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 Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 5:16 pm
LOCATION ::: A night club in Johannesburg, South Africa
TIME OF DAY ::: 10:00 p.m.
CIRCUMSTANCES ::: Six years after the Latrocinium's disbandment, an arranged meeting between York Freeman and Kyle Anderson
Anderson slowly maneuvered into the nightclub and scanned the crowd for a sign of his contact. He kept away from the dance floor as he knew Freeman wouldn't be found there. He managed to catch a glimpse of him in a secluded high-top not far from the bar. Kyle adjusted his shirt before making his way to the bar for a drink. Once served, he sat down at the table with York Freeman. Kyle gave a quick smile and the two shook hands. It had truly been a long time. Naturally, they asked each other how they were doing and spent some time catching up before the conversation was directed towards the purpose of their meeting, "Sounds like you are doing well, York," he leaned forward in his chair and said quietly, "but why don't we get to why we're here."
York nodded. "Alright, well I e-mailed you the details a couple of days ago and I know you viewed all the relevant information, but just to recap — A quantity of uranium was stolen from an Iranian government laboratory six days ago. Uranium is, of course, a crucial component of nuclear weapons and it is likely that the terrorists plan to use the uranium in the construction of a weapon of mass destruction. The terrorists responsible for the theft have been tracked to an isolated location in the Zagros Mountains of Iran. The Iranian political and military officials who are aware of the event know that they, as individuals and as a nation, are completely ********> if word gets out that they allowed uranium to fall into the hands of terrorists. So they're hoping to get that uranium back quickly and discreetly."
"And, they can't get it back themselves?" Kyle injected.
"Not when half the Western World is watching them," York responded. York continued, "I won't go into detail now, but let's just say I've done some work for the Iranian government before. After they found out about this mess and discussed their options, they contacted me promptly and asked that I handle the situation." York sighed. "I'm still pretty sharp, thanks to the independent merc jobs and contract killings I've done in the past few years. But this is big. And I can't do it alone. Especially since I've done a lot less work since my son was born a little over three years ago."
"I still don't know why you are even considering this, Freeman. You have a family now," Kyle replied.
"Kid's goin' to college someday, isn't he?" York shot back.
"Alright." Kyle nodded. "Who do we need?"
"Employers were diligent in letting me know that we can't make a scene. Only way anyone is gettin' hired is if we can do it with approximately two squads or less. They're afraid any larger group of armed people will have Langley up our a** and listening. So that puts us at around ten tops. I don't think we can do it with less than five."
Kyle sighed, "Are we even in contact with five Templars anymore?"
York shrugged, "I know we still have a few active. We might have to pull in some favors."
Kyle nodded, "I have some people in mind. We'll make some calls later." Kyle took a generous gulp of his drink, "You have a plan?"
"A tentative one, but that's part of the reason you're here. You led the Latrocinium for a time, you've done things similar to this before... I'm hoping we can organize this op together." York blinked a few times and leaned back in his chair. Then he added, "And of course, due to the magnitude of the situation, they're willing to pay us handsomely. We'll split all the profits evenly between all the operatives. That'll leave plenty of income for each of us, as long as we get the job done."
Kyle let out a short chuckle, "So, that's why you want to do this so badly." Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He took a moment to hit some buttons and pulled up the information York had sent him before he got to Johannesburg. After scrolling through it for a few more seconds, he took another gulp of his drink and paused before glancing back at York, "Alright. Let's get the old team together. We'll need to really go over the logistics for this one, though, " he scrolled through a few more pages, "There is a lot more on the line here than us not getting paid."
York smirked, "Then I hope our friends still got it..."
LOCATION ::: Somewhere in the Zagros Mountains of Iran
TIME OF DAY ::: Mid-morning
CIRCUMSTANCES ::: A few weeks after the meeting between York and Kyle, the earth is blanketed in a few inches of snow, and a snowstorm is imminent
With the onset of the blizzard, many of the villagers had taken refuge in their shacks and cellars, but a few stragglers remained in the streets, closing their shops or going about usual business. The terrorists were easily identified, since most of them were armed and patrolled the small town's snow-covered streets, passively keeping an eye out for trouble. But just like the villagers, many of the terrorists were indoors, trying to avoid the cold and the precipitation.
