"Yeah, got it," Williams said after fishing the phone out from Hannah's gear.  The RAN Petty Officer began recording video as Omdahl drove the ATV.  When the reached cover, he pocketed the phone just long enough to check the condition of his P90, before pulling it back out and continuing to film the bizarre scene.  Were these alien's short on flying saucers?  Or were they stranded here?  Maybe they had always been here.  Wasn't there a John Carpenter film about this exact thing?
This message was last edited by the player at 13:26, Sun 15 Nov 2015.

If nothing else, Michael Dacovetti is about to display the limits of combat hacking.  His body hurts, but it is a distant ache, once masked by the intense concentration he's been pouring into the Toughbook.  Even the biomechanics involved with simply typing in a vehicle undergoing random acceleration in multiple dimensions is a struggle.

"Claw 28, Dealer.  Set your ECM suite as follows.." The tech geek begins rattling off an esoteric list of frequency settings in the hope that something interesting will happen.  A seizure, Caradoc had said.  He was trying to broadcast a seizure. "Target area is aproximately 8 nautical northeast of IP alpha, marked by a glowing runway."  Should be real hard to miss.  "Set up an orbit overhead, 2000 meters.  I'll bring Claw 15 in under you."

After that.  It's CAS planning time.  "Break. Claw 15, Dealer.  Stand by for 9-Line."

"Is all this going to work?" Crewe asks him, wrenching the steering wheel to them move around another hidden boulder.

Dacovetti tries to sound confident.  "Yes.  Well, 80 percent.  If this falls apart, it's going to get what my old instructors called 'really stupid' up in here."  The vernacular sounds ridiculous coming from the TACP.  Maybe it's part of his charm.

Durand's grim smile of satisfaction when he sees his target go down rapidly fades as he watches the thing get up again and pull itself into the truck. From the way it's moving the Frenchman is sure that he's inflicted some damage on it, but the bullet that whizzes over his head is a reminder that it's not alone.

Working the action of the rifle, the DGSE operator scans the area around the pod, trying to pinpoint the location of the gunman who has just taken a shot at him. If he can get a line on the fucker he'll take aim and squeeze off a 30-30 round in his direction. If he can't spot him he'll try and finish the Attar that he's just hit.

Bullfrog
Trying to find the fucker that just shot at him so he can kill him / if he can't spot the shooter he'll try and finish the wounded Attar
Marlin 30.30 (5/6)

The lithe army aviatrix pulled her pistol from her sling bag.  Then Hannah motioned for Cooper to give her the phone-turned-camera.  "Keep me covered." she noted quietly and insistently since they would both be filming from the same vantage point.  And the Australian RAN officer had the P90.

Besides, even though Coop had been with them at OZ Minerals in Melbourne, he hadn't been in Turkey.  So, Double Down figured she should be the one concentrating on observing and photographing whatever looked 'interesting'.  As she did so, she tried to make some sense of what might be going on with all of the enemy activity.  She didn't have an overwhelming urge to get up-close and personal, necessarily.  But, Hannah was curious.  And had enough technical education to have her interest piqued and be able to make some educated guesses about things.

And that probably was a dangerous combination...

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Filming/Observing
And assessing if possible...
M1911A1 (.38 Super) (9+1/10)

"No wuckers," Williams said, extending his thumb and smallest finger while holding the three middle fingers curled as he brought his left hand up.  He jiggled the Shaka sign a bit for emphasis before bringing his left hand back to the P90's curved foregrip.  Cooper kept his head on a swivel, watching both left and right at regular intervals, between intermittently focusing on the oncoming vehicle and Hannah's movement.  He'd sight in and have to engage soon enough.

Cooper Williams
Firing position at ridgeline
P90 [50/50]
Covering Hannah and Sebastien.  Trying to maintain situational awareness.  Engaging any targets that present themselves at 100 meters or less.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:26, Wed 18 Nov 2015.

The dust plume from the enemy shooter's muzzle brake is like a neon sign to Sébastien's eye.  Two men with long rifles are prone on the ground near the alien pod.  One's weapon is pointing west toward James and Andrey.  The other's is steady on the Frenchman's own position.  Sébastien sees the muzzle flash and belatedly realizes he's not dead as another round hits the berm two meters to his right.  His trigger finger is already in motion but his own return shot goes high.

