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Lilith could see the rest of the corridor layout ahead of her. Mainly empty, some crates, and a group of bodies around one of the corners. Her hands on her rifle gripped a little tighter as she approached, finally flicking the safety off and bringing it from pointing to the ground to waist height. The wall and her back suddenly made close contact, and her head edged towards the corner, voiced permeating the air from not far away. She could hear five of them.

I am outnumbered I can’t deal with them alone. Lilith minded to herself while looking at the vent panel ahead of her.

Running swiftly, she crouched down, pulled out a small knife, and pried the panel away from the wall and slipping inside, feet first.

There wasn't much room to be had, she pushed herself backward then close the panel, leaving her in silent darkness. She backed up and brought herself up the edge to go higher ground. There was only enough room to pull one's self through the conduit, and Lilith thanked her stars that she wasn't claustrophobic. Crouching her way up to the opposite area from where she was, Lilith positioned herself above the guards, and patiently waits for the precise instant to strike.

She had them in her iron sight. Her new position would surely give her a slightly advantage over them. She slowly approached her finger near the trigger when all of a sudden, a stunning sound overcome Lilith’s ear followed by a cloud of smoke filled the whole corridor. The smoke rendered half the corridor impossible to scan, but at least one of the guards was caught in the blast, he had been push out the smoke against the wall.

Two of the remaining guards were totally overrun by the situation, and get accurately killed by an unmatched precision. Two shots, two kills.

"I told you to open the door."

Woman, red hair, and a cybernetic arm. It could only be one person. Sergeant D'jonoc, my new squad leader.

''Finally, reinforcement is here.'' Lilith whispered to herself.

As she gets out of her state of mind, Lilith realized she failed to keep sight of the other guards. The sergeant's team was pinned down under a heavily suppressed fire behind the door. They had managed to get cover behind small crates near the other end of the corridor.

I should have keep track of these guys, now they are trap because of me.

She could not let her mistake bring down her squad. Lilith backed out from the panel and kicked it down, swiftly going back to the hole she pull half of her body outside and start firing at the guards.

''I had said it before. It doesn't dare follow me,'' Therex said, while smiling.

"Move in," ordered Bright.

They entered the corridor while scanning the surroundings for any survivor. Anyone could have been hidden behind one of the countless corners of the hall. Bright calmly walked towards the freshly killed guards and crouched over one of them to examine his injuries.

"Well this time it seems that someone else do the work. Could someone contact the other squads, maybe some of their guys got separated, and they end up here.'' Bright said to the squad.

"Private Lilith reporting in, ma’am," she said just before dropping from the duct.

"Next time send us a message or something," Therex said unconcern.

"I forget to check on my comm." She retorted faintly.

"Private Lilith, I’m glad you could have made it here since your graduation from the academy is somewhat recent. Sorry if I cut this fast, but we have people to save right now" Bright said while sliding her blades back into their sheath. "Kage, how much time is required before we reach the detention center?’’

"I don’t exactly know. There are several corridors to go through before reaching the main room. I’ll lead the way and keep you update." The Raitonin replied while looking at his datapad.

"Let’s go people, form up. We can’t afford to lose more time here," Bright shouted to everyone while the team started to follow Kage.

The team was slowly progressing toward the far end intersection of the passage remains, hit by the earlier explosion. Kage suddenly stop near the intersection, take a glimpse in it then point out the left passageway to the team. It was obscure, the emergency lights system had been destroyed during the firefight earlier. Bright nodded to Therex, he nodded back and makes his way in front of the formation.

"Therex, any tango ahead?" Bright said.

"Nope it’s dead. Be careful though, I can’t see through the windows alongside the wall." Therex replied to the team.

Bright, and the squad started too knelt through the dimness to remain unexposed to the windows.

''Okay people you can get up we’re there.'' Bright murmured to the squad while standing up.

As she stands up, Lilith grabs a datapad from her pocket and lighted up the closest wall with it.

''There it is.'' Lilith said while holding the datapad toward the wall.

Detention cells could be read besides the door, above a locked terminal.

"You know the drill," replied Bright while looking at Therex with a smile. Therex nodded to the squad leader and head straight to the door.

OOC:

Original Post : http://comnet.imperialnetwork.com/topic/15665/page/4/
Original WC : 475
Rewrite WC : 885
20th post down on the page.

