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Author Topic: Deadspace: Hellmarch  (Read 6572 times)

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Offline CaptainPenguin

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Deadspace: Hellmarch
« on: October 11, 2003, 01:34:43 AM »
OOC: Yo. Those of you who know the Deadspace deal, go ahead. If you don't check out the Deadspace thread.

The rain pelts down upon the tin roof of the command station amid the jungles of Jimsun. The view from the roofed foxhole reveals a tangled wasteland of violet alien jungle, blasted trenches, dead bodies, and the mangled wreckage leftover from yesterday's skimmer attack.
Fradrek Moritomo, High Lieutenant of StarFORCE 4th Land Legion, Second Arm, Fourth Talon, holds a pair of binocs up to his visor. Target-tags, command lines, and battle data stream across his helmet's HUD, and the voice channel plays only the noise of the downpour, and the occasional whispered question and answer in StarFORCE combat chatter. No sign of the enemy.
Fradrek and his Talon, and their Arm, came down planetside 4 standard months ago, and there has still been little progress. Hired by the Jimsunian government to help the useless Jimsun Self-Defence Force defeat the rebel forces, the StarFORCE troops have made progress where the JSDF has been destroyed, burning the jungle to prevent guerilla tactics, destroying key rebel installations. But that's not as big as it sounds, and Fradrek knows it.
He hasn't made enough progress. By the strict schedule laid down by Commander Jarrdon, his Talon should be in the capitol, Jimsun City, by now, putting down the last of the rebels on the southern continent. But yesterday's massive vehicle attacks, coupled with the detonation of the fusion factories along the River Donn last week, have slowed his schedule to the pace of a Dromian snail.
Suddenly, a burst of battle chatter fills the command post. "CO-ORDS OREN DOUBLE ZETA SEVEN! HEAVY SUPPRESSION, I REPEAT, HEAVY SUPP-AAAH!" comes the call, the last bit cut of with the bizarre sound of a hellwhip maser.
Fradrek is relieved. Finally, some sign of where the action is.
He signals.
A line of powerful StarFORCE Commando-Troopers moves surreptitiously down the trenches toward the blasted concrete ruins of Jimsun City.

OOC: Your characters should probably be in Jimsun City or with Fradrek's StarFORCE troopers.
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Offline Ria Hawk

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Deadspace: Hellmarch
« Reply #1 on: October 11, 2003, 12:40:17 PM »
Delat hid in an alley, breathing hard.  This was getting entirely out of hand.  Everything worth looting had already been taken, and the only people out now were the fighters and brawlers.  It had been ugly before, when the looters were out in force; now it was nasty.  Everyone had locked themselves in, unless, like Delat, they had no where to go.  Her house had been target of a bomb two days ago.   She doubted it was for the exression of any political views.  She had quietly supported the rebellion when it first started; now, four months later, she just wanted the fighting to stop.  There were vague rumors that the detachment of the StarFORCE that had been been brought planetside to deal with the rebels was currently advancing on the city.  She hoped they were.  She didn't think she'd be as lucky the next time she ran into a gang of crazed idiots.
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

Offline CaptainPenguin

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Deadspace: Hellmarch
« Reply #2 on: October 12, 2003, 07:39:14 PM »
The thunderous crack echoes through the outskirts of Jimsun City as one of the giant asparagus-towers called fungus-trees collapses, slashed by an errant maser ray.
Fradrek Moritomo knows that it wasn't any of the StarFORCE. They were all trained at the Academy as holovid-perfect shots. A steady stream of battle chatter comes from the earpiece of Fradrek's helmet. "Co-ords Alpha Geo Delta Turtle Dee-Tee Bob. Zeus-story spirals, catalogue h-whip Tee-Pee maser. RQ assists gatespeed." babbles the earpiece. Fradrek switches it off.
He and the command unit of his Talon are on a bomb-blasted overpass on the way into Jimsun City. They shelter behind the flaming wreckage of an all-terrain combat jeep, by the looks of it, a Jimsun government one.
The snare-drum staccato of mas-bursters and the eerie squeal of mas-cutters and hellwhips reverberates throughout the area.
Fradrek can already tell that it's going to be a bloody day.

