Lauren had felt some tension ease out when Grady had come into sight. Some, but not all. The mission had been a success. Not even a scratch amongst the Sierra team and all of the ADOC staff and dependents safely evacuated. All at the cost of one punctured tire. And a few footsteps down an uncharted path.

The killings in and around the Alamo had been justified. Of that she had not a shadow of doubt. The shooting of the two sentries that had preceded events at the pig farm was probably justified. If they hadn't been taken out of the equation they could have raised the alarm. And besides, they had been armed.

The slaughter at the pig farm. That was probably another matter. The ride back to Grady had give the dark haired Air Force Captain time to reflect on that. Not much time, just enough to self analyze her decision making process. With the benefit of hindsight. It was easy to be wise after the fact of course. Easy to look back and say that there had been no Corrections Officers being held prisoner, beaten, tortured. Nor had their brief search revealed any serious threats that might have jeopardised their mission. She had no way of knowing that at the time, had acted as she thought necessary against a dangerous and unpredictable enemy. And brought all of her people back safely. That was what she told herself as their small convoy pulled into Grady and she stepped down from rear seat of the Suburban and began to throw herself into the tasks that needed dealt with. In a moment or so she planned to be too busy to think about the pig farm.

"Good work everyone." It's the first thing she says as they call clamber down, getting it in before Franks brings them up to speed. Once they've spoken to the Grady Police Captain she goes round all of her team, offering each an individual thanks, making sure that she speaks to every single person, military or civilian, retrieving her NVG's from Skillins in the process.

When she reaches Sergeant Anderson she stands next to him for a moment, her carbine cradled in her arms. "We need to be ready for a counter attack tonight." Hopefully it won't happen. Hopefully the inmates have learned the hard way not to mess with the United States Air Force - the Governor can and probably will spin this a State Guard operation but as far as Captain Lauren Cao, USAF, is concerned her service was on point, something that she is quietly proud of - but it's still going to be a long night for many of them. At least the JLTV is still manoeuvrable so a tire change can wait until morning.

After she's gone round everyone Lauren makes her way into police station, intending to take the chance to attend to her weapon. She'd heard there was food. And a shower. She'd get some of the former shortly. The latter might have to wait a bit. Before she can make it past the desk where Scott Guillory is sitting on the phone the Governor's aide has motioned for her to join him.

Cao places her carbine on the table next to the phone, her helmet joining it a moment later, a hand running through her dark hair as she listens to the conversation going backwards and forwards until Scott asks for her input and she leans forward, closer to the speaker phone, her fingers lacing together. Her face is still smeared with the camo cream that she applied before they departed. "Good evening Governor, it's Captain Cao." Unlike Mr Guillory she's nowhere near being on a first name basis with the State Governor.

"Sir, the inmates brutally murdered and raped a number of people during their breakout. They didn't give the people of Varner a chance." Clearly Cao doubts that many of the inmates can be rehabilitated. Or trusted."We do have a number of witnesses -" She's referring to the ADOC people that they've just rescued. Granted, how much they actually seen was debatable "- who could potentially give evidence in any trials. But in general I agree with Mr Guillory, I'm not sure what other options we really have."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:42, Sat 01 Sept 2018.

Saul walks as easily as he can around their little group, checking in with the team, making sure everyone is okay and has what they need: mainly a spot to decompress and process that action that just went down. With Guillory and Cao otherwise occupied, the former lawman takes over the concerned parent role for the rest of the team, getting water down throats, food into stomachs, and gear secured. Words of encouragement offered. This part of gig is easy, compared with going downrange, but there is a delicate balancing act between patronizing and supporting.  One he is very aware of not crossing.  He saves Carissa for last.  Experience with his daughter has taught him that much.  He finds her sitting outside, staring at the punctured tire of the J-LTV and shoving chicken into her mouth.  A mint iced-tea sits next to one of her boots, a bottle of bourbon sitting behind her leg with maybe one shot poured off the top.

"Hey girl," Saul says, ignoring the bourbon.  "How'd it go?" How are you?  He wouldn't ask that question directly.  She'd just lie anyway.

"About as well as could be expected," she shrugs. I'm alive.

"A few less bad guys in the world?" Did you kill anyone?

"Two or three?" Two or three.

"Clean shots?" You okay with that?  Saul's not sure he is.  This really is the first time she's been asked to go on the offense when not defending their home and people.  It's a lot to carry.  He knows from Afghanistan.

"Winged one, dumped one," she answers calmly.  "The first one was a bit of a screamer. For a dipshit." More or less.

"Might stick..." he offers.  It's okay if you're not.

