Like everything else that Dacovetti does, dressing for combat, when in a controlled environment, takes on an almost ritualistic process.  Each piece of gear is inspected before being strapped on. Each electronic device powered up.  Each weapon readied and safed.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the other prepare and wonders briefly about their choice in light body armor.  Call it paranoia, but when assaulting a vehicle column, Michael elects the heavier assault armor they have been dragging around for just such an occasion.  It's bulky and hot, but it might be able to keep him alive a little longer if he has to put his body in the firing line to call in a CAS mission.  To compensate, he begins sipping water almost immediately.

When the pregame ritual is complete, he takes his assault pack containing his radio and sets it on a table near the door along side his AK-104.  The gear is in easy reach and will be ready when the team is set to depart.

After that, he takes his now considerably larger bulk back to the comm system and sets about breaking into the Libya Dawn network.  It's time to cause a little chaos.


OOC: Assault package gear: AK-104 with the bells and whistles (new thermal sight, yay!), revolver side arm, PRC-119, GoPro strapped to helmet.  Sunglasses with that shine with the fire of a thousand suns and blind onlookers due to sheer awesome.

Well, you got your wish dumbass...

Taking down an armed convoy on the mean, maze-like streets of one the most dangerous cities in the world with five-person assault team is shaping up to be the riskiest thing James has ever done professionally, and it was his suggestion.

It's time to get tactical. Picking up items a-la-carte, James is essentially able to replicate his standard HRT panoply. Ironically, the weight of his heavy body armor instantly makes him feel more at ease- nervous, yes, but in a familiar, almost comforting way.

OOC: Tactical Assault Choi ^TM comes with Nomex speed suit, heavy body armor, crash helmet, goggles, flex-cuffs, flash-bangs, breaching charge, tactical radio with earpiece and throat mic, Custom Colt .45 (HRT standard-issue), HK417 w/ lots-o'-ammo. His Oakley shades would have looked totally sweet c.1995.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Sat 07 Mar 2015.

Hannah listened quietly to the briefing, then nodded to her part of the Plan™.  The brown-haired aviatrix took in a deep breath, downed the last of the coffee from her third cup, and then nodded to Barbrak, motioning for the mechanic to accompany her in prepping the Mi-17.  She wanted the lady fully ready before the got herself ready.

The army aviation officer was very meticulous and incredibly serious during the prep time.  Hannah had had checklist drummed into her, but there was something more.  She had had enough education as well to actually understand the reasoning behind almost every item and its sequence.  And the aviatrix knew when they could break that sequence and what the ramifications would be.  She worked with Barfight to ensure that everything was as ready as it could be for the team.  Preparation appeared to be her crutch in trying combat the chaos that she knew was only moments away.

Tapping her wristwatch after closing the access hatch to the twin turbines and climbing down, Hannah reminded herself and Barbrak of the time, "Suit up.  We need to be back here in less than 15 minutes..."

She might have liked to have had more time on the range with the Lizard King's tricked out AK-104, but Hannah knew that her most potent piece of equipment was going to be the one that she had spent the most time with - the Mi-17.  And so, she never regretted a minute of that time.

When she climbed back into the cockpit of the chopper, Hannah was loaded up with everything she thought she would need.  She'd cobbled together what she could for a workable flight suit and tactical webbing.  She carried her Glock on her belt's hip holster along with her folding knife and multi-tool.  Choi's AK-104 with its new side mounted IR optic was placed in access of the seat.  Her helmet, headset and NVGs were on and she'd wrapped her keffiyeh around her neck as a scarf, having tucked her rolled up burqa and niqab in a pack sequestered under her pilot's seat.  She'd put on an armoured tactical vest - just in case.  And tucked into her pocket were her pair of Oakley sunglasses - with the wraparound bronze lens which added in twilight conditions with color and motion contrast.

[OOC:  Pilot Hannah™ will be equipped with her Glock 17 sidearm (though she had brought the AK-104 as well), as well as an armoured vest, flight helmet, comm headset, NVGs, ammo and utility tool and knife.  She is wearing gloves and heavy boots.  Her glasses are a quite new set of custom rootbeer-colored Oakley Radars with the polarized Path VR28 Black Iridium lenses - but, she's not wearing them in the dawn hours while flying ... :D]

Tripoli, Libya
17 March 2015
0456 hrs local (0356 hrs Zulu)
0:55 to civil twilight - 0:19 to Libya Dawn assault time

Backstage, before the final act...

Under the harsh glare of portable fluorescents, Grey Cell gears up.  Armor.  Ammo.  Commo.  Weapons.  It's a familiar ritual, even for a team that draws no two members from the same service.

Across the hangar, the French paras perform the same rites, save for those already on watch - and the two who slipped out half an hour ago with one of Bannon's intelligence support troops.  They're at the shore by now, going down to the boats.  Sharks in fishermen's clothes.

From the entryway to the blackout-curtained ops center, Bannon raises a hand in benediction.  Then he's turning away, settling a boom mic over his head, preparing for his own part in the scene to come.

A waning crescent moon drags a horn along the horizon.  The air is cool and clear.  The background noise of city activity and random gunfire is muted.  In the shadow of the neighboring hangar, the Mi-17's insectile form crouches quiescent.

Hannah slips into the right seat as Barbrak releases the last of the rotor tie-downs.  A moment later, he's beside her, settling his own HK416 in place and strapping on the bird.  He makes eye contact, flashes her a quick frog-grin, then pulls a clipboard from between the seats.  "Master switch on," he intones.

The rest of Grey Cell files into the cargo compartment, settling into the minimalist troop seats.  The aircraft smells of sweat, blood, aviation fuel, and hard use.  Sébastien, last in, pulls the door closed and latches it.  Taking his seat, he accepts a radio handset from Michael.  He closes his eyes for a moment, recalling the script he's built in his mind, then begins to speak in low Arabic tones.

Outside, the two CPA 10 commandos back away, taking a knee and facing out.  The paired Klimov turboshafts grumble to wakefulness.  Hannah comes a low hover, watching the gauges for a long moment, then brings up the power and lowers her nose, heading northeast.