Though the two vehicles are approaching rapidly, Andrey knows they're still outside the range of his own marksmanship, especially with an unfamiliar rifle.  He hunkers down with his binoculars, peering through the gloom to see if he can discern any additional enemy activity, but the Hilux's bush lights are too bright.

There's a momentary pause on the air support channel.  Then: "Dealer, Claw 28 copies all.  We're visual on target.  Energizing in fifteen... mark."

As the Land Rover bounces through a sharp left turn and begins accelerating toward the fight, the Super Hornet comes up.  "Dealer, Claw 15 at IP.  Be advised, I've guns only."  The pilot sounds vaguely apologetic.

Intent on the alien pod, Hannah is almost aware that her fingers are twitching rhythmically, keeping time with a faint pulse of violet light emanating from the object.  Something tells her this should be an item of concern but it's almost...

The shadow of something huge with vast, luminous eyes passes through the back of Cooper's head.

... as if...

The Australian frantically rolls onto his back, bringing the P90 to bear on the empty sky.  His finger takes up the last millimeter of slack on the trigger as he searches for a target.

... she's on...

The unseeing, unblinking gaze sweeps past Cooper, who can't quite stifle the first hiss of a sigh of relief.

... its frequency.

An icicle drives through Hannah's forehead as she loses voluntary muscle control.

Michael's signal analyzer chirps as the pod's emissions change frequency slightly.

Hannah feels a cold, pitiless gaze turn upon her.  Feels vast, luminous eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in calculation.  Feels will and power running through the massive neurological interface engine.  Feels her right hand coming up.  Feels her finger bringing the slack out of the trigger as the gun comes online with the enemy leader.

Feels the shock of recoil as the enemy behind her rises up and paralyzes her arm with a nerve strike, the gun falling uselessly from fingers she can no longer feel (Hannah - slight wound, left arm).

Cooper kicks the M1911A1 away from Hannah, grabs the back of her collar, and yanks her off her feet.  The two tumble down the berm's reverse slope as another bullet from the distant Attar snaps through the space their bodies just occupied.

The Weatherby is not quite the largest rifle James has ever fired.  That honor goes to a Barrett M107, once, during a familiarization-fire range day with the HRT snipers.  But that was a semi-automatic with a muzzle brake the size of a milk jug.  The "Dangerous Game Rifle" - so says the engraving on its receiver - offers no such recoil mitigation.

Wham.

A third of a mile away, an ounce of brass-jacketed lead slams into a Toyota engine block.  James is already displacing in anticipation of the enemy counter-fire as the engine disintegrates, sending fire and shards through the Hilux's hood.  Despite the explosion just on the other side of his firewall, the driver manages to bring the vehicle to a graceful halt.  His gunner loses his footing but stays in the truck's bed.

The Nissan Patrol bearing the wounded Attar is still rolling toward James and Andrey.  Its driver begins slewing wildly in evasion as the Hilux's death throes light up his rear-view mirror.

A sonic boom rattles the lakebed as Claw 28 streaks overhead.

Michael's signal analyzer vomits as the Growler's ECM comes online.  The signal from the pod goes spastic, breaking up under the lash of RF interference from on high.

Cooper feels an almost-subliminal crackle like a green branch breaking.

Hannah opens her eyes and breathes.

Slight map update: https://www.google.com/maps/d/...wQbg&usp=sharing

Ammo expenditures:
Sébastien -1 round
James -1 round
Hannah -1 round



This message was last edited by the GM at 12:57, Fri 20 Nov 2015.

Merde. Next time we're bringing the fucking Sako. Durand courses silently as his second shot has even less effect than the first. He's already working the rifle's action, the movements reflexive, the spent cartridge ejected, a fresh one loaded. Two fired, three left, including the one in the barrel. No targets down. By his own exacting standards that is precisely what his marksmanship was. Shit. On the plus side, the return fire had been equally ineffective. So far. He couldn't count on that lasting though.

