Operation: Midnight - RP

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Mister_Blade

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#1  Edited By Mister_Blade
  • Operation: Midnight
  • Taedong River
  • Agent Giovanni Castello
  • C.I.A. Special Activities Division
  • July 21, 2015
  • 23:48 Hours

We came in by boat, the rest by air. A small crew was all we needed where we were going. In fact, a small crew was necessary where we were going. Petty Officer Gibson. She was a Navy SEAL, and probably the most trustworthy person here despite my barely knowing her. Lev Khishchnik. Russian. Damn good sniper. He'd be hanging back from the action, providing cover fire with the SEALs, but is meeting us at the rendezvous to leave with Objective: Midnight. Bastian Klemens. This is where shit starts to get shady. This cat is an employee of Maverick. From a professional standpoint, that's a no-no. Mercs can be bought out. But he doesn't know why we're here. He just knows he's getting paid. By the time he's done his job, said job will already be public intel. Same deal with Gary Anderson. Or, at least the one of him we're taking with us. Merc's can be a gamble, but we're runnign with a stacked deck here. Good ol' Lev has orders to turn either of these goons into a wet smear with that railgun of his if they try anything. But that shouldn't be a problem.

The assault was already in progress when we got there. We'd flown in by chopper, but they dropped us in a speedboat once we hit Korea Bay. Up into the Taedong, and onto land. These woods are almost as wet as the ocean we just crawled out of. "Stone's throw away from Pyongyang. Stick to the shadows. You've all been given suppressors fitted to your weapons courtesy of the C.I.A. armory. 'Cept for Khishchnik, that is. Railguns are tricky. So Lev won't e covering us until we get into the city and he gets into position. There are two buildings in Pyongyang currently occupied by Navy SEALs. Try to stay in their line of sight. We move for the city. Don't be afraid to take out any tangos that come your way as long as we can take them quick. Pyongyang's taking casualties left and right, a corpse isn't out of the ordinary tonight, but until we've secured Objective: Midnight, we're not here. Got it? Good. You got any questions, ask 'em now. If not? Let's move."

"Masks down, ladies. Codenames from here on out."

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Split

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North Korean Airspace

Fingers methodically tightened and loosened around the silk grip of his katana, the muscles underneath the skin tensing and letting go in tandem with the whir of the chopper's blades. Gary Anderson Jr. was sitting in the midst of a small group of four heavily-armed operatives, each one checking over their individual gear, and mentally preparing for the downright insane task that faced them all. Parachutes were stuffed inside of small backpacks, snugly strapped to each of them. Gary's mask was down, hanging from the back of his pitch-black outfit. He was smiling, green eyes alight with a mirth that severely contrasted with the atmosphere within the copter. He'd given the contingent a bit of a break, then he continued his story.

"And then, the next morning, Angelina wakes up, Brad's thumb is missing, the vault is empty...and the butler was never heard from again!" He laughed, lightly punching one of the soldiers next to him in the arm. He smiled weakly in response, clutching at the handle of his rifle. "So anyways, that's where the restraining order came from," he continued, gesturing with his hands as he talked. "And the best part? They never even told anyone about his thumb! They were so concerned it would ruin his image as an actor. He wears a foam one now! I doubt even his agent knows about it." He ran his hand through his hair, sitting back in the chair, chuckling to himself. "That story gets better every time I tell it," he said, looking at one of the other agents. He took the katana from his lap, attaching it to his back. He felt the sheath lock into the small slot in the back of his impact suit with a click, sliding in between his back and the parachute. His storytelling was just another way to calm his nerves. Only an idiot wouldn't be nervous right now, he thought. We're busting into one of the most secure countries in the world. This goes wrong, we'll ignite World War...4? 5?

He knitted his brow. Let's see, One was between the Central Powers and the Allies...Two was between the Nazis and the Jews...have we even had a Three yet? Churchill and Martin Luther King Jr. against someone... He exhaled softly in annoyance. His terrible memory wasn't a result of stupidity; he had, contained within a single mind, the combined memories and life experiences of nearly fifty men. He put more stock into remembering interactions with others than even rudimentary history. And let's not forget training, he thought. What memory space he didn't use for names and places, he used for combat. Basic necessities, he thought, zipping up the neck of his suit. Slowly, he pulled the hood over his head, dragging the full-face mask down over his nose and mouth. The visor clicked to life, informing him that every system was fully functional.