Carissa looks up at her dad, eyes tight like she's been through the last round of a nasty rodeo.  "Could have done without the screaming pigs.  Glad this isn't pork," she says, digging at the chicken with a metal fork.  The last is delivered with a hint of a smile. Part of this is going to.  Should be okay, though.

Saul nods and eases himself down next to his daughter, debrief over. "Mind if I have a sip of that tea?"

"Help yourself, old man.  Try not to break a hip, though."

A dry chuckle escapes, only to be stopped when he takes a drink of Carissa iced-tea.  There is a burn of bourbon in the back, but not as much as he feared.  Enough to take the edge off.  He smiles at that, too.

"Did you have fun with punk-rock-girl?"

Saul nods. "She's good.  Reminds me of your mom a bit.  In her wilder years.  Before y'all turned her into a respectful woman."  Carissa snorts at that.  He doesn't say anything else for a bit. "Girl knows her wheelhouse and knows what not to step into without help.  Good people all in all."

"You want some chicken, dad?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Duane pops his head in to the closed conference call, interjecting, "Ask 'em to bring another tire for the M1278." He intentionally neglects to mention that Razorback already carries a perfectly good spare, and that initial inspection of the bullet-pierced run-flat has indicated no damage to the side-wall, meaning that the tire can probably be fully repaired. In Duane's mind, two spares are better than one, and there's still plenty of unused cargo space aboard Ace Hardware. He withdraws quickly, hopefully before either of the officers can yell at him for interrupting.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Sat 01 Sept 2018.

"Thank you, Captian Cao, Scott. I'll get the clerks to work pulling whatever hardcopy files we've got for the Varner and Cummings inmates. Not sure what we can recover from the digital archives- a lot of it got stir-fried*. I'll also make sure to send plenty of fingerprint cards and ink; I feel a bit guilty saying this, but I hope we won't be needing them. Well, I've got a long night in the legal libary ahead of me. Sounds like y'all earned a good long rest today, but I'm probably going to need you back at the sharp end tomorrow. Get as much rest as you can and I'll call you right after I brief the task force commander in the morning, say at 9. I want you to hear my decision directly. 'Night."

*A reference to the effects of PLA cyber-attacks.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:06, Mon 03 Sept 2018.

"Shit," Cole said, holding a half-eaten chicken leg.  "What we need here are some of those fortified churches I saw in Romania.  Because this town has fuck-all for useful natural choke points and other defensive features," he said, looking at a map of Grady.

"We could try to situate a few LP/OPs along mainly the eastern side of town, with one in the north and south just to cover our bases.  Use Razorback as a QRF to respond to any contact reports.  We're going to be spread thin through," he said as he pointed out a few key houses and locations that might work as observation posts.  The Tech Sergeant finished his chicken and picked up a pice of cornbread.  "Each will need two armed pax with a radio and one set of NVGs at a minimum."

”Yes, Sir” Lauren replies to the Governor. ”We do have one request, Sir. Our -“ she’s about to say JLTV, stops herself, not sure if he will know what she means ”- armoured vehicle took some damage and needs a spare tire so if you can send one down with the relief column that would be appreciated.” She omits to mention that the vehicle is still operational - she’s been in the military long enough to be more than familiar with the concept of ‘make do.’

Once the call is over Cao looks over the table at Guillory. ”Can you talk to the people we got out of the Alamo, see if they can add anything to what we already know about the situation?”It’s clearly a suggestion rather than an instruction. ”I’ll go see how we’re doing about preparing for a possible counter attack.”The Governor’s sentiments about getting as much rest as possible notwithstanding it was likely to be a long night for them as well as him.

She rejoins the rest of the team in time to catch most of Anderson’s suggestions. Picking up a piece of chicken, she nods agreement. ”Sergeant Anderson, how about you lead the QRF with Skillins, Watkins, and Carswell aboard Razorback? Ms Murray and Ms Noble can form one OP, Mr Noble and Lieutenant Rios the other? Split up radios and NVG’s as required. I’ll stay with Captain Franks to coordinate any response. I’d also like one local with each OP. They know the ground. We’ll stand down at sunrise, let the locals take over so we can get some rest before the relief force arrives. I’m sorry, I know it’s going to be a long night.”
This message was last edited by the player at 10:32, Tue 04 Sept 2018.

Carswell has a handshake ready for Saul Noble when the older man moves about the group, answering enquiries about his welfare with a clap on the shoulder and a brief shrug. All things being equal Mike’s probably seen worse but the that’s primarily because he was distanced from a lot of what went down tonight. Especially the pig farm. By the time he had got there all that had been left were corpses. So the medic’s secure behind the combination of cynicism and irreverence that forms a semi permanent defensive layer.

