"Patrol!" Fox hisses loud enough for all to hear. "Reorg... prepare to move." He looks over at Ben, dousing the last of the flames, "Leftenant, are you mobile?"

He inspects his weapon and ensures his night sight didn't get knocked off when hos C7 was dropped to the ground. Fox then briefly looks around and after ensuring those unhindered by being on fire were establishing arcs of fire he knees next to Ben, and asks again, "Ok? You mobile? We gotta withdraw and sort ourselves out in a secure spot."

Preparing the patrol to move
This message was last edited by the player at 13:19, Wed 19 Mar 2008.

Still looking uphill to the south, Sarah aimed her weapon and looked for targets.

"Yeah, I'm good!"

Then also as per Taras' suggestion, she tried her radio, set to VOX (voice activated).

"Amber 2 from Amber 1."

"Do you read me? Over."


Aim (Overwatch)/Talk (On radio)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:55, Mon 24 Mar 2008.

Lee responds with a quick, "Lee... ready."

Covering in direction Champlain and Taras are not facing

MacDonald put down his viewer and put his radio to his mouth.

"You got it, Master Corporal."

Hetried to transmit, but Champlain was already transmitting and he didn't want to step on her.

"Fuck."


Talk
This message was last edited by the player at 05:49, Fri 21 Mar 2008.

Whatever howls or catcalls were still happening in their area was drowned out by the continued echoing bangs of 40mm grenades hitting the cliffs and trees a kilometre or so to the west.

Down on the wet tidal sands, Taras continued running towards the stairs and almost reached the bottom. "Radioman!  Tell the boat to get ready for hot extraction and request backup! Is everybody OK?"


Standing up herself, Lee gave Fox his C7A1 and helped Fox up. "Here." she says quietly, "You going to be ok? I got a little singed myself."

With Lee's help, Fox stood up and tried to get his bearings. The night sight looked like it was still on and functional, no way to tell if it maintained its zero.

"Reorg... prepare to move." He looks over at Ben, dousing the last of the flames, "Leftenant, are you mobile?"

The LT was in fact not mobile. He was still rolling around on the ground, batting ineffectually at the flames on his lower abdomen. He paused to discard his helmet and it rolled, still on fire, over the edge of the sea wall and down. Then he resumed trying to put out the flames with his right arm. His left arm started throbbing with a searing pain, as if it were still burning, even though it wasn't any more.

Fox knelt beside him.

"Ok? You mobile? We gotta withdraw and sort ourselves out in a secure spot."

Kelsey answered Taras.

"Yeah, I'm good!"

Then also as per Taras' suggestion, she tried her radio, set to VOX (voice activated).

"Amber 2 from Amber 1."

"Do you read me? Over."

She knelt and aimed her C8 upslope to the south, looking for targets or threats.

Seeing Taras was more-or-less oriented towards the cliffs to the west, and Champlain had the south sector covered, Lee decided it would be a capital idea to cover the bridge looming over their heads and so she aimed her MP5 up and behind.

---

Finally, the sound of gunfire reached them. There was a long stream of pops from a small-calibre weapon fired on fully automatic.

"It's a shame we don't have a camera with the range, we could take pictures for the 21st century dictionary, this would look good defining "clusterfuck". Can we reach the boat that dropped us off? Maybe they can pull off a rescue of the main team."

"You got it, Master Corporal."

MacDonald tried to transmit, but Champlain was already transmitting and he didn't want to step on her.

"Fuck."

Looking through his scope at the whale-watcher RIB that had dropped off the other team, McRae could see it running flat out away from the cliffs, on fire. Someone was on the Mk.19, hosing down the cliffs with streams of 40mm grenades. Explosions, silent at this range, flashed on and around the forested clifftops and then earth, clay, rock and trees cascaded down onto the seawall and water below.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:56, Mon 24 Mar 2008.

