▶ ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛʏ: ᴍɪʀᴀɢᴇ「ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ʀᴏᴏᴍ」

[Valor]

ᴀ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ʙʏ ♛ Valor
ᴄᴏ-ɢᴍs: [glow=red]ᴀᴄᴄᴇss ᴅᴇɴɪᴇᴅ[/glow]

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[Valor]

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ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴇxᴘᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ - ɢʀʏᴘʜᴏɴ
1700 ʜᴏᴜʀs
​

The blazing sun began to settle over the skies of Afghanistan, nestling itself comfortably within the crest of the western mountains as it began its final descent. Over the midday sky, several black objects in tight formations tore through the darkening clouds. Inside the lead gunship, a silver-haired woman wearing a metal mask lurched from her seat, standing up before navigating her way down the narrow crew compartment to the front deck.

Leaning against the doorway, the female silhouette watched over the shoulders of the two pilots as they made preparations for their final descent. "This is Gryphon Lead to all units, we're approaching the combat zone. All units check in before final descent."

"This is Gryphon 2, all systems green."

"Gryphon 3. We're on your tail."

"4 here, we'll be touching down right behind ya'll"

In the crew compartments of the four gunships were the reinforcements requested by the on-site teams. Nearly a hundred NOAH from INFINITY's Gryphon division, one of the largest teams since Operation Talon was being assembled for a large-scale, multi-division operation. Nearly 500 NOAHs would be present for what would be known as Operation Apollo Spear, "We'll be touching down in T-minus five, Agent Casanova." The co-pilot remarked, his hands dashing between a variety of switches within his immediate work area. "After we drop your team off, we'll be monitoring things from the air and providing aerial MEDEVAC for any possible casualties."

"Thank you." The silver-haired woman nodded. Though she didn't want to admit it, she was almost certain that casualties would be high during this operation. With their final descent time finalized, Agent Casanova stepped away from the cockpit and back into the passenger compartment of the landing craft.

"Listen up. I know all of you were assembled on short notice without a proper briefing." Casanova directly addressed the Gryphon team members within her gunship. Her team was an ad hoc group of individuals, each with different backgrounds, abilities, and appearances. Some looked more imposing than others, the horrors of war still reflected in their eyes, while others she wasn't entirely so sure. She had memorized their names: Rose, Sandman, Weaver, Conrad, Lion, Vampire, Chimaera and... a Cat? While she didn't have the time to read the rest of their files, she at least committed their faces to names.

"Mirage has located an active Black Steel facility, approximately a hundred miles south of Kandahar and the Burza'i river. The Director and the Chiefs of Staff have authorized a joint operation to assault and seize the facility by force."

"T-Minus 2 minutes!" A voice shouted from the cockpit.

"Once we land, grab whatever equipment you brought with you and report to command tent 103. A full briefing will be presented to you there." Casanova grabbed her personal kitbag, slinging the large bag easily over her shoulder as the aircraft prepared to make its final descent.

In a synchronized pattern, the Gryphon dropships touched down onto the Earth's surface, opening their passenger bays to reveal the ground below. "All right! Move it out! Come on! We don't have all fucking day!" Soldiers wearing blue, United Nations helmets began ushering the agents from their helicopters. Outside, dozens of tents had been erected and hundreds of soldiers ran back and forth. Some were clearly NOAH, others seemed to be United Nations soldiers and resources provided to assist in the operation.

It seemed like INFINITY had brought all of their resources for this operation. Casanova thought to herself as she disembarked from the gunship.

As the engines to the gunships whirred to a halt, the sound of gunshots in the distance crackled. "Sounds like a party." Casanova mused before turning to her team. She wondered just how bad the situation had deteriorated since they got there. "Alright! Get your shit together. We're moving out." With her gear slung across her back, she glanced around the immediate area until a soldier approached her.

"Agent Casanova? Is this your team?" The Agent nodded, "Tent 103 is over there. The rest of your team is waiting for you."

"Understood. Thank you." Casanova motioned to the eight agents that were following behind her.

A few moments later, the team pushed through the entrance of the tent. Inside the tent were several more individuals. Five more members from Blue Division that had been assigned to her team for the operation. Datajack, Asmodeus, Hunter, Hive and... Frog. What was with all of the strange animals?

Inside the tent were several lines of folding chairs and tables, with bags of gear already sprawled about the immediate area. Casanova pulled her metal mask from her face before throwing her kitbag onto an unoccupied table. "I'm Agent Casanova from Gold Division. I'll be your commanding officer for this operation." She addressed the Mirage members within the tent. "Make yourselves comfortable because we've got shit to go through."

She made her way to the center of the tent, which had a board with a map of the Black Steel facility pinned to it. "Welcome to Operation Apollo Spear." She began, shifting through a mess of folders that had been placed on her table. "As all of you know, we're a mile north of a Black Steel Facility, located recently by a collective effort by Mirage agents. We weren't able to locate the position via satellite imaging, as the entire facility possesses some sort of anti-satellite technology." She explained, pointing towards the map, "All attempts to enter the facility thus far have failed and nine Mirage agents have already lost their lives attempting to set up a blockade perimeter. The Steel PMCs have barricaded the facility and we think they also have hostages taken from the nearby villages."

"Ten teams of fifteen agents are preparing to assault the building. Our objective is to secure the building and any hostages we may find. We have been instructed to arrest or eliminate any suspected Black Steel operatives we may encounter." Casanova paused for a moment, "But make no mistake, this will be a kill or be killed mission. Black Steel operatives will have no intentions of surrendering. Shoot to kill and do not think twice about it."

"Now, before I get into the details of the operation, are there any immediate questions?"

 

[Bismarck]

Katya stepped out of the aircraft as quickly as she could. Happy to be free of the flying, metal death trap. Something never felt right about riding in them...especially after lobbing a rocket into the side of one, and watching it spin in circles, before crashing into a brutal fireball. Granted that was unimportant currently to the older NOAH. She loosened the sling on her weapon, pressing the release for the stock, she unfolded it and locked it into place.

Her hand grabbed a thirty round magazine from a pouch on her body armor, which included almost 11 other magazines, she rocked the first magazine into place, as was standard practice for most Russian firearms. The rifle was an ancient, but effective firearm. The AS VAL, a integrally suppressed assault rifle, loading a rather strange 9x39mm round, more than capable of reliably punching through armor at range, and ripping someone apart internally. Along her hips were two tomahawks, holstered at the ready for a quick draw if they were needed. Strapped along her back was her beloved Saiga 12, folded up, but not forgotten as her belt held an array of ten round magazines for the weapon, should the situation call for it.