He doubts the same could be said of everyone though. And a burden shared is a burden halved. Or some shit like that. ”I’m good Saul, but some of the people we pulled out of the Alamo -“ he shrugs ”- I dunno man, I’m gonna check them out but I don’t know what sort of state their heads are likely to be in, ya know?”

The medic then calls over to Rios. ”Hey, Tori, save me some chicken. I gotta do some Doc stuff before I eat.” Carswell then makes his way to the Church where the Alamo survivors have been billeted, easing his way past a couple of Grady volunteers who are trying to make their unexpected guests comfortable, seeks out Betty Reeves, figuring she’s the de facto go to person. ”Hi Mrs Reeves, I just wanted to give all of your people a check up, make sure everyone is Ok. Can you give me a hand? It’s probably best if someone they know sits in.”

"Yeah, I can do that."  Scott runs a hand through his hair, smug in the knowledge that he still has more than the guy he just got off the phone with.  "I won't expect much but maybe we'll get lucky."

He follows Cao to the dinner table, frowns at the water, and refreshes his tea.  He'll need what little caffeine it has to offer and he's not yet to the point of sticking a wad of MRE coffee grounds inside his cheek.  "Doc, let me know when you're done and if any of them are up for talking about the last couple of days.  We need to keep building the," he almost says "case" but that's not really an issue after that ohone call, "picture of what happened and what we're still up against."

In the relative cool of the late, Arkansas summer night, Guillory and Carswell walk the block or so to the Methodist church in which the Cummings Village survivors are currently being lodged. They find the pastor, John Oakes, and a couple of female lay ministers doing their best to care for traumatized men, women, and children of the Alamo. Carswell examines each of the wounded in turn. His cursory findings are:

• Jamie Walker: serious gunshot wound to left clavicle (possible internal damage)
• Luis Para (volunteer corrections officer auxiliary): first and second degree burns on both hands, superficial gunshot wound to left side of neck
• Ronny Gilbert (aged 17): tips of left pinky and ring fingers shot off
• Dan Reeves: superficial gunshot wound to the side of the head
• Betty Reeves: shrapnel (glass and wood splinters) wound to left forearm

The survivors are exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Dan and Betty do their best to brief Guillory, but the couple's window to the last 48 hours' events was narrow- essentially a 50m radius around their house. What they saw in that little nightmare world will very likely haunt them for the rest of their lives.

The day of the initial riot at Varner was Dan's first day off of work in seven straight days. He usually worked at Cummings. When it became apparent that something had gone very wrong at the neighboring Varner Supermax, the alarm was sounded. Dan and another co-worker headed for the Cummings unit, arriving just in time to join the besieged. In a fortuitous mix-up, when the warden surrendered the prison to the surrounding inmates, four guards including Dan and Luis, were not informed. Consequently, they were able to avoid the treacherous massacre that followed. They snuck out of the prison under the cover of darkness and evaded rampaging inmates to join Betty and the rest of the family in the family home the Sierra Team later dubbed the Alamo. One of the four men got separated on the way and hasn't been since. Another was killed defending the homestead (his body was under the sheet in the Reeves' hallway).

While Dan was trapped in the prison, Betty tried to gather as many of her neighbors together- strength in numbers- as possible in her sturdy brick home (this was a contingency plan that the Reeves had worked out long before, pre-dating even the war) but quite a few prefered to hunker down in their own homes or try to escape on foot. As far as the couple knows, most, if not all, of these neighbors were killed, either overrun in their homes or hunted down in the fields just outside of town. One woman- a next-door neighbor- was tortured in the street in front of the Reeves' residence- a crude and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to guilt the holdouts into surrendering. She didn't survive the ordeal. None of the survivors seem particularly confident that they could positively identify any of the culprits of this, or any other crime committed during the inmates' 72-four rampage. It becomes apparent that in survivors' minds, all of the inmates are equally responsible for everything. Dan, however, is quite familiar with the prison gangs' chain of command and will gladly point the ringleaders and their various lieutenants out, if any of them happen to be captured alive.

The rest of the night passes quietly. The feared inmate counterattack never materializes. Each of the Sierras is able to grab a quick cat-nap or two here and there, but all greet the sunrise bone tired. At least the Grady townsfolk could sleep well, literally resting assured as a result of their ASDF protectors' vigilance. Like clockwork, Captain Franks' phone rings at 0900 sharp, Governor Ralford on the line.

"Scott? Task force should be rolling out shortly. I just briefed the commander. He's an Iraq vet- should know his stuff. I consulted the brain trust, such as it is, and the consensus here is that the inmates are effectively insurrectionists. Unless they surrender, they are to be treated just like any unlawful, enemy combatant in an active warzone. That means the use of deadly force is authorized. No need to wait for them to point a weapon at you. They're armed, take 'em down. They run, take 'em down. If, however, an inmate surrenders, he's to be taken into custody and treated just like any other EPW. We'll deal with them up here.

