W.O.L.F Pack: Operation Arctic Blast

Status
Not open for further replies.
L

Lonewolf888978

Guest
Original poster
Goblin sat quietly in the large cargo-plane. He was the first one in the plane ofcourse, and he thought how the group would approach this job. He would ask of course, but give his highest opinion. The plane was gonna fly them from New York to Greenland, so the group would have time to meet each other, if they havent already. He hadn't meet any of the team, busy talking with his employer about future plans, and how to manage his team. He heard some people making their way through the hanger, their footsteps and voices echoing from the circler room. He stood up and stretched, and slid the W.O.L.F Pack files into a empty bag. He just finished reading all the facts about his group, and the group seemed well rounded.
 
"Oi! Get yer arse into the plane ye eejit!" Let out a seemingly soft, female voice in a surprisingly loud volume, followed by the lower voice of a much calmer man. "If I'm an eejit, what does that make you?" He said with a chuckle. "Just ye bein' an eejit don't make me one too ye teet!" This was followed by the two laughing and the sound of their argument getting closer to the plane. "I guess yer right then, but do I really have to carry all yer stuff?" "Of course ye twat! I'm not luggin' that quaff around!" The man laughed again, "Of course. Why would I expect you to do that?" By this time they were at the bottom of the ramp into the plane. The pair walked up the ramp, coming into view of all one people aboard the plane. Two redheads, a man and a woman. The man seemed to be wearing his standard kit, including his pack, and rifle lung over his right shoulder, and a duffle bag in either hand. The woman only had her kit, her rifle, and a pack on her back.

The man tossed the bags into the back of the plane, and they both landed with a hard thump. He took off his pack and set it infront of the seat of the man already in the plane. He sat down, rifle now in his hand with the butt on the floor and the barrel in his hands. On closer inspection it was a MK21 DMR, the successor to the old M14 and looked very similar from the outside, but with a slightly longer barrel. The woman sat next to him, in the same manner. Her rifle appeared to be bolt action, with a very long barrel, and a very powerful scope attached. Even the biggest gun nut couldn't place the rifle and it seemed to share qualities of many modern rifles. The man turned to Goblin, "Hi, I'm Caddock, and this is Caroline,"He said pointing to the woman who gave a wave, "You must be Drake, or Wolf 1, or Goblin. Let's just say your dossier wasn't all the most specific." Caddock chuckled as Caroline sent out an assault of quickly spoken words upon the poor man which was met by a punch on the arm, which only made him laugh more. "We're the Blaire's, good to meet you." The pair extended their hands to shake.
 
Dej readjusted his bag over his shoulder and looked around the complex he had been dropped off at. Behind his back a black car drove away, but he didn't bother watching it. There was no point. New York wasn't quite chilly this time of year, but it was colder than the southern continents. Dej ran a hand over his shaved head and sighed. In his pack was a beanie, but he didn't think he would need it before they landed in Greenland. Of course he was wrong. The large man sighed again before hefting his bag higher and starting for the cargo plane. Inside his bag was everything he could think of that's he'd need for the mission. Nothing was armed, but it was all dangerous. Dangerous enough to blow a crater in solid concrete. Dangerous enough that if the driver had known he would have refused to let Dej in the car.

That though brought a smile to Dej's lips. His combat boot clumped upon the ground, making his approach neither stealthy or secret. Not that he really cared. He was here for the job, and the pay at the end. If it ended up fun, well, that would be a bonus. But he was betting that the plane in front of him would be filled with macho military men who would bleed testosterone, if they bleed at all anymore.

As Dej got closer to the plane, he could hear voices drifting out. He could hear one woman and one man. They sounded similar. Brother and sister? Interesting. He didn't hear anyone else, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He was almost tempted to get a better look before he entered the plane to show off, but he ignored it. It would only lead to questions he wouldn't answer. And those sorts of questions did one thing, they pissed him off. So it was best to appear completely normal until he was alone with his job.

Dej hopped up on the ramp and was afforded his first view of the interior of the plane. Three people were already inside, and maybe a pilot if he or she was hidden in the front. Dej smirked happily to himself. When the job offer came it came with a promise that it would be anything but dull. Looks like all sorts of promises were going to be kept. This was truly going to be exciting. Dej’s smile grew as the thought did. After all, if the two flaming redheads were any indication, blasts would be had.