"Empire, Nemesis," intones Bannon over a gentle surf-rush of static.  "Nazca is showing activity at the residential compound.  I'd call this a practiced evacuation drill.  Estimate five minutes to departure.  Overlord reports one sat-phone call made from the residence immediately after Empire Five signed off their net.  No activity from Libya Dawn.  Further from Overlord: no other air traffic in the AO, Nero is orbiting three minutes off the coast."

Up front, Hannah is on rails, her flight path dictated by terrain and errant radio towers.  Her NVG-veiled eyes are glued to the horizon while Barbrak keeps up a constant scan between the gauges and the iPad strapped to his kneeboard.  "Oil pressure flutter in Engine Two," he advises quietly.  "It's the same one we saw yesterday.  No major spikes."

Bannon breaks in again.  "Empire, be advised, convoy is rolling.  Nazca shows the primary targets in the G-Wagen.  That's vehicle number two, repeat, two of four.  Stand by..."  Static hisses for a long few seconds while Hannah drives toward the coast.  "Overlord reports the Libya Dawn net just alerted on that.  Sierra One through Three are scrambling.  No movement on Sierra Four."

"Thirty seconds to objective," Barbrak advises over the intercom.

Map update: https://www.google.com/maps/d/...SBoJ32E.kere8L_KAy70

Your move.

As the Mi-17 beat it’s way into the pre-dawn sky, Lina keyed her radio to finalize assignments based on the Bannon’s confirmation of the convoy composition.

”Alright, as we pass the convoy, Dealer will engage vehicle number, four the trailing police car.  Painter will engage vehicle number three, the hummer.  Vehicle three's crew is likely the designated counter assault team, so the passenger compartment is a secondary target for both Dealer and Painter," Lina said with deadly seriousness.

"Bull Frog will engage vehicle number two, the G-Wagon.  Since the Sako is bolt action, I'll be backup for vehicle two with the AK in case the AMR doesn't stop the vehicle."  Lina knew that just because you hit where you aimed, doesn't mean the target is going to stop.  Especially if it's an armored vehicle.

"Lizard King will engage vehicle number one, the lead police car,” Lina said over comms while looking out the window and willing the sun go come up a bit faster.

”Once all vehicles are down, both ground teams will fast rope in and move to secure the Tambolis.  Team one will be Dealer and Painter.  Lizard King and I will be team two.  Bull Frog will stay aboard the Mi-17 to engage the security detail from the air and prevent them from consolidating.  Engaging the Libyan Dawn covert action team vehicles if they approach is also a priority as well,” Lina said with a nod.

"Once we secure the Tamboli's we will move to a suitable LZ.  Since we don't know where exactly where their vehicle will stop, we need to play this fast and lose.  If an LZ can't be identified quickly or if anything happens to the helo, we will consolidate, commandeer local transport and E&E with Nazca's assistance."

As Bannon broke in to alert them to the covert action team's movement, Lina's grimaced, but only slightly.  With Libya Dawn having someone on the inside, the whole timeline would be more compressed than she had hoped.  Still, it was no reason to abort the mission, only more incentive to act quickly and decisively.

"Copy Nemesis," Lina said in response.  She rapidly pondered the pros and cons of alerting Haftar to the stranger in his house, but decided that in 10 minutes, it hopefully wouldn't matter.

"We will be on the clock for this one.  Any questions?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:33, Sun 01 Mar 2015.

Instead of trying to communicate over the roar of the Hip's engine, Dacovetti simply nods and gives a thumbs up before returning to his position by the exit ramp.  The fast rope coil is just to Michael's side, ready to be kicked overboard for insertion.  With action imminent, he connects a safety line to the airframe then sits down on the edge of ramp trying to ensure that he is not blocking anyone else's line of fire.  With his left hand holding his weapon, he first clicks the camera on his helmet into record, then adjusts his balaclava to ensure that his face is covered.

He doesn't figure his odds are high of disabling his target vehicle with an AK carbine, but if nothing else, the occupants will be given something to think about while their companions come under more effective attack.  The chamber of the AK-104 is inspected to ensure the weapons is locked and loaded for the third or fourth time, then the selector switch is moved to the burst position.

Outnumbered by hostiles, potential enemies closing in on multiple fronts.  And a probably alien intervention force.  This should prove to be interesting.

Dacovetti spares one last moment to think briefly of his wife, then pushes sentiment aside for practicality.  The streets and buildings of Tripoli zipped by between his legs.

Here we go.


OOC:
Michael Dacovetti
Sitting on ramp
AK-104 Carbine with 4x ACOG (30/30, 8  mags remaining)
Burst fire on target vehicle until range is ineffective then prep fast rope.
Rapid fire of bursts to target vehicle, shifting to engage others when range extends beyond effective.

Choi isn't sure everyone lining up on the same side of the chopper for a rolling broadside on the moving convoy is such a great idea but there's really no time to argue and he's been given a job to do, so...

He chambers a round in the HK417 and flicks the selector switch into the three-round burst position. His experience firing from a moving helicopter is minimal; at a moving target, it's non-existent. His plan is simple. Pull lead on the lead vehicle, fire bursts through the hood and/or roof of the crew cab until the thing stops. It's a realistic, achievable goal, and after visualizing outstanding success a couple of times, he clears his mind and focuses on the dusty landscape racing past below.


James Choi
Starboard side heli door
HK417, w/ reflex sight and 4x scope (3x burst mode)
Taking aim at lead vehicle, firing aimed burst at engine block, and then repeated quick bursts at forward half of vehicle until it stops rolling

-

Once he and Dealer had done their thing with the security detail Durand had sat in silence as the chopper beat its way through the sky over Tripoli, partly because the noise of the blades would have made any communication difficult, but primarily because he wants to get into the zone. His eyes are closed for much of the flight, though he's wide awake. In his mind's eye he is visualising the shot, trying to paint a mental picture of his target immobilised. Fire. Reload. Fire. Repeat. Until the targets are secure. It sounded straightforward enough. Didn't it?