OOC:

I... dont know how to link old posts. Original word count 2.1k

They moved like a clutch of leaves picked up by the wind. Serpentining between snow covered thickets and shrubs, hunched low to the ground with their weapons held tight to their person. He kept a strong pace which his spotter struggled to keep up with at first, but gradually learnt the rhythm as they progressed towards the objective. Though the weather was still on their side for the moment, visibility remained just as poor as when they'd first landed. Flotilla's of grey clouds clung to the sky as though to render their assistance, blocking the revealing glow of soon to be setting sun.

Their ankle long cloaks gently rustled as they advanced, though the treads on their boots hardly left an imprint on the fresh snow, let alone made a noise for him at least. His spotter, while highly trained, lacked the education of a scout. The ability to move without making a sound was one hard learnt, but she managed all the same. A static burst rang through their Comm-units. With one swift motion he slid along side a large evergreen and took a knee, his spotter taking a position directly behind him, gently tapping him on the back to alert him to the fact.

The wind picked up briefly as it howled through the trees, blowing a mist of snow off some of the large drifts. A single, almost indistinguishable 'tap' broke the static hiss of the channel. Jegora's team had taken up their positions on the road. The chance that the secessionists were watching all the Comm-frequencies was too high to allow any sort of prolonged communication between the teams. At least using basic units that they'd been issued with. Standard operating procedure was to communicate using 'taps', breaking the static for a split second to communicate. One tap was green. Two taps meant trouble. Three taps meant fall back to the rendezvous.

Another tap followed a minute later. Confirmation.

He reached back and tapped his spotter on the shoulder before they continued their advance towards the enemy camp.

----

Within the hour the pair reached a knot of trees on one of the knolls that lay a few hundred meters away from the base. The storm had all but vacated now, the occasional gust of wind like a final death rattle. With it gone, a silence moved in to take its place like an unwanted squatter. From the knoll he could hear the feint garbles of conversation that drifted along the night breeze, along with the sounds of engines and other general base activity.

He removed the telescopic sight from his rifle before placing it gentle beside him and began to survey the encampment. It was a basic model. Limited night vision, thermal in-fared and heat. It was a relic by most standards, but reliable. Where as the base issued binoculars had failed him time and time again, succumbing to the environment and conditions, his monocular had remained true. Though he refused to be sentimental about it.

Gently his eye traversed the instillation, taking in every detail. Personnel numbers, watch tower positioning, emplacements, general layout. His spotter took note as he whispered his findings to her. It was worse then Intel had suggested.  The briefing aboard the 'Scythe' had placed enemy numbers at roughly hundred with armoured support. By the looks of things they were off by about a hundred and fifty. The base itself was only equip to hold a garrison half that size.

From glimpses he could see men camping in one of the large underground supply hangers that had been dug into the hill, but even with that there would still be a good seventy odd men to house. Base activity made up for the rest. Even for the dead of night there was still full patrols of the perimeter and an abnormal amount of activity behind the dura-crete walls. Rotating shifts at a guess. Half the base was up whilst the other half caught some sleep. This helped them greatly.  At a guess it would take the those off duty five minutes to prepare, maybe ten to fifteen to become organised. That was at least an assure five to seven minutes of limited numbers and confusion. Sure there was still about one hundred men to deal with, but that was far more then what they had been told and by now any advantage was needed.

A surgical push into the camp would scatter and demoralise their opponents, which might just be enough to even things out. There were still the weapons emplacements and watch towers to deal with and the complete lack of cover around the walls or fence. but he tried to remain optimistic. No one said there wouldn't be loses.

“HVT.” his spotter whispered as her grip tightened around her the forestock of her weapon.

“Where?” he grunted

“six hundred meters. Third hanger from the left. Red jacket. Bal-”

“I see him.” he cut in, “Eyes on the convoy?”

“Six transports, two APC's. Sargent, I think the other teams going to have a hard time against that.”

“Noted. They'll be fine. Keep an eye on the HVT.”

“Damn, he's gone behind the transports.”

