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Topic:  Strike Team Auresh Introductions
Skarr
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Skarr
 
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  Strike Team Auresh Introductions
December 4, 2012 6:26:52 PM    View the profile of Skarr 
They go here, peeps.
ESL|CoT:A|PC/1LT Skarr/1SQD/1PLT/1COMP/1BAT/1RGT/Tadath/VEA/VE
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TRN/AC Vexus/Lopen/VEDJ
(WoS1)

"May God have mercy on my enemies, because I won't" General George Patton
"A leader leads by example not by force." Sun Tzu, The Art of War
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Jamasis
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Jamasis
 
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  RE: Strike Team Auresh Introductions
December 7, 2012 10:33:15 AM    View the profile of Jamasis 
He awoke; piercing daggers of light penetrated the edges of the curtain as the faint sound of a bustling metropolis emanated from the walls. Jamasis looked around the room. Cheap, dirty, poorly designed. A single bed, a table and a bathroom. There were stains on the walls, the ceiling, and the faint odour of cigarette smoke and whiskey hung in the air.

His head felt like a lead weight, exhausted and most likely hung over he collapsed back into the bed.

What the hell happened?

Jamasis ran his fingers through his hair, stopped, sat upright. He sauntered over to the bathroom, examined himself in the mirror. He barely recognised the man who stared back. Gone was the medium-long, poorly maintained blonde hair. It had been shaved, almost completely, the hair less than half a centimetre on all sides. He gingerly touched it, trying to remember why he no longer looked like an effeminate scarecrow. A scar adorned his forehead, one he hadn’t seen before.

How much did I have to drink?

He opened the curtains, looked out on the busy city before him. The sun was nearly overhead, making it almost noon, and in the distance the headquarters of the imperial army were visible.

----------------------------------------------

“Sergeant Jamasis, Eclipse squad, Wildcard platoon. I appear to have left my I.D. and everything else in my barracks. If you check on your system it should be fine.”

How I must look to her, he thought to himself. He was claiming to be a sergeant, from one of the most accomplished sections of the imperial army, yet he was so young, so bedraggled. Would she even guess his age? He was still young, but his eyes, his expression were that of a much older man. His peers may still be in education, a lecture hall by day and a nightclub by night, but he had never experienced that sense of security, of clarity in life.

Except with the army. That, inevitably, was the reason he had returned the last time, the reason he had stayed when his unit had been disbanded not once but twice.  This was the only time he had been equal to those around him, his life decided by his ability, by his heart, and when his life had potential.

“You’re not showing up on my records,” she replied.

“I must be. Just look up Eclipse, Wildcard.” There was a long pause.

“That unit was recently disbanded, it’s members relocated to strike teams. There’s no Sergeant Jamasis listed at that time either.”

“I must be, I was here yesterday. How can it have disbanded? I was in the mess hall the other day with my squad mates, as part of eclipse. Why wouldn’t I know about this?”

“Sir, the squad disbanded several weeks ago.” Jamasis stood there in disbelief. The squad had gone? He hadn’t been told, he hadn’t noticed, how could something this huge pass him by?

“Don’t I show up at all?” he asked her.

“There is a Sergeant Jamasis in the past personnel of the unit. It says he left the imperial army around six months ago.” Momentarily stunned, he was pulled aside by an officer.

“You’re an ex-soldier?” the officer demanded.

“Apparently.”

“You’re returning to duty?”

“I suppose so.”

“Come with me.”

--------------------------------------

He sat in a bare room, three chairs and a table, whilst two junior officers looked down upon him. They muttered things to one another, and based on the number of looks directed towards the darkened window that covered a whole wall, everything Jamasis said and did was being recorded.

“Apart from a few, easily explainable differences, you do seem to be the ex-Sergeant Jamasis. We would be positively delighted to welcome you right back into the heart of the army, but there is one slight issue. You’ve been gone six months. We can’t let just anybody into the army because they used to be a loyal servant of the empire. You could’ve done any number of things when you were gone, maybe, and I know this sounds ridiculous, but you might even be a spy,” said the first officer. Jamasis didn’t react.

“We need you to tell us what you’ve been doing recently, before we can let you back in,” said the second.

Jamasis leaned forwards onto the table, “I don’t even know what day it is. Ask the woman at the door, I still think I’m in active duty with Eclipse. What happened?”

“There was some restructuring, some relocation of personnel. Your squad mates that are still with us were moved. You just need to tell us what happened and you can join back up with them.”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what the date is. I woke up this morning in a motel near here, wearing these clothes, with exactly what you found on me when I arrived. The last thing I remember before that is when I was here.”