As they near the convoy he checks his weapon, the Sako TRG 42, loaded with a ten round magazine of .338 Lapua Magnum.  Additional magazines were in the pouches of his assault vest. If required. His HK417 was behind im, secured to the strappy webbing that ran along the inside of the fuselage. Also there if required. He'd checked the Sako before of course, before he'd boarded the chopper, had taken the opportunity to fire some rounds through it at the makeshift range at the hangar, to get a feel for it, for its kick, how it handled, for it had been a long time since he'd fired anything this powerful, so he didn't want any unpleasant surprises, and so he'd put enough rounds through it to feel...comfortable was perhaps  not the right word, but he did not feel uncomfortable. Clearly if the threat they had encountered from the Attars was to become  recurring theme of Grey Cell's operations a TRG 42 - or something similar - would have to become a regular part of their armoury, but that was a thought for another day.

For now, for today, there is a job to be done. And they are almost on target. And people are relying on him to do his job. Releasing his seat belt, he picks up the rifle, makes his way to the window that will be his firing position. His fingers find the two position safety lever located in front of the trigger inside the trigger guard, pushes  it to its furthest forward position, setting it to off. The Frenchman's breathing is regular, even, as he flicks up the covers that protect the lenses of the weapon's Shmidt and Bender sights from damage, brings the weapon up to his shoulder, pulls the stock in tight, as he takes up position, searches out his target. Let's do this thing.

Bullfrog
Sako TRG 42 (10/10)
Starboard side window
Taking aim at G Wagon. Aimed single shot at engine block.
Repeat as required until target vehicle is immobilised, followed by opportunity fire on any perceived threats

Hannah kept her eyes scanning the forward quadrant and kept the comm chatter to a minimum in order to focus her concentration.  She didn't particularly like flying with the NVGs strapped on, though she had enough experience with it.  The army aviatrix found herself glancing towards an empty section of the instrument cluster more than once out of habit.  But those ocular forays were kept to a minimum once the enemy was engaged.  By then, the young woman and the Mi-17 had an understanding, of sorts.

She pursed her lips and nodded to Barfight, Hannah had felt the fluctuation in oil pressure via almost imperceptible lag the second engine's response.  And it was comforting on some level that she was tuning into the feel of this particular chopper - even if that connection was reinforced by a potential problem.  Hannah knew that Barbrak would keep an eye on the situation, his bacon was riding on it just as much as everyone else's.

When Barbrak gave the general ETA, Hannah let the rest of the team know when the convoy was nearly in sight and what the range was.  Double Down and Barfight had the best view on approach from the cockpit, of course.  But, then she went silent and let her companions do what they did best.  They didn't tell her how to fly and she wasn't about to try and tell them who or what to shoot.  She simply reminded them to verify heat signatures.  She didn't expect anything out of the ordinary yet - surely the Tambolis were human.  But then one could have said that about both meetings with the Attars at the garage.  And the night time drive through the desert - and right into a crop circle with mutilated camels and another Attar.

No, they didn't need to be bitten again.

She eased the stick around and brought the Hip in low and tight to minimize their profile and maximize their angle of attack, while trying to ensure that as much of the enemy as possible couldn't effectively target the Mi-17.  She twisted the chopper to the left slightly, exposing the starboard side of the Hip, knowing that Bullfrog and the Lizard King had set up there.

Hannah pulled up to slow the helicopter as the Mi-17 threatened to overtake the convoy and readied herself to hover, if necessary.  She continued to scan the street, both for places to land or obstacles that might impede their own egress.

As the convoy turns onto the six-lane coast road, it leaves the concealment of the built-up areas.  The police cars on point and drag are using their lights to clear traffic and the red-and-blue strobes are an easy navigation reference for Hannah.  She puts the helicopter in a 40-degree bank over the highway, hooking in above and behind the convoy and continuing her turn over the beach to match vectors.  She focuses on providing the best possible shooting platform, trusting Barbrak to watch the terrain.

It's impossible to hear over the din of the five-bladed rotor beating the sea air into submission, but the police cars are probably using their sirens, too.  Inability to hear the aircraft the only explanation for no one in the convoy looking up as Grey Cell passes overhead.  But all of the guards' eyes seem focused on ground-level threats - and, to be fair, no one in Tripoli this night expects an air assault.  Surprise is total.

Hannah puts her teammates fifty meters off the convoy's left side and ten up, just barely out of ground effect.  A localized sandstorm erupts from the beach.  The convoy is coming up on a sweeping right turn that will aim it southwest, back into a built-up area.  The Mi-17 eases forward just a few miles per hour faster than the drivers' 50mph ground speed.

Michael, kneeling on the open rear ramp, is the first to fire as his target comes into view.  His first burst tracks across the speeding police car's hood, zipping mere inches in front of the windshield.  The second shreds the roof-mounted lightbar, sending plastic and chrome shards into the air but doing no more than cosmetic damage (Dacovetti -10 rounds).

Caradoc likewise pulls his first burst too high.  The big FAL is an effective counter-sniper rifle but in the narrow confines of a helicopter's fuselage, it's not the ideal port firing weapon.  The big 7.62mm rounds go high, smacking into a parked car on the far side of the highway (Crewe -5 rounds).

Whatever the source of Caradoc's difficulty, Sébastien doesn't seem to share it.  His hand is steady on the Finnish sniper rifle as he settles the crosshairs on the space ahead of the G-Wagen's radiator grille.  He tracks, fires, runs the bolt, and fires again.  The results indicate he should have led just a few inches more but it's ultimately irrelevant.  The first 250-grain armor-piercing incendiary slams through the heavy polycarbonate of the driver's side door and into the instrument panel.  The second dismissively tears through the armoring around the fuel tank.  A fireball of atomized fuel erupts under the Mercedes' rear axle, subsiding into a trail of flame snaking down the highway in the vehicle's trail as the driver flails for control (Durand -2 rounds).