"Hey guys. Hope I'm in the right place. I'd hate to have hiked up that ramp to find out that I was going to get shot for my troubles." In direct opposition to his words, Dej unloaded his bag carefully onto a vacant seat. Again, unarmed didn't mean it wouldn't go Kaboom. Dej’s eyes skimmed over everyone on board. "I take it we haven’t done introductions yet? Because I love the Name Game. It would have been a pity if I missed it."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
" Mm mm morning coffee " A man wearing a casual suit, in a local Dunkin Donuts in one of the cities many resident areas, " Sir! You cannot have a dog in here! " A young female behind the counter shouted to him. A smile on his face as he looked at the rottweiler who sat in a booth by itself looking out the window at the passing people. The man in the suit leaned forward to this women behind the counter and held his hand out, she took the hand and he pulled it closer to him kissing her on the hand. " I am Michael, And if i may ask, what is your name you devilishly beautiful women " The women began to blush as he put on a facade of a British man. He pulled her hand back saying " I am Samantha, are you really from England? " He chuckled setting his coffee he had recently finished in the trash. " Yes...yes i a-" He was interrupted by a phone call, Answering the phone in a normal american voice. " What? what is it " He listened to the man on the phone and then his eyes widened, The women behind the counter gave him a nasty look. " Mishka! lets go! " The dog looked at him, tongue now hanging from its mouth and jumped down onto the ground rushing out the now held open door.

" Pleasure doing business with you ma'am " He bowed as he made his exit, The women look flustered and a tad bit more confused. Until she realized he sneaked out without paying, she rushed to catch him but by now he was heading down the road in a black car which seemed to be speeding. Hitting a right turn and drifting a bit before evening out and taking off again. He was sitting in the back of the car with the dog laughing. " You know i completely forgot about why i was here...im so stupid " He shook his head, as the driver looked back and nodded in agreement. " DON'T AGREE WITH ME! " He shouted at the now laughing car driver, who was taking the back route to avoid all this traffic. The cars he passed zooming by beeping at the driver for being a bit more reckless, but all in all its New York Whatcha gunna do about it. Mishka was sliding back and forth but remained sitting the whole time as if it was just a roller coaster ride and he was somehow aloud on it. They came soaring towards the entrance, once proper I.D was show they car skidded off again. And came up next to the plane making a skidding noise which could probably be heard inside the plane, He opened the door and the dog jumped out and rolled over on the floor making weird groaning sounds as if he had missed the floor. " Stop being a weirdo dammit we have to meet new people " The dog stopped and stood back up tongue hanging from its mouth.

" Thanks for the ride " The driver waved and took off again, As the man in the suit placed his sunglasses on and stretched prepping himself for this plane ride. " Alright, Michael your going to go in there...and you're going to...fuck it " He was terrible at prepping himself. And made his way towards the plane, once his shoes began clacking against the metal and he heard voices. He was immediately reassured that this was his plane and he had not missed the one before, Glad now that he wasn't left behind he walked into the main gathering bay were some people stood. Mishka walked up next to Michael and puffed his chest out while looking at everyone, Michael looked at everyone and then spoke calmly " Well dont you all look like a lovely bunch to work with " A smirk on his face as he tossed his bag down onto one of the many seats in this plane. " Don't know if you guys have done some introductions yet but if not i'll just go ahead anyways, I'm Michael Mills a Reconnaissance man, You can call me Shifter if you want " That friendly grin still on his face. He hoped that they would not be like a previous group he worked with who were all basic juggernauts ready to ram there skulls into any opponent that comes across them. Its not fun being the little guy either, because well....you cant really fight back in a wrestling match, those memories will haunt Michael forever. He actually shivered there thinking about such a low in his career, as they did a terrible job at being quiet and were constantly fighting each other over and over and over...

Mishka barked aloud at them and laid down the floor his eyes still looking between the people in the room, They seemed not to bother him or they just didn't pose a threat to him...yet. Crouching down and rubbing Mishka's back making him roll over like a fat kid being tempted with cake, Michael rubbed his belly and said " Oh and this is mishka, my guard..dog...? " He questioned himself as mishka was a very good guard dog but was more like a best friend as most would say, He has been on every mission Michael has been on. He is the product of Michael's old dog who had, had puppies when Michael was younger so practically this dog was more of a brother than anything. If this dog was to die then a piece of Michael would probably die to.
 