The Frenchman shifts slightly, pulls the stock of the Marlin tight into his shoulder, gazes down the scope, picks out each of the targets, his brain processing his options. One of them aiming at him, the other Lizard King and Roulette. The scope comes to rest on the one that's targeting him, a deep breath, holding the rifle steady. The quicker that he can take that one out of the fight the more effective he'll be backing up the others. The sonic boom overhead tells him that the air support is on station. He concentrates on his target, aiming carefully, holding his breath for a second before exhaling, squeezing the trigger gently as he does so, sending another heavy calibre round downrange.

Bullfrog
Aiming at the shooter that is targeting him / firing
Marlin 30.30 (4/6)

"Claw 15, Dealer copies, guns only."  With the 9-Line passed, Michael hopes the pilot has a decent picture of reality on the ground up ahead, but simple caution dictates that he take the advantage to remind the pilot of the proximity of friendlies.  "Claw your target is the lit runway, running southwest to northeast. Call contact."

"Claw 15 contact."

"One aircraft is currently moving northeast on the target, one collection of vehicles at the northeast end. Be advised friendlies are located approximately 200 meters to either side of the target, unmarked.  Northeast or southwest attack runs only. Hard ceiling, 1200 meters."  After Tripoli, 200 meters feels likes the infinite horizon.

"Claw 15 copies, friendlies 200 meters either direction.  Attack limits understood.  Claw 15 is departing the IP, in from the southwest."  The pilots voice is clipped, accent audible, but not intrusive.

"Dealer copies all."

There's no cleared hot call, not yet.  Not until the last moments of the approach, but the tension running through Dacovetti's body ratchets up two or three notches.  A quick glance tells him that the ECM has scrambled the signal analyzer.  A few extra brain cells wonder if it's had any effect, but the thought is dismissed as fast as it arrives.  They'll know on incident analysis, but maybe not before.

"Let Bullfrog know we have CAS inbound," Michael says to Crewe.

Cooper took advantage of the momentum generated by the tumble down the berm to roll atop and then straddle Hannah.  He was 100% sure that purple halo he had seen forming around her head was the same phenomenon he had witnessed controlling the ASIO Agents they had faced in OZ Minerals.  If Hannah was about to be mind controlled by these things, he needed to restrain her at a minimum and render her unconscious if necessary.  William's leaned forward and positioned one hand on her shoulder, where it might quickly move to her throat, if it came to that.

"Hannah, are you still with me?" He asked.  She was breathing and the purple halo that had surrounded her head was now gone.  Despite positioning himself for the worse, Cooper hoped for the best.  "I think those things tried to robot you.  I saw a purple corona around your head."  Even now, Coop was looking for any faint traces that might be left.

"I need to know you are you and not one of them."

Cooper Williams
Physically controlling Hannah until he's sure she's not an alien RC toy
Using only non-lethal force if necessary
This message was last edited by the player at 07:24, Sat 21 Nov 2015.

The roar of jet engines and the reports of firearms both near and far sent him back to his time in Chechnya for a moment.  The uncertainty and confusion that inevitably rose the longer an engagement dragged on being held at bay by the trust that he'd had in his fellow squad mates at the time. He had been attached to the Spetsnaz squad for several months at that point and they'd known each other, how they operate, for some time.  He still felt like an outsider in with this lot.  At least they seemed to trust each other - their trust and operational comfort they demonstrated went a long way towards subduing his concerns.

The agent heard the report from the Weatherby to his side and saw the Toyota drift to a halt.  Through the binocs, he swept his eyes across the battlespace looking for anything they may have missed and prepared to pass along that information.

Andrey Vasliyev
Hunkered behind the cover of the wash
Scanning the field for threats to call out to Lizard King (acting as a spotter)

There was a moment, when Hannah thought that she blacked out; but then everything was back and she could see.  And she wasn't falling or anything.  There had been something, exotic looking dwarf - sort of a chibi or anime caricature or something - it was hard to pin down, like thoughts were trying to move in molasses.  And there was this exotic, pulsating rhythm coupled to that familiar purplish glow.  It was almost... comforting.

Hannah saw the hand attached to her arm and the pistol in that hand start to move.  It was so fascinating, as the lithe aviatrix didn't remember telling it to move...