Following behind the leader they had been assigned to, she did her best to keep her distance from the other operatives. It had been made clear several times the Russian was not overly friendly, with almost anyone she worked with. Even proudly displaying her necklace, which likely included the names of some other operative's friends and families...having participated in so many proxy wars, she had the glory of killing plenty of PMC's from other countries over the years. Stepping into the tent, she listened to the first part of the briefing. A smirk crossing her face at the mention of killing the enemy without hesitation.

Her fingers racked the bolt of her rifle in confirmation of the statement, sending the first round of death dealing ammunition into the chamber. "Affirmative. I don't think there's any reason to be asking questions. It's quite simple isn't it. Kill, or end up among the dead." As Katya spoke her accent was quite thick, never quite losing its Russian charm. Standing next to so many NATO operatives, it was almost inspirational in a way...giving her a further reason not to die. She refused to let her blood mix with that of those she had considered enemies for her entire life.

"I don't even know why we bother with these assaults...you'd think a few strafing runs would solve the problem."

Taking a seat on one of the benches she looked over her "comrades". Most of them held little merit to her, the only ones she even considered trusting, belonged to countries that were apart of the union...the rest were expendable bodies, she had no problem watching crumple into heaps. Particularly the...cat. It held too much resemblance to the lycans she had slain so many years ago. Just the tough had her rubbing along her chest for a moment. A dull reminder of the pain, from being cut open by dagger like claws. Speaking more to herself than anyone, "I wonder how many names I can take today. My necklace is feeling light." The Lion added a small giggle to her own statement, shaking her head some. Waiting now for the next part of the briefing.

 

[Little Leo]

If the heat of the Afghanistan desert wasn't enough, the sun beating down onto their operations' tent at midday was sweltering. Several beads of sweat drip down the young lady's head, falling onto her chest and soaking her white tank top. Normally the strange amalgamation of a frog and a human girl would be covered from head to toe with heavy coats and other clothing, but even her insecurity about her body doesn't change the fact she would get heatstroke if she kept her coat on. Not only that, she would be chewed out by commanding officers if she allowed herself to get sick before the operation even started. As one of the few medics in Infinity, it's best if she stays healthy in case things get bad out in the field.

The young lady lets out a quiet groan as she tugs at the hem of her tank top to try to cool off. It didn't help that she is reading a book about a desert planet when she should try to get her mind off of the heat. Even though Dune is her go to book every time she had to wait for an operation to start, It would have been a better idea to bring a book with a much colder setting. This makes the frog girl wonder if she should pack a book for every sort of weather, but that's not feasible when she has more important things to pack such as equipment. Though the thought is very, very, tempting.

In the distance, she hears the gunships land and lets out a sigh of relief. It is about time that they got there, just a little closer to being in a cold room once again and not in a hot tent. Shay closes her book and shoves it into the back pocket of her khaki pants, thankful that the government issue pants have roomy pockets. The girl stands up straight with her arms crossed as Casanova walks into the room. For a moment the commander looks over all of them and then gives Shay a strange look, which she didn't quite understand, but when she sees the cat enter the look made more sense. She imagines the commander would feel like this is more of a zoo instead of an operation with more than one animal NOAH on the squad. Shay pushes her sunglasses up onto the bridge of her nose with a finger and turns her eyes to Casanova once again, watching her as she reads off the specs of the operation.

As one of the Mirage group members on the ground, she is well aware of the situation at hand already but is not aware of what the operation ahead of them will be, so she tries to pay attention. There is a tinge of sadness in Shay's eyes as Casanova mentions the nine Mirage members who have lost their lives out on the battlefield. No matter how long she has spent in Infinity, the loss of comrades never really gets easier for her at least. The room is unable to see her reaction to this news, hidden by her sunglasses that are a purposeful part of her wardrobe. Though there are other reasons for her glasses besides hiding her feelings, such as hiding her inhuman eyes to make comrades around her more comfortable.

Shay remembers she is supposed to be listening and quickly clears her thoughts so she can catch up on what the Commander is saying. Casanova asks the crowd of Gryphon and Mirage alike if they have any questions before she went into the details, so the frog girl takes a look around at the various soldiers seeing if they will pipe up, besides Lion. Shay makes mental notes of who among the Gryphon forces she knows, but she does not know that many of them. There are a few familiar faces, but not much more than that, just various people she sees around the base on occasion. As for questions, everything she says seems pretty cut and dry to her, so she just shakes her head.

 

[marcy]

Truly, it was only privileged spoiled brats, rich snobs and the like that could possibly see resting in the shade of a boulder beneath the desert sun something as demeaning, or rather pathetic. Yes, there were millions upon millions of those who befit such a niche, a select number who never struggled, never suffered a day in their life, albeit their own groomed and catered definition of suffering such as not having Wi-Fi on a flight, there being cheese in your hamburger when you specifically asked for there not to be, your housekeeper forgetting that you prefer not to have pulp with your orange juice. These were trivial matters part of a world that almost felt as if it were not of this earth for those who did not have the luxury of experiencing them, if one were to consider such matters luxurious and not the status quo of mindless sheep simply passing the time until death, time gifted to them by the blood, sweat and tears of..

​

"Annika McCallister, American, blood type O+, Christian" Klaus takes a swig from his flask "Killed In Action. Harriet Blair, British, blood type AB+, Atheist, Killed In Action" he gulps and then proceeds to drag a cigarette "Thomas Larsen, Norwegian," he inhales and takes a quick swig "blood type B-, Lutheran Christian, Killed In Action." he gulps and exhales smoke "Vladimir Mikhailov" drag, inhale "Ada Okafor" swig, gulp "Aberto Silva" exhale, drag "Andreas Müller" inhale, swig "Amane Nakano" gulp, exhale "Yasmin Nejem" drag, inhale "Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed In Action, Killed
In Action."

Nine more names, nine more families, nine more faces he could never forget. The aforementioned fallen were all members of the Mirage group, he had spent the last twenty-four hours with them but had already inadvertently memorized all of their vital identifiable information, some even before leaving base for the operation. Klaus' vision was something inhuman and he had to admit it was hard not to pry when his eyes were like binoculars. He could count every pore on a face, every eyelash, every crack on a lip from half a mile away, so reading someones dog tags took little to no effort. He could drink himself to death but all the names and faces hes seen since his first day on the battlefield would remain clear as day in his head, now it was time to add nine more. If he didn't see them get gunned down with his own eyes, he could hear the sound of every bullet that pierced flesh, it was quite similar to an arrow plunging into apple.

With that he lay his head against the boulder, flicking the butt of his cigarette with his thumb and middle finger, about a quarter of vodka left in his flask. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose which almost made his chest feel hotter than it already was, exhaling through his mouth. Despite possessing superhuman intellect, he still could not quite figure out what they were fighting for exactly, besides the safety and freedom of countless innocent lives.