Both officers looked towards the certainly-not-a-window-wall, before one presented a piece of paper to Jamasis, “It’s a form, filled in by you, wanting to move into the reserves for personal reasons. You left eclipse. Today you came back. Just tell us what happened in between.” Jamasis frowned as he examined it. It was his writing, the date matched what he could remember. Why can’t I remember anything? This has gone a bit too far to be some ridiculous prank. Six months of my life has just vanished.

“Excuse me for a second,” said the second officer, who left the room. Jamasis and the first officer remained, waiting awkwardly as murmurs came from the window. Eventually the officer returned, with a datapad. “We managed to go through all the files on your datapad. There’s nothing suspicious on there, except everything from the last six months has been wiped, completely wiped. There’s just one message, written yesterday. Can you explain this?”

Hey Jamasis.

I’m sorry for what happened. I really am. But you were too far gone to do anything. I talked to a doctor, we managed to repress your memories. I know you’re going to be angry, upset, you will want to know what you’re missing. Maybe you’ll find out. I hope not.

What happened broke you, mentally. I paid for this motel for the night, hopefully you can figure out where to go from here. Don’t try to look for me.

Salken.


“Who is Salken?” asked the officer.

“He helped look after me when I was growing up.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yes.”

Both officers walked out of the room. Jamasis sat in silence, waited for what was to come.

-------------------------------------

The final verdict ran through his head. Severe memory loss. Potentially unstable. In need of rapid retraining. Believes he’s telling the truth. Returning to active service on probation; strike team Auresh. It was the best he could have hoped for. Six months of his life had vanished, apparently into thin air. After moving into reserves, the empire had no records of him. Jamasis had no clues, no idea where to look. There wasn’t even a gap in his memory, nothing to suggest anything had ever happened. As far as he could tell he slept one night in the barracks and woke up six months later in a motel.

What happened broke you, mentally.

Broken? How was he broken? What had happened that was so severe, so debilitating that his mind had simply snapped? Jamasis couldn’t begin to consider what this might have been. It couldn’t have been the army, his squad mates, his friends. He had no family, no family that he cared to mention. He had nothing else. That was the beauty of his memory loss. If there was something more important to him than all of that, he wouldn’t remember it.

Don’t look for me. Salken.

What did Salken have to do with this? If he was involved, then it must have been to do with home. He must have visited him, but why? Why would he have visited him? There was nothing there to draw Jamasis back. Don’t look for him? So he wouldn’t be where Jamasis expected. So maybe it had nothing to do with home.

There was something big he was missing.

Jamasis looked back up at the punching bag he had been working with for the last twenty minutes. It swung before him, apathetic to the emotion he put into every punch, every kick, as he poured his frustration into his training.

Something big is missing. I am going to find it. I will not break.
TRP/SGT Jamasis/1SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE [ESC09] [BoT]

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Hark
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Hark
 
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  RE: Strike Team Auresh Introductions
December 7, 2012 11:59:23 AM    View the profile of Hark 
He sent down the heavy pack with a dull noise, the dark-grey canvas adding a counterpoint of similarity to the stark, Imperial army cantina near his new barracks. It was densely populated with enlisted men and women, mostly human; it was a good sample of the demography of the Stormtrooper Corps. Hark pulled a stool from the bar against which his personal effects leaned jauntily, taking his seat, forearms forming diagonals as his hands met. The bartender caught his eye, the shapely woman with the cute face smiling at his blocky, noble features. She sashayed coolly, making her way like slowly flowing honey to lean in front of him, forming a point in the negative space between him and her. His knowledge of body language told him she was interested.

He knew she just wanted a good tip. Decius Hark was hardly a fool.

“What's your poison, darlin'?” She drawled out the “ar” sound. The effect was endearing.

“You have whiskey?” She nodded emphatically, listing their labels, which included a rare bottle of Whyren's Reserve. The corners of his mouth turned down, head nodding. “Stamped and gone through customs?”

“Of course, silly! You think anyone could get away with selling illicit spirits without the higher-ups in Sianat knowing?” Hark shrugged.

“Guess I'll have that, then. Neat, please.” She smiled like a smoldering fire, turning away and carefully pouring the expensive glass for him. It was a bit of a splurge, but it was worth it. His first assignment was over. He had been transferred from RAIDERS...but so had Heliwer, Karash, Mox and Dusk. Mox was going to the same place as him, to be fair.

The woman returned, a small glass, half-full of the liquid, amber in color set before him daintily.

“One strong whiskey for the noble trooper.” Hark smiled, delicately gripping the squat glass and swirling it gently. The woman looked him over, eyes on him, and he raised the glass, tilting it to her.

