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Feet First
Thu Aug 27, 2009 5:32am

NRP: Sorry this took so long. I've been busy this past bit and haven't had much time to write.

RP: Amiril entered the briefing room, rifle over his shoulder, and surveyed his team mates. None seemed any more capable than himself. Most certainly not Cocker. The young ranger-bot stood at the front of the room behind a podium nervously thumbing through his cue cards and muttering under his breath.

"You gonna get to the briefing or what pal?" Startled, Cocker looked up at the speaker, a massive reploid in yellow armor with a wicked scar curving down the side of his bald head. On the folding metal chair next to him rested a multi-barreled weapon easily the length of his torso.

Three chairs away a petite female sat, her eyes hidden by her bangs as she examined a knife blade she was honing.

Amiril cleared his throat and dropped into a seat towards the back. Cocker looked at him and nervously tapped his cue cards into a stack.

"Now that we're all here I'll start the briefing." Lifting a remote from the podium Cocker clicked a button and the projector bolted to the roof sputtered to life displaying a grid outline of a factory.

"This is the Olea Company's main warehouse. It's in the Upper North- I guess the place used to be called Washington- and this is what we're going to hit. The plan's simple. Skybaron will transport us in via Trojan Horse. We'll clear the warehouse of guards and then 'Baron will land allowing us to load up all the ammo we can get our hands on into the transport and skin out."

Cocker looked at his three team mates. "Any questions?"


Victor Shroder pulled back the sleeve of his leather coat to check his watch then looked up at the sky. Around him reploids painted in the Olea Company's colors tromped into the warehouse and began setting themselves up for the raiding force.

In stark contrast to the uniformed movements of the soldiers seven figures lounged outside the warehouse watching the security chief.

Schroder checked the frown spreading across his face. He hated mercenaries. They lacked discipline and were often given to delusions of grandeur. "You are prepared?" He asked.

The leader of the seven's grin was just visible beneath the curve of his battered Stetson. "Oh yessir Mistah Schrodah. We're abso-fuckin'-lutely ready."

The security chief's eyes narrowed at the language but he nodded. "They should be here soon."


The rear end of the Trojan Horse seemed cavernous to all four mercenaries. Even Grozni, the yellow armored berserker, had plenty of elbow room.

Just as the silence began to grow uncomfortable the red light above the pilot cabin door switched to green and the rear exit hatch whined as it lowered.

Cocker was the first out. He hit the fast release on his harness and simply leapt from the back of the transport letting his custom-crafted legs take the shock of his landing even as he pulled his Mega Buster free of its holster and took his first look at the warehouse.

For a second everything was still. Just as he had been told to expect.

Then the AA fire started.

  • Prep WorkAmiril, Mon Aug 17 2:37pm
    Picking up his drink after Cocker’s were delivered, a small smile still playing his lips as he knocked back the sugary sour drink. It kicked like a mule for a second then calmed down in his stomach,... more
    • Feet First — Zeo, Thu Aug 27 5:32am
      • Welcome to the JungleAmiril, Wed Sep 2 3:01am
        Briefing over, Amiril headed back to his room, avoiding the fun of the range and the barked orders of Sarge. Crossing the base quickly, his rifle slung over his shoulder, Amiril found his way back to ... more
        • We got Fun and GamesZeo, Fri Sep 11 8:04pm
          NRP: It's Grozni. Not Gronzi. Means 'Awesome' in Russian. “Well if he's any good we won't know.” Tetri muttered as she dipped into the foliage. Her armor quickly calibrated itself to the colors... more
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