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2013-09-21, 10:37 PM
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[Ignore Me] #1 | ||
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Private
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+++Personal Log+++
2nd Lt. Strovd, Vicas. Mao Division, 52nd 'Validus' SOQRF (Special Operations/Quick Reaction Force) Date: 28th of May, 2865 Location: In Transit Well, this is it. The 'efficiency' of the Republic Military amuses me at times. It took two days to get a requisition order for a Harasser, then another three to get clearance to travel! They issued the bloody transfer, yet they never bothered to fill out the papers for me to leave. The desertions must be a real issue, for High Command to be in such a fuss. I'm nearly at Camp Waterson, here's to a warm reception. +++End of Log +++ Arrival The wheels of the Harasser bounced along the uneven ground of the Indarian desert, kicking up dust in an almost comical fashion. Within the vehicle, however, there are no warm feelings to be had. "Are we almost there, private?" the Lieutenant would bark, the razor sharp glare of his gaze matching the sun in intensity. "Yes Sir! It’s right over there!" In the lee of a gully before the bounding transport, the fortifications of Camp Waterson became visible through the glare of the sun. With a deep sigh of relief, Strovd sags back into the seat of his transport, causing his composite armor to creak with the movement. "Finally! Now, bring the transport over by the gate.” "Understood, Sir!" The private, rather too cheerful to be free of his tormentor, guns the engine. In a flurry of movement, the Harasser hits a small rut in the road a little too hard, causing the already unstable craft to preform a front flip, and land on its back. "Shit!" Strovd cries, throwing himself out through the Harassers side window and onto the cracked earth of the desert floor. "Sorry Si-" A few moments later, the Harasser itself exploded in a rather large fireball, showering the desert earth with smoking debris. Roaring in rage, the now displaced and walking Lieutenant unhoslterd the Underboss pattern revolver from his belt, squeezing of a single round into the burning remains of his transport. "Damned fool!" "Who's the fool? You have to walk now, unless I have my fun with you." Strovd freezed, the second voice coming from behind him as the barrel of an SMG is pressed against his back. Grinning, Strovd held his ground, pistol still firmly clasped in his grip. "Try it, buddy. I'll just find you when I come back." "Oh, so you're still in the Matrix are you? I didn't think they kept deserters logged." The SMG pressed a little harder into Strovds back. "Papers, and you don't get a second chance." "Fine." slowly dropping his hand down, Strovd would reach inside the chest piece of his armor, slowly removing the transfer papers from within. "Read 'em and weep." The unknown man wielding the gun reached forward, ruffly taking the papers from Strovds grasp before taking away the SMG. "Strength in Unity." states the unknown man, his gun still trained on the Lieutenant. Loyalty in Death "Loyalty till Death, now mind taking the gun away? No sense wasting ammo." Turning around, Strovd caught a glimpse of his attacker for the first time. The infiltrator, armed with a Hailstorm pattern SMG, looked as if he should have been inside a beehive. The red and tan octagons that covered his form looked just as practical as they did amusing. He was, however, the one pointing the gun. Reaching up to the comm, hidden under the wrappings of his mask, the Infiltrator spoke for the first time. "Echo-Eight to Cap', do you copy? I found our missing Lieutenant, shall I escort him in?" The muffled reply, unheard by Strovd, caused Echo to nod, "Right, follow me." Without waiting for a reply, the masked infiltrator began to march off along the desert floor towards Camp Waterson. Looking rather bemused, Lt. Strovd marches along behind the Infiltrator, holstering the revolver without a second thought. The trip itself, though short, felt like a millennium under the heat of the sun; the desert itself reflected the heat up in a dirty haze. Echo, completely unfazed by the heat, marched along steadily, his head gently panning from side to side as if he were looking for something. “Welcome to Waterson, but