The pistol dropped from her hand and there was a dull pain at her elbow.  She could hear voices, but they sounded so distant.  Hannah had to strain to hear them.  It was someone screaming, she thought.  But the auburn-haired pilot couldn't make out anything they were saying.  It seemed garbled.  Or scrambled.  Or just plain wrong.

And than she felt herself falling over.

Cooper was on top of her.  His words slowly registered, the rhythm was gone and she could feel the pain in her arm more acutely, as well as the pressure on her abdomen and rib cage as the much larger Australian was straddling her.  "I..." she grunted trying to catch her breath, "I'm here..."

Hannah squinted as she felt hungover.  "God," the army warrant officer chirped wearily, "what happened?  It feels like someone in a Mack truck ran roughshod all over my brain...  Did you get the number of that semi?"  She tried to cradle her head in her hands, but she was currently pinned.  It began to sink in on her what exactly must have transpired...

"Oh, my God.  The apparatus in the truck..." she breathed urgently, her head jerked to tap the earpiece on her comm with her shoulder, "All Empire, Empire Four.  The payload in the truck is some sort of psychic signal amplifier, allowing the dwarf inside is trying to take control of people."  Hannah urged with obvious revulsion in her tone, "We need to disable or destroy it.  Target priority one."  There was no way, they could allow the enemy to use that monstrosity on their own team to destroy itself.  Or to get another one of those foul apparatuses into a populated place.

Cooper nodded slowly as Hannah spoke.  As she transmitted via her earpiece, he moved off of her.  He doubted that if she were still under alien control, she'd be volunteering info about the situation, or know the team callsigns.

"Back in the fight," Cooper said, offering a hand to get Hannah on her feet.  "Stay low though, they had us dialed in.  We need to displace a bit before trying to reacquire targets," he added.  He unholstered his USP and passed it to her.  Groping around to retrieve the 1911 wasn't an option.

"We are supporting Sebastian, remember?" he offered, not sure how much the alien mind control experience had effected her faculties.

Cooper Williams
Standing (slightly crouched), re-arming Hannah

I'd love to target that pod, but we've got other problems right now.

James displaces again, scrambling to his right this time to pop up several meters from his original position. His right shoulder is throbbing but he's about to be too preoccupied to notice it.

"That truck gets into range, you light it up with the assault rifle! Got it? I've got more ammo if you need it." he shouts to the Russian.

Peeking over the berm, James has a difficult decision to make. There are a plethora of targets out there, at least two of which were shooting back. The truck with the alien mind control was just visible, but at the edge of the Wetherby's effective range, and the two vehicles of the Attar reaction force where between them.

"Lizard King, all elements- I don't have a shot at the pod and we're about to have company here. Over."

He sights on the swerving Nissan Patrol, trying to anticipate it's next move and time the shot so that the bullet and the truck intersect at precisely the same time. He didn't like his chances, but the moving vehicle was the bigger threat at the moment. If he could hit it while it was maneuvering at high speed, the chances of causing a catastrophic rollover were good. Working his breathing, he took up slack in the trigger.

Inhale, release, hold, pull.


James 'Lizard King' Choi
Wetherby large-caliber rifle (2/4); MP5SD, 21/30; FNC (30/30)
Aimed shot at Nissan Patrol

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:54, Sun 22 Nov 2015.

The distant enemy's muzzle brake flares again in Sébastien's scope but the Frenchman doesn't even hear the round pass overhead.  The flicker of illumination is all he needs.  Crack.  As he brings the scope back down he sees his target thrashing and clutching a knee that no longer flexes in only one plane.

As Andrey pans his Zeiss optics across the lakebed, he sees the oncoming Nissan swerving in an attempt to throw off James' fire.  The Aboriginal man in the passenger seat is near panic, eyes and mouth like pits in the dark skin of his face, but the familiar Indonesian in the passenger seat is flatly serene.  It's Tri Budi, or one of the things wearing his features, extending a light machine gun out the window to brace it on the passenger's-side mirror.  He calls out the range to James as the truck crosses the 350-meter line in his mind.  Tri Budi opens up with a long burst on James' last position but the tracers show it going wide.  Whatever other capabilities the aliens may have, stabilized fire from a bouncing SUV doesn't appear to be on the menu.