The STAR team has about three hours until the ASDF task force arrives. Franks assures the Sierras that the Grady militia is on the job, the guests can stand down. This down time is spent breaking the fast (eggs bacon, and something called corn pudding, all you can eat, juice, and chickory coffee for anyone that wants it), cleaning personal weapons, showering, and/or sleeping. Skillins replaces Razorback's damaged tire with the spare. The patch will have to wait until after he's had some more sleep.

The ASDF task force (TF Cougar) rolls into Grady just before noon. It consists of a motley assortment Humvees (two armored, three not; some still sporing desert tan paint jobs), a few old M35 cargo trucks, a former-State Police BAE Caiman MRAP commandeered by the Guard, an ASP mobile command unit, and a mass casualty transport. The task force's heavy weapons include a couple of infantry mortars and a recoilless rifle.

TF Cougar's CO is Major Bill Simonton, who saw combat with the 1st Infantry Division during the Iraq War. He's in his fifties, slim, fairly fit, with an impressive, barely-regulation moustache and rapidly thinning grey hair, cut close. A Ranger tab graces one shoulder of his multicam combat fatigues. Introductions are made, Simonton is briefed by Cao and Guillory. Franks sits in in his capacity as the Grady militia leader.

"Alright. Here's what I'm thinking. Feedback is welcome. I'd like to send a reinforced platoon around behind Varner, using the 11 south and 114 east to Gould, then swing northwest on State Route 65 to about here." He points to a spot on State Route 65 about midway between Gould and Varner. "I expect most of these inmates are will run when we show up on their doorstep, and I want a firewall between them and the next town [Gould]. You're familiar with the ground north of Cummings. The river's a natural obstacle, but its not impassable. I'd feel better with a unit in position north of the town, both to act as a backstop and, if the main attack force gets held up too long, as a potential flanking element. You up for the job?"

OOC: If you'd like to go back and handle anything covered in this turn IC, please feel free.


Your Turn

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:03, Wed 12 Sept 2018.

”Yes, Sir, we can handle that.” Cao replies without hesitation. ”My unit is just over squad sized though, half of whom are civilians -“ that warrants a semi apologetic glance in Guillory’s direction. It’s not that she doesn’t think the civilians on the team are up to the job - she’s confident that they are or they wouldn’t be on the team -  but she feels slightly hesitant to order them into further harm’s way now that the relief force has arrived. ”- so if you can spare a few men that would be helpful. Say a single fire team, four men?”

She turns to Guillory. ”Scott, I can’t order your people to take part in this but you’re all more than welcome to join us.” Lauren smiles briefly. And she just called him Scott. Not Mr Guillory. We killed people together so now we can first name each other. They’d be making friends on Facebook next. Or what was left of it after the cyberattacks earlier in the War. She looks over at Franks. ”Likewise if Mr Armstrong or Mr Beasley would come with us again it would be really helpful to have people who know the local area but they’re obviously free to say no.”

The Air Force Captain then shifts her attention back to Simonton. ”We can give you a drone overflight before you launch the assault if you want it. Tech Sergeant Anderson can brief you on that.”
This message was last edited by the player at 13:08, Fri 07 Sept 2018.

"Absolutely," Simonton responds. He gestures to his XO to go make it happen.



"I'll take you up on that. We brought the ASDF air force along, but I'd prefer not to risk an aircrew if we can help it." Simonton explains that the Task Force includes a militarized civilian ultra-light aircraft. Its two-man aircrew includes a pilot and an observer/gunner. The aircraft is being unloaded [from a truck] and reassembled as they speak.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:37, Fri 07 Sept 2018.

"Not to overstep my bounds," Saul interjects into the conversation between Cao and Simonton, "but we should try to find an active role for the Grady population in this op.  Likewise any of the survivors from the Alamo that want a job.  We want to install some more agency here, not make them feel dependent on Little Rock any time there's a problem.  Yes, they were overwhelmed this time and we're happy to help, but long term, they need to stand strong."  He turns to Franks with kind eyes.  "I want to be real clear here: this isn't a slight on you and yours.  You did amazingly well and should be proud of yourselves.  We want to help you deal with the next situation before it even arrives."

Flashbacks to Afghanistan as much as the streets of Memphis slide through Saul's mind.  When people feel helpless, they act helpless.  Give a man (or woman) the chance to stand, and they'll stand again.  And feel connected to their homes.