The town itself was the terrorists' base of operations. Village elders had been approached over a year ago and told that all the villagers would be slaughtered if they didn't agree to house the terrorist cell. So the elders didn't really argue or complain, even though they were opposed the terrorists' presence, dealings, and aspirations. The terrorists had set up shop in two particular buildings; each one was two-stories tall and relatively stable and fortified, especially when compared to the humble abodes of many of the villagers. The terrorists kept weapons, equipment, intelligence, paperwork, and other important materials in those two guarded buildings. A few other buildings and shacks throughout the town served as terrorist outposts and checkpoints, but none of them were truly significant. Throughout the entire village, which wasn't very big at all, there were usually a few dozen terrorists, sometimes more and sometimes less.
About a mile from the village, on a raised portion of earth, was a small abandoned schoolhouse. Young villagers had once been educated there, but when the roof began to collapse in one corner of the building after a severe storm a few years ago, the village elders decided to surrender the building to nature. Since the villagers and the terrorists almost never ventured to the old schoolhouse, York had chosen it as the location for his makeshift staging area, and had put a small encampment together there in the previous few days. The building had only one story and consisted of just a few separate rooms, so it wasn't a large or comfortable base, but it did just fine.
Parked outside the schoolhouse were a pair of pickup trucks that the team would be using, and in the back of one of the trucks were a few duffel bags containing supplies, including medical equipment, food, water, and various other things.
That place would be the beginning of yet another Templar operation. But unlike previous missions, this one would have catastrophic repercussions in the event of a failure, and this one would require particular fortitude and prudence.
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 5:17 pm
 ::: MISSION OBJECTIVES :::
PRIMARY Acquire stolen uranium from terrorists
SECONDARY Avoid civilian casualties if possible
SECONDARY Minimize potential publicity of actions ::: OPERATIVES :::
York Freeman >>> York Freeman
York Freeman >>> Christian Carter
York Freeman >>> Marcus Knightly
Alucard von Dracali >>> Kyle Anderson
Millenium Joker >>> ?
Motherplucker >>> Seamus Osuillabhain
Lord Gemini >>> Andreas Nachtigal
Breenland >>> ?
Nikolai Volodin >>> Jason Alexander "J" Roth
Obliviated Schnauzer >>> "OS"
Important Notice: I reserve the right to puppetmaster your character and/or write your character out of the RP in the event that you go inactive for a period of time and significantly slow the pace of the RP. While I realize that you may not appreciate this, it may be necessary to keep the RP running smoothly. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 5:18 pm
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 5:19 pm
THE ROLE PLAY IS OFFICIALLY OPEN, GENTLEMEN, SO GET YOUR BOOTS ON THE GROUND AND GET TO WORK York sat alone just inside one of the schoolhouse's windows and looked out upon the snowy scene. For a moment, he eyed the two pickup trucks that the team had for this op; he regretted that current limited funds and resources prevented him from requisitioning a pair of Humvees, but the Latrocinium was no longer the power it once had been, so the pickup trucks would have to do.
York was clad in warm, winter combat attire. A white tactical vest covered his white sweatshirt, and thick white pants and white combat boots protected his lower body from the cold. There were various light gray pockets and pouches on the vest, and more pouches were strapped around York's thighs for him to carry ammunition and supplies in. A light gray rucksack was on York's back and York's hood was up. Light gray gloves covered his hands, and a new white wristwatch was strapped around his left wrist. His M14 Enhanced Battle Rifle (which was modified with a sound suppressor, a deployable bipod, and an adjustable 3x / 6x ACOG scope) was slung over his shoulder. His sidearm, a Tactical USP (which was modified with a sound suppressor), was holstered on his right thigh. And his customized combat knife was in a sheath attached to his tactical vest, positioned vertically on his left breast. On York's left ear, he wore a wireless radio device for communicating with his team during the upcoming mission. He'd made the decision to travel light for this op; avoiding extra weight was usually preferable for York, who specialized in marksmanship and infiltration, two fields that required a measure of stealth and quickness.