Caradoc yanks the Landie through a hard left turn around a wayward boulder, heading toward James and Andrey's position.  Out the windshield, Michael can see the Skyvan pivoting at the northeast end of the improvised runway, preparing to line up for its takeoff roll.  The pilot appears to have decided that it's time to go.

Hannah shakes off the hangover-like sensation as she follows Cooper along the back slope of the ridge, moving back toward Sébastien.  The taste of bile sticks in the back of her throat.  As she pokes her head up over the crest again, the air around the distant pod seems to ripple like a poorly-tuned television broadcast.

To Cooper's eyes, the spots on the pod's underside are glowing again, and a haze is rising from the ground around them.  It's hard to tell but the device seems to be sliding like an air hockey puck, beginning to move toward the aircraft.

James tracks the Nissan through one turn, two... the driver's in a pattern, pausing for a fraction of a second before each swing to the left.  Andrey's call and the zero card taped to the Weatherby's stock are all he needs to hold his shot for the extra second.  As a stuttering trash can-sized muzzle blast erupts from the passenger's position, James launches a third round.  Fluids erupt from under the hood as another engine fails catastrophically.  Blinded, the driver has no way to evade the rock outcropping in his way.  The Nissan slams to a high-centered halt, smoke and steam drifting from its engine bay.

The two men in the disabled Toyota bail out, taking cover behind their vehicle.  No gunfire is evident from them.  Farther away, the sniper near the alien pod snaps another ineffectual round at James.

The Orion commander breaks in on the air support frequency, his voice tight.  "Claw, Theta, we have unknown traffic inbound.  One bogey, zero-three-five, heading two-one-zero, range one-one-zero miles.  Altitude six-zero thousand and descending.  Ah, estimate speed three thousand, repeat three thousand knots.  Be advised, negative radar contact at this time, this track is from alternate systems."

Incremental map update: https://www.google.com/maps/d/...wQbg&usp=sharing

Ammo expenditures:
Sébastien -1 round
James -1 round

Better  Durand thinks to himself as he sees his target go down this time. Once again he's working the action automatically, already thinking about his next target when he hears Hannah's voice crackling in his earpiece. A psychic signal amplifier with a dwarf inside. Not for the first time the Frenchman has to reflect on how much his attitudes have had to change during his time with Grey Cell. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be involved in trying to stop dwarves trying to take control of people he would have either laughed or thought that they were fucking crazy.

But he knows that Omdahl isn't crazy, trusts her judgement just as he would that of any other member of the team. And if she said that it was a priority target then it was a priority target. The Frenchman keys his mic briefly. "Double Down, Bullfrog, copy that. Break. All callsigns, am shifting target to the -" what the fuck do I call it? "- thing. Break. Dealer, can you relay new target priority to Claw, over."

Whether the fast air could retarget at this stage was another matter altogether of course, and even if they could, would they be able to hit something that size? He would leave that in Dacovetti's more than capable hands though as he seeks out his new target, shifting position as necessary to try and line up the pod in the crosshairs of the Marlin's sights. Once he's got acquired a line to it he'll gently apply pressure to the trigger and take the shot.

Bullfrog
Radio comms / shifting position as required and aiming at the alien pod / firing
Marlin 30.30 (3/6)

Cooper moved to lean against the berm and took up prone firing position.  The RAN clearance diver moved the selector switch under trigger from S to 1.  He sighted in on the alien pod's under-spots, hoping that the 5.7x28mm ammo in the FN P90 had the reach and penetration to do damage against them.  Williams keyed his mic and transmitted, "Diver's engaging the pod as well," before taking in a normal breath and exhaling slowly as he pulled the trigger.

Cooper Williams
Moving to a firing position
FN P90 [50/50]
Single aimed shot at the alien pod floaty emitter thing

The math is instaneous, then the repercussions.  3000 knots converts to 3450 mph. With 110 miles to travel, the alien craft will be over their heads in three and a half minutes. Christ on a crutch, here's the other tech you've been waiting for asshole, Michael berates himself, hope you enjoy it.  With that line of thought complete, the airman begins to dissect the other problems.  With that rate of closure, Claw 15 is good for one gun pass, at least if the pilot wishes to attempt a defense towards whatever is coming at them.  Math being what it is, maybe Michael can help there, too.  If they aren't getting shot at, which evidence indicates will probably be occurring.