"Augmentation procedures complete. Patient Status: Stable." the detached voice bore both feminine and robotic qualities both of which indicative the Artificial Intelligence tasked with carrying out the aforementioned augmentations. The patient in question? Designate 0042-62-08, Code Name: "Cipher".

"Yeah? Well...I'd hope so.", the voice that followed was male and significantly more human sounding. The male spoke, the slight pause being to elicit a small grunt as he erected himself from the procedure table. Adjusting his position so that he was now sitting at the edge of the table, he let out a deep exhale. Bringing his right hand into view revealed that the AI was correct, the augmentations were indeed complete and from what he could tell a success for the most part. He confirmed this by clenching his newly replaced and installed cybernetic fist. Both arms up to the shoulders were removed and in their stand the cybernetic prosthetics remained.

"Cybernetic Prosthesis Installation was successful. Initiating diagn-"
"No time for that love, I'm on a tight schedule."

The man cut "her" off as he erected himself from the table entirely. Rolling his shoulders as he made his way towards the other side of the room to procure his items; namely the remainder of his clothes and the already prepared glass of Jack he left his self as "celebration" for his completed procedure, not that this had been his first. At any rate the man quickly downed the glass before proceeding to redress himself.

"That action is not advised. Diagnostic check is necessary after such a proce-.", the "woman" spoke insistently.
"Well then, I guess I'll have to do some test runs along the way. Thank you, Gladius.", the male again cut-off the AI, Gladius, as finished dressing himself in his trademark trench coat. He made his way towards the door where then grabbed a rather large briefcase already stationed there. He gripped the door knob and motioned to exit, pausing momentarily as the AI spoke again.

"If you do not comply it will be uncertain if what remains of you Human anatomy will be able to withstand the burden of your cybernetic implants. Such actions may pose dangerous, potentially lethal repercussions.", Gladius spoke as the male prepared to exit, in one last attempt to halt his progress showing at least some degree of "concern" for the man (interesting given that such emotions and their sincerity would elude someone of her distinctly none human condition). The male however did stop before leaving, turning to face "her" over his shoulder.

"Then we'll see if this name of mine isn't just a kind euphemism.", the man said with a smirk before leaving and closing the door. He made his way to the front entrance of his building where a black car was already waiting for him. He entered and the car speed off towards its destination. The room was silent before Gladius spoke again, seemingly towards the silence of the room.

"Scanning: Atlas, the primordial Titan tasked with holding up the celestial sphere, Gaia... Let us hope that your analogy holds true."

Atlas exited the car, having arrived at the air hangar. Observing his surroundings before making his way towards the plane, bringing his hand to his mouth to spark a cigarette along the way. Arriving at the plane he noticed that many of the members of his squadron had already made it. Stepping up the ramp, his footsteps making a distinctly heavier sound as he progressed up the incline. Standing at the entrance of the cargo/boarding area of the plane his gaze drifted over the individuals that made up his squad. He exhaled casually, which was accompanied by a plume of smoke. His gaze rested on Drake and in turn he made his way towards the open seat near him, placing his suitcase down and seating himself down across from the man designated as W.O.L.F One.

"So you're the one dishing out my paychecks now right? Alright then: Atlas Kaiser reporting in."
 
I can't believe I made it, Bridget couldn't help but think as she stared quietly outside the window, she had honestly been certain that she wasn't going to get through Basic at all. She was surprised that she passed with flying colors and at the top of her class, which was why they were sending her here. The last couple of weeks had been Hell and even Bridget had been ready to throw her hands up, but she had stayed strong mentally and had made it through. Finally being off a post she looked up at the tall buildings, it looked exactly like London...but more chaotic it seemed. She never remembered being in stand still traffic before, pedestrians running around cars to get across the street. "How far away are we, sir? I believe I'm considered to be late," her voice held a thick Italian accent, but her tone stayed neutral, with a bit of a dangerous edge to it as she snapped her cold brown gaze to the driver.

"Maybe ten miles," Bridget sighed, crossing her arms. She felt terrible - this was not how she wanted to make a first impression. She took the time to re-do her bun properly, some brunette strands had started to fall out, she repinned them properly and ran a hand casually over her uniform. She looked like any "shiny" - someone fresh out of Basic with no experience. There was a silent "whirring" noise as a cybernetic limb rose and came up for her head to rest upon calmly. Some people wanted the limb to look like actual flesh to them, Bridget didn't. Even if this was dangerous times to be proud of her arm, she still felt she owed the piece of metal, it had saved her life after all and was helping her breath appropriately.