Somewhere, there's a Gary Anderson Jr. who devoted his life to being normal. Remembering basic facts, having a stable relationship. Not kidnapping evil dictators. Somewhere...

It wasn't poetic, wishful thinking. He was being literal. Gary just couldn't remember exactly which city he'd assigned to Normie, as he sometimes thought of him.

The intercom blared through the helicopter, loudly informing them that they were approaching the drop zone. Standing as a unit, the soldiers walked over to the back of the chopper, standing uniformly before the door. Split, after a moment, stood up behind them, patting himself down to make sure everything was in place. The backpack with the chute was tight against his chest, not a single strap out of place. He smacked the two soldiers in front of him on the back, shaking their shoulders as he pulled himself up to them.

"This is it, guys!" he said, grinning with childlike excitement behind his mask. They grunted in agreement, pulling their goggles down over their eyes. Not much for conversation, are they, he thought, before bracing himself. The door opened before them, and he charged up through their ranks, arms pumping as he leapt from the back of the carrier.

"FIRST!"he yelled, arms spreading wide as he dove from nearly 3,500 feet above Pyongyang, smiling joyfully as the wind ripped at his body. He was a shadow against the blackness of night, dropping like a stone towards the only bright spot in North Korea. Communism...you can see it from space, he thought, eyes narrowing in on their assigned landing zone. He brought his legs together, flattening his arms against his sides. Angling himself towards the drop zone, he shot towards the ground like a bullet, waiting until he was extremely low before opening his chute. He was jerked backwards, legs flailing out underneath him as he descended, rolling as he hit the grassy area beneath. He was on a small plateau, located within the woods near Korea Bay. It was here that he would meet up with the other members of Operation Midnight. Two buildings within the city had been infiltrated by Navy SEALS, but he'd need to meet with the others, who were set to arrive by speedboat any second now.

"This is Split," he spoke into his communicator, nestled within his black mask. "Airdrop was a confirmed success," he said, watching as the other soldiers landed nearby. They'd opened their chutes much, much earlier. Amateurs, he thought with a grin, before continuing. "These are our coordinates. We're en route to the rendezvous point. Over."

Closing the communicator, but leaving his channel open, he blinked for a moment, standing absolutely still. A second later, and two other Splits had appeared, pulled at full force from a parallel vibrational plane. He'd needed only to focus, and they would appear, doing exactly the same thing he had been doing in their own respective planes. Except now, they'd do it here, with him. They looked at each other for a moment, and nodded, dashing off into the forest, each one taking cover behind trees. With intense haste, they moved towards the rendezvous, each once coordinated perfectly with the other two.

Alright. Let's go tase Kim-Jong Un in the nuts, they thought in tandem, with a bizarrely simultaneous grin. He'd openly be acting professional from here on out, but inside his head, he was afire with glee.

America. F*** yeah.

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valken

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North Korean Wilderness, Just outside Pyongyang

They had dropped in under cover of darkness, and upon touching down inside North Korea, they continued abusing that darkness to hide their approach. Most of the men were human; Seals from the U.S - they were good; the best human's could offer. But they were slow, the mucky terrain hampered their speed towards the targets. However, Valken was not subject to such difficulties. Using his incredible jaguar-like agility, combined with small bony protrusions on the his palms and feet he was able to make quick work of scaling up a tree with ease and haste until he reached thicker, more stable branches.

Valken began moving forward through the tree's, travelling with use of the branches below and above. He swung and balanced amongst them with incredible skill as if it were parkour combined with the mobility of apes. In mere minutes he had reached the tree-line and stopped, perching on a tree branch. As a precaution, he began melding his flesh and clothes with the background - his appearance took that of the tree, the leaves, branches and the night itself. He was now invisible as long as he remained still to any human being.

He could see in the dark with perfect clarity, exploiting the ultraviolet spectrum as well as seeing much further distance ahead; conducting reconnaissance so when the main body had finally caught up, he could brief them and allow the mission to be pushed forward at a faster pace. Suddenly he heard words being spoken; Valken pinpointed two heartbeats approaching the tree line and would likely pass directly below himself.

Judging by the pace of their heartbeat, smell of their perspiration and tone of their voice they were completely calm and had not been alerted by Valken's presence. As they came into view, it could be made out that they were indeed soldiers; AK-47's carried at the ready.