Battered by the Sako's concussive muzzle blast, James claws for his own composure.  The zone is nowhere to be found - his fire goes well forward of the target police car (Choi -10 rounds).

Despite complete surprise, a face full of armor-glass and dashboard fragments, a gasoline fire two meters behind his seat, and doubtless a load of screaming passengers, the G-Wagen driver holds his boxy vehicle upright.  Hannah, in the Mi-17s's right seat, can't help but mentally salute her unknown counterpart's artistry as he caroms off a convenient cargo truck, using it for momentary concealment, and uses the momentum of the glancing collision to force a hard right turn off the highway and back onto residential streets.  The brilliant arc of burning fuel marks his trail for her nonetheless.  The H3 and trail police car follow the Mercedes through its maneuver, while the lead police car misses the unannounced turn and continues down the highway another hundred yards before slamming on its brakes.

Staying on the G-Wagen, the pilot comes in low over the highway, closing the distance 30 yards.  Michael. focused on the trailing car, has no forward visibility.  The unexpected turn throws his second volley, kicking up sand well clear of the trail vehicle (Dacovetti -5 rounds [total -15]).

Caradoc gets his FAL under control, flipping the selector to SEMI and walking his fire down the side of the H3.  Clearly, the Tambolis' security detail was expecting heavy trouble, because something detonates in a white flash, sending intermingled fragments of General Motors product and Libyan crew in all directions (Crewe -3 rounds [total -8]).

With his assigned target out of his arc, James swings onto the next vehicle in the convoy, the careening G-Wagen.  He fires simultaneously with Sébastien's third shot of the engagement.  Both left-side tires disintegrate, and the heavier .338 round shatters the run-flat insert on the left rear (Choi -5 rounds [total -15]; Durand -1 round [total -3]).

Karolina brings her Kalashnikov online with the H3 when it disintegrates.  Fighting through the afterimages, she puts her point of aim where she thinks the trailing police car's hood should be and drags a long burst through it.  Luck is with her as a trail of bullet holes bisects the hood (Kowalska -10 rounds).

Trailing sparks and smoke, the police car comes to rest against a low concrete wall on the side street's eastern side.  Two men bail out and take cover, raising long guns.  The G-Wagen driver, luck or skill exhausted, brings his flaming ride to a rough, bouncing halt in the front yard of a three-story apartment building.  A small group erupts from its driver's-side doors - those away from the incoming fire - and staggers toward the building's front door.

"Empire Six, Nemesis," crackles Bannon's voice.  "Tangos inbound, sixty seconds.  The heavy force is moving too.  Break.  Leopard Frog is closing for beach extraction, three minutes out.  Break.  Empire Three, be advised, Overlord reports generalized EM interference in your area.  Not quite jamming but there's something weird out there."

Actions?

Map update: https://www.google.com/maps/d/...SBoJ32E.kere8L_KAy70

The rather ineffective spray produced by Dacovetti's carbine mostly confirms what he expected the outcome to be.  That certainly doesn't mean that he is happy with the outcome.  With his half of his magazine spent, he pauses to take a deep breath and watches as the two policemen exit their disabled vehicle.

"Nemesis, Empire Three copies all," he tells Bannon.  There will be a decision to make.  Bringing JDAMs to bear will be an uncertain proposition at best if EM interference is cutting through the electronic environment.  It was possible that  the AGMs could be totally ineffective, but at least the bombs could be delivered dumb.

With a little innovation they could still arrange some surprises from the air.

"Nemesis, Empire Three.  Have Leopard Frog provide coordinates to Overlord about 75 meters inland from where they plan extraction.  Nero could still set up either a run for direct bombs with terminal control or fling them in from a distance.  At least they still had options.

With Crewe coming up, he moved to prep the fast rope.


Michael Dacovetti
Radio Comms then prepping fast rope
AK-104 (15/30) 8 Mags remaining
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Tue 03 Mar 2015.

Durand's lips curl into a satisfied smile as the heavy recoil of the rifle and the smell of gunpowder drifting about his nostrils is followed by the sight of his target vehicle coming to a halt, a trail of fire following in its wake. If anything the Frenchman is pleasantly surprised, having hoped for the best but feared the worst. Even when he closed his eyes and visualised the shot he had not expected it to go this well.

There's still a lot to do though, particularly when he hears through his headset that the Libya Dawn crew are on the move, are expected on site within the next minute. The first thing is to make sure that the assaulters get down safely, so the Frenchman scans the area, looking for anything that may threaten the others as they descend on ropes. He'll worry about Libya Dawn when they arrive on scene. But for now he thinks that the immediate danger comes from the Tambolis' security. Painter seems to have neutralised whoever was riding in the Hummer, so it's the men bailing out of the police car that attract the Frenchman's attention, particularly the fact that they are carrying long arms.

And that makes them a threat. Durand swings the Sako in their direction, peers through its sight,  trying to get a bead on them, his intention to take them out, or at the very least make them keep their heads down whilst his team mates maker their descent.

Bullfrog
Sako TRG 42 (7/10)
Starboard side window
Aiming at two men who have bailed out of the police car
Firing on both with single shots until they go down

Lina looked out to survey the scene and consider the tactical options.  She pulled her AK back inside and keyed comms.

"Double; the starboard side three-story building is our target.  Position us for fast rope insertion.  I'll confirm we are on the deck.  Once we are down, I need one orbit around the building.  Barfight, call out all entrances or exits to the complex as you circle," Lina was speaking in quickly, clipped English, trying to get everything out as quickly as possible.  Time was of the essence.  She turned to the ground team.

"Once on the roof, Painter will take the southeast corner and Dealer take the northwest corner, Lizard and I will take northeast.  Engage enemy targets at range while the Mi-17 orbits.  Once we stop their push, we will consolidate and breach the building," Kowalska said, indicating that both teams would be inserting on the roof.  It was likely that one or more of the covert teams would come in from the coast road, where the trailing police car was burning.  That would be the fastest route.  But if they tried to come in from a side road, the would fall under Dealer or Painter's sights.  Engaging the incoming vehicles, however briefly, would keep them from rolling right up to the door.  Once they slowed or stopped, they would be easier targets for Seb in the Mi-17.