With a sigh he slid the sight back onto his rifle and readied it. They needed to update Operations command back on the 'Scythe'. Snatching the data-slate off of his spotter, he plugged a small grey box into a port on the side. While their basic communication system wasn't advanced enough to hide, their relay to the 'Scythe' was second to none. Jockeying ontop of the secessionists data streams, of which the 'Scythe' was scanning vigorously on the hunt for fresh intel, their findings would be picked up and extracted within moments of their discovery.

Their objective, apart from retrieving all that stolen Imperial armor and weaponry, was to eliminate Gastel Bardoam, a turn coat PDF captain who intelligence had noted as one of the brains of the secessionist forces. He was due to move with a supply convoy to a forward operations facility two weeks ago, but was delayed due to a logistical error. Jegora's team were going to cut the head off of the proverbial snake and put some fear into the secessionists. Reports suggested they'd break apart after his death, with a little encouragement of course.

The sound of a half dozen engines coming to life roared up from the base camp as the convoy readied itself to move out. For a brief period the base seemed to light up with activity as secessionists made their final checks before pushing off. Armaments were thrown into the back of transports as loaders made last minute checks of inventory. Militia clambered ontop of the flat top repulsors, intent on not walking the whole way. And then just as soon as the commotion had begun, it ended. The roar of the repulsor-lift's generators trailing off as they began their slow trawl to their front lines.

'Here's hoping you're ready, Fal.' He mused, knowing that within the next half an hour the two groups would come to blows.

“Sargent” his spotter stated, breaking him from his moment as she handed him her monocular, “Fourth and Fifth hangar.”

With a grunt he rolled himself onto his stomach and inched towards the top of the knoll again, resting his arms on the roots of a long dead tree. With the convoy gone they now got a clear view into the two hangers to their immediate twelve o'clock.

“What am I looking at?” he queried as he scanned across the two large doors that were dug into the side of the hill. Lots of activity.

“Looks like civilians. Probably hiding out from the PDF's before heading south.” She stated, “We'll have to update O.C on this.”

“No.” he grunted, “Can't afford to wait them out. Might abandon the facility soon. Might be have as good a shot next time.”

“I know, but that’s too much collater-” she'd protested before she was cut off

“They made their choice, corporal.” The two fell into silence for a period. As they continued their surveillance of the base. Activity seemed to be winding down inside the perimeter. Many heading into one of the near half dozen storage hangers to rest or grab something to eat. They'd worked out that the base mess had become the officers mess, while the Militia and the civilians ate from the second hanger. The first was used for vehicle storage, three was where the troops were housed and four and five were, for the moment, used by the civilians. Above them lay a series of comm-towers and transmitters.

A nine and a half foot high dura-crete wall ran the perimeter, while a chain fence ran around the outside of that, with a half dozen guard towers running along the wall. Between their position at the knoll, there was about three hundred meters of dead, clear ground before they hit the fence that ran on a slight slope towards the wall. Patrols still passed by regularly, though not venturing too far from the secondary fence line.

They were poorly disciplined. Rear guard. More eager then experienced, with the former busy fighting a stalemate against Imperial backed Planetary defence forces nearly hundreds of kilometres away in and around the capital and its hub-cities.

Twenty minutes after the convoy had left, the first signs of engagement flashed on the horizon, followed by a dull thud of an armaments truck exploding. It took the base a moment or two to wake up to the fact, with worried looking comm-technicians dashing frantically between the buildings as they relayed information. The men on the towers all turned and began scanning the horizon, though they could barely see past the clearing around the base thanks to the forest.

“Son of a-” His spotter gasped as she dropped an elbow into his side, “Officers mess. Front door. Please tell me I'm not seeing things”

He let out a low, throaty groan as he fixed his sight on the location. Their target was still there. He'd remained behind for whatever reason. Jegora's ambush, originally intended to capture or kill Bardoam, was now just cutting down fresh bodies and supplies. Bardoam would be long gone by the time Jegora's team would be here ready to encourage the survivors to surrender.

Without so much as grunting at his spotter, Jager retrieved the data-slate and began punching in a message for the O.C.

“We need a plan, Sargent, they are prepping transports. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before this guy's gone.”

Moments later his slate lit up.
“Approved. ETA: Three minutes.”

“Sargent?!” His spotter stated in frantic, hushed tone “We're gonna lose him. We've gotta mo-”

“Three minutes. Be ready.”

