unloaded the entire clip into the mountain of mass. The man fell backwards, the object he was pulling out flying onto the bed. A notebook hit the soft matress as the target dived for cover with a scream. He quickly reached under the cart and pulled out his G36C just as two more bodyguards burst out of the bathroom. He quickly unloaded an entire clip at them, one of them getting a shot in the head while the other just took a couple of shots to the arm. He quickly ran past them and opened the door quickly, slamming the door onto the living guard to knock him out. He reloaded his gun as he headed toward the elevator.
Ezekial stopped in his tracks as a ding rang through the hallway, singaling someone was coming up the elevator. He dived into a doorway, using itas cover as bullet shot down the hallway. He peeked out, and got a glimpse of their numbers before he had to pull it back as they shot some more at him. Ok.. there's at least three of them. I can't get to the other elevator, and I'll get shot down if I try to shoot them. It was at that time he noticed the laundry chute on the wall immediately across the hall from him. "Well.. I can't think of anything better." He fired wildy at the bodyguards in the elevator as he quickly moved across the hall. He opened the chute and dived in head first. It was at that moment he realized that if the cart at the bottom was empty, he'd die anyway. Lucky for him he landed in a pile of soft dirty clothes.
Ezekial pulled himself out of the cart and quickly heaed out of the room. He eneded up in the garage, and looked around for a way to escape. He noticed a car driving toward the exit at a slow rate, and he quickly heaed toward it. He got next to it, knocked on the door, and pointed his G36C at the man. "GET THE HELL OUT OF THE CAR! Leave the keys in there too!" He kept his gun trained on the man as he climbed into the car, then drove away at full speed.
darthseb
Quote:
Name: Spc. Garth Rom
Focus of Training: Stealth first and foremost. As such his training has been focused on silent personal combat (with knives and/or bare hands) and the use of long range snipers/mid range marksman guns.
Appearance: 36, 5' 11", 180lbs roughly. Pale-skinned. Hair is black, but buzzcut so it's VERY short. Jaw covered in stubble. A staple in his outfit for every op is a camouflage load-bearing harness. For most of his 'work clothing' including the harness, he owns all styles of camouflage. Often for warmer climates, his outfit consists of tactical BDUs, his harness and equipment, and whatever other holsters or ammo/dump pouches he needs, as well as combat boots and a UNITCOM combat communications helmet. When it gets cold, he weathers through it. When it gets TOO cold he layers himself with a simple tanktop under fatigues, under the harness, under a hooded and camouflaged tactical coat.
Personality: At ease, Garth is available to listen, but if you want him to talk, expect heavy and rather biblical pessimism, and a sarcastic sense of humor to go with it; more often than not you'll hear a "we're all going to die" type joke. His father's stories about the Cold War were what planted within him an unflinching belief that one incident could, and in fact will at some point, cause a nuclear holocaust which will bring the world to extinction. When Garth is on a mission, his stealth instincts kick in. As such, radio communication is kept to an extreme minimum while he's on his own.
Belongings: Besides the aforementioned harness and gear, Garth's arsenal consists of an extremely well-preserved M1911 handed down by his father (with silencer), a Kukri knife, and a c14 MRSWS Canadian sniper rifle, with proprietary silencer. Garth also carries a Chinese tactical spade and a multitool. Depending on his orders, Garth is also prepared to procure-on-site.
Other: ..can't think of anything else that doesn't already have its place here.
History: Childhood was spent with a loving father, divorced from a drunk and a thief. He looked up to his father, despite the fact that they couldn't spend much time together inbetween the father's two jobs. Garth was especially proud of his father's military heroism, and often stared at dad's Congressional Medal of Honor. He grew older and even though he graduated college with a BS in Business, the economy was in shambles and all attempts at a living were unsuccessful. This is when Garth decided to carry on his father's legacy.
RP Sample: Garth waited up in the tree, legs wrapped tightly around a branch, until the sentry walked under. He quietly slid his knife out of its sheath and waited until the guard was directly below him before letting both hands off of the branch. As his upper body hung upside down from the tree, he quickly grabbed the enemy soldier from behind and killed him with one brutal stab in the neck. As the soldier fell to the ground his grip on his weapon tightened and he fired his M14 into the ground. Silenced, but a nearby group of his buddies heard. Tree hiding probably no longer viable. Have to act quick. He looked around, gathering his options. Tall grass. It'll work. Garth grabbed the branch and let his leg grip off. His feet touched the ground and he ran to a nearby patch of tall grass. He hid in the middle and stayed completely still. Three soldiers approached the corpse which lay under the tree. "David! Alright, you two, keep your ears ******** peeled. That sneaky s**t is still here somewhere."
Focus of Training: Stealth first and foremost. As such his training has been focused on silent personal combat (with knives and/or bare hands) and the use of long range snipers/mid range marksman guns.
Appearance: 36, 5' 11", 180lbs roughly. Pale-skinned. Hair is black, but buzzcut so it's VERY short. Jaw covered in stubble. A staple in his outfit for every op is a camouflage load-bearing harness. For most of his 'work clothing' including the harness, he owns all styles of camouflage. Often for warmer climates, his outfit consists of tactical BDUs, his harness and equipment, and whatever other holsters or ammo/dump pouches he needs, as well as combat boots and a UNITCOM combat communications helmet. When it gets cold, he weathers through it. When it gets TOO cold he layers himself with a simple tanktop under fatigues, under the harness, under a hooded and camouflaged tactical coat.
Personality: At ease, Garth is available to listen, but if you want him to talk, expect heavy and rather biblical pessimism, and a sarcastic sense of humor to go with it; more often than not you'll hear a "we're all going to die" type joke. His father's stories about the Cold War were what planted within him an unflinching belief that one incident could, and in fact will at some point, cause a nuclear holocaust which will bring the world to extinction. When Garth is on a mission, his stealth instincts kick in. As such, radio communication is kept to an extreme minimum while he's on his own.
Belongings: Besides the aforementioned harness and gear, Garth's arsenal consists of an extremely well-preserved M1911 handed down by his father (with silencer), a Kukri knife, and a c14 MRSWS Canadian sniper rifle, with proprietary silencer. Garth also carries a Chinese tactical spade and a multitool. Depending on his orders, Garth is also prepared to procure-on-site.
Other: ..can't think of anything else that doesn't already have its place here.
History: Childhood was spent with a loving father, divorced from a drunk and a thief. He looked up to his father, despite the fact that they couldn't spend much time together inbetween the father's two jobs. Garth was especially proud of his father's military heroism, and often stared at dad's Congressional Medal of Honor. He grew older and even though he graduated college with a BS in Business, the economy was in shambles and all attempts at a living were unsuccessful. This is when Garth decided to carry on his father's legacy.
RP Sample: Garth waited up in the tree, legs wrapped tightly around a branch, until the sentry walked under. He quietly slid his knife out of its sheath and waited until the guard was directly below him before letting both hands off of the branch. As his upper body hung upside down from the tree, he quickly grabbed the enemy soldier from behind and killed him with one brutal stab in the neck. As the soldier fell to the ground his grip on his weapon tightened and he fired his M14 into the ground. Silenced, but a nearby group of his buddies heard. Tree hiding probably no longer viable. Have to act quick. He looked around, gathering his options. Tall grass. It'll work. Garth grabbed the branch and let his leg grip off. His feet touched the ground and he ran to a nearby patch of tall grass. He hid in the middle and stayed completely still. Three soldiers approached the corpse which lay under the tree. "David! Alright, you two, keep your ears ******** peeled. That sneaky s**t is still here somewhere."