"If Grady has even five or six folks to attach to an active combat unit, it'll help.  For the Cummings survivors, standing back up will help them heal."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:24, Sun 09 Sept 2018.

Carissa elects to stay busy until she can't keep her eyes open.  Otherwise she knows she'll be listening to squealing pigs.  Her rifle, and the borrowed one, are meticulously cleaned.  Ammo is replaced.  She breaks a sweat helping Skillins replace the tire on Razorback and generally tries to make herself useful to the team and survivors.

Finally, she just can't keep her eyes open any more, and after telling Xandra where to find her, she curls up on a church pew, jacket over her head, and just manages to keep the sound memory out of her head long enough to fall asleep.

As soon as he's off the phone with the governor and has passed the word to Cao, Scott puts his hat over his face and grabs about two hours of fitful sleep.  That does little to restore any sense of humanity, but the subsequent shower and shave clear some of the fog from his brain.  When the ASDF task force pulls into town, he's able to greet it wearing his professional face and a clean shirt.  He still defers to Cao, though - Steve's decision leaves the operation in military territory today.

He suppresses a blink of surprise at Cao's unexpected use of his given name.  It's a not-unwelcome sign of collaboration and maybe a little bit of a thaw, but the etiquette of such things was a bit tricky when he was a street cop and he doesn't imagine it's any less complicated in the post-nuclear military.  For public consumption in front of someone who's nominally Cao's superior, if not quite in her current chain of command, he chooses to keep acknowledging her rank without being overly stuffy about it.  "Sure, I'll ride along, Cap," he says, returning her smile.  "I'll check with the rest."

He nods at Saul.  "Yeah.  If I may, Major?"  He swivels the thin sheaf of briefing documents around on the table between them and extracts the ICS Form 203 (Organization Assignment List) sheet.  "If we can link Chief Franks up with yourself or your operations chief, that'll put him in a position to advise on local conditions and capabilities."  Not incidentally, it'll give the local top cop a chance to watch a large operation being run, something that largely seems to be outside his experience.  "Medical volunteers under your paramedics on the MAB for casualty collection, triage, and treatment.  Assume we are going to have some prisoners, so spin up a field processing unit like we used to do for Razorbacks tournament games."

Shit, Cole thought to himself.  He was eager to get back to the weapon station of Razorback but with the assembled forces, he was forced to acknowledge an ugly truth.  That real-time aerial surveillance and intelligence would far more valuable for a force this large than having any particular individual on the .50 cal.

"Alright, my first thought is to set up both Raven Ground Control Stations and put two Ravens up just before the assault, 15 minute apart.  First on a north/south racetrack, followed by an east/west track for the second bird.  Waypoints can be preprogramed, so I'd just need to switch between them for observation and to react to contact or adjust angles.  Two birds will help make their flyovers unpredictable as well.  Major, if you can get me on your command or S3 net, I can update you on the location of any enemy forces spotted."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Mon 10 Sept 2018.

Having managed to catch a couple of hours worth of sleep in the back of the JLTV when the night had turned out - thankfully - to be uneventful, Carswell had returned to the Church Hall after breakfast, checked up on the Cummings survivors, at least with regard to their physical well being. Their mental states were another matter altogether, which was more than understandable given everything that they had been through.

When the relief column rolls into town Mike goes to make his manners with their medical team, grins as he sees a dark haired woman in OD fatigues disembarking, recognising her as a fellow pre War Little Rock paramedic. "Hey Becky, good to see you. Might have known you'd show up."

Becky Chan offers up a grin of her own as she fist bumps her colleague. "Hey, Mike. Word is it's pretty bad?" her head cocks inquisitively, the unspoken question left hanging. Is it that bad?

Carswell nods. "It's bad."

Franks tries to hide a frown. He's half-sitting, half-leaning against a desk, arms folded across his chest.

"No offense taken, Mr. Noble. Grady always has been a bootstraps kind o' place, not the kind to take advantage of other peoples' hard work. But, with all due respect, defending hearth and home and taking part in a military offensive are two different animals- snakes and toads. Now, I can probably find five or six competent volunteers to go along with you, help you out, but most of my people would probably only get in the way. I would like any Grady volunteers to be attached to your STAR team, though, instead of Task Force what was it? Cougar? They know you, they trust you, and it sounds like you won't be the tip of the spear on this operation.

"As for the folks from Cummings. I stopped by the church last night. In my professional opinion, those people are in no shape to go back to the scene of the crime. They've been up for 72 hours straight, scared out of their minds the whole time, going on nothin' but adrenaline and instinct. Most of 'em are hurt, physically. What they need right now is rest. Can't stand up for yourself if you can't stay awake."

Simonton pays attention during the exchange, turns to Cao once Franks has said his piece. "If Grady can provide you with a fire-team, will you still be needing one of mine?"