“Ready for wh-” She began before what little colour the cold had allowed on her covered features drained “You can't... What about all those people?”

“They made their choice.” he stated in his clipped manner as he readied his weapon. “Two minutes.”

----

The trio of sleek, black Imperial bombers roared low and fast over the tree tops. They'd been on hold the past two hours on-board the 'Scythe', waiting for a green light to move in and cover the ground teams escape, and had begun their journey after Jager's first message was sent. Target vectors and ordnance release protocols rolled across their heads-up displays as they came in on their final approach.

At two minutes out, a trained ear could pick out the wail of a TIE engine over just about anything.

At one minute thirty, the men in the north west tower had spotted what looked like fast movers coming in low over the forest

At one minute, the base had broken into a panic. Alarm klaxon's cut through the night as men dashed to their stations, anticipating an aerial assault.

At thirty seconds, Jager and Stone had taken cover on the far side of the knoll and braced themselves for the impact.
----

For the briefest of moments all the air had been sucked out of their patch of forest. The dusk sky lit up and a deafening roar escaped out into the trees. Snow, dust and debris kicked up like a tidal wave and washed over the surrounding country side.

And then silence.

----

Two figures appeared at the blasted gates of the base. The Dura-steel had melted and buckled like wet paper under the force of the explosion. The two advanced upright and cautiously, their weapons held at the ready, with one cover their front while the other covered their rear.

The destruction was near total. Spot fires had broken out on anything that was flammable, as well as a few of the surrounding trees. Guard towers had been toppled like crushed soda cans and their frames had been broken over the scorched and blackened dura-crete wall that ran the perimeter. A thick smell of O-zone and scorched flesh wafted over the base, of which Stone had to cover her mouth in order to shield herself from the brunt of it.

It was a smell Jager had become used to, and even if it had bothered him he wouldn't of shown it.

They advanced towards the officers mess where their target had run to shelter moments before the bombers hit. Dozens of Militia had decided to dash to safety in one of the large hangers, but had been caught in the open and vaporised. Globs of scorched meat lay scattered across the hard-stand, broken up by the occasional body, or at least what was left of a body. Moans of the wounded and dying began to carry on the air. Confused, disorientated and in shock. Cries for help, for mothers, for anything. Cries that fell on unsympathetic ears.

Something caught onto his shin as he continued towards the officers mess. He stopped, tapping Stone on the shoulder, as he looked down to brush it off.

A scorched hand, red and black and burnt clung to him. Its owner attempted to pull himself up on it. Blinded and burnt beyond recognition from the blast, a hunk of what may have been a transport's door embedded into his side. Without thinking, Jager let his weapon hang on its strap, retrieved his pistol and finished the man off with a shot between the eyes. The hand tighted around his shin, forcing him to kick it off as he growled in annoyance.

“By the stars, no. What have we done” Stone muttered to herself as the full depth of the attack had sunk in. She staggered, tripping on the charred torso of a Militiamen, and quickly reeled back, almost tripping over a hunk of dura-crete that lay discarded and displaced on the ground.

“Corporal.” he grunted over his intercom. Her shocked mutterings continued as she tried to steady herself back onto her feet.

A man, burnt and blinded like the last, stumbled out of wreckage of a prefabricated structure. His clothes had all but burnt off, along with his hair, though the burns made it hard to tell what was skin and what was clothing. He moaned and stumbled towards the two troopers, his arms outstretched in front of him.

“Oh no, no, get back!” Stone shouted as she fumbled for her pistol. The Militiamen got within two feet of her before she retrieved the pistol and fired into his stomach. He collapsed on the ground, writhing in agony.

Jager pushed past her and finished the job with a shot to the head.

“Corporal. Snap out of it. We've got a job to do.” he grunted as he holstered his pistol.

“But this... I...”

“Corporal!” he stated, smacking her on the shoulder as he glared through his googles.

Stone regained her composure, or at least enough of it to continue on with the job.

“Sorry, Sargent.”

“Dont be sorry. Just get back into the position.”

The two hangers that had not collapsed belched thick, black smoke. Figures could be seen stumbling out of the remains of hangar five. Their silhouettes, backlit by the red glow of the fires, moved without direction or purpose. Shuffling along before collapsing. Hanger four had collapsed, along with hangers three and two. Hanger one was an inferno. He doubted any of the men inside would offer resistance.