Lina slung her AK and pulled the heavy gloves from her cargo pocket.  Reaching for the PTT in the awkward gloves, she made one more radio request.  "Nemesis, I need a microscope on this building and an alert if the Tamboli's try to leave, over."

Lina hoped the sound of a gunfight outside of the building would encourage most Tripoli residents to hunker down.  But if the security detail tried to move the Tamboli's, Grey Cell needed to know as soon as possible.

Karolina Kowalska
Onboard Mi-17
AK-103 [20/30]
Issuing commands and donning gloves for fast rope.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:08, Tue 03 Mar 2015.

Choi presses the eject button, releasing the mostly-empty, transparent 20-round box mag.

Nice fucking shooting, Choi.

At the rate he's going, he'll burn through all of his ammo before he actually hit anything worthwhile. Finished chiding himself, he pockets the partial, grabs a fresh magazine, and slams it home. He knows that the best thing he can do right now is to forget what just happened. The job isn't over; in fact, it's really just beginning, and he needs his head on straight.

Letting the rifle hang across his chest on its tactical three-point sling, he plucks his thick leather abseiling gloves from his vest and slides them on. He holds his gloved hands up to remind his teammates to do likewise. He'd seen what happened to a buddy's hands who'd forgotten to glove up prior to a fast rope. It wasn't pretty (but he'd earned himself a new nickname- Pastrami Palms).

Looking out the open starboard side cargo door, he tries to orient himself, locating the northeast corner of the target building. That would be his objective as soon as his boots hit the roof.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Assault team
HK417 (20/20)
Preparing to fast-rope on to the roof of the target building

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:19, Wed 04 Mar 2015.

"Roger that, Dancer." and Hannah simply responded to Karolina's orders with push of the stick and the Mi-17 began a graceful, if tight, arc into the required position.  She figured that the others in the back were already getting into position, which a quick glance over her shoulder verified.

The helicopter eased into position and Hannah continued to monitor the area through the cockpit windows.  She took in a deep breath and started to count silently to herself as the steadied the HiP to give her team the cleanest and quickest insertion time possible.

Still, given the surrounding buildings and the landscape, Hannah could feel the rotor wash pushing off of the rooftop even at the hover height she had established; so, the army aviatrix didn't want to make the move any more difficult for the team than required and maintained a steady hand and didn't try to lower the Mi-17 any further.

Hannah Omdahl
Mi-17 Cockpit - Pilot's Seat
AK-104 (w/trimmings) [not drawn]
Holding Mi-17 steady at about 13 meters above the building

Hannah brings the Mi-17 in close over the building, blasting loose a cloud of gravel and cigarette butts.  With the bird's nose pointed northwest, her field of view covers the oncoming Libya Dawn force's most likely approach path.

The two security men taking cover behind their disabled police car aren't out of the fight yet.  From his firing position at the starboard windows, Sébastien lines up on the driver (Durand -1 round).  The cover from his door turns to inconsequential concealment as he heavy API round blasts through his sternum and heart.  He's dead before he hits the ground.

Michael double-checks the rope's attachment to the bird and kicks it off the ramp.  It unspools and the last few meters thump to the rooftop.  He's down the rope in seconds, taking up his assigned position at the northwest corner.  The air is thick with dust and burning Mercedes SUV.

Caradoc slings his FAL and follows Michael out the ramp, a "Wahoo!" of exultation trailing after him.  The medic lands and heads for his corner, swapping in a fresh magazine as he goes.

The survivor from the trail car chooses this moment for a last-ditch effort to stop the assault.  Poking his head and weapon up from behind the vehicle's trunk, he rips off a succession of bursts at the hovering Mi-17.  Hannah sees the flicker of muzzle flashes but no sounds of impact reach her ears and her gauges remain steady.

Sébastien is aligning his crosshairs on the passenger's last position as the man pops up and fires.  Perhaps surprised by the Libyan's commitment to duty, he throws his shot high.  Michael, caught in mid-step by the first return fire of the fight, likewise engages but misses (Durand -1 round [total -2]; Dacovetti -3 rounds).

With one hand on the rope, his rifle already secured for descent, James hears a burst cleave the air within arm's reach.  Gloved, exposed, and with his long gun strapped across his chest, he has no good tactical options - so he goes for the least bad.  With his teeth, he strips the leather glove from his right hand.  The Kydex chest holster rasps as he wraps his hand around his .45 and thumbs the retention lever.  Against all odds, the car's remaining glass shatters and the man pitches backward (Choi -5 rounds).  With an I totally planned that lift of his eyebrows to his team leader, James reholsters, re-gloves, and slides to the roof without further incident, followed by the Pole.

"Empire Six, Nemesis.  Building is padlocked.  Be advised, the lead escort car is circling around to approach from the south."

With her last passenger off the rope, Hannah lowers the Hip's nose and adds airspeed and altitude, pulling around in a tight left turn.  In the left seat, Barbrak peers out the window.  "West side, no doors.  South side, one door," he advises over the team channel.

"Empire Three, Nemesis.  Copy your last.  Break.  All Empire elements, security at the reactor is alerted and scrambling a QRF.  Estimate fifteen minutes.  Be advised, they are likely to have MANPADs.  Break.  Inbound to the north, five seconds."

On cue, the first Libya Dawn team, no longer "covert" in any way, screeches through the turn-off.  The driver checks at the trail of flame and carnage Grey Cell's convoy ambush generated, then turns hard to the right, skidding his vehicle to a halt on the sidewalk.  Thick black smoke from the burning Hummer screens the four men as they bail out of the vehicle and rush southwest, disappearing behind the cover of the apartment block to the north.

OOC - Map is updated.  I've deleted the Tambolis and omitted the Grey Cell ground element because at max zoom the map is too small for a usable level of detail.

https://www.google.com/maps/d/...SBoJ32E.kere8L_KAy70

You're up.