He waited in perfect invisibility as the two continued their approach; they were on a direct path to pass the tree which Valken currently hid. Destroying his perfect camouflage, Valken jumped from the branch landing directly in front of the first man. His face bore nothing but complete surprise with elements of fear. He attempted to raise his assault rifle, but with a quick flash, Valken snapped his neck - the lifeless body slumped to the ground.

The second man watched his fellow soldier fall before laying his eyes back upon Valken...he too was filled with fear, so much so that even a person without Valken's superhuman hearing could hear his heart. He too attempted to rise his rifle and he only managed so simply because Valke allowed it.

The weapon began shaking in his hand and as he attempted to pull the trigger, Valken side stepped while simultaneously pushing the weapon away in the opposite direction. From his free hand he produced a bone spike from the underside of his wrist which he thrust into the soldiers midsection. As the life in his hands disappeared, the rifle dropped to the ground, followed by his body.

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Klemens

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#4  Edited By Klemens

The water was murky and darkened with the same shade of black that spread across the night sky. On its surface? The reflections of stars, distant diamonds that twinkled and hung beyond the reach of man. And beneath it, from its opaque depths, he emerged, Bastian, the Last Kaiser. Tall, muscled like an ox, and adorned in garments blacker than night, he strode forward, guns on his person, focus on his mind. Hugging his frame that towered over man who were ordinary, was ballistic armor, forged from a nano-material with self-repairing qualities. Grafted into his left arm? A silvery layer of carboplatinum-reinforced coltan-titanium. Over the lower half of his features? A multi-purpose mask whose shell was comprised of titanium and ceramic composite armor plating.

And over his eyes? Goggles. Onyx in shade, and with lenses that acted as ultraviolet cameras, picking it out radiation sources beyond the frequency of light radiation. It dripped with water, his frame, and while his visage was veiled, he wore an icy heartlessness on his face, and with every stride, moved with a cold resolve that was disarming. 'Composure is a soldier's greatest weapon', his mind often repeated. He never yelled, Bastian. Nor does he scream or seem to by phased by the happenings of war, of battle. His focus was and perhaps, always will be, razor-sharp. The aura of ruthless aggressor trailed behind him as he walked, a confidence colder than ice running through his veins and oozing from his pores. There was a swagger to it, his streak of violence, his aggression.

The air was cool, casting the illusion that should one speak, their breath would mist. The ocean breeze perhaps? Though as he strode further from the tide, the smell of salt and seawater fell, and gave way to a humidity breathed by the greenery of the woods nearby. He moved forward, the sneering, scowling antihero, armed and with both heart and mind ready. He was always ready. 'I don't get ready, I stay ready', the Last Kaiser thought. Days before, he was in a domain of smoked glass tables littered with contemporary magazines. The walls were painted a light cream, having lost the garish and overpowering vibrancy they'd once possessed. Even the furniture, he recalled, had been replaced, by a selection of chairs that had undoubtedly seen greater rooms.

He remembered the woman who briefed him. He'd not been told much, but Maverick, contacted by the CIA, had given him a mission. One that required his particular set of talents. And who was he to deny his services when faced with handsome pay? "En route", to the war-zone, he informed, voice deep, its timbre rugged, German inflection, thick and aggressive as he spoke into his communicator. And now, minutes from arrival, gone was Bastian. Here was the soldier, the agent whose codename, mute, was 'Aphasic'.

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_Razor_

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North Korea it stood as one of the largest of potential threats in play. It was well believed they had chemical weapons. And they were known to have nuclear capacity. Admittedly they were not outfitted as well as some factions. It wasn't like they were about to mobilize energy weapons or anything. However to assist in tipping the scales they had perhaps the largest collection of soldiers at disposal. The only one potentially with more was Maverick. If they ever did launch a larger attack it could easily lead to a lot of chaos and disruption. And that was what drew in Rayne.

For the longest time the black opps soldier of fortune had longed to see the world be changed. She saw herself a revolutionary many though would say she was an anarchist. Both were arguably true. Within her eyes the world could seriously use to be burned before change came. How many times had it been left to a PMC faction to win a war? How many locations had been assaulted in these last couple years? And above all else how often had the weight of victory or defeat on either side fallen on the shoulders of the extraordinary? The moddedn world could not stand upon it's own feet.