The officers mess was a rectangular, pre-fabricated building, the likes of which could be seen on a dozen other worlds in service to the Imperials. It had been raised about a meter off the ground on large feet, which had buckled under the bombardment and toppled the building onto its side.

“Stay here.” he ordered as he clambered inside the building.

Radio chatter from the communications bunker, that sat across from the mess, echoed out. It was one of the only buildings to survive the attack intact. Stone placed a hand to her ear and began surfing the frequencies. Confusion reigned supreme. Militia officers barked back and fourth requesting orders, others demanding they pull back or scatter. The blast had been heard from kilometres around and the steadily rising column of black smoke was a clear indicator of what had happened.

She took a deep breath and steadied her shaking hands. The reality continued to set in. This was criminal. So many innocents. It wasn't their fault, they didn't deserve to be a caught up in the actions of others.

'They made their choice' 

The statement sent a shiver down her spine. She'd heard of the Sargent's brutality. Of his distant nature, but this...

“Coming out.” The call came from inside the pre-fab. Jager clambered back out, a bewildered and dazed man in a red jacket in tow. Bardoam seemed to have survived the attack better then most. The flash of the blast had clearly blinded him and the blood seeping from his ears indicated serve hearing damage and possibly a concussion. It also appeared he'd bitten his tounge and broken his nose as the building had toppled.

The Sargent had offered him no sympathy. Tugging him by the collar and forcing him up against the wall. He removed the slate from his pocket and held it up infront of the Milita captain. A barely audible 'click' sounded before the man's image appeared on the slates screen.

It flashed green with '95% probability'.

With that, Jager thrust the man up against the wall, took a few steps back and drew his pistol.

Two shots into the chest sent him crumpling to the floor. A slick trail of blood covered the corrugated wall of the pre-fab. Jager took a step forward and fire again, this time into the mans left temple.

“Jobs done.” he stated as though he'd just finished painting a wall or packing groceries away. “We've gotta get moving.”

She nodded, taken back at how calm and composed, almost disinterested, he seemed at the events. But she didn't have time to think about it, she couldn't think about it. She took one quick look around at what was left before she realised the Sargent had already begun moving towards a wound in the perimeter wall.

OOC:

revised word count, 3.1k

I've learnt lots of stuff since I first started.

First and foremost is re-read your work. I had a tendency to spend a few hours on a post, edit it as best I could and then post it. Where I should have sat on it for a day or two, and then posted.

Details. Take a paragraph to explain shit.

Dont be afraid to mess with other peoples characters. Get them shot, stabbed, have conflict with them, have them make mistakes, have them save you from mistakes. You're not writing in a bubble.

Get someone to edit your work for you. Another squad member, a friend, whatever. You may have missed something. I've edited this twice now and even I'm not a 50% sure its not without glaring mistakes. And be open to criticism. If someone tells you that something sucked, chances are it may have. learn from that.

Oh, and stick to the story. There are times for 'sit and talk' character development and there are times for 'Let the characters develop during the situation'. And make sure it makes sense, lord knows I read back on some of my stuff and wondered what the hell I was thinking.

OOC:

Something in the Mist, First Post of Mine, Original WC: 561

A sly smile crept across Skarr’s face. The plan was simple, but he had a feeling it would work. “I may be able to solve that problem.” Havock and the rest of the squad turned their heads to Skarr. The female squad leader grinned and waved her hand.

“Alright, let’s hear it new guy,” Havock said. Skarr sighed deeply, now came the embarrassing part. He was not happy about having to divulge this with the squad. When Army High Command had shipped him out they had given him a silvery durasteel case and a formal suit. He had questioned them at length about why he was being given non-military standard. They laughed at him and told him that RAIDERS was participating in an undercover mission. He had been slightly intimidated by the prospect, he had not been trained for undercover operations. In fact, he thought he would be sent straight to the front lines.

“My cover may allow for me to find out with suspicion,” Skarr began, “And a little bit of flattering never hurt anyone. Not only that, but I think Ms. Anderson is the kind of woman who would respond to a handsome man.”

Karash snorted explosively, “Yeah, you’re the picture of handsome.” Norith shot a glare at the man. Havock also shot Karash a look, that made the man turn away uncomfortably.