as you can see, not much water to be had here. HA! That was funny! I need to remember that for the future. Well, we’re here!” Echo would step back, his hand sweeping out in a mock gesture before the camp. The camp itself was rather spartan, but far from quiet. The men of the 52nd were moving like a swarm of ants, each moving with an unknown purpose in mind. Many were loading kit into Galaxies, while others were honing their aim with boxes for targets. Standing in the middle of it all, a group of men dressed as officers were convening over a table. “The Captain is over there, you’ll want to speak with him.” With that, Echo disappeared from sight, literally as the cloak of his armor engaged. Looking rather bemused, Strovd steels himself for the harsh words to come, moving over to speak to the skull faced captain. The Captain, surrounded by three other men, looked up as the dusted Lt marched up to the table, his boots slamming down as he snaps to attention, his hand flashing up in a salute. “Second Lieutenant Vicas Strovd, Mao Divison, formerly 23rd Vipers. Reporting for duty, Sir!” Looking up, the skull mask of the Captain gleamed in the hot Indarian sun. “Welcome to hell, Lieutenant. The name’s Vitali, I trust you had a, let us say, pleasant ride here?” “Apart from a foolish little shit of a driver, and that rouge rock, it was rather peaceful.” “Well, that was the last bit of peace you will ever have for the next three months.” Looking down, Captain Vitali drew his hands over the tactical display of Northern Indar. “Conglomerate forces are checking the Fifth and Seventh Iron Fist regiments; and the twelfth Infantry Reserve won’t be deployed because High Command is expecting a Vanu break through on Amerish.” Dusting the remnants of soot from his armor, Strovd moved closer to examine the map, the faceguard of his helm reflecting the light of the table as the under lit display slowly hummed in the evening heat. “So, we get the Toy Soldier job eh?” “Toy Soldiers? Who do you think we are? A Republican Guard regiment? We’re the unsung heroes of this war! WE were the ones who allowed your former unit, the Vipers, their push down the advance line to take the southern gate of Mao, and end that shit storm! Be glad we were there, Second Lieutenant. If we weren’t, you’d be sitting in a spawn tube waiting for the next bullet.” Vitali issued a deep, angered sigh; his rant reaching its end before his gaze dropped back down to the map. “You will be taking Bravo Squad, your second officer will be Warrant Officer Kirilo Nikolai, and your commissar will be Pierrick Alexandre. Is that understood?” Clicking his heels, Strovd offers Vitali a quick and sure nod. “Yes Sir!” “Good, you’re men are by the Red and black Galaxy, we leave at 0100 hours.” With that, Captain Vitali stomped off towards the command structure, leaving only the Lieutenant and the other three officers standing there in silence. The silence did not last that long, however, for one of them, a Sergeant Major by his bars, stuck a hand out to Strovd, a warm grin spread across his exposed face. “The names Erik Ctirad, I am the leader of Delta Squad. To my left and right are Vladiumir Simeon, former major of the 1123rd Aerial Assault group ‘Tiger eyes’, now First Lieutenant and leader of Charlie; And Commissar Ivo Mervyn, Chief Political Officer of the 52nd and Commissar of Alpha. We’ll be the sorry bastards you be dropping with tonight.” The other two men, garbed in battle scarred composite armor and carrying heavy MSW-R LMGS and Emperor Pistols in their side holsters, gave the lieutenant a quick and efficient salute before turning on their heels, each walking towards their respective transports. “Oh, don’t mind them. They don’t like talking to the newbies until they learn the Phrase.” Bemused, Strovd glanced over to Ctirad, his helmet cocked at an angle as his eyes searched the man up and down. “The ‘phrase’?” “Yea, Loyalty in Death! The phrase of the 52nd SOQRF! Well, I need to see to my own men now, as you must see to yours. See you in hell, Strovd!” With that, the Sergeant Major marched off, an almost gleeful bounce in his heavy stride. (That is the end of this part of the tale, be sure to post your feedback in the comments!) Last edited by Lt Stroytov; 2013-09-21 at 10:40 PM. |
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