OVERKILL: FIRST STRIKE

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Rashuad-012

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Lingshan Islands, Philippines Sea--August 17th, 2019

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Wardog: Command, this is Wardog, we're at Angels 14, bearing east and we are inbound on your position, E.T.A to drop zone in 5 minutes.

Command Actual: Roger that, Wardog, awaiting your arrival.

Miles above the the ocean, inbound for a firefight on the beaches of Lingshan, and hoping for a good fight; it felt like Blaze's first mission all over again. Standing beside the iron bird's pilot, he peered through the fog as the clouds broke and revealed a free fire zone awaiting ahead on the ground. Dim-lit flashing lights from explosions and the break of a gun barrel lighting the way through the black of night. Closing the visor of his armor he patted the driver on the shoulder with a nod, "Take us in, quick and painless. We need to get the drop on them." he said before walking away.

Heading towards the back, the corridor walls opened up with racks of weapons of all types. At first glance he picked up his A.A.R with a Holo-sight, grenade launcher, and laser sight to his left. Holstering it to his back, he grabbed his Anti-material rifle just before stepping out of the hall. Entering the next room made him smile when he saw other Juggernaut fire-teams lined up and getting ready for the drop. Some were new to this, freshly bred last month. Others were veterans at the most, even if this has dragged on to a year. But in this case, any who survive as long as a year were veterans. A majority in particular made Daniel proud to be their leader. And looking towards the back, he could see them getting ready.

While they prepped, he took a seat by an ammo crate and waited for the troops to get situated. He scanned his HUD to perform a weapons check, as well as a suit overview. A message popped up and flashed his screen a llight green, signalling he was at 100% functionality. Secured, he crossed his arms and legs, waiting for the rest to figure themselves out before the jump.
 
Cyrus, meanwhile, is doing a weapons check. He makes sure the barrel on his sniper his clean, he checks to make sure the clip is full, all the pieces are locked in properly, and the scope isn't dirty. He then grabs a marker and writes in the side in big, red letters; CASSIE. He then begins paying attention to his Colt Revolver. Knife is attached properly, chambers full, barrels clean, and YES, it's shiny. He pulls a latch on his sniper rifle and folds it up before slinging it onto his back. He shoved his Revolver into it's side holster and waited. It had been a while since he had gotten his armour dirty, and he was looking forwards to painting it red and black and aaaaaall the colors of war. He stood up as Daniel entered the room. "How much longer until drop, big sheep?"
 
Greeted by Cyrus, Daniel shrugged at his question and remained silent for at least thirty seconds. "One, maybe two more minutes.. It's always a gamble when you're jumping out of the back of a plane." he answered. He panned his eyes over the hold with near impatient eyes behind his helmet, as a devoted leader expected his team to be equipped and ready by now. However experienced they were, his team always took it upon themselves to live liberties they weren't truly familiar with. Perhaps it's what made them so reliable in combat to him. Whatever the reason, they were only a few more clicks out from their destination, and the increase in turbulence was starting to hint exactly how close they were at the moment.

Daniel then took it upon himself to activate his Cross-Comm, a communication display that highlighted his fire-team on his motion tracker and HUD, to help keep his patience in place. Unfortunately, he didn't get any readings do to their equipment being inactive at the current moment. It drove out and aggravated sigh from his jaws; however his trust remained whole so long as they were on the ground in time. While he waited in company with Cyrus, he went over the ground-game in his head. Images of the war-scarred beach flashed through his head like pictures on a super computer. Tactical options at hand were to flank the enemy by dropping into the forest and hitting them from the rear, which would help them punch through the defenses. Or, and more importantly twice as fun, they could fall right between the opposing forces and push their way up with brute force. Either way they had plenty options to consider.

From the rough rattle of the winds, it was a given that Genocide forces had set up heavily around their position. Daniel expected the usual defenses on an open airspace: Automatic AA Guns, heavy artillery, backed up with a secure post littered with enemy scouts. All things considered, the rest of the team needed to be there as soon as possible.
 