York hadn't changed too much physically since he'd last seen his fellow Templars, six or so years ago. He was now in his late-thirties, but he remained about 6'2" tall, weighing about 185 pounds. His hair was short, dark (but with some gray hairs here and there), and kept in a relatively messy fashion, sort of jutting in various directions atop his head, as if he never really combed it. And his face was scarred but by no means unattractive. Since the disbandment of the Latrocinium, York had married the love of his life — a woman he'd been dating for a long time. And about nine months after the wedding, the two had their first and only child, a son. Both York's wife and son, who was a little over three years old now, were doing well. And York, having not seen them in a few weeks, missed them a great deal. But there was work to be done.
York was currently at the staging area for the upcoming mission. He'd been there alone for a few days, doing recon work and gathering intel. But the other operatives would be arriving shortly. York and Kyle had hired some locals to escort the mercenaries individually to the staging area. That way, the mercs wouldn't have to transport themselves to the remote location, and not only risk getting lost, but also risk being forced to leave their means of transportation behind at the mission's conclusion. Each local had been hired to meet up with one of the operatives at a discreet location near the Zagros Mountains and drive that operative to the staging area, then leave the operative to his work. And the operatives were scheduled to arrive rather soon. But for now, York lit up a cigarette, took a long drag, and twirled his Mark 3 Knife in his hand with impressive dexterity as he looked out the window in silence.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2012 5:57 pm
((Yeh're Sae lucky MW3 kept me up lad!))
Seamus hadn't been hard for the Templars to find. For the past six years he'd been keeping the Black Bullet bar open, though it was far less busy than it's heyday. Seamus was very much the same, though his hair was pure grey now, and his muscle was starting to turn to fat on the soft life.
Still, once Kyle and York had made contact, he'd left the bar under the eye of his manageress and dragged his kit out of stores. He was just as rag-tag a sight as before: Old snow suit, 58 webbing with sewn on bedsheets for camouflage and boots that whilst cared for were long past their sell by date. On his back was his Mosin Nagant rifle. He hadn't the heart to leave it. At his side he carried his trusty Casull .454 and slung over his shoulder was the AKM he carried as his usual rifle. In his hand, being used as a walking stick, was his Claymore sword. He looked like something that had been through wars from the medieval period to the cold war, and these days he felt like it.
Upon reaching the drop off point he'd scaleed the last mile or so to the abandoned building with some difficulty. The air was thin and he hadn't fully acclimatised yet. However, soon enough the schoolhouse came into view, and with it his old friend and fellow Templar York. He waved and quickened his pace.
"York! Yeh dodgy auld scuggan! Hule'ya lad? Bin skulkin' long?" Seamus chuckled and rolled one of his sorry looking cigarettes and patted himself down for a lighter.
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2012 6:19 pm
It wasn't long before a figure appeared in the distance, and soon after it appeared the figure began calling to York. A smile came over York's face when he realized it was Seamus who was nearing the schoolhouse. Naturally, Seamus looked older than he did the last time York had seen him. But judging by his appearance and the things he was shouting, he was still the friendly, battle-hardened man that York had once known quite well.
York sheathed the blade he'd been toying with as he waited. Then he stood up and exited the schoolhouse to meet his ally, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he walked. It was colder outside than it was inside, but not by much. The winds were picking up and it was beginning to snow somewhat heavily. That would cut down visibility, something York hoped the operatives would be able to use to their advantage. When Seamus grew near, York said, "Glad you could make it, Seamus. It's been awhile." As his old friend continued to walk toward him, York glanced left and right for any signs of movement, as he expected more operatives to appear any moment.