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:42, Tue 11 Sept 2018.

Lauren tries to keep her expression neutral. She's a career military officer. Granted, the State Guard aren't regular military and their experience and training varies, but she'd still rather have a squad of Simonton's people than half a dozen civilians. Correction, half a dozen more civilians. She's probably being unfair, even harsh. But to say so is likely to be interpreted as disrespecting Franks and his neighbours. Politics she muses.

There's a brief pause before she replies to the State Guard Major. "I'm sure we'll be fine with the Grady volunteers, Sir." She turns to Franks, smiles. "Thank you, Captain Franks, I appreciate the help. If you can assemble any volunteers after this meeting is over we can make sure they are fully briefed." She looks back over at Simonton. "Sir, can the Grady volunteers draw any ammo that they need from your supplies?" She'll agree to Franks' request that the Grady people be attached to her team but she'd prefer if the Task Force could take care of any supply needs that they might have.

"That's fine," Simonton answers. "I'm sending out the end-around platoon as soon as this meeting is adjourned. The rest of the company will move out at 1300 hours sharp- I presume your squad will be ready. Let me know when you get those drones up in the air." [It's noon, CGT]

Simonton gives Cao and Guillory the frequencies to the company net, then steps outside to brief his subordinates.

The "end-around" force consists of a two unarmored Humvees (one mounting an M60 machinegun behind a rudimentary gun-shield), one M35 truck carrying the bulk of the platoon, and one M939 flatbed (the ultra-light carrier). The two-man ultralight, "Buzzard 2", will be accompanying the small force in the air, acting as scout and close air-support, should the platoon need it (its spotter/gunner carries a SAW and four 60mm HE mortar rounds modified to serve as aerial-dropped bombs).

The rest of TF Cougar (two armored Humvees, both with GPMGs, the BAE Caiman, and two M1078s, one carrying the weapons section's two 60mm mortars and single M67 recoilless rifle) is going to advance straight down State Route 65, counting on brute force to brush aside any potential roadblocks. Its first objective is to secure Varner village; then Simonton intends to move against the eponymous prison.

The Grady militia at Choctaw farms reports spotting a small group of men earlier in the day, two of them clad in the distinctive orange jumpsuits of prisoners. Warning shot were fired. When the men broke and ran east, a couple of the more gung ho militiamen took them under fire. One body was recovered, and blood trails indicated that another inmate was wounded.

Franks returns with four Grady volunteers- the familiar faces of Ed Armstrong and Tom Beasley, plus Vicky "Mama" Lawrence, a hard-faced, 50-something widow toting a scoped, lever-action rifle, and Billy Swift, a young man who claims to have spent some time in the Coast Guard (an AR-15 is slung over his shoulder, a semiautomatic pistol rests on his hip).

After Franks makes the introductions, he adds, "Offut practically begged me to let him come too, but I convinced him that manning the radios is a much more important duty."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:52, Sat 15 Sept 2018.

The siege of the prisons lasts two-and-a-half days. The prisoners were prepared and determined, hunkered down behind the fences that were meant to keep them confined. Both Varner and Cummings Villages were burned to the ground, either to eliminate evidence of additional crimes or as a crude diversion of sorts.Either way, the ploy doesn't slow down TF Cougar.

The smoke from the burning settlements hampers Anderson's drone reconnaissance, but he's still able to provide real-time aerial surveillance of both Cougar's and Sierra's march routes, as well as fly-overs of the both prisons. The Varner Supermax appears abandoned. It's approached first, swept quickly, proves empty of living inmates. The bulk of the task force moves on to the Cummings Unit. This latter proves to be the inmates' own Alamo. Ersatz snipers in the guard towers are eliminated by machinegun and recoilless rifle fire. Gaps are blown in the fences, and armored vehicles push through to deposit assault teams. Several direct assaults on the main buildings get bogged down in the close confines of the cell blocks, and numerous ASDF casualties are sustained, so Simonton orders his men out and the structures bombarded with mortars (white phosphorous rounds proving particularly effective). Mortar bombs are also dropped by Vulture II, the ASDF ultra-light, in its proof-of-concept combat debut. Several of the prison buildings start to burn. In the end, very few inmates are taken prisoner. Those not killed in the fires started by the WP rounds are cut down by machinegun and rifle fire as they attempt to shift positions (or flee, it's hard to tell which), or cornered and killed by hand grenades as they make their last stands in various nooks of the surviving structures.