In fact the world at large was entirely left as a sort of playground for those with gifts or rich enough to compensate for not having gifts. It was a disease that had gotten everywhere. She'd met Clara, she was using her talents to manipulate. She'd seen and even led leagues of assassins and seen there influence. Ivana was a militant mutant, Stark had been a techno wizard, right now Spain was led by a god and a goddess. Gone was the era of diplomacy and a congress it was a society built on those who could headline. Yet even with all this flaunted power nobody had pressed further. Those with power and position to change the world stopped half way. It was all so disappointing perhaps the events in Pyongyang would spark the war he so eagerly longed to see come into fruition.

"How's that order comming?" Rayne asked a lieutenant near her side. She'd done what she could to get those in power to make a purchase of more high caliber technology. It would be limited to just the estate housing Kim. Even still it'd up his security force a percentage, which was essential. Rayne had contacts within the U.S that told her of the mobilized seals in the city. It was only a matter of time before something was tried and Rayne wanted the NK forces ready. Of course she didn't tell them that conflict was comming either. A preemptive strike would be in the favor of the opposing sides. No she wanted the enemy to strike first, encouraging fiercer retaliation.

"Should be here within an hour. Reports also show of a plane that flew by. Wasn't much radio feed or need for landing. Questionable at the least I would say." The officer informed managing to be fairly well spoken given his shaky nerves. She could tell he was pretty new passing more in tests and paper work then combat skills. Way his eyes wandered she also could tell he wasn't a big hit with the ladies. He was barely a man NK wasn't picky and would take anyone seventeen or older practically. Shame a body count was coming and at least a small percentage Rayne knew would crack under that pressure.

"We've tripled security both in cameras and in troops, and have home field advantage we'll be fine. However I've two requests. One clog the air space a bit, I want choppers on patrol ready to smoke any threat spotted. Second get that girl on the line, you know the one who says she can topple a building with a punch. Might have a job for her soon."

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Mister_Blade

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@valken: @aphasic: @split:

"We're en route to the rendezvous point. Over."

"Alright, Pirate and Split are on their way. Aphasic, Prophet, hold your positions, get ready to intercept. Valken, take out the enemy patrol ahead, you've got the right skillset for some recon. Lev, cover Valken, and keep watch for unseen tangos." The first kill went smoothly. The next? Shots fired. Unsuppressed. Not good. "Lt. McChicken, do you copy?" Short pause. Probably trying to keep one of the Splits to shut his mouth for a second. "Go ahead, Blade." Could hear Anderson in the background. Channel was still open, sounded like he was talking about somebody's thumb. The hell? "Shots fired at rendezvous. Unsuppressed. Moving Spectre 09 one click Northeast." Valken was already moving the bodies. Lev was on high alert. It's good to have a crew with a bit of intuition, the normal grunts I took along waited until you said jump to jump. Useless without orders. "Understood. I'll inform Black Squadron." Lt. McChicken was Lieutenant Commander of DEVGRU's Black Squadron. SEAL Team 6. Codenamed Pirate. He was in charge of the crew that would be delivering Split to us, and supporting us alongside Lev Khishchnik. We were moving closer to them. Best we get our last man ASAP, and it'd be quite the shit show if Black Squadron stumbled across the November Kilos that were on their way to investigate. Shots fired and no response on comm? Nobody here speaks Korean, so that ship's sailed. Time to move.

"Alright, we're moving the rendezvous one click Northeast. Too risky sticking around here. Valken, bust the comms. The longer it takes them to find the bodies, the better. When you're done with that, stick to the trees. Lev, toss Valken a thermal scope. Use it like a binocular. If you scout ahead again, radio in before you engage. Last thing we need is a body trail. Aphasic, Prophet, stay close. Lev, hang back a bit, keep us covered. Make sure you've got eyes on all of us. If you lose sight, radio in to confirm our location. If you see Black Squadron, get to the rendezvous and start taking orders from Pirate."

Might as well get locked and loaded. Suppressed Glock 17 with a Red Dot Sight. All I need as far as ranged engagements go. But I've always been quite fond of getting up close and personal. There's an art to it, ending life. Knives, wires, even my bare hands. There's a certain beauty to it. And I'm damn good at it. "Split, do you copy? I'm assuming Lt. McChicken has informed you about the rendezvous change, correct?"