It was a vicious cycle, the idea that the collective whole of all their most extreme efforts only ever seemed to make a minuscule difference was not a comforting thought, but what would become of the world if their sacrifices played no part? Absolutely nothing good, this he would not forget and so he carried on as best he could, there was no other choice. Besides, reinforcements were on the way. He could do the math, but that would just be depressing. Having faith was ideal in upholding morale; faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark, he recited to himself. Maybe they would catch a break.

Klaus heard the gunships approaching before they were anywhere in sight, the sound distinct and clear. He was sitting a hundred yards from the dozens of tents, opposite of the PMC facility a mile north. Blacksteel was an organization he and his team became familiar with prior to joining Infinity, successfully rescuing an unknown amount of NOAH's from their possession, but it must have been a thousand more or less despite there being numerous other active PMC's spread throughout the globe.

flick. Klaus lit up another smoke to calm his nerves, having estimated there would be time for one more before reinforcements arrived. Despite having inhuman abilities, he was still human in some sense or another, definitely in more ways than one.

In due time the average person would be able to make out the gunship detachment through binoculars from the operation site, the roar of the rotors growing gradually. Klaus begrudgingly pulled himself up off the sand, wearing only dog tags, combat pants and tennis shoes which he switched his boots out for after returning from their attempt at securing a blockade. He wore his compression tee on his head to shade his face and neck. Parts of his clothes were covered in several of his teammates blood after recovering their bodies from the combat zone.

Klaus began walking towards the operation site, looking to see if the entrance to tent 103 was clear. Upon seeing it was, he was there in an instant.

*BAMF*

Black smoke glided gently through the air, the smell of charcoal floating into the tent along with Klaus, masking the stench of cigarettes and vodka. He used his shirt to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. Taking a seat at his table, Klaus pulled his compression shirt over his head onto his body, lifting his dog tags from his neck out from underneath the shirt, proceeding to collect his thoughts for a moment before switching back into his boots that sat underneath his table. It was time to get back to work.

By the time reinforcements were filing in Klaus was already fitted for battle, smoking another cigarette as he began to reload his empty mags with bullets.

There were a few faces he slightly recognized, especially the commander, but other than that the rest were unfamiliar to no surprise considering the thousands of personnel at Infinity's disposal. "Make yourselves comfortable because we've got shit to go through."

"Way ahead of you." Klaus thought to himself, vodka reeking from each breathe. As Cas ran everyone up to speed, it seemed the Russian Gryphon was ready to start taking names, albeit she came off as hard-headed and arrogant, that was probably just the Russian talking though, which was definitely not a bad thing and would entail some slit throats, if anything. Klaus averted his gaze as Romanov took a seat, scanning the rest of them.

Klaus scanned the map of the facility. He was part of the blockade detail and had no knowledge of any weak spots. After a brief moment of silence, Klaus dragged his smoke and inhaled before inquiring, smoke floating out his mouth as he spoke.

"Yeah, did they send any D-rations with you guys? I haven't had chocolate since I left the base." He took another drag, a deadpan expression on his face. He looked completely serious and almost was, but it must have been the vodka talking although it kind of wasn't. "Really can't trust Russians to do anything except make liquor." He thought.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

On the flight in Adriana remained standing, using a fabric strap as support as the gunships flew on the hastily put together briefing was given. Something about the Black Steel having a secret base, which got even better being in the heart of Afghanistan. The Black Steel Noah were one thing, Afghan goat farmers were another, you could count on one of them wiring a bomb to himself or firing an RPG off the mountains out of principle.. The were nearly as Troublesome as the Arabs..no, maybe more so, the people of Afghanistan weren't cowards, though neither were some of the troublesome groups inside of Romania or across the middle east.

"Tch." She says simply, listening to the basic briefing...so fairly basic it was of little use.. Being reminded to grab her gear, the young woman known by the callsign Vampire, smiles. She already had all of her gear, or at least the important bits. At her side was an overly large pair of bolt cutters, a belt of tools on her waist, combat knives strapped to the belt and in holders along her legs. More importantly were rows and rows of patches, C4, Semtex, fragmentation pellets, wires and fuses all dotted her person. All in all it was the standard kit of a combat engineer or bomber, though the weight of a weapon was replaced more with explosives.

All in all if not for the chemical reliability of the devices, if the collection was triggered, everyone in the helicopter would be dead or freefalling before they could say cheese.

Landing for a quick dustoff more information was given by the silver haired Casanova, looking at her teammates, only one was from the Eastern Bloc on this team at least. An over eager Soviet Officer of some sort, Katya was it? Apart from her the rest seemed to fall into one case of liability or outright hostility.. Speaking up in thickly accented English that belonged in a Dracula film, the red head waves her arm to be sure she's noticed.

"I can think of dozens of questions, more so in regards to why I am here..but for now I am curious, what are we expected to find inside? As my Soviet Comrade pointed out, an Airstrike would finish it nicely, unless they have tunnels. Unless the UN is threatening our funding, why we would care so much to save a bunch of Muslim Goat Farmers who are likely to get off on shooting at both sides."

Pondering what the structure may have been built out of, a westerner of one sort or another was asking if any of them had brought it, he stunk of alcohol and was smoking..did they all die in combat or as they were screwing around? Not daring to ask this as of yet, the girl shrugs. "I do not carry around sweets to win the hearts and minds of shitters I'll be sending to hell."

 

[Vec]

The sound of the gunships flying through the skies was almost hypnotizing to Stephen. Closing his eyes, he took in a big breath, filling up his lungs with oxygen. He held it inside for a couple of seconds before exhaling it all out, feeling various muscle groups relax with every ounce of air leaving his body.

Looking outside the small rectangular window next to his seat, the land of Afghanistan seemed to endlessly stretch in all directions. Sandy and bare, it could almost manage to lull someone into believing it was nothing more than that. However, in the eyes of someone who was knowledgeable about the history of the place, this land would be nothing more than a dark slaughter pit, a place where hundreds, no, thousands of soldiers have lost their lives in.

Stephen sighed. Honestly, he would much rather watch the sun set over the horizon from the comfort of his hammock, back in his home in Greece. The treacherous rocky mountains of Afghanistan didn't really sit well with him and his vision of what a perfect sunset looked like. Nevertheless, here he was, gazing at it begrudgingly and trying to get his mind to relax before the mission.

After the sun had completed its descent, Stephen sighed again and turned his attention back inside the gunship's cabin. His eyes trailed over the faces of his fellow squad members, committing them into memory and reminding himself to ask for their names later.

Stephen couldn't really understand the reasoning behind his transfer to this squad when he had been a member of another squad for almost 3 years, a very successful one at that. He and his former mates together had quite the number of successful missions under their belts, from raiding small illegal PMC outposts to cracking down on illegal human trafficking among other things.