Scarlet watches Daniel and Cyrus fiddle with their weapons and realizes something about her own - she never really customized them. They're checking sighting and what not, and she never so much as put a holo sight on her AR. She walks around the crew bay leisurely, assessing the crew. Her eyes flit around among the crew she calls, or hopes to call, her friends. These people are valuable to her. Not as an asset of war, but as actual people. Relationships. Comrades. She wouldn't let anything happen to them. She stayed quiet for the most part. She tended to stay taciturn in her armor. Her voice didn't exactly strike as much fear in the enemy as her suit did, and a fearful enemy makes mistakes. So does an underestimating enemy, but that insulted her. It wasn't until she got a particularly vicious kill that she even made a peep, and then she starts giggling like a demented schoolgirl. The crew had seen it before. The squad she'd field tested with had seen it before. It was reassuring, although unnerving, according to the squad of regulars.
 
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"I like the ones that go SPLAT, they add colour." Cyrus begins giggling with Charlotte. "But I don't like when one of US goes splat. The armour makes it all loud and bangy." He turns his attention back to his sniper rifle. Again donning the red marker, he draws a smiley face on the stock, followed by flames lining the end of the barrel. Seemingly pleased with his work once again, he powers up his armour. "Y'know, I've always liked how my armour has three glowing eyes. It reminds me of that movie called....... Predator! Yeah, that's it!" He then continues in mumbles and hushed laughter.
 
"A few minutes to splashdown. Hopefully nobody needs a bathroom break - last think someone needs is a sudden onset of gout during the mission." She chuckled to herself as she imagined an enemy suffering from gout during battle. "'I will give no deadly medicine to any one if asked, nor suggest any such counsel.' I wasn't taught to live by the Hippocratic Oath. I'm prescribing a four gram dose of tungsten-tin, taken orally, to cure our enemies' affliction of chronic animation. Heavier doses will suffice if administered through the skin. Gentlemen, we are the pharmacists, and it is our duty to administer this medication to our enemies.
"That's really just a very smart way of saying shoot the bastards. Did you guys know that a 5.56 bullet without the cartridge holds four grams of tungsten-tin?" A fellow soldier or two who weren't quite as mentally focused as her probably lost her at the Hippocratic Oath. Perhaps the psychos had a better chance of following along, before getting excited at "shoot the bastards". Maybe Daniel and Jack followed along fairly, although barely managing to do so. They were smart, but not as smart as Scarlet. She was raised as a brain, after all.
 
"I don't like the ones that squirm! They remind me of mice! Only not as cute. Cassie will make sure they don't squirm!" He hugs his rifle before dancing around gleefully, which, in his suit, is creepy as all hell. "I also don't like pharmacists. They give me the sleepy times. Can we be bakers instead? I like bakers. We are the bakers, giving people their jam donuts. I like those too." Cyrus straps 'Cassie' to his back again. "And maybe aim for the brain, not the mouth? I'm sure they don't want jam in their brains, but otherwise they'll squirm."
 
Scarlet chuckled before turning to Cyrus. "Honey, if you get hurt bad enough, I can't help you unless you go to sleep. You're too energetic to go to sleep on your own, so Mama Scarlet has to poke you with a needle so you can go to sleep. I'd never hurt you, sweetheart, don't worry."

That dialogue, of course, might've been more fitting if you could see her face.
 
(I had a blood test a few months back, and the woman doing it said 'It's just like a bee sting' expecting me to not have been stung by a bee before. Bee stings hurt like hell.)
Cyrus reels back, shaking his head. "I don't like the needles! When you put stuff in it hurts!" He starts rubbing his arms, as if he's being injected. "Those things are freaky! Especially when they apply the normal go meds, I don't like that either, it makes my head go all mushy when I turn back!" He then starts ranting about all different kinds of injections and medicines that he can think of, most of which he is not very fond of.
 
