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Topic:  The Perfect Storm - May Competition
Bloodhound
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Bloodhound
 
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Post Number:  60
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  RE: The Perfect Storm - May Competition
June 8, 2009 1:03:55 AM    View the profile of Bloodhound 
JESTER

"Bwaah. . . !" Ripasha yelled, as he was tugged by the belt.

Ripasha's lack of an attention span wasn't handy in a firefight, or anywhere else for that matter. He his gaze quickly darted from one pretty flash of light to another as the other Banshee members cleared out the remaining New Republic soldiers. Ripasha raised his own weapon several times, but usually the others had killed whoever it was he wanted to kill before he ever got a chance to pull the trigger. It made him a sad panda.

He was released roughly, his momentum carrying him into the wall. He hit it back first and slid down it into a sitting position, legs spread. His fingers drummed on his abs as he waited for them to figure things out. It wasn't really his skill set. His skill set mostly consisted of looking good.

"Can you get it open?"

"Maybe, but it'll take awhile."

"Fuck taking awhile. You, can we blow it open."

"Yeah, fo' sure."

"Good, that's what we're doing."

Ripasha didn't recognize anyone by voice, and he was off in his own little world anyway. A world not at all like this one, one with rainbows and lolly pops and cute. . . A smack to the helmet brought him out of his own little world.

"MOVE IT! It's about to explode you half-baked country bumpkin." He was tugged up and out of the blast radius.

He wasn't really sure he liked all this being pulled around, it was demeaning. Still there was nothing to do for it. He kept himself ducked out of the way as the explosion echoed throughout the corridors, bits of metal flying every which way, clattering off walls, floor and ceiling. Ripasha stepped back out as soon as the noise had died down. Bits of duracrete and durasteel littered the floor, the walls were covered in pock marks and even had chunks of steel sticking out of them, devastation at its finest. The entire area was still smoking.

"Holy. . ." Someone said.

"I may of used a little too much,"

Ripasha brought his gun up to the ready and followed the other Banshees in through the giant smoking hole in the wall. As Ripasha understood it the hard part about blowing up blast doors was, well, they were blast doors, so it was fairly common to blow out a chunk of the wall instead. Stepping through the smoke, third in line, Ripasha was surprised by the former ornateness of the room, it had a certain coziness to it that was difficult to describe. Of course the carpeting had been scorched and like the hall outside some things were just flat covered in debris. Not as bad as outside, no large chunks of metal had lodged themselves into any walls. Ripasha kicked a bit of rubble about with his toe.

As far as he could tell there was no one in the room, Banshee spread out. Ripasha kicked his way over towards the large wooden desk in the center of the rectangular room. Ripasha walked around it and threw himself into the large leather chair, it stuck to his sweaty back. He threw his feet up on the desk and just sat. He wasn't really that useful, he knew to just stay out of the way.

Then he heard a whimpering sound. He looked around for a few seconds, hoping to see a cute puppy or something before movement under the desk caught his eye. Looking closer he could see the governor, curled up under the desk and crying uncontrollably, Ripasha's hand shot out and he snatched the one 'Cid Shera' out from underneath the desk, dragging him out.

"Hey, guys, look what I found!" Ripasha called, "It's kinda cute too."
TRP/PVT Bloodhound/3SQD/2PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE

Ain't nothin' but a hound dog.
[This message has been edited by Mongrel (edited June 8, 2009 1:05:14 AM)]
Jegora
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Jegora
 
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  RE: The Perfect Storm - May Competition
June 8, 2009 1:34:38 AM    View the profile of Jegora 
JESTER


Max didn't waste anytime. Trying to keep his bad arm from flapping around too much, he was forced to wield his E-11 one handed. Luckily the compact blaster rifle was small enough that Max was still moderately effective with the weapon . . .or at least he appeared moderately effective with the weapon. In the end, that was all it took to cow the one-time governor of Eriadu into submission.

Gesturing with the business end of his rifle, Max kept his speech short and to the point. "Get up. You're hereby under arrest for crimes against the Vast Empire. You will cooperate, or we will use force." Taking a breath, Max had to calm himself in order to keep from lashing out at the man he felt was obviously responsible for the deaths of his squad mates. "Understand?" he inquired after he was sure he had control of himself.