Flash forward forty minutes. Fradrek and two of his best snipers surreptitiously climb the crumbling plastcrete emergency stairs of a similarly shoddy Jimsun City tenement. The outer layer of their highest-quality, StarFORCE-issue power suits is made from a high-tech chameleon-polymer, which reflects their surroundings and makes them near-invisible to the naked eye. They step out of the emergency shaft into a hallway. The apartments are dark and empty.
"Darsh!" curses one of the snipers. The hallway is littered with shards of mirror, and several large mirrors are hung on the stained plaster walls. Seems like the rebels know about their chameleon-polymer suits. Fradrek steps forward into the glass-scattered hallway, and the confused chameleon-polymer reverts to simple matte black.
As the Doghead becomes visible, rebels burst out of some of the apartments, levelling their guns on the three StarFORCE soldiers.
"Oh. Double-darsh."says the sniper smoothly.
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Offline Ria Hawk

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Deadspace: Hellmarch
« Reply #3 on: October 12, 2003, 08:00:02 PM »
Delat could hear the fighting in the city.  Sounded like the rumors were right, and the StarFORCE had reached the city.  All well and good, but the fighting was getting bloodier.  Looked like it was time to cut and run.  But she wasn't fool enough to go unarmed.  She figured there would be a few unlooted caches of weapons that she could get at.  She cautiously made her wasy towards one of the blasted tenements.  Jackpot.  Mas-rifle and a hellwhip, both of which she knew how to use.  She left everything else.  The mas-pistol was damaged beyond repair, and she already had a mas-blade.  As she started to leave, she heard something upstairs.  Curious, she cautiously made her way upstairs.  Now that was... interesting.  The hallway was littered with broken mirrors.  At one end of the hall, three of what looked like the StarFORCE troops in black suits were being held at gunpoint by a group of rebels.  Delat started to back cautiously away before she was noticed.  Then she relized something.  The rebels were the same ones who had nearly attacked her less than an hour ago!  She had a very short temper, and had never been accused of always thinking things through.  She was royally pissed.  She leveled the rifle at one and cored his head.  Defore the others had time to react, she snarled "See what happens when you pick on defenseless girls?"

(OOC:  For all who is interested, Delat is a Birdhead.)
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

Offline CaptainPenguin

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Deadspace: Hellmarch
« Reply #4 on: October 12, 2003, 09:05:06 PM »
OOC: Good-good.

Fradrek looks up as somebody enters the hallway. He expects another rebel, but this Birdhead doesn't wear the distinctive red of the People's Liberation Faction.
One of the rebels, a Bathead with his satellite-dish ears pulled back with a PLF red bandanna, turns away from Fradrek and his snipers to face the newcomer. Another, a Doghead, snarls and says "Ah, dez wun bee deh wun we pressed deh ovah day! Why wee no killa her?"
The Bathead thumbs the loader on his mas-rifle, levels it on the newcomer, grins. "'Ello-ello," he grates in an Aquilan accent. "Woddowe 'ave 'ere? Looks like yer' roight, Bammin. Wot brings yeh to our little party, Birdy?"
The three rebels never see what's coming to them. The matte-black of the StarFORCE soldiers' power suits are spattered with blood.
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Offline Ria Hawk

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Deadspace: Hellmarch
« Reply #5 on: October 12, 2003, 09:17:05 PM »
(OOC: Did I get them all?  Or did the snipers when they were distracted?)

Delat glanced at the soldiers, keeping her rifle up.  "Hello.  Don't mind me.  I was just dealing with a little unfinished business."  She glanced around again.  It seemed like there should be one more somewhere.  Either he hadn't come to the ambush, or he was still hiding.
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

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« Reply #6 on: October 12, 2003, 09:25:25 PM »
OOC: Who knows? Maybe both.

Fradrek steps forward, offers a blood-spotted gauntlet. "High Lieutenant Fradrek Moritomo of StarFORCE 4th Land Legion, Second Arm, Fourth Talon. Pleased to meet you, Miss....?"
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« Reply #7 on: October 12, 2003, 09:30:47 PM »
"Delat Vega.  I guess I'm glad to meet you, too.  Means that this mess shouldn't go on too much longer."  She guestured vaguely at the window.  "It'll be nice to have some semblance of order back on this planet."  It seemed that one of the rebels wasn't quite dead: he groaned and moved a little.  She kicked him visciously.  "I'm sick of these bozos running amok."
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