"Armour-piercing, regular, C4, Gun, Bigger Gun, and a sandwich. Perfect." Magnus said to himself, though loud enough for other people to hear him as well. The man just stood there in the middle of nowhere, touching his armour in different places as he checked for the things he said out loud, Gun being his SAW, and Bigger Gun being his Rocket Launcher. The sandwich was neatly packed in some tinfoil, then stashed away in a pouch around his hip. After this quick check, Magnus turned towards the other, where he saw Cyrus and Pilot chatting. Blaze was just sitting there, next to an ammo crate. The fun was about to begin.
 
Jack remained silent through the discussion, making sure extra magazines of incendiary rounds were attached to his armor. He'd managed to disassemble and clear out a jam in his trench sweeper earlier in the flight, and was now sharpening his axe and kukri. Satisfied that the edges were sufficiently murderous, he shoved them both into their respective holsters. Lupa finally grew tired of sitting in the back of the plane and stalked forward, rubbing against Jack's knees. He, in turn, scratched behind her ears. When Lupa grew bored with him (as she often did), she lay down and shut her eyes. "Lazy dog" he muttered. He leaned his head against the wall, and promptly took a nap.
 
"Everything I do is for your best interest, sweetie. Keep that in mind next time I have to get Magnus to hold you down so I can poke you." Scarlet turned to Magnus and nodded towards Cyrus. "Thanks for that, by the way, honey." Scarlet giggled in a less demented fashion before going to sit by Lupa and Jack. He had started to take a nap, despite Cyrus' squealing. She softly laid a hand on his knee before saying softly, "We're gonna drop soon, Jack. You don't wanna be groggy for that."
 
A few seconds after she'd laid her hand on his leg, Jack had flipped her over his shoulder onto the belly of the plane, and Lupa had her jaws over her armored head. causing it some light turbulence in the process. "Oh. Just you." He lifted her off the ground and lightly pushed Lupa away with his foot. "Don't do that. And do I seem groggy to you? Just resting my eyes." Oh, the eyes. They burned every day, causing a need for constant medication, something he'd been deprived of this morning. Perhaps because of this, he was in a worse mood than usual. Strangely, his vision grew better when he went without the meds. "Is there anything else before we slaughter some pigs?"
 
Scarlet was thrown for a bit of a loop, not expecting Jack to react that way. He apologized though, and Scarlet thought she heard the pilot rant about turbulence. She was in a multi-ton piece of Power Armor, after all. "You couldn't tell it was me by my voice?" She started to laugh earnestly this time. "Thanks for helping me up, dear."
As the pair sat back down, Scarlet looked at him for a moment. It wasn't very obvious through the armor, but Lupa was acting more irritable than usual. "Did you forget to take your meds this morning? You know you have to keep following your regimen, or your condition could worsen. Take it from me, Jack."
 
"I work better without them." He said, slipping his hand into hers, while silently congratulating Lupa on reacting as fast as she did. Good girl. Not a lazy dog at all. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." He looked up at Daniel. "Danny-boy, what did you say our ETA was?"
 
"Lock it up!" he announced to the entire hoard within the cargo hold. Coming to his feet, it was time to drop out. His earpiece started ringing with radio chatter. "Wardog, are we in position?" he asked approaching the exit. His radio clicked and responded to him, "Just about, Captain. thirty seconds till burnout." He nodded, "Roger that," he replied, "Specter Lead, out." His titanium boots clamped against the metal flooring of the plane as he got into position by the door; one hand above his head grasping a brace, with the other holding his sniper by the barrel. Daniel collapsed his helmet, turning to face and address his comrades--ready or not.

"OK listen up, gentlemen. Command's Intel came back with reports of a significant military presence on these lands--genocide, no less. We have the element of surprise, so let's use it and be wise about it. We are to get in, hit 'em hard, and get out without a trace. The Philippines can not know that we were here. Our job is give our men a hand without them knowing the greeter, understood?" he panned around the room at the readied faces.