The southern blocking force arrives in position just in time to scoop up six inmates who've decided they've had enough fun and manage to get away from their more determined brethren. In total, 39 inmates are recaptured. Somewhat suspiciously, there are very few wounded among them. 113 bodies have been counted so far, but some parts of the Cummings Unit are still smoldering and too hot to enter. About a dozen more inmate corpses are found during sweeps of the Varner Unit, some of them clearly having been dead for several days- likely the victims of prisoner in-fighting. Four more inmates are found hiding out there. No one much wants to search amongst the ashes of the two villages. A later sweep of Cummings Village will turn up close to fifty corpses, most of them burned beyond recognition. Ten are found lying out in the open, unburned. Of these, seven are clearly inmates (killed by the Alamo defenders or the Sierras during their earlier rescue op). 27 corpses, likely all civilian, are found in Varner Village.

During aerial patrols of the area around the prisons, the Vulture II crew spots a couple of small groups of inmates on the run, strafing them with uncertain results.

The wounded, mostly ASDF personnel, are loaded on board the Mobile Ambulance Bus, along with Jamie (the teenaged gunshot victim) and the Gradyites requiring more medical care than Carswell can provide, and sent to Little Rock via Pine Bluff.

The rest of Task Force Cougar- plus the prisoners, minus a platoon stationed temporarily at Varner Supermax to continue mopping up operations in the area- prepares to return to Little Rock.

Sierra returns to Grady...

To Be Continued...

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:09, Mon 17 Sept 2018.

Before...

"Brody.  Hold up."

At Scott's order, the Guardsman about to search the latest recaptured convict halts in mid-step.  "Sir?"

Scott's been using Bourbon Street's rear hatch as a makeshift office for prisoner processing.  Now he steps forward, one hand resting on the retention hood of his Safariland holster.  "Howya doin', Axel?" he rhetorically asks the prisoner, who's only semiconscious thanks to the imprint of a rifle butt on his forehead.  "Be extra careful with Asshole here," he tells Brody.  "He likes to keep a handcuff shim taped to the back of his belt and a razor blade in those greasy-ass viking braids."

Axel Vigels awakens himself enough to snarl inarticulately at Scott as Brody and his partner strip him down.  True to form, there's an ugly shiv in his hair and a couple of hairpins tucked into a seam of his ratty jeans.  Scott gives him the same thin, infuriating smirk that he's calibrated to fly under most judges' radar in the courtroom.  "Got any messages for Eugen?  I guarantee we'll see him before you do."

"Asshole and his asshole brother used to steal heavy equipment and sell it across the border, he explains to Brody's questioning look once Axel is out of the way.  "They shot a Hot Springs cop when he caught them loading an excavator onto a flatbed.  We might not have gotten them, but their girlfriend flipped after they got in a three-way domestic over which asshole had knocked her up."

Scott glances at the angle of the sun.  "It's gonna be a long fuckin' day.  Could be shorter if the major would let me shoot a few more."  He smiles insincerely at the next prisoner in line.  "Why, as I live and breathe!  Scotty Reynolds!  It's like a goddamn district court reunion down here!"

The Aftermath

The Sun is sinking towards the western horizon by the time Lauren Cao emerges from Grady Police Station. Simonton had turned it into a temporary TOC for the duration of the operation against the Varner inmates, and Lauren had spent most of the afternoon inside, taking part in what seemed like an endless series of meetings and debriefs as each element had checked in and Task Force Cougar's combat operations had begun to wind down. Somewhere overhead she was vaguely aware of the sound of an engine, no doubt Vulture II returning from another reconnaissance sortie.

She's tired. Actually, she's beyond tired, she's exhausted. She's not sure how much sleep she's had in the last three days but she knows it hasn't been much, just a cat nap here and there, keeping going on a mixture of adrenalin and ersatz coffee. But at least it was over. Grady Main Street looks like she imagines some towns in eastern Europe must have looked in 2027 or 2028, with military vehicles parked outside the police station, men and women milling about wearing an assortment of uniforms. From where she's standing she can see multicam, OCP, and woodland BDU's as well as various styles of civilian hunting gear.

Lauren removes her helmet, runs a hand through her hair, still scraped back into a tight bun, her fingers straying to her neck, massaging the aches and pains as she moves her head from side to side. Further down the street she can see Bourbon Street parked next to a Humvee, notices Scott Guillory running the prisoner processing. That's fine by her. The military part of this operation is more or less over. What happens to the recaptured prisoners is someone else's problem. Not that many had been recaptured. She really doesn't know how she feels about that. Just like she doesn't know how she feels about events at the pig farm three nights ago. That was all on her. She had been the one that had issued the orders to fire on unarmed men.

Unarmed. Sure, they had been unarmed. And maybe the inmates that had tortured a woman to death in front of the Alamo hadn't been carrying guns either. Fuck, for all she knows it was the torturers that her patrol had killed. She hopes it was, although it's unlikely she'll ever know for sure.