Half an hour later, a cab finally pulled up to her destination, a lone cargo plane sitting with the ramp down. Bridget opened her wallet, looking at the foreign cash perplexed and then took out some bills and handed it to the man. He looked surprised and she hesitated from getting out of the cab, "Did I give you something unreasonable?"

The man was torn between keeping the money and the soft expression on her face, she finally looked like a human with her eyebrows raised and a worried look on her face. He reluctantly handed her the bills, taking a decent enough tip and saying, "much more reasonable now ma'am."

She smiled sheepishly, putting the bills back in her wallet and getting out with a single duffle bag. She dropped her bag on the ground, put her hat on properly, hefted her bag up once more and moved towards the plane at a brisk pace. She was of average height for a woman, 5' 7" (without boots), but her build was definitely different than most woman. She had broad shoulders, a decent chest and a bit wider hips; it was obvious that she was strong, or at least trained herself to be. Bridget understood what her job was: be on the side, unseen. If she had to carry a comrade ten miles, she needed to. If they needed her to move with a large machine gun, she needed to be able to do so, her cybernetic made that possible. Her footsteps were heavy on the ramp, making her approach obvious to everyone as she wasn't trying to keep herself hidden.

"Scusa (apologies), Bridget Mieva, reporting, sir," she said and looked around, she felt the beginning of a blush starting up, it looked as though she was the only one that thought she needed to be in uniform. The most interaction she had with people in the past months was someone yelling at her or barking orders, should she apologize for wearing her uniform? She slid her hat back off of her head and swallowed thickly, trying to think of something to say but simply opted to be silent before her gaze fell to the only thing making noise: a dog panting. Aw!! Her mind immediately screamed, but she forced her gaze away to look at the others expectantly.
 
Goblin grunted lightly, and looked up at the two Irish siblings. He nodded remembering the only two related in the group, and shook the two hands accordingly, saying "Nice to meet you Caroline, same to you Caddock. You two are my spotter and sniper pair correct? Or do you just enjoy carrying rifles around." A slight grin on his face, another man walked up the ramp, this one was the most mysterious outta the group, only having a limited history. His name was Dej. Goblin thought for a moment and didnt want to get stuck in a conversation, and quickly said "You'll have to excuse me, we can talk more during our flight." Calling out to him, Goblin said "Mr. Dej I presume?"

More people were showing up. He first took notice to a Rottweiler, then the man holding the dogs leash. Behind them, he spotted another man heading towards the plane "So you're the one dishing out my paychecks now right? Alright then: Atlas Kaiser reporting in." He saw another car pull up and another girl got out "Scusa (apologies), Bridget Mieva, reporting, sir" He spoke quiet...probably "The whole team gets here at the same fucking time! I'll do this shit later." He headed towards the cabin and shouted over his shoulder "I'll be back in a moment, everyone mingle together." He closed the door behind him, and started to talk to the pilot, getting information about the flight.
(I'm really not that rude xD, however in the roleplay he kinda is xD)

There was another car pulling away from the plane as the vehicle she was riding in pulled up. Snow got out of the black SUV that dropped her off, and she spoke over her shoulder to the driver "Thank you sir!" She handed the man a bill, and closed the door to the SUV. Walking towards the plane, a women was standing ontop of the ramp, speaking to the group infront of her. He eyes drifted to a man in the center of the plane saying "The whole team gets here at the same fucking time! I'll do this shit later." Snow wasnt sure if it was her keen senses, or the man said it that loud.

She stood next to the girl at the top of the ramp and noticed her uniform. Snow spoke quickly "Oh crap was I supposed to wear my uniform!?!" She looked down at her two duffel bags, one with her two guns, and the other full of her field clothes.

 
Caddock laughed at Goblin's remark, "I guess it is a bit of both, eh lass?" He turned and laughed with Caroline for a moment, but in no time the captain was up, and the rest of the team was standing in the plane. "Oh crap, was I supposed to wear my uniform?!" "Well, ye could change right now, if you want." Caroline said giving a sly wink. "I second that motion! Everyone should change into their uniforms!" Caddock laughed nearly jumping out of his seat when he raised his hand. The pair began laughing to themselves. This would be a fantastic group. A light mood, pretty women. They were both pleased so far. All that, and a dog!