"We're ten seconds out, what for the green.." rang over the radio as the cargo door came open, slowly revealing a one hundred mile drop from the plane. "Masks on, when we clear the drop we form up on me!" he shouted over the roaring vacuums of air.

Intercom: Green in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1!

"Go! Go! Go!" he waved his hand, with soldier after soldier went leaping out of the back. After about ten went out, he leaped afterwards with the faith that his team was not far behind.
 
"Right now, apparently, Jack, come on!" Scarlet started bounding over to the back as the door opened up for them. She was one of the first out, and unless Magnus was heading out around the same time as her, she'd be the first to touch down. As gravity set in motion, she made sure she was upright for the landing. Even through her armor, she could feel the strong gusts of air making way for her to hit the ground. It was a wonderful sensation, one she cherished at each drop. When she hit the ground, the shock absorbers and impact rotors in her armor's legs took hold, causing her to hop forward a bit as if she'd hopped out of a landed helicopter. The spray of soil from her impact crater finished off the feeling as dirt spread in all directions. "Always love a good drop."

Now that she was on the ground, she had entered quiet mode. The reckoning had come. Genocide soldiers will quiver at the mention of "The Pilot" when she's done with them. "Let's practice medicine," she said in a low, growly voice as Daniel touched down.
 
Sighing, Jack got up from his seat, picked up a certain unhappy wolf, and leapt out after Magnus got his massive self out of the doorway. Almost immediately, the multi-colored heat signatures of his enemies practically blinded him. "That bad, eh dog?" Lupa let out a growl that was practically a whimper. He slammed his helmet down during the drop, which filtered out some of the lights, and alleviated some of the pain. "Wait for it...." He hit the ground with a blast that should woken up the entire country. What stealth was involved in this? He let go of a struggling Lupa, and ran after her as she began to scout the area. "Big Bird, drop the package if you would be so kind." He said into his radio. A few seconds later, a polished black Harley-Davidson FL floated into his impact crater, suspended by a parachute. "Baby, daddy needs a favor." He leapt on, revved the muffled engine, and sped off after Lupa. He gave a mock salute to Blaze as he raced past him, which he could have sworn was returned with a middle finger. "Good times, eh Cap?"
"This is what you call subtlety, Greene?" Daniel replied.
"What's the point? Do you think the Filipinos won't notice that someone butchered the Genocide bastards? And I don't think that they're stupid enough that they can't guess that we, the so-called good guys, did it. Might as well butcher in style." He drew his Thompson off his back and set it on one of the handles, prepared to shoot at anything in his way.
 
Cyrus shoots up as soon as the doors are open, runs, and leaps out the door. As he falls, he is entirely silent. Shortly before landing, he does a barrel roll front flips, and unleashes the cloth cape like device, which quickly catches the air and slows his descent slightly. He slams into the ground, giggling and laughing. "X marks the spot! Hehe." He gets up and pulls the hood of his cloak over his helmet. "The point in subtlety? Uhm, getting out alive. You are sheep. They are wolves. I am fox. I sneak, you try to sneak, they go 'Raaaar!' A good sheep lives. A bad sheep dies. Only cows make lots of noise. And little piggies. Are you a little piggie?" Cyrus grabs his rifle, flicks it out, locks it in place and attaches the silencer. "Wolves better run tonight." He looks through the scope and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens, as the safety is on. "Better watch out, yer better not shout and I'm tellin' you why!!!!!!!"
 
At the word "GO" Carlos, had flown through the bay doors, the rushing wind ready to meet him. The sky rushing past him, arms and legs pinwheeling, thoughts quickly flicking through his mind, of the outcome of the fall if his armor doesn't absorb the shock . . . Eh, I can worry about that when I'm dead, he laughs to himself as he enjoys the fall. To help better absorb the shock of the landing, he bends his knees and goes into a tuck the moment his feet hit the ground. "I'M NOT DEAD, HAHAHAHA . . . uh are you guys dead?" Taking a quizzical glance at his surrounds, adrenaline still pumping through his veins he grabs hold of his machete, and looks for his comrades!
 
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