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« Reply #8 on: October 12, 2003, 10:23:22 PM »
"Yes, the aforementioned...Bozos...," Fradrek said, gesturing towards the rebel corpses. "Seem quite disorganized. We have a general hold on the situation, as of yet. However, it would probably be on the best interests of civilians, you included, Miss Vega, to evacuate Jimsun at the current time." The snipers recognized the cool, professional, Academy-trained voice mannerisms of the Civilian Sector Persuasion Style. One of them, a green-feathered birdhead with a riotous red beak, broke in, stopping Fradrek at mid-sentence.
"If I may, Lieutenant, Miss Vega here seems to be adequate with her combat skills, and in my opinion, it would be beneficial to our mission to have a Jimsun native to show us around."
Under the black command visor, Fradrek glared. Then he grinned.
"Good thinking, Goober."
He turned to Delat.
"As long as you're coming with us, with your concent of course, perhaps you should get to know these two."
He pointed to the Birdhead.
"This is Sniper Captain Brightgreen Gumben, better known as Goober."
He then indicated the other, a Doghead.
"And this is Sniper Specialist Tomak Wandol, better known as Bullseye."
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« Reply #9 on: October 12, 2003, 10:38:37 PM »
Delat wasn't exactly sure she like being volunteered for this, but she decided that she didn't care.  It didn't matter who won anymore; any lofty politicla goals held by the rebels had been abandoned months ago.  "Hi.  Again.  You can call me Delat."  She glanced around.  "We might want to start heading somewhere esle.  They tend to run in packs."  She kicked the Doghead on the floor again, then wiped off some of the blood that had splattered her blue feathers.  "And it ain't just the so-called soldiers that you have to worry about any more.  This whole planet's gone nuts."
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

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« Reply #10 on: October 15, 2003, 09:06:48 PM »
Fradrek begins to speak, but is cut off by a sudden piercing squeal as a pencil-thin, purple maser-ray slices through the wall, carving a three meter line in the tenement. The three StarFORCE soldiers drop to their knees, and Goober signals for Delat to do the same. Another ray lances through the floor, inches from Bullseye's snout. There is no doubt that somebody down there is armed with a mas-cutter.
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« Reply #11 on: October 15, 2003, 09:31:16 PM »
Delat swore as she dropped to the floor.  "That had better not be any of your people, because I'm probably going to do something unpleasant to them."  But that could wait; if they stayed there, sooner or later someone would get lucky and cut them in half, or what was left of the structural integretiy would go.  "Let's get out of here, boys."
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

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« Reply #12 on: October 18, 2003, 12:14:31 AM »
Bullseye protested for a second. "But I'm not a bo..." She was cut off as Fradrek shouted "GET DOWN!"
Another group of squeals sounded as several masers slashed through the building. Mortar rained down on their heads and small chips of plastcrete began to rattle loose as a series of explosions occured outside.
Fradrek, quietly muttering battle chatter into his earpiece, crawled on his stomach to the edge of the stairs. He motioned for the others to follow.
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« Reply #13 on: October 18, 2003, 01:50:47 AM »
Delat crawled after Fradrek, passing perilously close to one of the former windows.  She risked a peek out.  "It's the Anarks," she whispered.  The Anarks were a secondary rebellion group that had sprung from one of the all too common gangs.  They weren't affiliated with the rebellion per se, they just wanted to cause as much chaos as possible.  They certainly tried to live up to thier name.  Lately, they'd been running rampant in the city.  "I don't think they're actually after you.  I think this is just another one of their so-called 'statements.'"
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« Reply #14 on: October 18, 2003, 02:07:54 AM »
Goober begins to talk, ignoring Fradrek's urgent whisper for quiet.
"Did you get any news about the Bomarice Quintus Rebellion out here? Well, that was us that put it down. Yep. Real tough they are on Bomarice Quintus, cuz' their gravity is 1.7 standard! You should see some of them, there. Barely a meter tall, and able to lift your average EM-car with one hand, on account of their gravity-enhanced muscle mass." he says, then yammering on into accounts of the planets of Bintu, N'Jawek, New Mecca, and Arthantonoria XII.
"Shut up!" Fradrek says sharply, rising to his knees. "We must get out of this building."
Bullseye mutters a "No s**t, Lieutenant" and shoves past him, tossing a grenade down to the bottom of the stairs.
After the blast, Fradrek turns and stares straight into Bullseye's face, the tension in his voice revealing his barely-controlled rage.
"What.....the hell....was...that?" he hisses, and starts down the ash-coated steps.
Bullseye shrugs toward Delat and Goober. "Jez' cleanin' up..."
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« Reply #15 on: October 18, 2003, 02:15:01 AM »
Delat headed towards the stairs.  "Less arguing, more getting the hell out of here."  As she started down the steps, she glanced back at Goober.  "Another time I might be really impressed by what you people have done in the past.  But this is Jimsun City now, and there hasn't been anything resembling order on this planet for three months.  That firecracker of Bullseye's'll buy us some time.  But I don't want to be here when the Anarks regroup.  They can't take what they dish out.  This'll piss 'em off to no end."
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