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Alucard von Dracali Captain
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Posted: Thu Oct 25, 2012 10:19 pm
A bit after Seamus arrived, Kyle Anderson's boots hit the ground soon followed by his protege's, Jason Roth. The two operatives successfully got to the drop off point. From this point on, getting to the staging area was up to them. Kyle looked around as the two men gathered their gear. As the vehicle that was transporting them pulled away, Kyle turned back to Jason. "Up the ridge," he said with a point.
As he began his trek to the staging area, Kyle started to get a feel for the environment. The area around them was heavily wooded, certainly not a place that was used to human presence and certainly not a location previously manageable. The snow that started to fall also didn't help make the area any more maneuverable. Anderson sighed and thought to himself, I hope the entire range isn't like this. Otherwise it would make the operation that much more difficult. Kyle wasn't so much concerned with obtaining their objective; they would use these conditions to their advantage. Kyle was concerned with getting it out. Evacuating safely with nuclear fuel in these conditions aren't exactly optimal. Not long into the hike, Anderson spotted something on the ground. He glanced down and made out a faint trail of footprints that had been slowly filling in with the snow that was falling. He grunted and briefly scanned the area that the footprints were going. Anderson then reached to his side and brought his REC-7 to the ready position and flicked off his safety. Turning back to his partner who was following him, he said sternly, "Let's not assume these are from Templars, shall we?" Nature and winter were the only things on this mountain. Everything around them was white due to the seemingly constant snow that rolls through the area. Kyle was fairly cold despite his appropriate attire. He just wasn't used to it anymore. Thanks to all of the "Arab Spring" related contracts he had taken in the recent past, he had gotten fairly acclimated to the warmer, more arid climates.
Kyle was wearing pretty standard winter combat gear for any experienced soldier. There was nothing customized nor fancy; it was fairly run-of-the-mill. It in no way was cheap or issued military-wear clothing, but it wasn't the ornate or underground clothing that Kyle normally wore. The only thing he wore underneath his tactical vest and jacket was Under Armor. Otherwise, he was fairly simple. On his head, he wore a black, single-hold balaclava that protected his face from the cold and a white beanie hat over top of that which was unlike him. It may not have been odd for Roth, but it certainly would be a unique sight to see for the rest of the Templars who never saw Kyle wear any protective headgear throughout their time with him. Kyle thought nothing of it. He was too busy thinking about the operation and how to get to the staging area.
Soon enough, the duo made it to the top of ridge and the schoolhouse everyone was meeting at was in plain sight. Two figures could be made out standing in front of the structure, so it was clear that they were not the first ones to arrive and those footprints they saw were friendly after all. As they made their way closer to the building Kyle could eventually make out the other operative's voice due to its uniqueness. Kyle leaned in close to Jason and whispered, "Seamus Osuillabhain --- the happy one," probably referencing an earlier story Kyle told him during their time together because if they all knew one thing... mercenaries had stories.
Finally, they arrived at the schoolhouse and took the final steps up to their comrades. Kyle flicked the selector switch to the SAFE position before pulling his balaclava down below his chin to show the rest of his face. "Gentlemen," he greeted them and them turned to Seamus, "Always a pleasure to see you Seamus." He extended his hand for a handshake before gesturing to the forth man, "Allow me to introduce to you Jason Roth, United State Navy...," he gave a short pause, "KIA, actually, if I am not mistaken," he added swiftly referencing Roth's status according to the American government. He gave a smirk before walking into the schoolhouse to make himself comfortable.
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 1:04 am
As Andreas approached the schoolhouse he couldn't help but thinking it was a bad place to set up. Schools were notorious in the middle east and terrorist groups had the nasty habit of blowing them up every now and again, especially when women were involved. But what concerned him most was the fact that he knew little to nothing about the people he was working with. Damian had given him little to no information except for one statement.