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Split

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"Split, do you copy? I'm assuming Lt. McChicken has informed you about the rendezvous change, correct?"

"Yep."

"Yep!"

"Roger," said the last one, finger pressed to the side of his visor. The three masked men exchanged glances, nodding simultaneously. The one on the far left turned to face a large tree, staring up the massive trunk as he slung his submachine gun over his back. With deft hands and legs pumping, he quickly scaled the trunk, finding purchase with gloved fingers between the shards of bark and branch. Scrambling up the side, he wrapped an arm around a particularly large limb, hoisting himself into a crouching position. Balancing on the massive branch, he tapped his visor, zooming in on the new rendezvous point to the Northeast.

"Hey, Castello? We've got an issue," he said, squinting through the magnified lens at the compound, far off in the distance. "They're seriously packing something new here. Different. I, uh...these things weren't in the briefing. I see bright lights and something metal...moving around on...legs? Awful fancy for North Korea. Can't make out much more than that, though." He pressed the side of his visor, snapping a few images of the far-off anomalies. "You gettin' these? Do we have a plan to account for them?" he asked warily, signaling to the other two Splits to move cautiously towards the rendezvous point.

@mister_blade@_razor_@aphasic@valken

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valken

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@aphasic: @split: @mister_blade:

Valken, take out the enemy patrol ahead, you've got the right skillset for some recon. Lev, cover Valken, and keep watch for unseen tangos. Alright, we're moving the rendezvous one click Northeast. Too risky sticking around here. Valken, bust the comms. The longer it takes them to find the bodies, the better. When you're done with that, stick to the trees. Lev, toss Valken a thermal scope. Use it like a binocular. If you scout ahead again, radio in before you engage. Last thing we need is a body trail.

"Roger that. Moving to dispatch the enemy patrol then will conduct recon of forward area until main body catches up. Out."

Focusing his keen hearing, he located the patrol; about 100 metres ahead striding noisily through tall grass - this was going to be easy. They joked and stumbled through the towering field of grass and leaves, clearly un-alert and lacking any form of situational awareness. If any worse, Valken would have guessed that they were intoxicated.

He began his approach from the rear, stalking at great speed with utmost care to prevent detection like a tiger hunting, readying to strike the throat of its prey. As he crept nearer, his speed slacked; even the swampy ground yielded no sound from his careful footsteps. The Mastodon could see the patrol, they were just a couple of feet to his front now and consisted of six armed men...still oblivious that they were being stalked.

From the underside of each of Valken's forearms he prodcued a bone spike, thick and long like the tusk of a wild boar. As they reached their full length, releasing from his skin and sliding into his palms, he gripped them loosely. Then, Valken lunged forward and threw both spikes. One spike struck the last man in the patrol and the second struck the first man. Both plunged through the necks of their targets. Blood began squirting out in all directions as the men helplessly grabbed at their neck, thinking their hands could actually save them from such a vicious wound.

Chaos struck the patrol, likely from their serious lack of training. The remaining were torn between helping the wounded and soon to be dead men, or countering the attack which they were currently under. It was also likely that they had expected gunshots, not flying bone spikes. As the two soldiers quickly died, leaving the swampy water around them flowing with red, the remaining men of the patrol gaggled together to retaliate against the ambush. As they turned and push forward towards Valken's position he crouched, waiting till they closed in further.

Their pace varied as they approaching in an extended line so that the line quickly fell apart, some were further ahead and other further behind. Their hearts were beating out of their chests, perspiring profusely, and pupils wide with fear. Their fear, lack of confidence and unorderely approach was going to make their deaths much easier. Valken covered the outside of his forearms in smaller bone spikes, all angled downwards towards his hands. From his palms he produced crude bone knives, once again holding them in a loose grip. Then, he launched forward.

Valken ran at the foremost soldier was reacted to slow to even put up the smallest amount of a fight. Valken drove the two bone knives deep into his mid section, penetrating his body armor and driving straight into his stomach. Blood quickly soaked through his camo uniform. The remaining three soldiers raised their weapons and began firing; Valken reacted, using the now dead soldiers body as a meat shield, soaking up the bullets as he pushed forward.