The activity on the runway is clustering around the plane and the alien pod.  A gun pass should be able to catch both, but Dacovetti elects to let the pilot make the call.

"Claw 15, Dealer.  Target update.  Northeast of the plane is a small pod on the runway.  That is you primary target.  If you can hit the plane as well, fine.  If not, hit the primary."

Two clicks break squelch in his ear from the pilot acknowledging the message.

"When Claw arrives," Michael say to Caradoc, "we might be able to buy a moment or two of chaos.  I propose we hit the lights and close like hell with the guys shooting at Choi." He pats the P90 for emphasis.  It's another odds calculation.  Chaos and sudden bright light.  It get the pressure off of their friends and should provide some protection.  Some.

He hears Crewe mumble something about Michael being the kind of guy who apparently like to get shot at, but not an argument.

A possible solution begins to form in his mind for the inbound bandit, but it will have to wait another thirty seconds.  One seventh of the time they have remaining.

"Claw 15, in from the Southwest."

"Cleared hot, 15."  The next few moments of Michael Dacovetti's life are about to get interesting.  For various values of interesting.

Holy shit! James silently exults, pleasantly surprised at his improbable run of success. He's losing feeling in parts of his right arm, though, and he knows that it's going to hurt like a sonofabitch once the adrenaline wears off. In fact, he's kind of dreading the next shot. Thankfully, if he's counted right, he won't have to take another...

He stays focused on the Nissan Patrol, lining up the Wetherby's sights on the passenger side door. Everything he'd seen so far suggested that the E.T.s could take a hell of a licking and keep on ticking. The impact with the stump was probably enough to knock the human driver out the fight- he doesn't have an exoskeleton- but the Attar was likely only stunned, if that. James still expected more fight from that one.

Come on out you alien asshole. Let me see ya.

Lizard King
Behind berm, head and shoulders exposed (as little as possible, though)
Wetherby (1/4); MP5SD (21/30); FN FNC (x/y)
Taking aim at likely spot from which the Attar will emerge

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:12, Thu 26 Nov 2015.

The Marlin's scope slides onto the alien pod.  There's an itch behind Sébastien's eyes as he lines up on the - leading? - edge of the object.  It is beginning to move, sliding toward the waiting aircraft in a swirl of dust and sand.  There's no time to waste.  Sébastien comes to a knee and fires three times, working the lever-action so quickly that the reports sound like a three-round burst.

The pod grounds again with a grinding sound, plowing up a bow wave of loose earth.  The deep purple glow along its underside flickers and winks out.  The cloud of suspended particles begins dissipating with the apparent cessation of whatever force was holding them suspended in air.  Larger pebbles make noticeable trails through the swirling dust as they abruptly fall out of suspension.

Hannah clutches her forehead as a jagged wave of pain emanates from the pod --

The ground erupts in a line of fountains as the Super Hornet pilot makes his gun pass.  Twinkles within the renewed dust cloud signal the impacts of 20mm HE rounds but it's hard to tell if any of them were direct hits.

-- and the aviatrix crumples, semiconscious, her loaner pistol falling from limp fingers.

Cooper lifts his finger from the P90's trigger as the detritus thrown up by the Vulcan obscures his sight picture.  There's a headache building in his temples but he pushes it aside.  Something is coming... there.  A hatch at the pod's "rear" end swings up and a small spindly figure tumbles out.  Cooper strikes the trigger gently, sees the small-caliber rounds pock the ground around his target, sees the creature - Hannah's dwarf? - drag itself painfully into cover.

Caradoc finds a dirt track across the lakebed, aligns the Land Rover with it, and floors the accelerator.  The ride threatens to batter several thousand dollars of Michael's electronics into uselessness but they're closing on the two disabled trucks with frightening speed.  The Welsh medic reaches down and flips the switches for the vehicle's racing lights, spotlighting the other vehicles - and the three men running madly back toward the pod and the tractor-trailer.