Taras realized that the team was under great danger. The disabled group was easy prey for an enemy closing in either from their left flank or coming from the road ahead or in a worst case scenario from both. The bridge was already covered and the flank could be addressed but the seawall approach was unattended and God knows what could have come from behind that corner and at what speed. The stairs offered the perfect defensive position. Lying prone, Shevchenko pressed the buttstock against the vest, took a firm grasp on both handguard and handgrip. The bottom of the long magazine acting as a monopod helping to swing the AKS-74U slightly left and right across the width of the road. Only poking out his head to watch for approaching trouble.

Cover/Prone/Aim
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:51, Sat 22 Mar 2008.

Fox's questions are answered when he moves over to Ben and realizes he is still partially on fire. Kneeling beside the man he then will help put out any flames on Ben.

Putting out fire on Ben
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:52, Sat 22 Mar 2008.

Kelsey waited for Amber-2 to respond, knowing that transmitting would not accomplish anything useful. She covered the southern cliffs.


Overwatch to South
This message was last edited by the player at 19:52, Sat 22 Mar 2008.

Looking through his image intensifier, MacDonald watched as the RIB continued running west out into Burrard inlet, still on fire.

"Jesus wept."


Talking
This message was last edited by the player at 19:52, Sat 22 Mar 2008.

"I just wish he'd do it on the boat. If you can contact them, see if they can capsizse and put the fire out, if it reaches the engines, they're history." Andy suggested.

Turn 6 Re-Cap:

Bounding up the stairs, Taras flopped down at the top, taking some cover from the cut-stone blocks topping the seawall. There was about a 30cm high lip, better than nothing.

Through his NVGs he noticed that the cliff was high enough that in fact anyone at the top couldn't see him without climbing carefully down the side, giving him a nice shot. Anyone running around the corner would be dead meat as well.

The smell of burned meat permeated Fox's nostrils, and everyone else's as well.

With his help, the fmales on Jagelis fires were finally put out. Now that his helmet was gone (somewhere below them on the small rocky tidal mud flat) the LT's short hair was matted with sweat, and the man was breathing heavily, lying on his back, SAW across his chest. For the moment, Fox wasn't saying anything, cradling his left arm and blinking while licking his lips.

Champlain waited for the RIB's crew to respond to her transmission, but there was no reply. She continued to cover to the south.

Beside her, Lee covered the bridge over their heads, waiting for some asshole to give her a target.

Except for the crackle of flaming underbrush, it was rapidly becoming quiet although there were still various explosions happening a klick away. The scene around them was painted yellow and orange by the garish flickering firelight. At least their NVGs were working with the abundant ambient light and making it difficult for anyone to sneak up in the shadows.

---

Through the starlight scope and night glasses large RIB continued to run flat-out, still on fire, but thankfully it seemed to be going out. The Mk.19's muzzle still spat flame.

"Jesus wept."

"I just wish he'd do it on the boat. If you can contact them, see if they can capsizse and put the fire out, if it reaches the engines, they're history."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:50, Sat 22 Mar 2008.

"Lets go." Fox says barely audible. "Lee, lead us out of here." He had already gave the word to prepare to move so he expected immediate action from the patrol. Ignoring his own pains, he leans down and grabs Ben pulling him up. Regardless of the pain and injury Ben was suffering from, he says "Up. We gotta go." If Ben is too messed up to carry it, Fox then slings Ben's C9 over his shoulder. He then does whatever is necessary to get him and the rest moving.

OOC - Whatever Ben's state is Fox will either carry him, drag him, tell him to walk on his own etc. Whatever action needed for everyone to move.

Following Lee out (with Ben if necessary)
This message was last edited by the player at 20:44, Sat 22 Mar 2008.

"Amber-1 is transmitting on the channel right now; if I transmit as well I'll just step on her or Amber-2 if they reply."

MacDonald sighed helplessly, picking up his night glasses.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:19, Sun 23 Mar 2008.

Ben lay unmoving, smoke rising from his body, still soaked for the most part in fuel. Only the fact that his chest still rose and fell with each breath indicated that the flames had not taken his life.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:10, Mon 24 Mar 2008.