He removed one knife, dropped the body and threw it, striking the second closest soldier in the chest. The force from the throw and impact taking the soldier clean off his feet and sending him flying backwards through the air. Valken pushed forward again, this time in a powerful sprint that appeared as nothing more than a flash to the eyes of the soldiers. He was on front of the third soldier, and with his razor coated arm, he threw it uppercut at the soldiers arm, the spines slicing through and dismembering the arm. The soldier's face coated itself with horror as he looked at the lack of arm and bloody stump which was now left.

However, much to Valken's surprise, the soldier managed to grab for his sidearm at his hip with his remaining arm. Quickly, Valken reacted, pushing the pistol away and syncing in a wrist lock, breaking the wrist of the soldier causing the pistol to drop. Valken caught the pistol and brought it up to face the soldier's head, and pulled the trigger without a moments hesitation.

Now, only one other soldier remained. The soldier fired the remaining rounds of his rifle into Valken, causing him to stagger back slightly. In mere seconds, the bullets began being pushed out of his flesh, and the wounds sealed over as if they had never been inflicted. The soldier stammered to reload his rifle, shaking uncontrollably. Valken slowly walked up to the soldier who struggled to insert a new magazine; Valken dropped the pistol. The soldier clicked the magazine into place and as he went to aim, Valken's hand grasped the barrel, keeping the weapon pointed down. With his free hand, he punched the soldier in the throat. His vast strength which exceeded that of any human broke the windpipe of the soldier. His hands went to his throat as he struggled for air. As his suffocation nearly consumed him, he dropped to the ground for his last few struggles at living.

Then, Valken sensed something else, something behind it, something that wasn't human. He turned, and as he did the tall grass began to be pushed aside as a group of leopards moved towards him. They were truely magnificent creatures, nearly extinct in Korea and exceptionally rare. Their faces snarled at Valken but his expression showed no fear, but rather of empathy. He stepped to one side, pointing at the bodies and the leopards looked to them and back to him. The continued to approach and walked right past Valken; he ran his hand through their soft, thick coats as they past him. Each leopard latched on to a dead soldier and dragged them off through the tall grass.

"Patrol is all dead. The local fauna is taking care of the clean-up....there won't be anything to find. Will continue conducting recon until you reach my position. Out."

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Klemens

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@mister_blade: @split: @valken:

'Aphasic, Prophet, hold your positions, get ready to intercept'. From his earpiece, commands were echoed. Positions were to be held, and targets intercepted. From behind the smokey lenses of onyx goggles, the Übermensch's eyes of liquid emerald searched, and with the aid of his goggles' integrated technology, identified. The blackness of night was prominent, and as per the will of nature, it cast a demeaning shadow over this forested land, a domain whose thick greenery and foliage blended together with the darkness of night to veil all men who tonight, strode into battle, be they the ally or enemy. With little sources of light radiation, Bastian's goggles remained true to their purposes, and acted as an ultraviolet camera.

And in the distance, his targets were spotted, leaves and branches, dirt and twigs crunching under their boots as they drew closer. A soldier born and forged in the fires of war, Bastian seized his weapon of choice, his 'Thermal Rifle', crouched behind the back of a voluminous bush, rested the length of his rifle on a wooden log for stability, and poked the mouth of his weapon inches beyond the leaves that veiled it. "Verstanden (Roger that)", he finally replied, words spoken in his native German, and uttered with the cool self-certainty, the imposing gravitas that seemed intrinsic with his speech. His position, one that enabled observation of the target, the aiming of his weapon by aligning the sight system, and the firing of said weapon without disturbing the alignment, was secured.

His was a position of comfort, one compatible with steady firing. 'Time and supervision on the target is limited', his mind reminded him. His grip was light. The butt of his rifle rested in the pocket of his firing shoulder to reduce recoil. He made his remaining preparations, steadied his breathing, controlled his muscles, adjusted his natural point of aim to the center of the expected target exposure area, and fired. The 'Thermal Rifle' was a long-ranged stealth weapon. It was silent, and its ammunition? Invisible. It did not exist in the visible spectrum of light. There was no sound to trace the point of origin from. And no visible trail by the rounds to expose the marksman's position. The first of several shots had been fired, and from the rifle, a high-powered directed-energy weapon, non-visible beams of microwave beams were emitted.