The group seemed well rounded, and not in the fat and chubby way. It was a small group, but a seemingly well experienced and prepared one at that. Their employer sure seemed how to hire a group of rag-tag mercs to do their work. "Now, since so many of us showed up here at once, we should go in a big circle, hold hands and tell our names." This earned Caddock a punch in the arm from his sister. "This, is my sarcastic arse of a brother, Caddock and I am Caroline. Papa Bear, and Little Lass, respectively." Caddock burst into laughter at the mention of their callsigns. "Yer the one that picked 'em! Ye eejit!" He continued laughing like a fool, "Only because I didn't think ye would let them go through!" Caroline sighed and rolled her eyes, and when he didn't quite down, she punched him again, which, as always, shut him up. "They sound like porn star names!" She cried. "I know! That's why I picked 'em!" This sent a few more chuckles out of him before being punched in the arm again. He probably had a bruise by now.
 
Atlas shifted his attention to the newcomers both of which being fairly attractive women, which was most definitely an understatement. They were nothing short of knockouts and he didn't fail to notice. Atlas brought a hand to his chin rubbing it against his substantial yet well kempt facial hair, raising an eyebrow and giving a subtle yet clearly flirtatious smirk. He may not have been one for excessive banter, but casual encounters and beautiful women was without a doubt his cup of tea. Outside of being gorgeous, for them to have made it hear they must be incredibly qualified, which in turn meant they could handle there shit, to put it bluntly. His smirked curled into a grin as the red headed male Caddock, known comically as "Papa Bear" voiced exactly what he was thinking.

"I'd have to agree with the man. I can't say it wouldn't do wonders for morale and would be a hell of an introduction.", Atlas voiced teasingly, although he had to admit he definitely wouldn't mind having a more intimate look at the new arrivals. As he finished his statement his gaze rested on the brunette woman in uniform, his optics giving a slight gleam which upon further inspection was in fact the whirring of his cybernetic eye. He detected a not so hidden Italian accent which was complimented by her complexion. Already he'd taken an interest in her and being the guy he was he didn't really mind if she noticed, in fact he hoped she did. The rest of the conversation continued on around him, but for the most part was drowned out by his fantasizing.
 
A classic yellow NY cab pulls up into the hangar at x hundred hours – half an hour past the time the time stamped on the official letter. Maybe they’ll realize that I’d be dead-weight and kick me off the team. Or so a young man thought as he stepped out of the cab, his appearance in a state of (permanent) disarray and looking as though he’d gone through hell. Which he had: Twenty four hours of non-stop travel by public transport, making numerous transfers along the way to avoid taking a cab (which was bloody expensive) without time to stop for food –

- while carrying this. The driver walked to the trunk to unload the luggage, but the man waved him off. With some effort, kicking, and cursing, he pulled out an impractically large case that was packed to the seams and then some with a lifetime’s collection of tools. The size of the baggage was further exaggerated when juxtaposed to the man’s shorter stature. Notably absent were personal belongings and necessities (clothes, toiletries, etc.). Probably on the check list, but he couldn't be bothered.

He set the case down, then noticing the expectant expression on the driver’s face remembered he was supposed to pay his fare. Digging in his pocket – no, not that one, maybe the other side, the one on the back? – he pulled out several crumpled bills and a lot of loose change. After trying (and failing) to pick out his fee in coins, he dumped the lot of it in the other man’s hands and waited as the (now annoyed) driver counted it out and eventually kept all of it, not bothering to return the few bucks of change. "Thanks for the ride," he added almost as an after thought as the taxi sped away. His speech was marked with a British accent that revealed his nationality, and even after his years in America he hadn't managed to rid himself of it.

He did a quick once-over of the massive cargo-plane before him. Nice design. He didn't recognize the model - as far as he knew it was newly minted and fresh off the assembly line. It was state of the art technology. Looks like whoever was running this game was well-funded. At least he could hope to make some cash out of all of this. That is, if he survived whatever they were planning on throwing at him. Money wasn't worth jack shit when you're dead.