Lee rises and in an alert stance begins to lead the deep-fried patrol out of the area. If any targets present themselves, she will immediately fire semiautomatic at it until it goes down. She won't use up any time by getting down first. She looks away only for a quick second to make sure at least one person was behind her. After that, it was their responsibility to make sure the patrol didn't split. She was burned but not as bad as some of the others. At least my hair didn't catch, she thought with relief.

1st in the order - moving back the way we came
This message was last edited by the player at 14:21, Sun 23 Mar 2008.

Taras will wait for the team to regroup while keeping watch over the corner.



Overwatch

Seeing that they were getting ready to move, Champlain tried the radio again.

"Ahhh... Amber-2 from Amber-1, do you read me? Over."

Setting down her C8, she also pulled off an M18 HC smoke grenade taped to her webbing to cover their withdrawal.


Talk (on radio)
Prepare M18 for use
This message was last edited by the player at 15:06, Mon 24 Mar 2008.

Turn 7 Recap:

Scanning the corner, Taras felt the damp cut-stone blocks soaking into his knees and elbows. The long stamped-metal magazine of the cut-down Kalashnikov scraped on the granite surface, metal stock cold on his cheek as he aimed at the corner.

The sounds and glare of explosions coming from that direction had ceased, but the sounds were still rolling out across the water and echoing off the mountains to the north.

"Lets go." Fox addressed Lee.

"Lee, lead us out of here."

The Mountie moved out while Champlain got ready to follow her. Kelsey also readied a smoke grenade and tried the radio again.

"Ahhh... Amber-2 from Amber-1, do you read me? Over."

Then Fox turned to aid the LT. "Up. We gotta go."

However, what adrenaline was keeping Ben going seemed to have fled. The man was unconscious, perhaps going into shock. Fox picked up Ben's C9 and slung it over his shoulder, then picked up the LT himself in a fireman's carry. He was staggered by the weight of the man and his equipment, but it was barely manageable for a short distance.

Topaz (UBC) tried to raise both Amber-1 and Amber-2. Although they could hear UBC, UBC could not hear them in return. The boat never answered at all.


"Ruby-2, this is Topaz. Over."

"We are unable to contact Amber-1 and Amber-2. Break."

"Can you give us a SITREP? Over."

---

"Amber-1 is transmitting on the channel right now; if I transmit as well I'll just step on her or Amber-2 if they reply."

Aside from that, there really wasn't much to say.

Now the racket of the Mk19 reached them, muffled somewhat by the distance. The sound passed over them, then bounced off the mountains at their back. The boat had slowed down, and the fires seemed to be put out. It now trailed smoke as it turned south towards home and the marina.

The radio crackled. It wasn't either Amber-1 (the rest of the team) nor Amber-2 (the boat). It was Topaz, UBC.

"Ruby-2, this is Topaz. Over."

"We are unable to contact Amber-1 and Amber-2. Break."

"Can you give us a SITREP? Over."
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:46, Tue 25 Mar 2008.

Kelsey pulled the pin on the M18 HC smoke grenade, then released the spoon. There was a pop and a hiss.

White smoke started spewing out of the canister. She held it for a second, then dropped it in the middle of the seawalk. A thick cloud issued forth, eddying in the lee provided by the cliff, being sucked up and then out. It looked like it would provide good cover for their withdrawal, at least from attackers on the bridge or the cliffs to the south, not so much from the west.

Satisfied, she picked up her carbine and got ready to follow Fox.

"Ruby-2, this is Topaz. Over."

"We are unable to contact Amber-1 and Amber-2. Break."

"Can you give us a SITREP? Over."

MacDonald handed McRae the handset for the radio.

"I think this call's for you."

"Topaz, this is Ruby-2, we are overlooking Amber 1's position but way too far away to intervene. Amber 1 was caught in an ambush by the forces holding the bridge. Those forces appear well-prepared and attacked with molotov cocktails. amber 1 has broken contact but has taken casualties in an unspecified number. Amber 2 also caught a petrol bomb and was last seen heading away from the firefight still burning. I believe they have put the fire out but have no confirmation of that assumption. Topaz remains effective and would appreciate orders on how to proceed from here, over." 