Yet, that didn't seem to have stopped the higher-ups from transferring him. To make matters worse, it seemed that his skills as a pilot would not be utilized at this time. As a result of these two things, he and the agent in charge of him argued a lot with about this transfer, but in the end, Stephen could not change anything.

The sound of a person addressing the squad members brought Stephen back to reality. He listened to what the young, silver-haired woman had to say in silence and once the aircraft had finally landed, he quickly suited up and got off along with the rest of the team. After being approached and talked to by a soldier, the young woman, Agent Cassanova, motioned to the rest of them to follow her into the tent where they were supposed to meet the other half of the squad.

Once inside the tent, Stephen found a place to lean into as he listened to the woman briefing them on the situation at hand along with the details of the plan they were about to execute. Everything seemed standard procedure to Stephen. Having nothing to add himself, he simply nodded his assent. Of course, some of his new teammates had other thoughts about the whole thing; one straight up questioned why they wouldn't just use strafing runs to deal with the threat.

And if that wasn't enough, another person went ahead and agreed. Stephen inwardly facepalmed at the words of both women. "Unless you want to deal with the aftermath of a destroyed aircraft and loss of the pilots' lives, you can go ahead and try out that plan," Stephen told the Russian woman. He then continued, "You heard the Officer, they have anti-satellite tech over there, which means our helis would go in blind. What if they have an AA system on top of that? Can you honestly tell me you would risk that?"

Shaking his head, Stephen leant back. This was as far as he was gonna go with the arguing. He was, after all, new to this team. He had no means of knowing if that was also true for the rest of the people inside the tent and thus didn't want to put a strain on his relationship with them from the very start.
​

 

[Snowflake]

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It wasn't the infernal sun beating down on them that was the problem. Alannah could handle the heat, it was a mild inconvenience given the fact they had plenty of water and shade. All one had to do was spend five minutes in direct noonday sun to become appreciative of the temperature inside the tent. The woman had her cargo pants tucked neatly into her boots perfectly laced and tied with the laces tucked in as well. She wore a light sports bra with a white tank top over it. Alas, the rules also dictated she wears a kevlar vest, what with being in the active hotzone and all. Regardless it was one of the few rules she actually listened and obeyed, some of the others were more easily ignored. She came a long way from being a simple delinquent. No, it wasn't even that dumb rule that annoyed her. It was the fact that they were God knows where in Afghanistan, in the middle of a dessert and doing nothing that annoyed her. Waiting, waiting was one thing that she couldn't handle, it drove her insane and made her irritable. That sweat on the side of her face annoyed her not because of the heat but because she had to wait for a bunch of dropships to bring about their CO and her gangly squad of hounds.

"Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!" It started out as a groan then turned into a shout. She pulled at her braids threatening to rip them off. "This is taking too long! At least the arseholes in the ships get a view on their way here." The Irish accent pretty clear. She stood up and dragged her chair over to Shay reading Dune, she's been reading it for way too long. "Come ooooon, Shaaaaaaaay, you still haven't read that. Won't you do it already? How far did you get, I wanna talk about it without risk of spoilers." Alannah had finished the book in a day the moment she saw Shay reading it. She figured it would give them something to talk about but it seemed like Shay was taking her time. Taking a seat facing the back of the chair Alannah leaned onto it and rested her chin there huffing and puffing bored as she can be. Sometime during her annoyance, Klaus showed up, though the man had an everpresent smell of cigarette smoke and booze so Alannah made sure to give him a wide berth.

Groaning and moaning from boredom she was almost ecstatic when she saw others start rolling in. The moment their CO showed up she lifted her glasses and seemed infinitely more energized and attentive to the situation. It wasn't long before they were given an introductory briefing and the folks started finding ways to spend as little time around her as possible. Too bad INFINITY gave a shit about civilian casualties, otherwise, they wouldn't even be around. However, Klaus asking about chocolates reminded Alannah she had a lollipop in her pocket and stealthfully she unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth as she let others air their frustrations about the mission.

Lacking the satellite footage was unfortunate, Intel was always important for large scape ops such as this. "You're not sending us in blind, are you? I understand we lost agents trying to set up a blockade? Did they report anything? Do we know what to expect? Better yet, can we just get on with the full briefing, I've been sitting here in silence for way too long." She couldn't wait for this thing to begin, for something to start happening.

 

[Silvir]

Tobias aka Sandman followed Casanova into the tenth and took a spot to the side to observe the team he would work around. It was one hell of a mixed bunch of professionals and other things. Including two of the more deviating kind as well. A light frown showed on the man's face when he spotted the cat loli and the amphibian female. He had read the files about everyone, yet meeting such individuals was still a different matter. "Lab rats" he muttered to himself before he was interrupted by a technician that handed him a data pad with the link to the Exo-suit requisitioned for the operation.

He listened with one ear at that point while going trough the changed specs for the suit to adapt it to the local environment. two hundred years of technological innovation and still sand could mess up most machinery beyond salvation in minutes.

He was about to ask about maps when another female spoke up causing him to cast a quick sidewards glance to spot Alannah making a mental note about her voice for future notice. At that point he didn't see much else to add in questions that wasn't likely to be added in the rest of the briefing. At least from his perspective on things.

 

[Esprit]

A pair of dark eyes snapped open as Casanova addressed the Gryphon members in the gunship's passenger compartment, and Mihn Nguyen glanced up at her commanding officer while the latter tersely summarized their operational objectives. Apart from blinking at the mention of Black Steel, the young woman evinced no reaction to the news, apparently undaunted by the prospect of dropping directly into a war zone. With the vehicle fast approaching its landing site, Mihn reached under her seat and pulled out a travel-worn duffel bag. She casually hefted her equipment and filed out of the craft amid the rest of the team.

Emerging into the open air, she duly noted the distant gunshots and paused to survey the encampment while her superior spoke to another soldier. Mihn's gaze shifted rapidly from one point to the next as she identified sentry posts, routes for entry or egress, and areas of cover. Her cursory appraisal was cut short by the announcement of their destination, and she proceeded over to tent 103 with the others.

Upon entering the command tent, she looked around blankly at the prior occupants, then walked over to an empty chair and settled in for the briefing, dropping her gear on a table nearby. As Agent Casanova began outlining the full operation plan, Mihn recalled the low position of the sun above the horizon outside. Good. She didn't much enjoy the notion of assaulting a fortified PMC base in broad daylight, particularly given the scorching heat of the Afghan desert, a far cry from the humid jungles of her homeland. Ignoring the verbal disputes erupting around her with accustomed ease, the Vietnamese NOAH studied the facility map before directing her attention back to Casanova, awaiting the next segment of the briefing.