Staggering under the weight of the case hefted on his shoulder, the man made his way up the ramp. It sounded like the other members had already arrived and were having a lot of fun for a pre-suicide briefing. With an exhale of relief the case was dropped to the floor of the cargo hold, causing a resounding thunk. He didn't seem conscious in the least of his tardiness or his unprofessional appearance. Giving the team members a half-hearted smile, he casually extended his hand to no one in particular.

"'Allo there. The name's Freed West. I'm your engi for this operation."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
What is up his arse, Bridget wondered as he shouted behind them, but she liked whoever she was: yelling, barking orders, getting shit done basically; it was a wonderful norm that she missed. Everyone else here seemed happy and energetic, Bridget just wanted to know where her guns would be, it wasn't as though she could carry herself what she'd usually be shooting, unless they expected to make a lot of room in the cargo plane, her weapons had to be shipped or already flown there. As the two with porn star names introduced themselves, Bridget unable to resist an eye roll as they requested the girl to start stripping (she assumed they were just speaking to the other girl, since she was the one that drew attention to her not being in uniform, but her blush did finally rise to her cheeks as she drew complete attention to the fact that she was in uniform), decided it best to find a seat.

Moving towards the back of the plane towards a man, she scrunched her brow as she realized he was looking at her. As in, hard-core staring. "Keep staring at me, and I'll knock your lights out," the threat came out way too easily from her lips, but she didn't mind it as her voice gave a slight growl to it as well, accent very thick towards the end. She found a seat, slightly glancing at the commotion going on towards the front of the plane and watching yet another arrival. Having no one else to talk to, she turned to the man she just threatened and spoke in her same neutral tone, "who's in charge here?" It might be a bit odd that Bridget could one moment threaten someone and in the end ask them a simple question, but Bridget has gotten far too used to men to know that they reacted one of two ways: laughed it off or got angry. If the latter happened, more than likely they were to grab at her (and then get their ass' kicked).
 
He stood there quietly for a moment as they all conversed among'st each other, he ran a hand through Mishka's fur once more before standing up erect once more. And even stretched letting a yawn go, before finding a seat over in the corner. He wouldn't open up just yet as he learned when he was younger not to just make friendly with strangers, even if you work with them. Especially now that a British kid has just stepped onto the plane, Clearing his throat he spoke in an British accent using stereotypical speech to speak to him " Allo govna, how are yew todai " Chuckling he shook his head. going back to his normal tone of american speech " Im sorry that was rude, The names Michael Mills...like i said before but, i was obviously ignored..but that's okay...Pleasure to meet all of you " a grin on his face as his dog leaped up onto his lap and licked his face repeatedly " STOP YOU OVER GROWN BABY BEAR! " the dog kept licking him even when he tried to push him away, Mishka started biting at Michael and challenged him to a so called dual. " YOU WANNA FIGHT?!?! ALRIGHT THEN BRING IT O-!" as he went to stand up the dog tackled him, nibbling at his face and neck and hands. " Grrr...HYAH! " He lifted the dog over his shoulder and held him like a trophy as Mishka tried to break free but couldn't from his tiger like grip.

Michael spanked the dogs ass laughing putting the hand on his hip in a balled position, and putting his foot on the seat striking a Captain Morgan pose as the dog just hung there limply looking at everyone with puppy dog eyes. " o yeah this is mishka, probably the most lovable rottweiler you will ever meet....unless i say other wise " He grinned as he said that, as if some dark shadow fell upon his eyes causing them to reflect red. He sat the dog down and strapped him into the seat poking his nose watching him retract and then come back licking the finger he just ran from. He just caught then ending of " Keep staring at me, and I'll knock your lights out," looking over his shoulder at the attractive but now scary looking woman. and she totally just yelled at that guy....do in know that guy...he looks..." CIPHER! I FUCKING KNEW IT! " standing up and walking over to the man he held a hand out " As a fellow Reconnaissance ive heard of your work, pleasure to work with you ". This was no fangirl moment, well Maybe Probably not though.
 
The twins turned their attention to the sound of a British voice, a sound they long hated. "Allo govna, how are yew today?" Upon hearing the man mocking the accent of the brit, the two broke out laughing. "Absolutely perfect! Brilliant my friend!" Caroline giggled. "So, is the brit 'ere so we have something to toss out of the plane halfway to Greenland?" This earned the laugh of his sister and a light slap on his shoulder. Caddock leaned in towards the brit, straight faced, "So, why ARE you 'ere?The disdain heavy in his voice.
 