Spent cartridge cases roll about the floor of the Hip at Durand's feet as Double pulls around to the left, causing his targets to disappear from sight. Once the helo has levelled off the Frenchman begins to shift from starboard to portside, his left hand holding the barrel of the Sako rifle, his right hand grabbing at the various straps and webbing that hang from the arched fuselage as he reaches the port windows. He listens to the radio traffic in his ear as he does so, it serving to remind him that this area is about to be flooded with forces loyal to both General Haftar and Libya Dawn, as he resumes a firing position, seating the butt of the rifle tight against his shoulder, the HK still by the starboard window, so now at the other side of the chopper from him. He knows that he took down one of the two men sheltering by the police car and he's fairly sure that he saw the other go down, although he doesn't know who got in the kill shot, only that it wasn't him. But that doesn't matter. All that matters if that they are down.

He scans the area through the Sako's sights, trying to spot any possible targets, looking out in particular for the incoming Libya Dawn teams, trying to maximise the advantage his height gives him to support the ground team. Right now though he wishes he was down there with them, kicking in the doors, leading the snatch squad. Notwithstanding the lethal effect his firepower is bringing to bear on the engagement, Durand still feels somewhat...impotent...up here in the helo, unable to directly influence what is going on below him.

Nemesis' voice guides him in that regard, drawing his attention to the approaching car that has come to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk. As its occupants scatter the Frenchman tries to engage them with single shots as they sprint for cover, activating his throat mike as he does so, sending a terse warning to the rest of the team as he tries to get a bead. "Four hostiles due north of your location, am engaging. Break." There is a pause before he continues, the second part of his transmission directed at Omdahl, his voice calm. "Double Down, can you try and keep the target building to portside if possible?"

Bullfrog
Sako TRG 42 (5/10)
Shifting from starboard to port
Radio comms with team then attempting to engage Libya Dawn Covert Team 1 with quick shots as they move from the vehicle to cover
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 22:23, Fri 06 Mar 2015.

After roping down to the deck, Lina stowed her gloves and readied her AK-103.  As she trotted over the the northeast edge of the building to see what was happening, she spoke into her comms.

”Dealer, it’s time to bring in air support and engage these threats.  Focus on the groups, leave singletons for Bull Frog.  Save what you need for the QRF and Heavy Team, but it’s time for the CAT teams to either see the light, or feel the heat,” Lina said.  Kowalska hoped that a few 500 lbs JDAMs delivered with a CEP <3 m would not only cull the herd, but force a few of their opponents to reevaluate the life choices that had led them into firefight involving such firepower.

At the edge of the building, Lina glanced south, then west, taking in the tactical situation.

”Painter, provide security for Dealer and engage targets of opportunity.  Lizard King, prep for breach and meet me at the door.  We will stack and clear the building while Dealer and Painter deal with inbound groups.  Good work gets you more work, so you are on point,” Lina said.  The good work reference was for Choi’s pistol shot from the helicopter.  She also knew that breaching and clearing a building would play to the FBI HRT member’s skill set.

Running back from the edge, Lina swapped out to a fresh mag, before taking up position behind Choi.  She gave him a squeeze on the shoulder to let him know she was in position and ready.

Karolina Kowalska
Moving on the roof to improve situational awareness, then stacking up behind Choi
AK-103 [30/30]
Comms, mag change, preparing to breach and clear the building.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:27, Sat 07 Mar 2015.

James' boots alighted the rooftop- no sting- and he jogs to the northeast side of the building. His confidence has been restored by the rather spectacular aerial pistol shot and the flawless fast-rope landing but he needs to forget about that now and focus on the rather formidable task still at hand. He arrives at the edge of the roof and removes his gloves, scanning the surrounds below and taking a mental picture of the neighborhood. The view from the ground is always different than the top-down aerial recon photos- the half-story block on the roof on which he's standing, for example, wasn't obviously apparent during the hasty mission brief. The two-person overwatch team has a lot of territory to cover.

Prep for breach.

This is it. He rushes to the door and studies the padlock. Kowalska's complement regarding the circus pistol shot isn't lost on him and he smiles briefly in spite of himself. It took five rounds, though, so he unholsters and reloads it before taking out the small shaped breaching charge and pressing it on to the latch. It was designed for a sturdier deadbolt so it should have no trouble cutting through an old, slightly rusty padlock. He shouts "Fire in the hole!", pulls the fuse igniter, and steps back, making sure Kowalska moves with him. His hands find one of the flash-bang grenades attached to his assault vest. When the lock blows, he'll open the door and toss the flash-bang down the stairs, then follow close behind, initiating the dynamic entry.

Two people clearing a building this size? This ought to be fun...


James "Lizard King" Choi
Point, Building Clearing Team
HK417 (20/20); Springfield Professional Custon M1911A1 (7/7)
Breaching charge, flash-bang, dynamic entry

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:56, Mon 09 Mar 2015.

Once the four that repelled down, Hannah acknowledged Sébastien's request by dipping the nose of the Mi-17 and reorienting the chopper.  "Target Building, portside." the army aviatrix reported dutifully to the French DGSE operative as the building comes into view on the left side viewports.  The helo leveled out and the view stabilized as they began to circle the building once more.  With anti-aircraft artillery in the mix, it didn't make sense to her to just hover and present an easy target.

Hannah kept her NVG optics averted from rooftop and where the Lizard King was set to light up.  She didn't want to be blinded.

She did keep an eye open for the Libyan Dawn team to the north, but mostly Hannah was concerned with maintaining the HiP's course and keeping a stable platform for Bullfrog.  "Keep that color thermal optic handy..." she reminded Barfight softly.  With the enemy team now in play, the chances of another Attar in the mix increased dramatically.  She didn't want to be surprised by green death rays or surface-to-air missiles; Hannah could feel a thin sheen of perspiration on the palms of her hands.  She felt naked in the stripped down Mi-17; what she wouldn't have given for an M230 chaingun or a couple of AGM-114's linked to her fire controls, right about now.

But there was nothing to be done about it at this point in the mission.  For now, her job was to fly and try to keep everyone alive and in once piece to get back home.  So, Hannah kept her eyes and ears open...