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« Reply #16 on: October 24, 2003, 08:44:05 PM »
The StarFORCE soldiers and Delat came to the bottom of the stairs.
Fradrek held up his hand. "Wait here. I'm going out."
He stepped forward, mouthed something to a controller necrobit in his power suit's helmet, kicked open the emergency exit door.
What happened next was obscured in the blinding glow and heat and smoke and sound of a barrage of hellwhips, mas-fire, explosions, and, strangely, old-fashioned shells and flechettes.
The smoke and light cleared.
Fradrek Moritomo stood practically unharmed, but for minor wounds. Shredded, fragged, melted, and twisted pieces of his power suit and fused necrobits and command chips lay scattered around his feet.
"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!!" he shouted towards the stunned Anarks, breaking his usual taciturn ways.
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« Reply #17 on: October 24, 2003, 09:20:07 PM »
Delat stared.  "That would have atomized anyone else around here.  It has in the past."  She suddenly turned to Bullseye.  "Is that armor standard?"  If it was, she would definitely have to see about getting her some.
But, she suddenly had a more pressing problem.  Someone had been hiding, lying in wait, and they suddenly stepped up behind her and grabbed her.  Whoever-it-was snickered.  "I knew we shoulda fragged you last time."  The foul smelling breath of a Doghead hit Delat, not quite full in the face.  Great.  Just great.  She knew that there had been one more of the rebels.  He was pointing a blaster at Goober and Bullseye, and had a mas-blade touching her throat.  Her feathers were never going to be the same.  She growled audibly.  The Doghead took no notice.  "I'm gonna turn you into a grease spot on the pavement, you little traitor."
"I suggest you let me go right now, especially if you wish to keep your anatomy intact.  I have had a very bad day, and I'm in no mood for you AND the Anarks."
He laughed.  "These scumbuckets aren't gonna do anything while you're in the way, traitor."
"Actually, I'm not at all sure about that, but that wasn't what I was talking about.  Allow me to demonstrate."  And with that, Delat ducked out of his grip, elbowing him hard in a delicate area as she did.  He made a sound like an outraged mouse, and fell over.  She wrenched the knife out of his hand.  "I did warn you.  It's not my fault you're a moron."  She stepped on his other wrist hard, and put all of her weight on it.  There was a nasty crunching sound, and he let go of the gun rather suddenly.
He soon found his own knife protruding from his chest.  Delat bent down to see if he had anything potentially useful.  Without turning around, she said to the others, "This is what it's like around here now.  You fight back or you die."  She set aside a few of the Doghead's weapons.  Suddenly she pulled something off of his bandolier with a triumphant noise.  "A G-Stick!  I didn't think there were any more of these on the planet!"  She held up a cylinder that was about a handspan long and fit comfortably in her hand.  "You guys can keep any of that other stuff, but I'm keepin' this."
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

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« Reply #18 on: October 24, 2003, 09:36:58 PM »
Fradrek backed away from the blasted doorway as a few forlorn mas-bolts flew through. "...G-Stick? This is something I never thought I'd say, but...I've never heard of that weapon."
Goober and Bullseye chimed in their surprise.
StarFORCE training was usually very thorough.
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« Reply #19 on: October 24, 2003, 09:45:54 PM »
Delat grinned, and ducked another mas-bolt.  "It's really called a Guisarme, but everyone usually calls it a G-Stick.  I think the Pershalans designed it."  She shook the cylinder in a peculiar way, and the ends suddenly shot out, extending the cylider until it was a stick at least as tall as she was.  "And it has a mas-blade on the end, too.  Actually..." she looked at the middle of the stick closely.  "This is one of those models that has two blades.  But anyway."  She made a complex twisting motion, and the stick retracted.  She glanced out the door.  "Ought we be helping your commander?"
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

Regina Raptorum, Benevolent Mad Scientist, Writer of Psychos, Guild Mistress of Esoteric Lore, Losers' Club Alumna, and Authentic Wacko