 

[jeshem]

Heat itself was never a problem for Benjamin. He had always preferred the beach as a child and though the base lacked any body of water to swim in, he found himself topless on his back with his legs stretched out and arms behind his head as he enjoyed tanning in the sun. As he was near the outskirts of the base camp, there was little activity happening around half-sleeping NOAH, allowing him to peacefully doze.

He had arrived several days ago, having been called in from a previous assignment in Dubai. That assignment, like every other assignment he had received so far, was not especially exciting as it simply involved him observing, gathering intel, and maybe tailing somebody every once in a while. From the scarce amount of information he could gather at this, however, he could tell that this upcoming mission would be very different.

His nap was eventually brought to an end by the sound on several large aircrafts passing overhead. Realizing that they were the gunships bringing the Gryphon reinforcements, Benjamin quickly got up, throwing on his t shirt and jacket before jogging back into the camp to fetch his belongings.

As Benjamin passed the other NOAHs and UN soldiers, he could not help but to feel at least a little under dressed. Every time he turned a corner, he saw uniforms, tactical gear, and weaponry with heavily contrasted with his leather jacket, t-shirt, jeans, and hiking shoes. He made his way through the maze of tents before finally reaching his assigned tent. Going inside, he double checked his equipment--his knife, lockpick, jammer, etc.--as well as the M17 pistol he had received when he had first joined Infinity. Upon retrieving his equipment, Benjamin headed out again, this time to tent 103.

When he arrived, he was greeted by Casanova of the Gold Division whom he was then informed would be the commander of the upcoming mission. He also recognized several other Mirage agents though he knew none of them personally. As for the rest, he could only assume that they were the Gryphons. After Casanova gave the group a quick rundown of the situation, several individuals suggested different methods to break through Black Steel's defenses including airstrikes but Benjamin could not be less concerned about that.

After several other agents had spoken up, Benjamin raised his hand to gain Casanova's attention. "About the hostages, how much do we know? Approximated number, location, things like that."

 

[Valor]

ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴇxᴘᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ - ɢʀʏᴘʜᴏɴ
1720 ʜᴏᴜʀs
​

As Casanova gave time for questions, several of the members began their inquiries. Casanova planned to address each one in order, though she felt that it was appropriate to pass over Hunter's rather inappropriate request for chocolate. Without her mask, she could smell the stench of vodka and cigarettes in the room. This unprofessional conduct would be marked down in her after-action report later, for now, she would just have to hope that Hunter was still in an operable capacity.

"Agent Rose is partially correct." She began, "Anti-satellite systems make it impossible to coordinate a reliable air strike on the position. We suspect that Black Steel are operating similar Anti-Air defenses as they did during Operation Talon, meaning that our gunships won't be able to close in until we definitively disable them. Furthermore, we have reason to believe that this isn't the only Black Steel site still in operation. Centurion and Mirage Divisions want to collect data from the facility to see if we can somehow locate other installations." Casanova paused, allowing her words to sink in. Hopefully, what she said was making sense. Regardless, they each had a job to do, if she ordered them to pull their triggers, that's what Casanova expected each and every agent to do. "Finally, we need to know what exactly Black Steel is experimenting on."

After addressing the questions that came from beyond the Iron Curtain, Casanova leaned herself against the table. "Command wants us to assume that hostages will be deceased upon entry. We have no idea about numbers or where they will be located. We don't even have a definitive blueprint of the actual layout of the installation."

After all of the questions had been cleared through, Casanova decided that it was time to address Datajack's issues with the mission. "Unfortunately. We haven't been able to get full intelligence on the situation. Centurion has cleared a full assault on the installation. As I mentioned before, ten teams are going in. We will be acting as Team 3, supporting Teams 1 and Team 2 on entry."

Casanova turned to the map of the installation, which was really more just an outline of the building's exterior. On the outline were four, highlighted entry points. "We'll be hitting entry point Alpha, which Mirage believes is going to be the hardest position to take. As such, we will have more teams behind us ready to support. We know that the building has two levels and occupies a roughly two-hundred-thousand square-foot space on each level. It will be a lot of space to cover with our small force."

"I've read over each of your files. I know that for most of you, this isn't your first rodeo. Most of us have fought these assholes before." Casanova glanced down at her digital watch, 17:28... "The operation begins at 18:00. I want everyone packing night vision, enough ammunition for a prolonged firefight and whatever else you feel that you need. Extra equipment is on the tables behind you." Casanova explained rather briefly, "Now, get your shit together. If you're already good to go, then pray to whatever god suits you best, or eat your dinner. Whatever floats your boats."

As soon as her briefing was complete, Casanova left the front table to find her own equipment bag. Unzipping the bag, she set out extra sets of night vision units before slipping her AK-400 rifle from the bag. Her eyes performed a quick ammunition and weapons check before throwing her head through the rifle's sling. Several grenades of various types found their way into her vest before she turned to her team. "If there are any concerns before the operation, now's your opportunity. Otherwise, I expect each and every one of you to watch each other's backs out there."

"Believe it or not, we're all on the same team. At least, right now we are."

 

[sun.]

There weren't many things as horrible as this; Saga's stomach quietly complained, having long turned into a heavy clump, eventually twisting itself into a tight, wet knot. The coldness from inside her body mirrored the film of cold sweat that had taken a liking to the woman's forehead and neck, and, worst of all, had accumulated inside the sterile-white medical mask that was covering almost half of her face, continuously feeling as if moving around behind the thin fabric. Even the powdery texture of the hospital gloves didn't dispose of the sweat clinging to her face, and Saga simply gave up trying to disperse it upon hearing Casanova's voice, instead relenting to the feeling of being grilled and chilled at the same time.

There was a faint sense of relief about sitting alone, her face's state invisible to anyone a bit further away: these people were not allowed to witness any signs of weakness or fatigue on her end. She had to remain intact, if only in appearance. In conclusion, flying disagreed with Saga's body, while flying with NOAH scum disagreed with her mind.

There weren't many things as horrible as this.

However, there was at least one thing surpassing the current situation, and that was Black Steel - denying even the facade of Noah civility, even Saga couldn't help but approve of snuffing them out. Stretching her rubber-clad hands into lithe spiders - fingers splayed as far as could, until her flesh strained - Saga forced herself to stand up, swallowing the pressure of whatever leftover meal tried to squeeze itself through her throat, and shuffled towards the commander, readying herself for their exit.

The descend did not help with Saga's ouroboric innards, and her body felt both emptied by divine violence, and filled with a plethora of unappetizing concoctions of past substances. Even after the stream of air, and even against the relentless sun, Saga's face was soaked in ice-cold sweat, and her body finally reached capacity, as the ill-spirited woman excused herself towards the nearest boulder, and emptied her stomach's meager contents into the unoccupied sand of the middle east.