“New beginnings,” he said, taking a gentle sip, his palate flaring up with the intense, smoky and spicy taste of the liquor. Most people winced as they sipped whiskey. Decius Hark did not. He set his glass in front of him, and his server smirked.

“What's the new beginning, then?” Her question was in earnest, he deduced. Dirty blonde locks were dragged behind one ear as she glanced down. The corners of his lips twitched up.

“Been transferred to...” he paused. He was about to say Strike Team Auresh. Probably not public information, he decided. “...a new squad. Ghost.” She nodded in appreciation, not quite understanding. She looked ready to speak, but she was interrupted by a male voice to Hark's right. Both he and she turned to a man in civilian clothes, dark browns that worked with his dark complexion.

“I couldn't help but overhear your news.” The man held out his hand. “Specialist Roinan Ells. Logistics.” Hark hesitated for a moment, then gripped the man's hand in turn.

“PSC Decius Hark. Ghost Squad.”

“Good to meet you. I happen to have my ear to the ground when it comes to the two new squads. I'll prime you a bit...for a glass of that whiskey.” The man, slight, not the sort for combat operations in the army, smirked, thin lips stretching over his bony mouth. Seemingly unkempt strawberry blonde hair adorned his head, with a thin mustache to boot. A pencilpusher, but pencilpushers were necessary to keep the gears running and the guns gunning. Hark extended a finger and pointed to Ells, the bartender pouting and pouring him a glass of Reserve. He leaned over to whisper to the woman.

“Give us a minute, would you please?” He leaned back slowly, a gentle smirk on his face. She nodded brightly and bustled off.

“She likes you, she does,” Ells said, sipping his whiskey and not grimacing.

“I know that,” Hark replied, his voice flat. “You've just cost me a fair bit of creds, Ells. Prime me.” Ells rolled his eyes, setting his glass down and scooting his stool closer to Hark.

“As you know, you and several members of your squad and Eclipse were pulled to assemble,” he looked about nervously, “Strike Team Auresh, and a second one, Besh. What I imagine you don't know is that you haven't just been seconded to Auresh. RAIDERS and Eclipse are no more as of yesterday. High Command needed the some of the best of the STC for these teams. I believe congratulations are therefore in order.” Ells raised his glass, and Hark met the toast.

“However, mission orders for Auresh and Besh are closed. I couldn't dig up what you'll be doing, which means it'll be important.” Hark rolled his eyes, his mouth slumping. “Something wrong?”

“Think, Ells.”

“Roinan.”

“Fine. Think, Roinan. High Command needed the best, so they assembled Auresh and Besh. Obviously what they'll be doing is dangerous.” Roinan shrugged.

“I suppose you're right. It's odd though, your SL and ASL haven't been assigned to either team. Funny, that, isn't it? Maybe not for Sergeant Caldwin, but you and I both know she's got more than a couple issues of her own to work out.” A scowl masked Hark's face.

“You talk a big game, don't you? You don't know what it's like to bleed out there, in the thick of it.” Roinan waved his hand defensively.

“Eh, I talk a lot. Comes with the job. I promise, I didn't mean anything by it.” Roinan's pitch was higher, trying to mollify him. Hark's expression didn't change.

“So, what's your take on the Strike Team organization, then?” Roinan asked, cool as can be.

“I don't have one.”

“Oh, come off it. You've got to have an opinion at least.” Hark shook his head stiffly.

“I'm a soldier, Roinan. I do what I'm told. If the brass thinks I'm talented, that I'm one of the best, then I'm proud to serve as the best and with the best. That's what I do.”

“Wow, Decius. They got their hooks in you in basic, didn't they?”

“It's Hark.”

“Hark, then.” Roinan downed the remainder of his whiskey in one, wiping his mouth with a bar napkin. “I've got to head off. Swing by 110 sometime. We'll have a drink.” Roinan saw Hark's expression. “On me, how's about that?”

“Maybe I'll do that, then.” Roinan nodded and exited delicately, leaving the cantina through the arch. The server scurried over hurriedly, all smiles as she cleared away the glass and wiped down the bar where Roinan was sitting.

“What'd that creep want?” she asked as she worked.

“Can't talk about it,” Hark said through the glass, sipping the whiskey in a large gulp that made his chest filled with a strong, bold fire.

“Ooh, hush-hush cloak and dagger type of stuff. What an interesting ST I've got sat here at my bar.” She smirked as she batted her eyelashes, so to speak. “What time do you report into the barracks then, hun?”

“1400.”

“And do you have liberty tonight?” Hark nodded, corner of his mouth turned up slyly, knowingly.

“2000 to 2300.”