"These are good men, crazy, but that is what makes the having fun, yes?"Andreas was unsure why he had chosen to speak in English seeing as most of their discourse was in German but then again, Damian was a strange man. Putting his thoughts aside Andreas entered the building and looked around. The men that were there didn't seem exactly as Damian had described in his stories, though admittedly he knew them when they were slightly younger, and to them Andreas must have seemed like a kid with a powerful father, if you could call Damian that. But Andreas was confident in his training. He'd spent a good portion of his life training with Damian and his father's former comrades and when he turned eighteen he started doing operations with them. After about four years of that Damian came back from the Templars and trained Andreas himself. This would be Andreas' first mission as a disciple of that man, and he couldn't be prouder to represent Damian.
"Andreas Nachtigal, who am I taking orders from?"Andreas spoke with only a slight German accent that made him sound more business-like than he really was, and considering he lived with Damian for several years it was astounding his English hadn't been corrupted. That being said it made a good deal of sense that Adreas spoke good English, at least it would make sense to Kyle. Damian informed him that Andreas was in fact the son of Sergei, Damian's old lover. Though if any of the Templars had seen a picture of Sergei it would have been fairly obvious. Andreas was nearly the spitting image of his father; Dark brown hair with striking blue eyes, a handsome face but one that had been scarred lightly due to combat, and a powerful physique, though not as large as Damian.
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 10:08 am
Seamus batted away Kyle's proferred hand and bear-hugged him.
"KYLE! Yeh auld siursach! Ah didnae believe it on th' phone an' Ah still cannae believe it seein' yeh here!" Seamus released the no-doubt uncomfortable Kyle and laughed warmly. Turning to the new arrival he took his hand and shook it vigorously.
"Nice tae meet yeh Roth! KIA eh? Yeh look a wee bit sprightly f'r a deid man! Now get in the pair o' yehs! It's a fiece night!"
Once Andreas made his presence known Seamus walked up to him and shook his hand too.
Pleasure tae meet yeh young lad! Ah'm guessin' tha' York (tha' severe lookin' fella over yonder) is th' one yeh're after. Ah'm Seamus by th' wa'." His introductions completed, Seamus sat down on the floor and located his lighter. Lighting his cigarette he took a long luxuriant pull and exhaled contentedly. The thin air was making him slightly giddy, and the nicotine only enhanced that feeling.
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 10:33 am
Slinging his pack over his shoulders and hefting a thick, black plastic case in his left hand, Jason took a look around. Behind him, he heard the truck rumbling back the way it had come, as his eyes took in the snowy timber surrounding him. Taking a deep breath, a sense of calm swept over Jason. He was in his element; growing up in Minnesota, he was accustomed to the biting cold of winter. The snow lightly peppering his face was a welcome reminder of his youth. As he came out of his drowsy reverie, he saw his mentor, Kyle Anderson gesture higher into the treeline and begin moving. Jason blinked the sleepiness from his eyes and followed the older man up the trail.
As they made their way to their destination, an abandoned schoolhouse if he remembered what KJ had said when he pitched Jason the job, he began to take in details of the area. The terrain was rough, certainly not easy to travel. At least they would have decent cover if they had to make an emergency exfiltration. Hearing a grunt from the older man in front of him, Roth slowed and reached for his sidearm. He looked from left to right as Anderson examined the ground in front of them and then readied his rifle. After hearing Kyle's warning, Jason set his case down while drawing his MEU(SOC) .45 pistol from the holster on his right thigh. He thumbed magazine release and drew out the magazine to ensure it was fully loaded before slotting it back into the pistol's grip and releasing the slide. He thumbed off the weapon's safety, retrieved his case, and continued after Kyle.
With the low likelihood of danger during the rendezvous, most of Jason's gear was stowed in his pack or his case. He wore a kevlar vest over a simple white t-shirt. On top of the vest, he wore a thick, black sweater that rose high enough to protect his neck from the elements, and a white, cold weather coat. His boots were black, but his pants matched his white coat and gloves. To finish out his kit, he wore a grey baseball cap and a non-reflective pair of dark grey sunglasses. As they neared the end of their trek, Jason began looking for signs of life. He saw them not long after, speaking in front of their rendezvous point.