Saga's breath was stiff and decidedly audible, and she gave it her best effort not to reply any gaze crawling towards her, most of which she presumed were filled with disgust or curious amusement; none of it mattered, though, as Saga felt herself burn white-out, the sweat vaporizing off her skin. "What do you mean by... thae hostages will be deceased upon entry? It sounds like we're not even making an effort to save them?"

Bewildered eyes fled into the crowd, desperately searching for a mirror of her own concern, only to find what she perceived as apathetic complacency. "We will save the hostages, do we not?" Saga asked, now speaking directly to the silver-haired agent, almost sounding like a child pleading for permission of some revoked privilege. "Tell me this isn't just about political position, or whatever garbage we're supposed to rally around."

 

[Little Leo]

Alannah's loud voice didn't help the agony that Shay is in at the moment. Normally she could block out her blabbering, but at the moment her defenses were weakened from the heat. It's not that she hates her, don't get her wrong. Alannah is more or less like her older sister and always has been, it just gets too much at times for Shay to keep up with. The frog girl wipes sweat from her brow and then leans against Alannah's shoulder, allowing her to quietly whisper to her when she is sure that Casanova won't notice. "Alannah, I can't read very well.... It's going to take a bit of time for me to get through it," Shay says in a gentle voice, a tone reserved strictly for her more or less adoptive sister.

Shay hears Casanova start to go into the nitty-gritty details and so she stood up straight to listen in. The plan is about what she expected, no air support and a full ground assault. As expected as well is the decision to go in without heed of any alive hostages, who knows what Black Steel would have done to them by now, they could have even decided to do experiments on them. Though the plan sounds simple on paper, knowing full well of the last missions she has been on, this is going to be much more difficult. Perhaps that is why she decides to speak up after hearing Saga Xiao's plea.

"Black Steel already knows that we are here, they've already killed nine of my comrades. The likeliness of any of the civvies still being alive is not high at this moment." Shay says with a rather cold tone, though in truth she was trying to calm down her fellow soldier, "They would have tortured them for fun, experimented on them as much as they could, then dumped their bodies." The frog girl runs her fingers through her magenta hair and then lowers her sunglasses to meet Saga's eyes as she speaks, "We are not robots if we could save them we would, but it's not feasible. There is the chance there could be a few alive that we may be able to get to, but Black Steel is likely to already have prepared in advance for our assault. If some are alive once we start the assault, we will get them out, but to include that in the plan could put your current comrades in danger."

Shay then turns and picks up her bag, glancing through it to make sure everything is in order for the mission. That is the most that people have heard Shay talk for a long time, besides Alannah. Though it sounded like Shay was annoyed by Saga's plea, she was actually trying to console her in her own way so that she'll focus on the mission. The frog girl pulls the pack onto her back and glances around at the others, pushing her sunglasses back up. Shay turns to Alannah and says, "Let's get some dinner before we go, I need to get some blood sugar after waiting in this heat."

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Sighing at what few answers she got in regards to herself and towards the mission, a sense of disappointment, that only grew with further explanation. At the end of it all the young woman shrugs, fingering the eyepatch that covered her right eye before commenting cryptically. "Ah, I have my night vision right here as it were, I'll have to pass on the Ammo. Though I thank you for your answers, the makeup of this team now makes a lot of sense." Judging by the lack of professionalism and the assort cast being in the first wage, most of them had most likely landed on someone's shit list for expendable missions.. at least to Adriana point of view.

Looking over the collection of weapons, she snickers at the woman that was going on about saving the civies and politics, the unfortunate vomit comet. "Oh Wow, you mean the international organization that makes use of a group of humans that they sweep under the rug or outright hated, would operate on politics and wanting something to steal? Might want to get some tic-tac's while you face that shocking reality." She says with mock sympathy towards the gloomy Asian woman as she picks through the explosives and bandoliers.

"Free Comp B? Well don't mind if I do!" She says while snatching up more satchels of explosives, till she almost lookedly like a comical Pancho Villa with ammo pouch belts, or explosives rather in place of bullets. Taking out her pair of bolt cutters, Adriana opens the jaw like gap, clicking it back and forth, oddly and perhaps enthusiastically at what would be neck level for a normal sized human. "Ah do not worry my fellow Comrades, Chemical Explosives do not go off when shot.."

Flashing a toothy grin that show cased two rather fang like canines the girl allows for a small chuckle as she turns her attention back towards Casanova.

"Mostly. "

"Either way, worry not my Commander, most gunfire passes through my body rather well, though judging from the Asian, I think I'll pass on the food.. Otherwise I think I shall seek out an Orthodox Priest." Giving a partial salute, the young girl pivots on her heels and walks out the entrance proper, leaving some parting words for those left behind.

"Until the Night is Young, and I find the harsh sun far below the horizon. I'll go out for a stroll I think and modify these most gracious of gifts to more suit an anti-personnel role."

Baring anyone following her out or meeting them by chance, the red head would modify her explosives, have a little communion and then seek out some nice fresh Tomatoes.

 

[Aero Blue]

"You say prettiest thoughts in ugly ways, miss."

Saga's words found reply in one of the quintet of Mirage agents that had occupied the tent, a deliberate brand of accented English that weighed each word with rigid calculation. The agent, one Gyi Khun Thura, smiled a narrow, pursed smile that threatened to fold in upon itself as it attempted to bury contempt, fending off some amusement that was less than generous. His eyes were the eyes of an appraiser, scanning the nooks and crannies of the woman's face, emotion barely betrayed. Gyi Khun Thura had latched unto an assumption the moment he saw her, and saw no reason to relinquish his grip.

Rich words from a fucking Chinese.

The thought caused his smile to widen -- no need to be discourteous, not until he was fully certain -- as he continued, with the facetious kindness of a street salesman, "If we see one alive, I am sure we will act in accordance to correct conventions."

He looked away from her, and scanned the rest of the group. The Infinity 'detail' didn't agree with him, and the imagery of nine dead Mirage agents did little to please him - he had been hoping to glean some optimism from his comrades, and had found none forthcoming. Embedded within the Tatmadaw, he was a key agent, a priority that operations were centered upon, and an asset that demanded protection. With this group he was one of many, and his loss would be far more catastrophic to the Burmese than it would be to the UN's initiative. It rendered him uneasy, another emotion that the pursed smile was employed to conceal.

"And Chocolate Boy!" Gyi donned a brotherly grin as he retrieved a vial from his pack, a glass like substance that contained motes of frenetic motion within. Insects. "Want a bug? These taste just like American candy bar."

@sun. @Quiet

 

[Bismarck]

"Great, suppressors are fucking useless then. Frontal fucking assault. Who the fuck plans this shit." Katya growled the words practically. For a moment it seemed her anger had passed. However in an almost dramatic fashion, she bent her rifle cleanly, until it was almost folded, before tossing it away. It seemed her bad intel, on the intentions of this mission had her feeling quite sour. She pondered the armory for a moment. Wondering what would serve as a reliable alternative. The muscular Russian wanted...no she needed something big, that spat fire, and rained death.