“My shift ends at 1900. That gives me plenty of time to go home and freshen up before our date, doesn't it?” Hark chuckled, a rare, raspy sound.

“But I don't even know your name yet.” At that, she slid a slate with her details. Dalma was her name.

They met at 2030.


----------Later, in the Ghost barracks----------

Strike Team Auresh consisted of six Stormtroopers. Four from Eclipse, two from RAIDERS. The other was Mox, but he had know that when they had received their new orders. Consequently, their barracks was a bit roomier than most, which suited Hark just fine.

Hark arranged his personal effects in a chest under his bunk, mementos of his teen years aboard his family's ship. A rare plant, dried and preserved, from the Mid Rim. A talisman from Tatooine. An uncut beryl jewel. He smiled and looked at his chrono. 1930. He stood and saw Mox, who sauntered over.

“You nervous about serving with new people, Hark?” Hark shook his head. “You seem pretty cool about it.”

“Why wouldn't I be? I'm a member of a specialized fighting force for the Vast Empire, the best of the best...and I've got a date in an hour or so.”

Mox snorted. Hark was excited for his transfer. It filled him with pride, excitement, and personal fulfillment.
TRP/PSC Decius Hark/1SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE

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THX1138
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THX1138
 
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  RE: Strike Team Auresh Introductions
December 7, 2012 10:07:52 PM    View the profile of THX1138 
Many asteroid bases existed around the galaxy. Some were abandoned, others were inhabited by pirates and refugees. However, in one neck of the galaxy, there sat an asteroid station owned by a group of criminals, usually called a gang. Inside, on many floors, all sorts of illegal activities were being carried out. Slave trading, drug deals, smuggling, loan sharking, slicing, etc.

However, in one small dark room, sat a lone Chiss. His chest was bare, his scars showing all up and down his back and shoulders. All he wore was a pair of black wrap pants. Sitting cross legged, his eyes were closed to slits, his breathing slow and steady. Before him sat a durasteel fighting staff. Slowly, he moved one hand from his knee to the floor, pressing his fingers against the cold surface. Small vibrations travelled up his fingertips, signalling his opponent’s arrival.

The door that led to the room, whooshed open, revealing the lumbering hulk of a droid. It’s 9 foot chassis resembled a heavily modified IG-100 droid from the Clone Wars. Built for close range fighting, and hand to hand combat. It ducked down and turned to fit through the door, and produced a similar staff of durasteel from a compartment in it’s arm.

Therex moved his hand over to the staff and gently rested his palm against the weapon.

“Your move.”

The droid charged forward, throwing all it’s considerable weight and strength into a single blow. Therex opened his eyes, and lazily lifted his weapon and tilted it against the floor. When the earth shattering hit landed against the weapon, instead of crippling Therex, it glanced off, sliding into the floor, considerably weaker than it had started. The droid was caught off guard for a mere second. When fighting a droid, that second can be the only chance you ever get.

Therex jumped to a standing position, and thrust the staff upwards, catching the droid in the leg, sending it toppling backwards where it landed with a resounding thud. Placing one foot on top of his adversary, Therex grinned.

“Well Iggy, you’re getting slow in your old age,” he said, chuckling.

“Doubtful,” the droid mumbled, pulling itself up to his feet. “As I do not age in any sense that you organics understand.”

Laughing louder, Therex shook his head at his friend. IG would never truly understand the way of humans, but he was still entertaining. Still laughing, Therex checked his comlink which sat on a bench nearby, sitting atop his shirt. Clicking it on, he threw on the shirt in one motion. When the com beeped, he picked it up and walked back over to IG, who had finally righted himself.

His expression quickly changed when he read the message. Iggy noticed it quickly, and tapped Therex on the shoulder.

“Problem, comrade?” he asked, his voice bordering on concern.

“I’m... I’m being reassigned again,” Therex said, sighing.

He was getting tired of moving around so much. First he had been in Wraith Squad where he had received most of his greenie training. After an extended absence, he then jumped from one squad to the next before finally landing in Jester. He had made many good friends there. But their SL, Bright, his closest friend, had to take a leave so they squad was disbanded and he was placed with Eclipse. Although at first, the transition was hard, Therex like Eclipse just as much as Jester.

Quickly, Therex checked the roster on his new squad, panicking. His eyes spotted several names he knew. Skarr was still the SL, that was good, Therex had come to respect the man who had gone through basic with him. Still scanning, he found HammerHead, Mox, and others. But it wasn’t until the very bottom that he found the name he was looking for and heaved a sigh of relief.

Terre Rae.

He smiled at the comlink.

“I think I will be fine this time,”  he announced to no one in particular before gathering his things and heading for the hangar.