Spotting the early arrivals Kyle made a comment at which Jason grinned. He'd heard stories about the Scottish Special Forces veteran, and was eager to meet the man behind the legend. As the two men came within speaking distance of the early arrivals, Jason heard Kyle greet his old friends, and then introduce them to Roth. Jason removed his glasses from his face and put them on top of his hat's visor while he watched his mentor become enveloped in the arms of the Scot. After Seamus had finished speaking, Jason nodded with a grin, while shaking the man's hand, and replied, "Hey now, I feel pretty sprightly for a dead man. Good to meet the both of you. KJ has told me a lot about you." After a quick nod, he followed Anderson into the schoolhouse to unpack his gear.
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2012 8:53 pm
It was quite a sight, seeing some of the old Templars together again. But there were new faces in the crowd too. And so the scene became a mixture of a reunion and a meet-and-greet. Of course, they didn't spend too much time outside, for the weather made it preferable to be indoors; even if the indoors weren't much warmer, they were definitely drier. So after some handshakes, some smiles, and an exchange of names, the men made their way into the schoolhouse to prepare for and discuss the mission ahead. York was already set to go, so he lingered by the window to keep an eye out for the others.
Having not spoken with anyone or formally introduced himself just yet, York decided to do so as the men made themselves comfortable in the schoolhouse. Especially because Andreas had asked from whom he'd be taking orders. "Glad you brought that up," York said, looking at Andreas and Seamus as they discussed who'd be leading the mission but really addressing everyone in the room. "There is no CO or team leader here. So when it comes to calling the shots and making the decisions, we'll discuss the matter as a group and go with whatever option seems most reasonable. It's essentially a democracy." York smiled and let out a short laugh. "If we can't agree, Kyle will make the decision. He was a co-leader of the Black Templars for a time, for those of you who don't know." York paused for a moment, but then he raised his eyebrows said, "But where are my manners? I'm York Freeman." York gave a friendly nod. "And I'm glad you all could make it. Hopefully the others arrive soon; then we can talk things over briefly and get the mission started."
York looked down at his white wristwatch. Then he gazed out the window, into the blizzard. He hoped that the others were safely making their way to the schoolhouse; starting the op with a search and rescue didn't appeal to him. After all, losing men would be detrimental to the operation itself and to York's conscience. He was beginning to learn the meaning of that word...
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2012 1:27 pm
[[ Sorry for the double post. But I'm gonna introduce my other two characters here. ]]
York had worked with Carter and Knightly during a series of missions in Yemen. York didn't know the two men all that well, but Carter and Knightly were damn good in the field, and their compatibility made it imperative that they both be called on to help out with the recovery of the uranium. If nothing else, the few weeks they'd spent in Yemen together had made the three men respect each other, at least on a professional level.
Christian Carter was in his mid-twenties. He had a buzz cut and some scruff on his face. And something about his appearance and personality made him seem likable and amiable. He was a bright kid, and he did really well in school until he dropped out at the age of sixteen. With no family to guide him and no money to sustain him, he fell in with a bad crowd. But the CIA took him off the streets and trained him as an assassin. He worked for the CIA until he was twenty-one, at which point they determined he was a threat to them and so they decided to kill him. Carter escaped to Europe, where he decided he'd spend the rest of his life as a contract killer. It was, after all, the only thing he knew. Carter was selective with his contracts; he had a strong sense of right and wrong and he didn't enjoy killing innocent people. But because he was so skilled in his trade, he still made a nice living and remained fairly busy. Having gotten to know York a little and having begun to like him, Carter gladly came to help with the mission in Iran.