The governor didn't even bother to answer. He simply nodded weakly and let Ripasha haul him to his feet. When the governor was standing, Max poked the Twi'Lek in the chest with his E-11. "And you," he said, "Keep an eye on him, and keep up. Whatever you do, don't loose him. Understand?"

Ripasha simply nodded as well, and for a minute Max seriously doubted that the alien's mental faculties were up to the challenge of escorting the governor out of the building. In the end, there were no other options. Max couldn't do it because of his bad shoulder, and he didn't want Sil doing it because he was the only one who could actually shoot. And as bad as Ripasha was at being a soldier, he was still a battle tested veteran, even if it was only luck that had gotten him this far. The newbie, on the other hand, Max didn't know very well, and so he trusted him even less than he did the rather slow Twi'Lek.

Motioning out the door, Max let Sil take the lead. "Aiight, lets get out of here," he told his squad over the secure channel. "Quickly boys, let's go."

Much of the cold anger that Max had felt earlier had subsided by this time, for which he was grateful. Looking back it was quite obvious that he had been in way over his head. He had let his emotions take control, and that was probably why he had gotten shot. He had been stupid, and had actually accomplished very little in his outpouring of rage. If he could go back and do it again, Max decided that he would have taken a step back and thought a little more about the tactics behind storming a fortified position.

On the other hand, Max also decided that the enemy soldiers still deserved to die for what they had done.

The Banshees retraced their steps with relative ease, the governor easily cowed into obedience. Suddenly, however, out of nowhere, blaster fire poured in. Somehow Max had managed to lead his decimated squad into another crossfire situation, and as he crouched behind what little cover he could find he realized that this was most likely the end. He couldn't see any way of getting out of that mess, especially considering he was injured.

Blaster bolts pinged off the nearby walls, moving closer and closer as the enemy soldiers dialed in on his location. Max could hear the report of the rifles, and began to flinch every time he heard a shot fire. The hail of enemy blaster fire went on for some time, and somehow Max managed to remain unhurt. Then, however, a new sound joined the symphony. This sound was also made by a blaster rifle, but it was noticeably different all the same. Quite suddenly the blaster fire that had been peppering his position ceased, and Maxed cautiously peeked his head around the corner to see what was happening.

There he found the two Bothan troopers he had left behind. They started forward, but Max waved them off. There was no time for small talk. The faster the Banshees got out of there, the better.

Speaking over the secure communications channel, Max informed his squad of the plan. "Extraction on its way, set for the green outside the main doors. Secure the perimeter."

Pain kept his sentences his short and broken up, but his squad understood. They moved to complete their job, while Max did his. Keying his throat mic tuned to a subspace transmitter, Max opened a link with whoever was in charge and relayed the details of their mission. "We have the governor, but we've taken heavy losses. Requesting . . .requesting extractions on grid coordinated Besh niner zero. Over."

There was a moment of static, and then whoever was in charge promptly responded with an affirmative. "Roger that, Banshee squad. Evac is inbound and should be there within a minute."

Max didn't bother to acknowledge the acknowledgment, instead joining the rest of his squad on the green. He looked up, keeping his eyes peeled for the shuttle that was supposed to be picking them up. Sure enough, after only half a minute or so a Sentinel-class shuttle descended rapidly, its ramp opening before it even touched the ground. When it was fully open the Banshee members climbed up inside, dragging the governor along.

Max let out a huge sigh of relief once he was on board. Somehow he had managed to pull the mission off, but he had taken heavy losses in return. Three of his squad mates were dead, and they would be hard to replace. Still, they would be replaced, and the Corps wouldn't notice at all.

After all, soldiers were expendable.

OOC:
Jester's done with their 4th objective
Jegora Fal
Squad Leader, Jester Squad
Initiate of the Dark Jedi Order

SL/SFC Jegora/Jester/Phoenix/Dragon/Osiris/Stormtrooper Corps/Vast Empire Army/Vast Empire
[IH] [EW:1] [CCA] [AS-H]

Osk Company Employee
An Officer of the Roworth Bounty Agency
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Angel
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Angel
 
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Post Number:  2980
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  RE: The Perfect Storm - May Competition
June 8, 2009 9:34:29 AM    View the profile of Angel 
Competition is now closed.
Platoon Commander - Storm Platoon | Tactical Officer - Army High Council
TO-PC/2LT Angel/Storm/Phoenix/Dragon/Osiris/Stormtrooper Corps/Tadath/Vast Empire
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Darth Phoenix - Dark Lord of the Sith
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