He had to get back to the Vast Empire, but he had one stop to make. He needed his things.

--- 12 Hours Later---

Therex was going through his few belongings, packing a few changes of clothes into a bag, grabbing his trench coat and hat, and boxing up some random memorabilia he kept around. A small purring noise came from behind him as his Katarn settled into his carrier. The small pet seemed to enjoy the moves more than Therex. Smiling, Therex lifted all of his stuff onto a hovercart and pushed it out to the taxi waiting to take him to the docks.

When everything was loaded, Therex locked up his house, and hopped into the back of the taxi. After arriving at the docks, it took the duty droids less than five minutes to get him loaded into a Lambda class shuttlecraft. Therex went up to the cockpit and started the ship up, letting it go through it’s automated checklist while he checked his cargo.

After he was sure everything was secure, Therex put in the coordinates and set the auto pilot to wake him an hour before arrival. Slumping into one of the chairs, Therex closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Therex jumped awake, startled by the obnoxious ship alarm. He checked the panels, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 59:45 till they dropped out of hyperspace. Perfect.

Therex stood from his chair, stretched out and let his back pop before going back into the crew compartment and opening the refresher door. He left the door open as he peed in the small circular hole that served as a toilet. After he finished, he checked his hair in the mirror. Opting to be lazy, he grabbed his hat and pushed the hair up underneath it.

Satisfied, he went back up to the cockpit and waited out the last 45 minutes before he came into the system, reading his transfer order. When the clock beeped out it’s five minute warning, Therex grabbed the controls and took over, manually bringing the ship back to sublight. Pleased with his piloting skills, he radioed in his location landing ETA to the base.

Well, always an adventure. Give me your worst.

OOC:
Not much CD just yet. But I hope to expand on that as I work with some of you in the future.
"He has his orders, and when a Chiss accepts orders he carries them out, period."

Smile for death

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ShanneTwoo
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ShanneTwoo
 
[VE-ARMY] Lance Corporal
 
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  RE: Strike Team Auresh Introductions
December 8, 2012 12:12:30 AM    View the profile of ShanneTwoo 
Terre stood in what used to be her bunkroom, now cold and impersonal, the way it was when she first arrived. The smell of a bitter cleaner burned her nose, made her sneeze, made her eyes water. She tapped her black duffel with her foot, scooting it a couple inches away. Her black, beat up old duffel, the bag that had traveled with her from Obroa-skai to Jerren’s ship to the Vast Empire Stormtrooper Corps to Tadath, into Hell itself, and survived. Terre smiled at the old scuffed bag, almost as if it were an old friend. It wasn’t terribly heavy, as it contained her few personal possessions and a few changes of clothes, but it was a sturdy old thing. She heaved a sigh, pulling out a cigarette, lighting up, and reviewing her datapad. Her new assignment leapt out at her, along with the names of her squadmates. There were some familiar faces, and a couple she didn’t know. She heaved a sigh.

This was another new chapter in her life, another day, another chance. She inspected the names more thoroughly and grinned. Good. She was still in Skarr’s squad. Under her squad leader’s careful watch, she had grown from a gawky, awkward, shy, unstable young girl into a strong, opinionated, sure soldier. She scanned the names again, beginning to panic, and heaved a sigh of relief. Good, Therex was still there, too… She had a brief flashback and smirked. Yeah… Rex… She chuckled. Therex had taken her under his wing, and their friendship had blossomed into something more. She wasn’t sure what to call it yet.

Something nagged at Terre, something she couldn’t put her finger on, and it was driving her crazy. It wasn’t the new assignment; she got over that shock fairly quickly. No, it was something else, something important, and she couldn’t think of a single thing. She didn’t have a date (hot or otherwise), she hadn’t forgotten anything (she had checked multiple times), and she was happy with the people she saw in her squad (ultimately). With a grunt of frustration, she booted her duffel bag into the hallway with a vicious kick, drawing stares from the people in the hallway. Sulking, she tugged her black flight jacket around her, fastening the clasps at her chest, ribcage and waist, and stalked to her new quarters, duffel slung over her shoulder and her smoke dangling from her mouth.

After having unpacked her bags and settled in, she sat on her floor and stared moodily at a holo of her family. Slowly, she began to drift off, relaxing. It was dark and cool and quiet…

She snapped into a sitting position, her eyes never leaving the holo. “Cripes…” she hissed to the open air. “Cripes…”

“Yes?” Terre whirled. Therex was standing in her doorway.

“Rex…” Tears sprang to her eyes and she hastily wiped them away. “Kriff…”

“Terre, what is it?” he asked, stepping into her room. “What’s wrong?”