Hannah Omdahl
Mi-17 Cockpit - Pilot's Seat
AK-104 w/all the trimmings [30/30, not readied], Mi-17 readied.
Reorienting chopper and keeping her eyes and ears open...

Instead of cluttering the radio net with useless chatter, Dacovetti kneels and turns giving the Kaptain a thumbs-up.  Breaking a direct line of sight to the hostiles surrounding him gives a certain sense of safety, but it is, of course, an illusionary one.  Bullets piece walls and it takes his weapon out of the fight for an undetermined period of time.  With a practiced tap to the control pad on his left wrist, the radio on his back switches frequencies.

"Nero One-One, Empire Three," Dacovetti calls out into the electronic ether.

An accented voice comes back in his ear.  "Empire Three, Nero One-One, go ahead, over."

"Nero One-One, move to IP Alpha and state load over."  It never hurt to be redundant.  Michael has been present on more than one mission where the planned combat load was vastly different than what actually showed up on the aircraft.

"Empire Three, Nero Flight moving to IP Alpha.  We are a two ship, each with four GBU-49s and two AGM-88s.  ETA to IP Alpha, two minutes, Over."  The aircraft wouldn't be quite overhead yet, but at IP Alpha they would be at the beach.

"Empire Three copies all." Dacovetti checks his watch, then pulls out his signal panel, dropping it on the roof, orange side up and takes advantage of some debris to hold the two foot by three foot piece of cloth down.  Marking their position for the pilots' eyes is just one more safety precaution with explosive ordnance being released overhead. He then pulls the checklist out of his cargo pocket that had been prepared earlier.  Working furiously with a grease pen, he makes sense of the combat environment evolving around him.

When he's done, he takes advantage of the brief lull to switch out magazines in his carbine.

"Empire Three, Nero One-One is at IP Alpha."

"Nero One-One, Empire Three copies.  I'm going to bring you into an orbit over my location.  Nine Line will be an intersection near our position, not target vehicles, our situation is evolving, over."  It was a breach of the formal CAS etiquette, but he wanted the pilots eyes on them.

"Nero One-One copy all.  Nine Line will be intersection, not target."

Dacovetti spends the next minute walking the Nero aircraft through his location and the limits of travel for safe laser ops in the even that they need them, pausing only once when the breaching charge blows.  With his maps, GPS, laser, and radio, he's ready to go to work.  Dacovetti reenters the fight.

"Nero One-One, all missions will be danger close.  My initials are Mike Delta." All the carnage about to erupt will be on Dacovetti, not the pilot.


Michael Dacovetti
Kneeling behind parapet wall for cover.
Controlling CAS for vehicles, then dismounts in large groups.  Laser guidance for moving targets.
Engaging troops with AK-104 as needed. (30/30) 7 Magazines remaining

Repositioning across the Mi-17's cargo bay, Sébastien only manages to get off one shot before the four men sprint out of his line of sight.  Through the roiling smoke, he thinks he sees his target stagger, but it's impossible to be certain.

Taking a last look at the southeast corner before reorienting to back up Michael, Caradoc pauses and peers through his scope.  "Double Down, Painter.  The point car has circled back and halted in a cross street about a hundred and fifty meters south of here.  They've dismounted and have you under observation.  Stand by."  He steadies the FAL and pumps off three quick rounds.  "Right, they've pulled back for the moment."

James' hands are steady on the breaching charge as he forces down the uncertainty that always accompanies using demo someone else rigged...

CRACK

Bannon promised a six-second fuse and, as far as the FBI agent's internal stopwatch can tell, it's atomic clock accurate.  The door bounces open as the locking mechanism disintegrates.  Caradoc grunts as an errant fragment whacks his helmet but, as James turns with flash-bang in hand, he catches a flicker of an outstretched thumbs-up from the Welshman.

The euphemistically-named distraction device bounces through the third-floor landing and detonates somewhere between the third and second floors.  James is through the door before the echo from the lower levels reverberates back to the roof.  The flash hider of his HK417 leads the way.  Karolina follows close behind, letting the agent with more clearance experience take point.

"Empire Three, Nemesis," Bannon murmurs,  "Tango Two is dismounting one street to your west."

From the north edge of the roof, Michael can see the intersection from which they'll emerge if they stay on the street.  He reflexively lases it: 81 meters.  As his eyes flick up from the display, a curtain sways aside in a second-story window across the street.  The skeletal silhouette of a Para-SAW makes it immediate clear that this isn't a civilian checking out the commotion in the street.  Before Michael can swap electronics for ballistics, the gunner opens up on the circling Mi-17.

Hannah's orbit takes the helicopter out over the coast road.  She's in the right-side command pilot's seat.  Without warning, she feels the controls jerk as Barbrak shoves the cyclic forward and yanks up on the collective.  "Machine gun, three--"

A bar of red tracers, searing in the predawn sky, flicks out toward the Hip.  The gunner's holding his weapon steady, letting the helicopter fly through his fire.  A single bullet sparks off the frame of Barbrak's window as a hailstorm of impacts rattles down the fuselage.

In the back, Sébastien is scanning for targets through his thermal imager.  Guided by Bannon's last transmission, his focus is on the far end of the street fronting the target building.  Without any noticeable transition, he's sprawled on the floor of the cargo bay.  He can feel his fingers contracting and his legs twitching but he has no control over their motions.  The bungee-webbed roof of the bay is an oscillating blur and the salt-iron taste of blood is strong in his mouth.


"-- o'clock!" Barbrak concludes as the Hip rises out of the SAW's fire.  A grunt over the intercom and a muffled thump from the cargo bay punctuates his statement.  Glancing over her shoulder, Hannah sees Sébastien prone on the floor, his hands clenching spasmodically.  Blood is bubbling on his lips.

The gunner is near-completely exposed as he leans into the window frame to track the Hip.  His pumpkin-sized muzzle flash illuminates his triumphant snarl.  Michael puts his sights on the leering face and pulls the trigger, sending a stream of fire into the wall a good three meters above and to the right of his target.  Too late, he realizes his eyes have reflexively been drawn to the thermal imager - which isn't a zeroed gunsight.