Andy kept any comments about the clusterfuck to himself. It was pointless spreading recriminations when people could be dead. He waited for Topaz to reply.

Lee will continue to lead the patrol along the instructed route. She keeps a pace slow enough for Fox carrying Ben. Lee will go until she the word is passed up to stop.

Moving/covering forwards
This message was last edited by the player at 10:17, Tue 25 Mar 2008.

"Ruby-1 from Topaz Actual."

Topaz Actual would be the head of the UBC Militia. In other words, Belanger.

"We have good copy on your SITREP."

"We now have a visual on Amber-2."

"Maintain your position.  You will Charlie Mike ("Continue Mission") is sufficient forces available and if we are not too far behind schedule."

When Ruby-1 acknowledged, Topaz broadcast to the team, even though they knew they could not hear their reply.

"Amber-1 from Topaz Actual."

"Be advised Diamond-1 and Diamond-2 are currently en route to your position."

"Find a defensible position and wait for pickup. You are advised to remain in vicinity of Prospect Point. Area Whisky of your position is too exposed to effect a Romeo Victor ("Rendez-Vous")."

"Signal Diamond using India Romeo (IR) light. One blink to come in, two to go back, and three to signal a hot Romeo Victor point with Tangos present. Echo Tango Alpha is One Zero Mikes (10 minutes)."

"Topaz out."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:36, Tue 25 Mar 2008.

"Somebody will pay for this..." The thought couldn't be more clear in the mind of Taras Shevchenko. He put down the AKS-74U and pull an RGD-5 hand grenade from the chest rig. Then quickly unscrew the DVM-78 fuze and remove the small backpack. One of the lateral pockets was filled with an assortment of items wrapped in white paper. He picked-up one labelled in the cirillic alphabet with the equivalent of UZRGM-0. Scanning continuosly the corner, Taras unwrapped the new fuze and screwed it on the hand grenade. The old one went straight into one of the pockets in his pants. He returned the backpack after making sure that the fire didn't cause any considerable damage. Scanning again he could observe the charred team approaching painfully slow. Like in a time lapse scene. He reached under the flak vest and into his left breast pocket. Taking out the small chess book that he found at the dormitory he tore the front and back page and threw them away. He also ripped a few pages and scattered then around the stairs. Corner clear, team approaching... Next to the bottom of the stairs an almost flat rock will serve the purpose. Taras deposited the RGD-5 lying on his safety lever and pulled the safety pin slowly while holding the grenade with one hand. The total weight of 320 grams was enough to keep in place the spoon. With the free hand, Shevchenko opened the book in its middle pages and carefully covered the hand grenade. The booby-trap was set.

Whoever attacked them will be too curious to find some items left for them to loot. In the partial darkness the abandoned pages with chessboards and numbers surely will look like military plans and a "manual" will be too delicious to retrieve as a trophy taken from the invasive force. Not stable enough to stand the removal of its cover, the grenade will likely roll on one of its sides.

A zero seconds delay fuze and 110 grams of TNT will be felt in 25 meter radius in an effective manner. Corner still clear, the team is coming.

Taras now rushed to help to carry the badly burnt Lt. Fox was sweating copiously.

Let's go downstairs, nobody touch the book, is boobytrapped!

The team staggered towards Prospect Point.

A few sticks, rocks and clods of earth either flew over their heads on ballistic arcs to land in the water or on the rocks of the tidal flat, or make contact part way down the sheer face and clatter the rest of the way to the ground.

The best available cover was beside the small automated lighthouse on Prospect point. The seawalk towards the corner or back towards the bridge could be easily covered in case anyone got up the nerve for a human-wave assault.

The slight breeze made being by the water a little chilly. Small waves lapped at the barnacle-encrusted rocks below the seawall. Driftwood had collected in the lee of the stone stairs when the water came up them at high tide and then deposited there when it receded.

As they got situated to wait, the taunting came. There was a rhythmic clinking, like someone tapping several bottles together to a steady beat.

"Warriors... come out and playyyy.... warriors... come out... and... play-ayyyy!"