“Rex,” she whimpered, turning to look up at him with haunted eyes. “I just remembered…”

“Remembered what?” He stayed a safe distance away, knowing her volatile moods.

“It’s been two years, Rex…” He didn’t ask anything more, just sat down beside her and rocked her slowly, back and forth, comforting her.

The pain of losing her family hadn’t dimmed in the two years… She never truly forgot, but rather pushed it to the back of her mind, and didn’t care to register the pain. Pain meant weakness, by her way of thinking, and she didn’t like to be considered weak. If a stiff upper lip and a sullen look got her through the day, then she would be as sullen as anyone had ever seen her. It wasn’t terribly difficult either.

Terre knew pain. She had felt it acutely, absorbed it until she didn’t think she could take anymore. She had lost Jerren Quell to the rogue officer. She lost Jester to the stormtroopers. She lost her family to Thrawn. She was being thrust into a new squad with new people and new experiences. She felt lost and confused and scared… But she had to keep that stiff upper lip at all costs. She couldn’t let them see her cry. She wiped her eyes and pulled away from Rex, swallowing hard and nodding. He heaved a heavy sigh, but didn’t say anything, knowing he’d get to hear all about it later. She paced the room anxiously, taking deep breaths to calm herself, staring at her ceiling, her hands covering her face. She heard a heavy sigh and stopped abruptly, listening as Therex hauled himself to his feet.

“Terre…” Her name was breathed softly into the empty air. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Terre… Look at me? Please?” Slowly, she turned, looking up at him, standing a mere foot away from her. He opened his arms, and she fell into them. He kissed her forehead gently, rubbing her back gently. “I know I’m not much of a replacement for family,” he whispered. “But I try to help… I try to help you through that pain… To relieve that pain…” Terre shivered, then curled into him, her forehead pressed against his chest.

“I’m just so confused…” she whimpered.

“I know…” he murmured. “Can I help?”

Terre chuckled harshly. “No, Rex… No you can’t.” He looked hurt, but nodded anyway, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Okay,” he murmured, kissing her forehead again. “Okay, Terre. But if you need me…” He trailed off, then sighed and turned for the door.

“No… Rex, wait… I’m sorry…” Terre tried, her voice halting. He paused, and Terre could see a smile spreading across his face. She laughed, shocked. He turned and smiled at her, grinning wide. “You are awful,” she murmured affectionately, crossing the distance to hug him tight. “I do need you… Just… Bear with my weakness…”

“I will, Terre,” he said, tapping her nose teasingly. “I always do.” He turned and left, letting the door slip shut behind him.

“I know.”

OOC:
There. I think you're all up to date. ^-^
--Shanne

TRP/LCPL ShanneTwoo/1SQD/1PLT/1COMP/1BAT/1RGT/Tadath/VEA/VE [3.1] [*ESC* 12*] (HeS) (LM)
HammerHead
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  RE: Strike Team Auresh Introductions
December 8, 2012 1:05:24 AM    View the profile of HammerHead 
HammerHead opened his eyes and peered at his surroundings. It was the same place he was yesterday, a nice apartment overlooking a city scape. He rubbed his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, and got out of bed. He strolled over to his living room, and sat down.  His mind wondered, as he started another day with nothing to do. Lying there, tired and uninterested, he realized something. He realized that he was bored without the empire. Maybe it was Mandolorian blood or maybe it was his lack of stimulation, but HammerHead felt like he was missing something.

Whether it was fate, of chance, HammerHead just happened to check his comlink. He was surprised to find that he had been reassigned...again.

No, not again. I was finally feeling at home.

Since he enlisted, HammerHead had basically been moved from squad to squad, until he seemed to permanently land in Eclipse. He felt welcome there, among those who he thought were more than worthy of his loyalty. So, in turn, his official re-assignment rocked him to his very core. He was relieved, however, to find that many of his old squad mates were in his new squad with him.

At least I'm not getting stuck with a bunch of weirdoes, oh wait, yes I am.

He chuckled. It was comforting to know that he was with people he could trust, even if they’re not all completely sane.

HammerHead rose from the couch, and walked into his bedroom. He reached under his bed, and pulled out to duffle bags. He opened the first, slightly smaller, bag and filled it with all of his clothes. After completing this task, HammerHead turned to his closet and swung open the doors. His admiring eyes were met by a wall adorned in weapons. He grinned, as the site never ceased to please him. He began the process of taking the weapons down, but decided to pack light. He only took his heavy E-11, A280 blaster rifle, BP-02 grenade launcher, DC-15 blaster pistol, and an M3 revolver. HammerHead then walked across the room, to a metal trunk he kept near the foot of his bed. He opened it and took out a small back and a leather bound bundle. He slid them in his duffle bag and zipped it up.