"Mr. Dej I presume?"

Dej smiled brighter when the non redheaded man spoke. That must be the captain of this group. Dej inclined his head and opened his mouth to confirm. However a third man tromped up the ramp and into the cargo plane. And this one had a dog. Dej frowned slightly turning towards the new guy as the captain escaped into the pilot's cabin. This man was followed closely by a young woman in uniform, who was proceeded by a smoker. She didn't look a day over fifteen. Was this who the military was recruiting now? Dej mentally sighed. Then again, the military had always been that way. Which is why he never joined up. The young girl was followed closely by another young woman. Which set off the redheaded duo into a improvised slapstick comedy.

"Caddock and I am Caroline. Papa Bear, and Little Lass, respectively. They sound like porn star names!"

I know! That's why I picked 'em!

"I'd have to agree with the man. I can't say it wouldn't do wonders for morale and would be a hell of an introduction."

Dej rolled his eyes as the man with the cigarette leered at the fifteen year old girl. If anyone ended up with a bomb in their bag on the return flight. And then to top it all off, another kid showed up. Male this time. British by accent.

"'Allo there. The name's Freed West. I'm your engi for this operation."

The kid held out a rather dubious hand, only to be promptly ignored by two things. First, the fifteen yearold going after the smoker who still hadn't stopped leering. Second he was mocked by the man with the dog, who promptly started messing with his dog then moving over to the girl and smoker. Dej sighed as the two redheads then turned to the poor kid.

"So, why ARE you 'ere?"

Dej moved in before anyone would get hostile. If he was here, there was a reason for it. Plus, he hated bullies. "Hey. Stripper pals, lay off." He placed a hand on the Brit's shoulder. "If anyone's getting chucked out of this plane, it'd be you two for sheer stupidity and a complete lack of professionalism." Dej had to speak a little louder to be heard over everyone talking in the plane. Despite his lack of respect of authority he was beginning to with the Captain would reappear and smack some manners into people.

By this point Dej couldn't revise his opinion that this mission would be interesting. However he was lowering down the chances of success to about zero. Not unless this Captain was a miracle worker, everything was going to go balls up before they even got to Greenland. Perhaps he could do it on his own. It wouldn't be that hard.

Nicknames and who he's referring to:
Redheads: The Blairs, obviously.
Guy with Dog: Mills
Cigarette man: Kaiser
Fifteen year old: Mieva
Young woman: Weston
Kid: West​
 
Last edited by a moderator:
AFTER KANON'S POST

Caddock leaned forward, disdain heavy in his voice "No one was interested in names when ye mighty good ole' Britain came through our camp in the middle of the night and put rounds through the heads of our friends while they slept." "His bastard of a fucking country!" Caroline piped in, anger rampant in her voice. "Oi! We made our little joke. We are professionals, sort of." Caddock chuckled. "We... we fought for the SRA. So, a wee bit of tension is built up. Sorry, kid." Caddock turning to the poor brit. His voice claimed peace, but his eyes still shot daggers. "And as for you," he turned his attention towards Dej, "You, Americans, never know when to stay out of other people's shit, even when you don't know what the hell is going on!" He took a deep breath, "Know this, my sis and I are going to do the job and do it well, but we don't have to be friendly with any of you while we do it!" He sat back in his seat, flustered. He had hoped there wouldn't be so much hostility, even if he did start it.

Caroline, who seemed a bit calmer now, after thinking it through spoke up, "Sorry for starting shit. We aren't like that. Just, long time since we've heard a Brit's voice, and that didn't end well at all." Caroline talked quitly with her brother for a while, trying to get him to calm down and see reason.

 
Last edited:
" Allo govna, how are yew todai "

Freed silently whistled. Damn, not even ten seconds. That's gotta be a new record. A shame too, 'Mills' seemed like a pretty laid-back guy. Two others (siblings judging by their matching ginger hair and Scottish accents) broke into laughter. "Absolutely perfect! Brilliant my friend!" "So, is the brit 'ere so we have something to toss out of the plane halfway to Greenland?"