Automatic rifle fire erupts again from the disabled Nissan, spitefully chattering at both Andrey and James but failing to connect.  The first burst is close enough to Andrey to send him behind cover.  The second, sent with a last-second swing toward Caradoc and Michael, isn't even remotely on target.  All it does is confirm the Attar's position for James.  The fury of the Super Hornet's passage overhead is enough to shake his aim at the crucial moment, though, and the last round in the Weatherby goes far to the creature's left.

The Skyvan's engines begin to howl as the pilot throttles up.  The aircraft begins trundling down the makeshift landing strip, gradually building speed.

"Dealer, Claw 15, breaking off.  Sorry, mate, I'm about to have company up here."  The Super Hornet's afterburners light off with a thump as it begins reaching for altitude.

Map update: https://www.google.com/maps/d/...wQbg&usp=sharing

Ammo expenditures:
• Sébastien -3 rounds
• Cooper -10 rounds
• James -1 round

Hannah felt the sharp, piercing pain in her temples and tried unsuccessfully to stifle the gasp of terror that escaped her lips.  The lithe army aviatrix gritted her teeth and pressed her eyes shut as the felt the edges of her consciousness fray and begin to unravel.  Her equilibrium seemed off and her knees buckled slightly forcing her down to the ground only moments after she'd gotten up.

"It..." she gasped weakly, "It must still be in my head, somehow ..."  Her voice was barely audible and her hands clenched and unclenched for a moment before she pressed the base of her palms to her eyes in some sort of attempt to try and ease the pain.  Double Down was sure that Diver would have noticed the coincidental timing of Bullfrog's well-timed trio of shots and Hannah's startled cry of pain.

With her eyes closed, the pain was less.  There was still the roar in her ears - given then chaotic cacophony that still surrounded her.  But without flashes of light, Hannah felt she could concentrate a bit better.  The pain was still there, but with time it dulled a touch.  Or she was just saturated.  Besides she'd at least seen the purple pod stop glowing purple.  That had to be a good thing.

The auburn-haired warrant officer tried to take a deep breath and force herself to focus.  Hannah knew that she was not good to the rest of the team otherwise.  But she was at a loss as how to help ... unless the link worked both ways.  Perhaps she could help to pinpoint the dwarf through the pain.  Double Down figured it was worth a try.  Hannah figured that at the very worst, she would fail and it wouldn't work.  The dwarf already had her position somehow, and was already linked to her.  So, she either needed to be taken out of the equation - which she hoped that Cooper wouldn't do for she still had some self-preservation instincts or try to make something work.

Another deep breath and the thin army pilot clenched her fist again.  C'mon, you little bastard ... where are you? she sub-vocalized, trying to push past the pain and salvage something from her miserable situation...

---

Hannah 'Double Down' Omdahl
Unarmed (again)
Writhing in pain.
Trying to expand consciousness ... or maybe just pass out.

"Claw 15, Dealer copies, thanks for the work.  Break. Theta, Dealer.  I'm transferring control of Claw flight back over to you, I'm about to be busy down here." To say nothing of the chaos that must be occurring over their heads: tracking an inbound fast mover at 3000 knots, with alternate systems (whatever that meant) and trying to defend three aircraft with a 20mm cannon. "Cambridge, recommend you try to use Claw 15's gun like a PDW against a cruise missile."  Unless Crit can work our a firing solution that will put HE rounds in front of the speeding plane, or Claw 15's pilot is on the far end of the bell curve, it's going to get problematic up there.  And then down here as well, he concludes grimly.  Maybe if there is nothing left for the incoming vessel to defend, it will leave.  Not statistically likely.

The men running in front of their vehicle are still far enough away that Michael doesn't believe that automatic gunfire will have much of an effect, but it still might get a little pressure off of their companions.  And the P90 does have a sufficiently large magazine capacity for a little spray-and-pray.

"We engage this guy," he tells Crewe, "then head east engaging the next position and then the runway."  If the law of averages doesn't catch up with them in a high kinetic energy kind of way.  "Here we go."  Dacovetti leans out the window and lets off his first burst of the engagement.


Dacovetti
Engaging lone human position
P90 (50/50) 1+1 magazine remaining
This message was last edited by the player at 23:17, Mon 30 Nov 2015.