Nobody had mentioned the pig farm since that night. Maybe they're all dealing with it in different ways. It doesn't feel as though there's anyone that she could talk to about it, other than maybe Guillory. She's not even sure she wants to talk about it. Before she would have probably spoke to Jess. Captain Jessica Sawyer USAF had been Lauren's best friend. Based at Barksdale, she had been a pilot with the 20th Bomb Squadron, flying a B52H Stratofortress, had failed to return from a mission two years ago. Jess wouldn't have judged, would have just listened, let Lauren pour it all out. Lauren knew that people had talked about her and Jess, that there had been scuttlebutt. That hadn't been her problem either. But she missed Jess.

Pushing that thought out of her head she walks down the street until she finds Saul Noble. "Saul, If anyone's looking for me I'll be back at the Post Office." She announces, the fatigue evident in her voice. Fuck, they're all tired. But maybe she'll finally be able to grab a shower. And an hour's sleep. Just an hour.

"Hey." Mike Carswell grins as he pulls a chair up next to the cot that Jamie Walker is lying on in the Methodist Church.

"Hey, Mike." Her own grin is weak but at least it's there.

"So, they're going to take you up to Little Rock. They'll take good care of you." The medic hopes that she doesn't ask what happens when it's time for her to be discharged from hospital for he doesn't have the answer to that one. Neither of her parents had been amongst the survivors. How fucked up was this, really? Survive a goddamn nuclear fucking war then get slaughtered by a bunch of cons that should have been put down when the first bombs had started falling.

One thing at a time. "This is my buddy Becky." A gloved thumb indicates the petite woman with Chinese features standing behind him. Becky Chan flashes Jamie a quick grin. "She'll look after you on the way up there."

Jamie just nods. Carswell squeezes her hand gently. "You take care of yourself kid, yeah?"

Duane takes a break from helping the Caiman crew address some engine trouble. He leans agains the cab, wipes grease from his hands with a rag, smirks at the two white inmates that Guillory is processing.

"Thought all you Aryan supermen headed down south," he comments, badly feigning innocence.

"Fuck you!" the inmate spits. He briefly mad dog's Skillins, does a double-take, really looks at him, and finally says, "Hey, I know you." He pauses again, trying to remember from where. "You were Wyatt's bunkie! Fuckin' jit. Got yourself mollywhopped for disrespecting the Triple-A car," The large inmate nods decisively, then laughs derisively.

"Real talk. Got out year-and-a-half ago. Good behavior. Got me a job now. Didn't think I'd ever be coming back to this place. Life's kinda funny that way, I guess. Hey, you enjoy the rest of that life jolt, ya hear." Duane replies with a wink.

"Fuckin' punk!" the Viking nearly shouts, turning towards Duane and taking a single step forward. He doesn't get any further. Guillory takes him down. There's no malice in it, but the inmate's hands are flex tied behind his back and he can't break his fall. He gets a face-full of gravel for his bravado.

"You'll wanna watch yer step," Duane says, deadpan.

https://prison-diaries.com/prison-slang-glossary-2/

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:02, Thu 20 Sept 2018.

"Sure thing, ma'am," Saul says to Cao.  His smile is still there, plastered to his face, and offering support wherever he's needed.  The Air Force officer looks dead on her feet to Saul and he recognizes the signs of stress and sleeplessness when he sees them, what with the red and bruised eyes, caffeine jitters, and slightly unsteady walk.  He'd probably be showing all those signs too if he wasn't used to being up most of the night with hip pain and broken dreams for his family. "Get some rest, we're all good here."  I can hold down the fort, I've been doing this for thirty years.

He watches Lauren retreat towards the post office and makes a mental note to hang a 'do-not-disturb' tag over her sleeping bag once she sacks out.  If he has to, he'll have someone that looks a bit more used to petty crime steal her watch so the damn alarm doesn't wreck their CO.  Wouldn't be the first time he'd altered a plan in a manner that helped with the reconstruction effort even if it wasn't exactly what had been expressed.

The last few days had been busy for the former cop, mainly running liaison between all the different players making sure all the egos were stroked, relationships maintained, and tempers kept calm.  Easy enough to negotiate fuel with a hardy 'thank-you' for all the work.  Saul was relieved to see that Carissa had been keeping herself occupied and seemed to be sleeping when she could, despite the horror show that the clean up had been.  At least their team had been spared the worst of that particular shit-show.  He'd been taken back when the stories of the pig-farm made their way over to his ears and wondered how his daughter would be handling that.

Some day he'd ask.  Some day she'd tell him.

When they were both ready.