HammerHead then proceeded to pack his few remaining belongings in a few boxes. He slipped on his boots, strapped on his revolver, and slid on his worn out leather jacket. He then slung his two bags over his shoulders, picked up a few boxes in each arm, and locked his apartment door behind him.

HammerHead walked down to the transports, and paid a cabby to take him to the docks, so he could find a pilot to provide him with transport.

Hmm. Smells like grease and alcohol.

The place was filled with scum, but Hammer succeeded in finding a decent pilot of less the impeccable morale character. He paid the man, and loaded his things into the small ship. At first the pilot tried to strike up conversation, but he eventually gave up when Hammer started to fall asleep. He awoke several hours later, as the small space craft approached Tadath. HammerHead was able to clear the security, and instructed the pilot were to land his small craft. The landscape, as expected, had not changed at all. He said his brief and emotionless goodbyes to the pilot, and walked out into the cold.

It feels good to be back home.

HammerHead walked into an office and asked for directions to the Ghost barracks. He hiked to his new home, and found it sparsely populated. He appeared to be the only one who arrived so far. Hammer walked down the hall and found his room. He opened the door to find a surprisingly large room, no doubt because the barracks were recently built.  Hammer opened his duffel bag and put his clothes into the space provided. He put the boxes down in the corner, and opened up his weapons bag. Hammer pulled out the leather bundle and pack, and put them in his footlocker. He then zipped up the bag and walked down the hall. Arriving at his destination, HammerHead found his new weapons locker and opened the door. Before he put away his various weapons, Hammer inspected all of his weapons and made sure all things he packed were present, as he didn’t trust the pilot as far as he could through him. Seeing that it was all their, Hammer filled his locker with his belongings, and left the locker room . Walking back down the hall, Hammer noticed that someone else had arrived.

HammerHead went in his room, and unloaded the last of his things.  Having nothing better to do, he decided to take a nap. A few hours later, Hammer was stirred by a number of noises down the hall. He got out of bed, and decided to check on all the commotion. As he rounded the corner, HammerHead was happy to see Therex arriving at his room in their new barracks.

“Rex! How are you my old friend?”

“Hammer! Nice to see you. I’m fine.

“That’s great. Let me ask, has anyone else arrived?”

“Yeah, Mox and Hark, former members of Raiders squad, keep going down the hall, you can’t miss them. Before you go, I want to ask you a question. Are you still wearing that revolver?”

HammerHead lifted up the edge of his jacket to reveal his side arm.

“You better stop that, you could end up getting shot.”

“Since when have I been afraid of being shot?”
“Fair enough, go introduce yourself.”
HammerHead said his goodbyes to Therex, and headed down the hall to meet his new squad mates for the first time.

OOC:
Well, thiers my introduction.
Fear is just an excuse for someone who is to lazy to take action.
Bravery is a fools excuse for running at something without taking time to think or strategize.
Courage is being able to man up and face a problem, no matter how large or difficult it may be, and take it down.

TRP/PSC HammerHead/3SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE[*ESC*12*]

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Mox
ComNet Member
 
Mox
 
[VE-ARMY] Private First Class
 
Post Number:  431
Total Posts:  659
Joined:  Apr 2010
Status:  Offline
  RE: Strike Team Auresh Introductions
December 10, 2012 6:12:58 AM    View the profile of Mox 
Strike Team Auresh… AKA Ghosts

Mox was in his house, trying to collect himself. It was a long time since he had proper clothes on, usually the only attire he wore being the SCOPE Armour, COMP Armour or the uniform. There wasn’t a lot of time between mission, and the last couple of ones had RAIDERS out of Imperial space. Mox slowly treaded towards his bedroom, sitting at his computer when he got there. After the RAIDERS got closed down they were given a week’s leave, to regenerate from the past missions and to get to know the new squad. But Mox did no such R&R. First thing he did after getting off the ship that brought the all of the squads back to Tadath was to leave for a transport to the country side, to his house.

Surprisingly, as he is still a private, Mox managed to finance himself proper food arrangements and housing. In this house he spent most of his leave time, otherwise spending it in speciality classes or medical centres. He enjoyed these solitary periods, away from all the madness of fighting and the RAIDERS themselves. But now that it was all over he realised he never really knew any of the members, other than by name. He sort of regretted it, but at the same time he realised that by keeping this barrier, he blocked other people from knowing him, which overall was the best outcome. If people got to know him, they could start inquiries about his past and the more lies there are, the possibility of being discovered increases. Slowly over time, or perhaps just like Joamer which happened nearly right away, they would realise the Mox’s fake and that something is wrong with him. And even though that would cause him to only gain enemies or to stand out as a loner, he knew that if he wanted to stay in VE he had to continue playing this game. Even though he no longer reported to his New Republican superiors.