Beams that struck home and rapidly heated up the bodily fluids and fat molecules beneath the skin of his targets. Having adjusted the wavelength of the beams, the Übermensch watched on as the first of his targets were literally boiled from the inside, the trapped steam from their boiling liquids only scorching them further. 'Aphasic, Prophet, stay close'. Another command was echoed. He complied, Bastian, remaining within his allies' field of operation. "Targets down".

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Mister_Blade

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@aphasic: @valken: @split:

"Clean kills." Aphasic and Valken were the right men to bring to the job. Quick and silent. They were clearing a path. It was a gamble, but we just needed to get to the rendezvous before November Kilo caught on. "Hey, Castello? We've got an issue," Well, this couldn't be good. Damnit, I hope Split didn't f*ck this thing already. "Yeah Split, go ahead. Pirate, any of your guys seeing what Split's seeing?" Short pause. There always was. Maybe some comm lag or something. "Negative. Split scaled a tree. Says he's uploading some images to your interface." Who the hell gave this kid access to my glove? And who the hell gave November Kilo walkers? "Oh sh*t. Pirate, send word back ASAP. We need everyone knowing what we've got out there. Everyone, let's move. The sooner we get to the rendezvous, the better."

"Valken, keep scouting ahead. Keep me updated on the AO of Black Squadron. You see them, radio in. We'll make a run for rendezvous. Prophet, you're on me. See if you can work something out with one of our Black Hats on payroll, get those walkers down when we need them down. Aphasic, you hang back with Lev for a bit. He can spot for you since that railgun of his would have this entire godforsaken country on our ass in minutes. That thermal rifle of yours is a piece of work. Maybe after this I have some of the lab techs take a looksie. Got it? Move out." Seemed like I was giving the same orders over again. Good that I didn't have to change them. Just keep moving as planned. Not far from the rendezvous, only one click off when we started. I'd be surprised if Valken wasn't there already. "Pirate, what's your current AO?" Was that a leopard? Local fauna is right. Jesus, I think that thing was carrying a leg. "Nearing rendezvous. Haven't encountered any hostiles." Figures. The group with the loudest mouth, with said mouth multiplying exponentially has run into the least trouble. "We've taken down a few November Kilo patrols. They'll be sending reinforcements to investigate any time now. We're less than half a click off, wouldn't be surprised if our man scouting ahead hasn't seen you yet."

"Roger." Any time now. Sooner we pushed into the city, the sooner we could bag Midnight and be outta here. Don't like this place. Giving me a weird feeling.

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Blades

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"Anetha what you got for us?"

Night and thermal vision gear was somewhat pricey and with the purchase of those damn walkers such gear was never going to get bought this year. The arms race was a losing war against nations like the US or Venezuela. As such a lot of money was going into trying to tip those scales in key locations. A sacrifice of all personnel tech and some rations was thought an acceptable con to the pros. Fortunately for the young powered soldier's nation they had her. Anetha did her best not to be some stereotypical ninja type as she loathed them. She had training from them do to her powers however. And using those abilities she didn't see people at the moment but dots of light. And some of those lights were fading from existence. "We've got tangos in the forrest heading for the city."

"Roger that. This is Razor to all personnel, sending coordinates now. Thin out the patrol some I want a pair of 85s moving in." Anetha thought that command a bit much but then again with lesser skilled troops it did seem a good call to send in some heavy artillery as compensation. On top of that such deployment might psych the opposition to think their cover of the night an element of surprise gone. If they could trick the enemy to trying to switch to an agro based approach it'd make picking them apart easier.

Meanwhile the young soldier began a casual walk down the streets, a standard aka was being held on her shoulders in a informal manner. She would appear more like a kid oblivious to the dangers of playing soldier. Her heading however was to one of the towers held by the SEALS. Senses based on energies had her aware of people with more confidence then almost any Korean patrol. The numbers were also a bit much for civilians or an NK squad. No she knew they were a threat so she was moving in. Her presentation said she'd walk right past them.

Part of her was excited, she regarded hers let as apart of the capable minority. And the US military was no joke, the experience gained in conflicts with aliens, revolutionary mutants and more implied that they had training experience otherwise inconceivable by most militant forces. It was also a prime opportunity for Anetha to remove the more pressing threat. A small squad would be able to be overwhelmed. If they were backed by a platoon of additional soldiers however that would be an entirely different story.