Marcus Knightly was in his late-thirties. He was noticeably taller and buffer than Carter. His head was shaved and there were several severe scars on the right half of his face. Knightly was quiet, cold, and solemn. He was the type that would get the job done at all costs, even if it meant making sacrifices and shedding a lot of blood. The ends justified the means, in his mind. Knightly had been a U.S. Navy Seal for a large portion of his military career, but he retired in his early-thirties and joined a small PMC based somewhere in Africa. Over time, Knightly had drifted away from that PMC and had begun to do more solo work as he grew older. He actually felt much more comfortable working alone. But since he owed York a favor, he decided to come help out in the Iran operation.
Having been given the same meeting point, the two men arrived together at the schoolhouse. They trekked through the snowy terrain for about fifteen minutes before finally reaching their destination. York excused himself from the schoolhouse and met the two new arrivals. Both were dressed in white, with Carter wearing a white beanie hat and leaving his face exposed to the cold and Knightly wearing a balaclava and a hood to keep his face concealed. Each wore a headset for team communication purposes. Carter was equipped with a silenced MP5, a silenced P90, and some grenades. Knightly, usually preferring heavier firepower, had an M249 SAW, an M4A1 Carbine, and a Desert Eagle. After handshakes and some petty conversation, York led the men inside.
"This is Christian Carter, and this is Marcus Knightly," York announced, pointing at the appropriate man as he said each name. "We saved each other's asses in Yemen a few years back."
"Oh, is that how you tell the story York? You two would be dead if it weren't for me!" Carter joked. Then he said, "Sorry we're late, but York had this bright idea to make us walk a mile in the middle of a blizzard without a map or a GPS system or anything."
With that, York left Carter and Knightly and approached Kyle, who was unpacking his gear along with his new companion. "We're still missing two. If they don't show up soon, I guess we'll be forced to head out without them. But for now, let's just hope they arrive before long. Let me know when you're ready to brief everyone and load up the trucks." York sighed and then took a short drag from his cigarette, which was near the end of its lifespan now. Then York looked at Jason, raised one eyebrow slightly, and said in a sort of curious, friendly tone, "What's your story?"
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2012 9:30 pm
Following Kyle into the room, Jason glanced around and found a table to drop his gear and begin unpacking. Roth placed the large case he'd been carrying on the table and shrugged the pack from his shoulders before setting it on the ground at his feet. He bent over and flipped open the cover of the case's keypad and tapped in the combination at which point he heard a soft click as the case's locks released. Jason flipped a few levers and opened the case to display an impressive array of equipment.
Jason first grabbed his assault rifle, the same weapon he carried as a Corpsman for the United States Navy. As he ensured the SCAR-H was clean and in working condition, he heard York enter the building and begin speaking. Roth nodded in acknowledgement; he was used to taking orders, so it didn't much matter to him who was in charge, as long as they had a solid head on their shoulders. After working with Kyle for some time, he knew the team would be in good hands under his arbitration. Since York had finished speaking, Jason went back to his unpacking. Setting aside his rifle, he opened his backpack and fished out his MOLLE vest which he started stuffing with loaded magazines for both his rifle and pistol as well as a basic load of medical equipment.
Just as he finished packing his kit for the operaton, York returned from going outside to meet two new arrivals. Jason faced the group and leaned back againts the table that his equipment was currently resting on. While he listened to York's introduction, he drew and began the painstaking process of going over his pistol. The MEU(SOC) .45 pistol he'd carried with the MSOR had been Jason's favored weapon over any other. He had spent many hours honing his skill with the weapon and was a near perfect shot with the side arm. He had finally finished inspecting the pistol when York approached Kyle and, after a short discussion, addressed Jason.