It sounded somehow familiar to some of the team members, but it was a little much to process at the moment. The voice continued along in a kind of creepy child-like sing-song whine for about 15-20 seconds.

"Warriors... we're the Stickmen... we OWN this park and we just pwned YOU! You come 'round again and we'll fuck you up big time! We'll show you who the real warriors are... believe it!"

Then there was quiet.

---

Hidden in the brush on the North Shore, there was little McRae and MacDonald could do. Even with the image intensifying binoculars it was hard to see anything at that range unaided; in this light, they could see moving people at maybe 600m and vehicles/buildings at 1200m.

The could see the RIB limping back towards the Marina/base because it was using an IR spotlight to find its way. The 2 jet-boats and Zodiac coming from the Marina were also using IR-filtered spotlights to see their path and look for obstacles, so it was easy to see their position as they raced towards Prospect Point. Although there was little detail to see.

---

When the Zodiac and its jet-boat escorts approached their position, Champlain signaled them with an IR flashlight to verify their identity, and it was clear. Lacking targets, the 2 GPMG-armed aluminum-hulled "beachcomber" jet boats loitered about 200m out and to either side (so they wouldn't be firing over the team's heads), covering the cliff and the seawall. The Zodiac came into shore to pick up the team.

Within minutes they all were down the stairs, across the mud and loaded into the boat.

---

Still looking through the night-vision binoculars, McRae could see the pickup boats grab the team by Prospect Point and start back to the marina at the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club.

Once the IR spotlights were gone, there was nothing to see at this range towards the bridge, except for the green-white glow of the fire in the display. As McRae was getting ready to switch the night binoculars off and put them away there was a flash and burst of sparks of an explosion where the team had waited. Some unexploded munitions? A booby-trap? It was impossible to tell.

A muffled "Bang!" reached them a dozen seconds later, but he couldn't see any more.

---

Once back at the marina, Ben started regaining consciousness. Two paramedics started cutting away his burned uniform prior to loading him into an ambulance, while another couple tended to the minor wounds of the others. There was a little singing here and there, but nothing serious.

Waiting for them was Khandola in RCMP tactical outfit and a C8 carbine, as was Belanger in dark green sweater, baggy fatigue pants and maroon Airborne beret, with a Sterling SMG slung from his shoulder. Accompanying them was a half-dozen of the UBC RCMP detachment also in dark tactical gear and heavily armed (including one with a HK MSG-90 rifle) with another dozen armed militia.

It seemed that the second group had been more aggressive, attacking with molotovs and crossbows from the top of the cliff. One petrol bomb had gotten lucky and nailed the side of the RIB, although the Kevlar fabric prevented the cells from rupturing. However, one of the Militia caught a steel-tipped quarrel in the throat, and only getting her back as quick as possible saved her life. She was in stable condition and already most of the way to hospital when the team arrived themselves.

Belanger addressed them. "Sergeant Fox, I think it's important to keep moving forward on the reconnaissance, despite this setback. We can help cover your men. Tomorrow we can decide to go ahead with you meeting the fishing community at Eagle Harbour, if you're up to it."

Belanger looked at Taras and raised an eyebrow. "Taras? Could I please have a word?"

While Belanger grilled Taras, Champlain looked at Taras' radio to see why it might have malfunctioned. It seemed the antenna's lead may have become damaged in the Stickmen's secondary but even more vicious attack on the raft. It was a few minutes work repairing it in the marina's shop.

Khandola also debriefed Lee as to what happened.

While the team recovered its composure a little, it seemed obvious the RMCP and Militia were prepared to assist them with the "reaction team" role. They noticed that one jet-boat was silver and named Bruno, while the other was black and named Relic. The 42-foot luxury sailboat was named "Persephone". The whale-watcher RIB was named Jesse, and probably could put back to sea with some minor patching and paint work.

Most of their personal gear seemed to come through okay, although Lee's tactical radio was non-functional (being located on the back of her tactical vest meant it caught some flaming gasoline). She was given a precious spare from one of the Militia, and the malfunctioning one saved for possible repair or salvage.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:07, Fri 28 Mar 2008.