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« Reply #20 on: October 24, 2003, 10:08:20 PM »
Goober thumbed the selector on his sniper rifle. "Er...Well, you see, yesterday in the trenches, the rebels charged us with skimmers...It wasn't pretty, and..Uh...Well, the Lieutenant's in charge now."
Fradrek nodded. "That would be a correct appraisal." He then turned towards the door. No weapons fire was forthcoming.
"We do have to rendezvous with my squadrons and inform them that the sniper mission didn't work out too well."
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« Reply #21 on: October 24, 2003, 10:17:26 PM »
"Right.  So.  Where are they supposed to be?"  Delat peeked out of the door.  "I think they've booked."  She grinned at Fradrek  "I think you scared them.  But," she said, and frowned.  "We shoud try to stay out of sight, 'cause just about every one's gonna want to shoot us."
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« Reply #22 on: October 25, 2003, 08:40:32 PM »
Fradrek, his formerly soundless power armor wheezing and whirring after it's recent decimation, stepped into the downpour outside the apartment. He faced the levelled ruins of a squat business structure. He thought to turn on his chameleon-polymer, but then decided against it. Without all of the plates, onlookers would see floating patches of flesh and fur surrounded by invisibility. That would probably spook them into action.
There was no sign of the Anarks. Fradrek figured that there would be soon, so, as stealthily as possible in his ailing armor, he peered around the corner of the tenement structure down the street. Several groundcars had crashed together in the middle of the lane, and the traffic light had been blasted to the ground. A massive conflagration burned at the next intersection, the product of an hoverthopter probably, and a single Doghead picked his way through the smashed front display of a pornography shop, looting what he thought was best.
Fradrek spoke into his earpiece. "High Lieutenant Moritomo RQs Meet-up a/Tau Geo Alpha Charlie Zero-zero-niner Magna. Pop eyes for indy gangers + rebels."
Terse replies came in from several channels. More mas-fire and combat noises began.
Then, everything went white, as a massive explosion rocked the Jimsun City.
Fradrek's eyes were filled with pale echoes of the explosion's image as an explanation came in from Squad 13.6.
"Reporting multiple plasma detonations at Omega Geo Seven-Six Dee-Jay Power."
He turned to Goober, Bullseye, and Delat. "The rebels have bombed the fusion reactor. The power grid is down."
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Offline Umbra03

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« Reply #23 on: November 30, 2003, 02:13:31 PM »
"What do you mean?" said Vin with a snyed look in his eye his cocky smile all but faded away.
"I mean to say the mission is aborted."
"But it cant we just got fueld up whats with this?"
"I know but its the Generals orders, you know how much he hates you."
"Hates me does he?" said vin a smirk coming over his face. He opened his flask and peered inside.so much for my bogensbary wine.He thought as he looked into the empty flask he heard somthing but was to deep in thought.
"VIN....VINNN!!!!"
"hmm?"
"wha wha i can't sleep in my own vehicle."
"No you can't sleep nitwit besides that StarFORCE property and you know that."
"Bah"
"well are we gona do this"
Vin looked up into at Damerit his co-pilot. The sun off in the distance reflected from his helmets visor.
"Yah get in." said Vin as he put on his helmet and fliped down the visor. The HUD of the visor blinked with warnings and cautions, checklists and fuel gages.
"Power to engines" he said as he fliped a switch powering on the engines of his mark4 SP Fighter bomber jet.
"Whats the target?" said vin pulling into the runway with an ace like style.
"Some city hmm.... Jimsun city."
"Oh ive been there nice beach... anyway that place is in battle right what kind of defences we looking at?"
"Nothing to heavy maybe some anti-aircraft miniguns."
Vin lined up with the lines on the runway and made a double check of the gages and dials. He signaled down to a Doghead groundcrew personal.
"All ready up here!." He said closign the cockpit and locking the hatch the steady hum hum zzzz of the air purifire could be heard over the engine sounds. Vin heard the signature sound of the backfire plates lock into position. (ooc: you know those things on aircraft carriers so people dont die when thay take off)
"all green clear for lauch mission control." said vin clicking the saftey on his Mas-pistol and straping himself in.
"CHHSSSKKK rodger that Pickles youve got the green light for cordintets: alfa beta gama delta 61 Charley Whiskey 4 respond."
"roger." said Vin checking the weapon supply.  A full payload of napalm dang someones gona feel the heat today.
"ingaging after burners Pickles on go!"
****
"We should be over the target now."
"hah how could i miss it, its the pig smoldering place with the smoke hah."
Vin switched his radio to all StarFORCE call signs and said calm and cool.
"This is Captain Vin Durrant I will be your guardian angel call signs were cocked locked and ready to rock Respond."
The trail of smoke was a death sign for all below that wern't friendly and the rebels knew it Vin ccontinued to sircle to the city waiting for a responce...
Many people say that no power can bring the mountains low. Many people are fools.

Offline CaptainPenguin

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« Reply #24 on: November 30, 2003, 07:17:42 PM »
OOC: Hey, Umbra. You better not drop out of this one!
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