"KJ, I thought you said you were friends with these guys? Didn't you tell them how I got your a** out of that ******** in Iraq?" he chuckled as he glanced at Anderson with a grin. Looking back to the man with the nearly finished cigarette he cleared his throat and continued, "Not much to tell really. I was a Corpsman with the Navy attached to Fleet Marine Force for awhile, before getting a permanent billet with MARSOC. I got hit in a firefight in Chechnya where KJ grabbed me before I bled out and got me out of the country. The Navy listed me as KIA and after what happened.. well, let's just say I would have a hard time staying out of the brig if I went back." He dragged the last of his clothing, a balaclava and kneepads, out of his bag and said, "If you were referring to my skills, I'm pretty good in close and with a pistol, and I can speak just about any language you might need, especially in this region. In other words, as long as I'm within a few feet of a guy, I can talk to him, kill him, or save his life; your choice." Jason winked at the older man and finished with, "Oh, and you should probably quit that." He pointed at the cigarette, grinned and said, "I hear it's bad for you." Jason smiled to show he was only joking as he closed his case.
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 1:25 pm
Andreas only had to shake hands with Seamus to know who he was, Damian often talked about the funny man from the land of kilts and his vibrant personality. After hearing from York about the state of command Andreas sighed at the informality of it all and went back to his truck to grab his guns. He grabbed a G36 out of his gun back and slung it around his shoulder. It had a ZF 3x4° dual optical sight with an under-barrel grenade launcher, it was doubtful he would have to use it but Damian always taught him to prepare for every situation. He also pulled out a USP with a silencer attachment and placed it in its holster. The most difficult decision was always what knife to bring, there was always the KA-BAR, good and reliable, but then Andreas remembered his “graduation” present, a knife of custom design made by a contact of Damian’s. Andreas had only used it a few times but it was effective, though incredibly difficult to use. The knife was double-bladed, with one side being a 5 in. blade and the other a four inch metal stake that looked a bit like a screwdriver. The point was to get close enough to puncture the Pterion, the weakest point on the skull, or to stab them up through the back of the skull. To Damian this was a joke off of Andres’ nickname, the Jaguar, an animal that kills by destroying the back of the skull. Andreas took the blade and attached it to his belt; it needed a special holster to avoid accidental puncture wounds. If he didn’t use it in battle, at least he would have a piece of his mentor with him for the mission.
His weapons collected Andreas returned inside and sat down at a vacant desk waiting for orders. If it was one thing Andreas did well it was follow orders, what Damian had always reprimanded him for was following orders to extremely. Andreas never seemed to take his own life into account when doing things, it just didn’t occur to him, like self preservation had been twisted in him. For example, on his first mission Andreas and his squad were trying to take down a small but well armed terrorist cell in Iraq. They had trapped them inside a building but were unable to secure a route inside due to gunmen on the roof. There was a vantage point where a single man could take down the gunmen but it involved scaling a building and jumping to an adjacent one whilst being shot at. Andreas volunteered and before anyone could object the man was already sprinting at the building dodging bullets as he went. When he ran to jump to the other building he over extended his knee and botched the jump. He managed to grab the roof ledge and pull himself up, and hobbled over to the vantage point then cleared out the gunmen. While completely idiotic, he did get the job done but was unable to work for a time after that due to the injury. The doctors said it was lucky he didn’t tear his ACL but then again, it was lucky he didn’t take a bullet to the head either.
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 2:46 pm
Seamus listened in with his usual casual interest. He perked up a bit about the fact that there'd be an actual honest to goodness medic in the team for once. In his first mission with the Templars, he'd taken a round through the meat of his arm, and all that could be done was insert medical foam into the cavity. The b*****d thing still itched to this day. Hearing the suggestion that York should quit smoking, Seamus laughed and took another pull on his own cigarette.
"Saes leaping through fire an' explosions f'r chump change lad. Ah think Ah'll tak' m' chances wi' th' auld coffin nails!" He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on the ground. He stood up and stretched his body, working out some tension from the chilly walk up here he'd had. It'd been a long time since he'd spent time in the cold, let alone mountains. If it weren't for the lack of heather and scrub though, he could almost picture home.
Seamus extracted his Mosin Nagant from it's case and checked the action for any signs of freezing. Whilst he was more likely to use the AKM, it never did anyone good to neglect the secondary weapon. When Andreas had returned from outside he walked over and sat down next to him.
"Sae lad, we've had th' story o' young Roth ove yonder, wha's yeh're story?"
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