In the unlit stairwell, James and Karolina continue their descent.  The muffled sound of automatic weapons fire from outside indicates the fight is no longer one-sided.

The entry team pauses on the second-story landing.  From somewhere below, a faint sound of voices raised in excitement or argument drifts up, though neither agent can make out the words.  There's a decisive exclamation, then a series of smashing noises.  To James' experienced ear, someone's trying to force a security door with inadequate tools.  There's no other sound in the building, and the debris drifted through the halls bespeaks abandonment.

Ammo expenditures:

Durand -1 round
Crewe -3 rounds
Choi -1 breaching charge, -1 flash-bang
Dacovetti -5 rounds

Map update: https://www.google.com/maps/d/...SBoJ32E.kere8L_KAy70

Let's see what you've got...
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:13, Tue 10 Mar 2015.

Down.

James would love to stop and clear the second floor before continuing the descent but it appears that street level is where the party's at. He's doing a job with a third of the personnel any sane DQB doctrine calls for and right now time is an inverse force multiplier. Every second favors the defense. The only things on his side- besides his indefatigable GROM companion- are speed, surprise, and violence of action.

Bloody Rodney.

A month after the Manilla stand-down, the HRT had hosted an operator from the SAS, ostensibly part of an inter-allied multi-agency exchange program, but everyone on the team knew he was there to evaluate and critique them. He'd cut past the resentment with that typical dry English wit and easy charm, constantly amusing all but the staunchest Anglophobes with his extensive collection of pithy British witticisms. "In for a penny, in for a pound," was one of his favorites. James'd had the gist of it then, but it'd never meant as much as it does right now.

He took his support hand off the HK's foregrip just long enough to point down the stairs before continuing downward, trying to keep his footfall light. He's moving with a purpose.Speed. Roll up on the tangos while they're preoccupied with the door. Surprise. Pop 'em all before they even know what hit 'em. Violence of action.


James "Lizard King" Choi
BCT Point slot
HK-417 (20/20)
Going for broke

-

"Damnit!" escaped from Hannah's lips as the Mi-17 pitched under fire, following up with a more colorfully equivalent expletive in Norwegian.  She nodded grimly to Barbrak's warning, which she hadn't been fast enough to react to.  Her backwards glance confirmed her worst nightmare; Seb was down - and he didn't look good.  Hannah felt rather useless, knowing that she couldn't do anything for the man for the moment.  Well, other than try to keep the helo from falling from the sky.

"Nemesis, Painter we are taking fire..." and she designated the two story building across the street in the hopes that Crewe could do something about it.  "Dancer.  Bullfrog is down." Hannah intoned into her headset, knowing that Karolina would understand the implication of the loss of the Sako for protection of the chopper and the team, "I repeat Bullfrog is down."

Double Down jerked the stick for some tighter evasive maneuvers - trying to keep the HiP away from another clear shot and that window - and then glanced at Barfight.  "Next pass," the army aviatrix prompted her co-pilot, "How close do we need to be to have a shot?"  She wouldn't be able to pull the trigger, but she'd do her damnedest to try and make sure that one of her team got clear.

Still, she had to keep her eyes open and in front of her.  Hannah continued to scan the front quadrant even as she worked the controls.  Just because they knew where one machine gun was, didn't mean that there weren't more just sitting around waiting...

Hannah Omdahl
Mi-17 Cockpit - Pilot's Seat
AK-104 w/all the trimmings [30/30, not readied], Mi-17 readied.
Evasive maneuvers - for all the good that did us...

With his own shooting less than satisfactory, Michael calls the target location to Crewe.

"Empire One, multiple targets, building to the north."

To slow his pulse he takes a steady breath then places his eye back to the correct optic, lines up the shot, and pulls the trigger at the machine gunner one more time.  Cognizant of the risks of betraying his own location, he drops back behind cover after the shot.

Having taken the SERE course during his time in the TACP training pipeline, Dacovetti had developed a few rules of thumb regarding combat operations.  The one he calls up for this particular instance is: don't die in the desert with a canteen full of water.  With a danger close radius of 250m, Michael figures that even if the guys to the west decide to stay a bit more tactical, he's got a decent statistical opportunity to inflict some damage.  Regardless of the outcome, a high explosive detonating on the battlefield should buy some time and maybe allow them to retake the initiative.

"Double-Down, Dealer.  Clear our airspace, CAS mission inbound."  Between the high risk of the hitting the helicopter and the fact that Bullfrog was down, there was only so much room available in the risk profile.

The laser rangefinder interfaces with the GPS displaying the grid coordinates of the intersection he painted just a few moments before.  "Empire Nero One-One, Empire Three, say when ready for target coordinates, 1 JDAM only."

There is a moment as the pilot presumably prepares for the information. "Go ahead Empire Three."

"Delta Romeo Four Four Six Three Two, break, Nine Nine Nine Eight Six, over."  He reads the projected coordinates off the GPS then pushes his carbine up over the wall and fires a burst blind at the target building and scoots for cover again.

"Nero Copies Delta Romeo Four Four Six Three Two, break, Nine Nine Nine Eight Six, over."

"Good copy."

Michael has a moment to consider that this may not actually be the wisest thing he has ever done.  Dropping bombs into a crowded urban environment in close proximity to himself and allies leaves something to be desired. It's certainly not a story he's ever going to tell his wife.

"Nero One-One is in from the East."

His eyes flick up once and spot the tiny dot of the aircraft banking in his direction.

"Cleared Hot, One."  It is the line he has been trained to deliver.

"Weapon Released."

"All Empire, Heads down! Heads down!"  Dacovetti curls up, places his hands over his ears and opens his mouth to wait for the concussion.



Michael Dacovetti
One aimed burst at machine gunner
CAS mission
One blind burst at target building
kneeling behind cover.
AK-104 Carbine (25/30) 7 mags remaining.