The assistant squad leader, Verkur, looked at him sideways, “What cover allows you to do this?” The younger man’s head shook slightly. He didn’t really want to tell anyone what the cover was. He was more into the plan of going over and just talking to Anderson. Now that he had told them he had a cover, he was going to have to tell them what it was. Skarr thought it was in some manual somewhere. Rule number six, maybe? Tell your squad everything, except bowel movements, no one wants to know those.

“It’s a cover that allowed me to smuggle in supplies. Of course, the gear had to be disassembled and hidden into bottles and cans. I was given real products as well.” Skarr explained. The young trooper could feel the rest of the squad getting impatient and exasperated.

That impatience was confirmed with a short growl from Jaenna, “Would you just tell us already? Damn!”

Skarr hung his head, the truth would have to come out, “I sell cosmetics.” Havock smiled slightly and tried to hide it behind her hand. Brightstar tried not to laugh, but was failing miserably. Verkur didn’t even try. He thought he would be more embarrassed from their laughter, but somehow it made him feel better. Even if cosmetic sales wasn’t the best cover. “I’ll need to head back to my room. Grab my case, see about talking to Anderson.” Havock nodded and gestured for Skarr to take his leave.

“Is High Command nuts? He looks like a mammoth in that suit. Looks like hired muscle more than a sales person!” Skarr heard Jae say as he walked away.

“Give the kid a chance. He’s new,” Havock replied before the young trooper was out of earshot. He walked all the way back to his room, taking the exact same route he used to get to the ballroom, only in reverse. The door slid open smoothly and he seen that the case was still undisturbed on the bed. Skarr threw the latches and opened the case carefully. Scanning the labels carefully, he found a bottle of real perfume. Really expensive too. Once he had confirmed the bottle’s place, he snapped the lid closed again and made his way back to the ballroom.

Havock was standing by the door, clearly waiting for his return. “I’ll be watching you closely. Be careful.” The young man nodded and opened the double doors to the ballroom. He looked over the guests in the ballroom, looking for Tracey. Finally, Skarr spotted her talking to a few guests. A short walk was all it took for him to reach her, and he waited respectfully for Tracey to end the conversation.

“Excuse me, Ms. Anderson,” Skarr said smoothly, trying very hard to remember his parents’ etiquette classes. Tracey turned around, her smile positively beaming.

“Mr. Avarez, it is a pleasure to see you again!” Tracey exclaimed. Skarr nodded in agreement. He didn’t like the name he was given. Although, Tracey Anderson seemed to like the name well enough and that was what mattered for the moment.

Skarr decided now was as good as ever to reel her in. “I’m sorry to bother you for I know you must be busy, but I had forgotten that my employer wished for you to have this bottle of perfume. It is a gift for allowing me to conduct business here,” Skarr offered her the bottle. Anderson’s eyes widened and she took the bottle gently from his hands.

“T-thank you,” she whispered with astonishment. Skarr grinned widely, he believed he had her.

“I also need your help, Ms. Anderson.” Skarr continued. She looked up in interest. “I need help finding a potential buyer. My boss, bless his soul, is getting a bit on in years and has forgotten the buyer’s name. I only have a description of the buyer.” Tracey nodded slowly.

Her teeth snuck out of her mouth and she bit on her lip. Her head whipped around nervously, but no one seemed to be listening. “Okay, I’ll help. But I’m not supposed to! Tell me what this buyer looks like.”

Ten minutes later, Skarr stood by Havock victoriously “Did you get all that?” Havock nodded, a smile etched on her face. They had three names to check and according to Tracey, all three were currently in the ballroom. The plot thickens.

OOC:

New WC: 952

I would have to say the first thing I've learned is how bloody difficult it was to rewrite this post. My writing was pretty much shit when I began. I'm surprised I've come so far. One thing I've learned about writing, is that you have to take your time. I used to write a post in like 15 to 20 minutes. Big no no. I've also learned to go over my work as well. And I also used to write posts in the actual reply box. Now, I write my posts in either Google Docs or Word. My spelling and grammar thanks me for that. I'm sure there's more ways for me to prattle on about what I've learned. But seriously, read what Jager learned. That's where the epic is.