Freed had kind of hoped - nah, let's face it, he didn't really hope - that a group of "elites" wouldn't ask questions. Y'know, like in the movies where everyone just quietly brooded to themselves, all dark and antisocial. Shitty Hollywood films. But six years in America had taught him otherwise. It also taught him that trying to fight back was much more effort than it was worth. After all, he didn't really feel a need to defend England - what was it called, nationalism or something?

Disregarding all signs of hostility, he helped himself to an empty seat and made himself comfortable, lounging with his hands clasped behind his head. When Mills introduced Mishka, he tentatively leaned forward to pet it, hoping he wouldn't lose a few fingers in the process. The male twin leaned in, all traces of mirth now gone from his face. "So, why ARE you 'ere?" Without looking up from the dog, Freed made an off-hand remark in the same light-hearted tone he used earlier. "Y'know, here in America, when someone tells you their name you usually tell them yours too."

He noticed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Stripper pals, lay off." "If anyone's getting chucked out of this plane, it'd be you two for sheer stupidity and a complete lack of professionalism." And here's the mediator. He gave the other man an appreciative smile. "Thanks, mate."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
The dog immediately climbed onto Freed trying to get a lick at his face, the dog could be a bit over emotional at times. " MISHKA! UNTEN! " the dog climbed down off the man and sat at his legs with its head placed in his lap looking up at him nuzzling his hand. " Very sorry for the rude entrance i gave you, i was just practicing my acts and voices, check this " clearing his throat a bit and taking in a large breathe " Ye need to simmer down! ye making the newbie uncumfortable! " his irish accent a bit rusty but it came across enough. " But anyways, glad to have you on the team, always need an engineer " he said winking at the Irish duo.

He turned away from cipher for the moment, and looked around the ship rubbing his chin " Were is el capiton? " he said looking around
 
Haven, sighed at the perverted comments. She wasnt a stripper, that was her mom's job. All to suddenly, the plane got hostile, loud voices booming infront of her. She wasn't to well around lots of angry people, exceptionally ones with lots of bullets! She calmly made her way through the crowd of people, towards the loud and powerful voice that spoke out earlier (Dej). She politely tapped on the mans shoulder, and said "Are you Wolf One sir?" She followed with a salute, and a worried grin, hoping he wasn't in a bad mood still.

Drake frowned, unpleased with the news. A storm moved into Greenland, and during the mission they would face a snow storm, which could help or hurt the team. The pilot added with a smile "Could be worse, maybe having to spend a week in Florida." Drake grinned and laughed "Yah that would be terrible." He playfully punched the pilots arm, and in the back he heard the voices flare up and yell at each other. Swearing, he sighed and said, "Lets get going." Walking back towards the other people, he took a deep breath and opened the door, yelling over the voices he made his voice sound commanding "Line up team!" He saw the ramp of the plane start to grind shut.​
 
As soon as the captain came back into the cargo bay and began to give orders, the twins lept to their feet. They stood, butts of their rifles on the ground, and barrel in the hand. They stood straight, but obviously had no formal training in standing around, but had picked some up over the years.

(Sorry for the super short post, had nothing else to say. XD)
 
"Thanks, mate."

Dej nodded his head towards the kid. "Sure. It must be because I'm American. Can't tell my left from right." He smiled brightly, happy with himself. He had been to China once and he had learned the saying about Americans and face. Also known was Americans didn't have any and were proud of it. Something Dej happily related to. He did what he wanted, when he wanted and the rest of the world could go to Hell. "No..." problem Dej was going to say when he got distracted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find himself looking down on on a brown haired woman he had unceremoniously dubbed Young Woman.

"Are you Wolf One sir?"

Dej blinked twice at the salute. His mouth probably hung open a little too. "Um." Dej managed. He hadn't been saluted before. Then again, he has never been mistaken for someone in authority. His cocky, happy as a mayfly attitude always was too relaxed for anyone to think he did anything important. "No ma'am." He said as he gently pressed down on her arm. "Please don't do that again." The last part of his sentence was drowned out by the twins hopping to their feet and strapping their guns around and the real Captain barking orders.

"I believe that's him." Dej quietly added, if unnecessary to the young woman. He could barely be heard, even if it was suddenly quiet, because of noise the ramp closing. However, he didn't budge from his spot and stayed at his sloppy stance. Hand in pocket and center off balance uncentered. He wasn't military and never would be. The day he saluted and jumped like a frogman was going to be the day he stepped on one of his own bombs. Also known as, never going to happen.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.