Mox booted up the computer he had been staring for the past minute. It quickly loaded and Mox loaded the Ghost’s roster. Looking over it he only recognised one name: Hark’s. But even then he barely knew the man, and so the whole group looked like strangers to him. Plus all of them, except for Hark, were higher rank of him. Way to go, Roy… way to go… he thought to himself realising how failed his career so far had been. He only received one promotion, which didn’t get him out of the Private sector. Well… new squad… new people… new opportunities… Mox thought to himself. But at the same time the young man knew that if he started progressing more quickly in the ranks and started earning more ribbons, the AHC would quickly take notice, and get interested in him and the flawed recruitment process. And that would mean that his cover would be blown and that he would be sentenced to death for treason. There is no way of redeeming myself right now...

“I guess there’s no point in delaying it for any longer...” Mox said to himself as he got up and stretched. He knew that at some point during the leave he had to present himself in the barracks and report, otherwise he would be considered as deserting, more commonly known as AWOL. “Eh... I guess I’ll have to wear that damn uniform on again...”

After 30 minutes, putting his uniform on, eating his lunch and procrastinating a bit more, Mox exited his house. He took a bag and a backpack containing all of his needed equipment, his COMP and SCOPE armor, the DC-17M, the modified DataPad and few other personal items. He didn’t need much as he didn’t have any souvenirs, nor he ever needed one. Not knowing any of his family and having amnesia as a child caused him to never care about one person, even though he enjoyed momentary friendships. That was what made him a good undercover agent, though now that he failed, as he got discovered by Joamer, he did not wish to step that path again. Though I might have to they find out I’m alive...

Walking towards the transit station Mox took out his DataPad and rechecked the roster. I don’t know any of these people... though... Therex was in RAIDERS for one mission... then he got reassigned to the Jesters which got closed soon after. Looking at the rest of the Army he noticed that they were no longer in the Wildcard platoon. Wait, what? he thought to himself as he checked the name of the current platoon Why was Wildcard closed down? And what is Phantom? How can you just transfer whole of the elite army forces from one platoon to another... The whole situation looked very unreal to Mox, as if the AHC was gathering all of the Army’s elite forces to one place. And why are we called Strike Squads?... At this point Mox had many questions, though he did not know who could answer then, other than the Army High Commanders themselves.

“I guess that’s the life of a private... not being told anything at all...” Mox sighed as he hastened his pace.

After a few minutes of walking he reached the transit station and as luck would have the transport towards the main city, which itself contained a transport towards the Stormtrooper Crops.’s barracks, just arrived. Mox quickly hopped on it and in an hour he found himself waiting for the transport that would take him to his new squad. As he wondered about the recent decisions the young slicer came to the conclusion that something big and dangerous was about to happen. Maybe like a war... Though an all-out war would not be wise, especially since we’re not allied with any of the current super powers. Mox thought as he entered the Corps.’s transport. Though why are we called after spectral beings? Ghost, Wraith... Phantom... Nah, something else is going on... but what?

==================== Strike Team Auresh’s AKA Ghost Squad’s Barracks====================

“Private First Class Mox, reporting in!” Mox recited as he approached his new SL. So he’s a 1st Lt... Why is he here?

“At easy, Private... You’re a bit late,  ain’t ya?” the Lieutenant said, raising his eye brow.

“No one ever said I have to be here on the first day, did they, sir[/i?” Mox replied

“No... no one did...” Skarr said shaking his head and walking away. Mox sighed, wondering whether him and his new Squad Leader were going to get along. In truth he doubted that he would get along with anyone in here.

[i]This is going to be fun...
he sighed as he walked over to his bunk bed.

OOC:
WC: 1130
After wasting half of his leave time in his house Mox reports to Skarr, making not too good of an impression.
Few key points: Noone knows Mox's real name, and prefers to be called Mox over his fake name(which I never really gave him); he doesn't talk about his past EVER; he doesn't really talk a lot at all; everything else will probably come out as CD in the HSC.
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I used to be Faithful 'til the End... but then I became a Ghost
Faithful? More like crazy...                                                         

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Hacking Trainee
TRP/PFC Mox/1SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE/[DT] [RAWR] [ECA] [QW 12] (WtR) [AS-2] [ESC-12]/A10 (5.1)
"I have a rendezvous with death... I shall not fail that rendezvous." - Alan Seeger
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