Seeing as flamethrowers were outlawed by the Geneva conventions, something much louder than fire would have to do. Hostages weren't a concern anymore, and as a result she seemed to really truly consider the explosive option. However that option wouldn't work once they got inside, at least launched explosives wouldn't, so she was limited to ballistic firearms. Pondering a heavy machine gun, an curious grin crossed her face. It was Russian, and while it was old like the rifle she had bent in half, it was much...much bigger. It was the Kord 6P50. Though it had been redesigned to fit the ergonomics required by a single infantry man. It was given a proper pistol grip, and a full stock. A comfortable front hand guard, and a carry handle atop it that could be used to improve hip fire accuracy to some degree.

Picking it up with ease, Katya hefted it like it was an M16 to a regular soldier. Holding it by the carrying handle, she grabbed up box after box of ammunition belts. Strapping them to herself, as she changed the pouches on her load bearing gear, to the pouches supplied to carry boxes of ammunition. They were a larger variant of the ones that PKP gunners used. Kat couldn't fit much on her person, only around five boxes of ammunition, along with the one in her new gun, which gave her 300 rounds of ammunition to rip the enemy apart with. On a positive note her body was freed up to carry more shotgun shells. Including slugs, and incendiary rounds...which she did her best to keep secret, as they were her person stash.

She looked more like a walking gun emplacement than a woman all things said. What was usually a mounted machine gun hanging from her body. Strained pouches, filled with heavy ammunition boxes, ready to just slaughter Black Steel Agents. Lines upon lines of 10 round magazines, filled with death dealing twelve gauge shells, dotting her torso, her belt, even her upper thighs, and back. A folded saiga 12 resting on the small backpack she had, waiting for its turn to join the close quarters battle inside the compound. Within it a 20 round magazine was jammed inside, loaded with alternating buckshot, and incendiary ammunition.

"Wish there was a portable tank gun, could just blow our way through the walls." She muttered to herself, as she checked her hatchets again, making sure she could reach them, even with the massive machine gun strapped to her body. She racked the bolt of the weapon back, giving a sigh, "Oh well, minor overkill will have to sate my rage for now!" Katya chuckled wildly for a moment...this was a very personal thing for the Russian. After all, the Black Steel had recently attacked her country, and killed so many of her friends.

As a final going away gift, she grabbed a few hand grenades, and some flash bangs. Finding spare space on her body for them. Barely pushed close to her limits by the weight on her. She walked with ease, clanking a bit with each step it seemed. As her gun banged into her body, and the belt jiggled back and forth some. "I just hope we'll get a ride there, I don't want to walk."

 

[Silvir]

"Well unless those freaks wants to use them as live shields then id say they will be alive until our freaks starts blowing their heads of for them." Something about the atmosphere in the tent ticked him of, or perhaps it was the conversation. Never the less Tobias stepped out to avoid letting of that steam on the wrong people. There where more appropriate targets for that.
Above two transport helicopters dove and fired flares before low bounding it away from the area. He turned his head looking in the direction where the enemy holdout would be.
To far to fire but close enough to lock. They where telling them to back of. Tobias grunted and walked of towards the vehicle area where an open area had several exoskeletons set up in rigs ready and waiting for their pilots.
"Sir? got your suit ready right over here sir."
He nodded towards the soldier and followed him towards a suit carrying a backpack with several thrusters.
"The soft pads on the shoes are there as well?" Tobias asked checking his data pad.
"Yes it's a bit tricky with the mobile configuration but as long as you avoid jumping in that mode it shouldn't provide any difficulties."

He handed the pad over to the man and climbed into the suit. Two technicians began activation sequence and hooking him up to the suit interface.
...Valkyrie system interface detected, Synchronizing neural interface with suit software. Prepare for neural uplink.3.2.1
An uncomfortable jolt went trough his nerves as the implants where linked to the suit.
The entire suit began humming while the technicians worked around him armour plates being added, place bolts spinning into place while he slowly moved each limb and with a thought brought up different functions into testing mode.
"Weapons"
He said and the technicians rolled up large crates.
"Vocal weapons registry" He stated into the suit mic.
"Grenade launcher, Shoulder rockets, point defence nine millimetre sub-machine-gun. Main weapon 10,7 millimetre rotary canon. synchronize ammo count to HUD"
Lastly a heavy assault shield was mounted on his right arm as the HUD showed all systems green and he straightened as the rig released it's hold.

On the HUD lines of information started to display and the radio clicked twice before he spoke. "Sandman mounted and ready for deplyment Ma'm" and then nodding to a technician motioning for him to follow.

 

[Snowflake]

---

---

Crossing her arms Alannah rested on the chair with a sigh. It's going to be one of those missions then. Given her particular set of skills she was seldom sent to rescue any hostages, that was often reserved for those with more useful traits and training. More often she was the one to extract intel from people, sometimes even friendly or civilian assets that simply weren't in the state of mind to explain what they saw or knew. Regardless of that, she had long since learned to steel herself from idealistic notions of saving every single human life, she was a soldier and a killer, far from someone that cared about the value of a single human life. No, it made perfect sense not to risk any more agents, NOAH or otherwise, while trying to rescue some 'goat farmers' that really didn't do much to help in the grand scheme of things. Still, she was expecting to there be at least some attempt at masking the fact that they didn't care about civilian casualties, Casanova's bluntness was a strange but oddly calming novelty.

Oddly enough it was Shay's words that calmed Alannah down, even more, everything she was saying made sense. If there was a reasonable way to save them they would've been made a priority, but as it stands, leaving Black Steel to operate with countless hidden bases was more damaging than letting a few civvies get shot in the head during the attack. That said Alannah wanted to give a few kind words to the new Gryphon member but matching her gaze was something downright terrifying, even for Alannah. Instead, she offered her a kind smile on her way out of the tent.

As Shay mentioned getting dinner and some blood sugar Alannah took that a bit too literally and offered her another lollipop that she had been carrying in her pocket, this one was yellow and if the colour was an indicator it probably tasted like lemon juice. Flipping her own lollipop which tasted of strawberries she pushed it into the corner of her mouth so she could speak. "I'd love to get some dinner, I've been starving since lunch. I think it's the sun and heat, ramps up my metabolism, I already lost two pounds just sitting around doing nothing all day." How it was that she was starving since she ate almost two whole portions and a bunch of candy in between was a mystery that most likely didn't need to be solved. Instead, Alannah remained close to Shay for the duration of the meal and only left her side afterwards to get her own gear from her footlocker. Specialized equipment kept in vacuum sealed packaging to prevent any elements from getting to it. Sure it was insulated properly and theoretically could operate in any but the most extreme condition but somehow Alannah doubted they stress tested the things enough so she kept it where it was unlikely to be contaminated by sand or cooked by heat.