Any irritation that Durand may have experienced when his first shots had went wide of target is more than compensated for when three rounds ram into the alien pod in rapid succession. They've clearly caused some damage, which the Frenchman hopes is compounded a second later as the fast air make their pass and the dirt around the pod is chewed up in a torrent of large calibre rounds. His eyes are still on the pod in the immediate aftermath of the Hornet's gun run when he sees the hatch pop open and a small figure emerge and begin to haul itself away from the damaged pod. Gotcha you little fucker.

For a split second the Frenchman thinks that he has a good shot on the alien, but he knows that the rifle is empty, that he'd used the last rounds on the pod so he tries to duck down into the best cover that he can find, reaches into his pocket and begins to feed rounds into the Marlin as quickly as he can, his mind running through different scenarios as he does so. It sounded as though another battle was about to break out in the skies above their head, which was not good, not for his team, not for the Hornet crews, especially not for the Orion crew, who were practically defenceless. It reminds him of one of the few science fiction films that he's watched all the way through, the one where Will Smith and the guy from the beer adverts saved the World. There's a scene in that where the alien fighters wipe out most of Will Smith's squadron.

Durand knows that he can't hope to influence events above his head. Or can he? The enemy may be different, quite literally unlike anything else on Earth, but the basic principles to combat them remained the same. And that including decapitating their command and control. Maybe the dwarf wasn't important, maybe it was. Only one way to find out. Once again the former Sergeant of French Marines issues an order that he never expected to give. "All callsigns, Bullfrog. Try and target that fucking dwarf." Once the Marlin is reloaded he will try to do just that himself.

Bullfrog
Reloading / radio comms

Fuck this!

James has to stop himself from chucking the Wetherby aside. That last shot hurt like a bitch, even moreso because it wasn't tempered by the satisfaction of scoring a hit.

"Lizard King here. We need to deal with the reaction force first. Will engage your dwarf as soon as it's neutralized. Over."

He drops the heavy rifle and picks up the FNC, making sure it's locked and loaded as a he scoots a meter or so laterally behind the berm.

"You OK, Andrey?" he shouts, preparing to do another weasel impression. "I'm going to hit the Nissan with rapid fire. Either shoot or scoot! Got it?"

As soon as his partner answers, James is back up, fixing the Nissan in the FNC's iron sights and squeezing off round after round until the threat's eliminated.


James Choi
Behind the berm
FNC (x/x*)
Engaging Nissan with rapid fire (1 aimed shot followed by multiple quick shots) until threats are eliminated, then repeating with further truck

-

The Russian spy spit some dirt from his mouth and did a quick inventory of bits and limbs before calling back to the Lizard King "I'm aces" and glanced towards the Nissan, made sure the barrel was clear and charged the FNC.

Bullfrog wanted them on the "dwarf" but there was little chance of getting from here to there until the threats at the Nissan were dealt with. He wasn't sure he could be any further out of position if he were back in UAE. Whatever. Solve the problem in front of you and then work on the next one.  It amused him to shoot these men with their own weapons... not that this would be a first for him.

"Shooting suits me fine" - Vasliyev took care, relying on Choi's rapid fire to keep the enemy on their guard, squeezing off rounds one by one, accounting for his less-than-stellar skill with longarms.

Andrey Vasliyev
behind his berm of safety
FNC
Engaging targets that present themselves, aimed shots

Cooper scanned the area, trying to locate the dwarf, changing the P90's selector switch from 1 to A as he did so.  Unable to draw a direct bead on the target, Williams let off a few rounds at the alien's last location.  Hearing the skyvan's engines rev, he shifted targets, putting a burst onto the aircraft to 'keep 'em honest', as the saying went.  As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Hannah, who seemed to be battling her own alien demons at this point.

Maybe giving her that pistol was a bad idea, he thought to himself, having not noticed that she had dropped it.  Still, in the press of the firefight, he needed to keep putting rounds down range and she didn't seem to be in immediate danger.  Williams kept up his base of fire.

Cooper Williams
Prone on berm
FN P90 [40/50]
10-round burst at the alien, then a 10-round burst at the aircraft if I can
This message was last edited by the player at 05:06, Thu 03 Dec 2015.