When she rejoined Shay at exactly 17:55 she was wearing her full combat complement of tactical armour, specialized shock gloves, numerous magazines for her weapons and most importantly a piece of bubble gum to blow bubbles with and pop them annoyingly loud. She gave her gear one last check and patdown to make sure everything was there, ignoring all the weaponry it probably looked like a young girl checking to see if she had her keys and phone before leaving the house. Odd how such a simple thing as breaking and entering led her to instead be checking if she had enough ammo on her.

 

[BioshockRP]

​

Gunship Tent 103 Dinner

• 
  
  Whisked beans at bedside, and a felled spoon on reinforced wooden floors. Typical, the sensation, a vibration, tip toed in an echo across the blonde muscular figure. From outside, a radiance buried the blue pupils into dilation for a mere moment, as the man adjusted his sight with accelerated protuberance on the peripherals. His left arm cowered in a gorilla over-crouch upon his slumped forehead. WHOOSH; a mechanically influenced breeze set itself on the man's tank top, blowing it towards the doorway. What he needed, and what he wanted became clear: Balance. Quickly and efficiently, his body stabilized with the change in air pressure, as the gunship descended to lower atmosphere. While his bunk mates remained, he cupped the spilled beans into his hands, and drank the dried, splintery calories. Lastly, he placed the spoon in his pocket. "Morning, Sunshine," he joyously acclaimed to his brethren.
  
  Jingle, jangle, and he never dared to forget the final jingle of his equipment. Within the armory, he sorted himself in an exosuit, typical military garments, and then the piece of resistance: weapons. His lips licked by tongue dripped saliva, as his pelvic region engaged in the settlement of knives, grenades, and most importantly; the belt. At first, everything felt heavy, as if an elephant crushed his spine. Fortunately, his power insured his muscles constricted the hefty attire to the proper balance. Even though he weighed a whopping 245 pounds, he still used his powers to ensure mobility too. Then, the ghost crept at him from underneath the bench. For a second, he witnessed a bloodied and battered soldier twisted into a pretzel. He shrugged his head, and sighed as the image dissipated from his mind. Clearly, the dizziness struck him.
  
  "Hey, Officer Conrad. Hope it's kickin' for you today. My gun's itching to splatter a few," uttered a fellow soldier. As he trudged alongside the floor in a marched walk, he stopped a moment to humor his mate. His eyes peered deep into the solder's opal irises, and he remembered the name Thomas, "What's up Private Thomas? I didn't catch what you say," then Conrad pointed to his loud exosuit gear. From a little shuffle forward, Thomas repeated himself in an awkward smile, "Just you know, ready to do combat and appreciate what you did for me yesterday." At the end of his comment, Conrad considered to bolster the man's confidence, but stopped short to remind, "Just live, so you can drink and fuck." Afterwards, the man heard the thuds of Conrad's soles. The mighty man, who stood far taller than Thomas, bothered to only care for his well-being.
  
  
• 
  
  Blistering heat smelted the sweat from Conrad's body onto his suit. Just moments after the gunship landed, he'd forgotten to prepare his body's temperature, mainly due to the nagging sensation brought to him by the prior conversation. He smacked his face, and muttered, "Stay in the game. Get that home run for your god blessed country." Once his body reset his temperature to normal levels, his legs kicked the sand, as he stretched them in a short stride. The plethora of soldiers warmed and saddened his emotions. For the fellow aid of another may soon be diminished by adversity, whenever a shell graces the body.
  
  With the sand scoured across his equipment, it soon poured out onto the ground upon entry into Command Tent 103. Inside his eyes carefully analyzed those he deemed an asset, and others who presented a questionable inclusion. At his seat, he found additional equipment, which he amply located inside his load bearing equipment bag. Afterwards, he silenced his movements, when the head honcha, Casanova, spoke to the group. She finished with a period to ask for questions, so Conrad obliged to his extent.
  
  Facing his head to Casanova's direction, he bellowed, for he sat in the back, "Why send us in if we've no intel from the blue division's prior mission, or any other info gathering device, such as a drone? That's why I think, if we distract them with the assault team on the outside, maybe the blue division members can get more intel, allowing us a better chance to secure the hostages?" When she finished answering their questions, Conrad heard the remainder of her briefing, before departing with his equipment. Since there was not another period of questioning, he bothered not to state his opinions on the hostages a second time.
  
  Albeit not over yet, for Conrad's ears picked up the second statement pondering for any concerns. Yet, still his mind blanked, as the only clear focus unto him was the mission's completion then his survival. If he cannot achieve one of them; therefore, he ought to at least guarantee the other option. He might as well as consume his sustenance before his mind demands his energy more than his own body and ability. CLICK, a swift shuffle, as he lifted himself from the chair. Unlike the others, long briefing periods incurred no pain to his rear, as his ability accommodated to his balance. He saluted Casanova, before exiting the room.
  
  
• 
  
  Although haunted by prior moments, he joyfully joked with his fellow soldiers at the dinner table. He plastered and shot his snortiest laughs at their whims, as he downed several helpings way past his own rations. Due to his ability, he required a high calorie count in order to provide additional energy to accelerate his body's biological functions. If he failed to eat, he'd surely perish from his own ability, as he would exhaust himself to death. While eating, he glimpsed at the others, particularly the Russians, those filthy commies. He shook his head, no, and thought stay focus. Clenched in a fold, the American ideology etched every philosophy into Conrad's being.
  
  Betwixt two privates contained Thomas, who sat himself to again invite a conversation with Conrad. He pointed at Conrad, preparing his statement with a ruffled nose, "Augh this guy. He's the man. You all, best listen to him on the battlefield." From that statement, the other soldiers exclaimed in hilarity, "The Doom Wrecker!" A little bit of fame dared penetrate the dinner table with its succulent morsel; and Conrad, he loved it. Equipping his fork, he poised himself, "In Panama, a man, thought it smart to pee while on his dinner break. So here I was," he snickered a bit, slowing his conversation, "Push him in with his own fork, and the Piranhas did the rest. A bit gruesome, but that'll teach you never to be caught with your pants down." He swung his fork near Thomas' face, stopping short a few inches, "Just kidding." Soon after, Thomas' terrified expression deplored the scene, as he excused himself, "I t-think, I need to relieve myself now."
  
  Once dinner finished, he reunited with his group at the proper time, for he was a punctual man. Prior to appearing, he insured everything remained inside his bags and on his person. Either way today would become the march towards death, for him or the enemy. Let the better man win, he thought, but he finished with one last notion: let it be me. He stood alert, awaiting Casanova's further instructions.