"I've got a black magic woman
Got me so blind I can't see
That she's a black magic woman
She's trying to make a devil out of me"

-Black Magic Woman, Santana (1970)

-

The team spends the rest of the afternoon preparing for the next day- reloading Ace Hardware, settling accounts with Zo's Tow & Automotive (- $1000 cash), and filing reports regarding the bridge, dam, and MSG situation. That night, the team members sleep hard.

The next morning, after a breakfast of grits and razorback bacon, ASTARR Sierra departs from Pendleton, sunburned and sore, but having earned a portion of goodwill from the locals.

The next leg of the journey is relatively dull, compared to the last. The convoy passes the morning in Dumas, the most normal place- save for the numerous "Home of the Ding Dong Daddy"* signs prominently posted around town - that Sierra has spent any amount of time in since leaving Grady. The people of Dumas have mostly cleaned up from the storm and require little direct assistance from the STARR Team (Carswell examines a young rodent-bite victim who's displaying early rabies symptoms, but there's nothing much he can do for the unfortunate child).

*Asking around, the Sierras learn that this odd slogan refers to the title of an old song purportedly written about the little town- its one and only claim to fame.

After a quick survey, mail delivery, and a cold lunch, the Sierra convoy leaves Dumas,  passing through the hamlets of Winchester, Tillar, and Reed, before finally arriving in McGehee, the largest settlement on the 65 since Pine Bluff.  The various townsfolk the Sierras see out and about don’t seem to know quite what to make of the well-armed strangers. The people seem curious, and understandably wary, but, for the most part, their responses to the odd wave or shouted hello are markedly friendlier than those the Sierras received in Gould, or even Pendleton when the ASTARR team first arrived there.


Wednesday, July 17th, 2030
1300 hours
87F, 75% humidity
Wind 3mph out of the south
Waning gibbous moon

The McGehee Police Department is right off the highway, marked by a large water tower emblazoned with "McGEHEE"  in plain [red] block letters.  Just underneath  the town's name, the faint, stylized initials, "D.S.B.." (in black) bleed through a  coat of white paint. A armed figure looks down from a catwalk that circles the base of the tower tank; a uniformed man with a long-rifle stands on the roof of the police station.

McGehee's  acting Police Chief, Leslie Jo Paddock, looks overworked and under-rested. With various unimportant tangents (omitted here), she recount the following tale of woe:

Shortly after the nuclear strikes on the New Orleans-Baton Rouge axis, McGehee was chosen by FEMA to be a refugee center for displaced persons from Louisiana. Invoking eminent domain, the federal agency set up trailers and tents in a couple of fallow cotton fields on the east side of town. Unhappy locals dubbed the refugee center, "Little Easy" (pronounced Lil' Easy). FEMA personnel managed the facility for a time, but eventually the agency's resources dried up. For all intents and purpose, FEMA went missing over a year ago, leaving the prewar population of just over 4000 full-time inhabitants to deal with the fugee population on its own. The First Wave of fugees settled in fairly smoothly, living in Lil' Easy and working on area farms. The Second Wave arrived, by train, from Louisiana a little over one year ago, shortly after FEMA ceased its operations in the Arklamiss/Arklatex region. This group of fugees has left a very different impression on the locals.

The Second Wave fugees refused to move to the already crowded FEMA camp, preferring to live aboard the stranded train instead. The sundry boxcars and container carriers were quickly transformed into an ersatz fugee village. The de facto leader of the Second Wave and its settlement within a settlement is a reputed Louisiana voodoo queen known as Madame Chloe. She holds court in a freight car festooned with candles, flowers, and arcane symbols that  locals swear were painted with blood- it's hard to miss. The voodoo priestesses' often raucous rituals- almost always held after dark- do not sit well with the vast majority of long-time McGehee residents (the town boasts nearly a dozen separate churches of various Christian denominations), especially home and business owners whose property abutted the railroad siding. Those who had the nerve to confront the group, however, can consider themselves fortunate if they've lived to regret it.

Madame Chloe has a small but fiercely loyal army of nominal adherents that calls itself "Dem Snek Boyz" (also known by its tag, D.S.B.). The gang's leader is a one-eyed O.G. known as Napoleon. The  gang has been steadily growing, in both size and boldness, since its arrival, augmented by young, disaffected fugees from the First Wave and even a few locals. At present, it's strength is estimated at somewhere between 30-50 gangbangers**. D.S.B.'s demographic skews young- estimated average age is 16- and male, but there are reportedly a few female gangbangers as well. The D.S.B.'s "soljas" are spectacularly violent. Although not particularly well-armed, they make up for their paucity of firearms with fearlessness and brutality. The gangbangers believe that Madamme Chloe's magic charms, called gris-gris bags, protect them from harm, resulting in brazen, temerarious behavior. Wielding machetes, hatchets, clubs, knives, and a motley assortment of firearms (about two dozen in total- mostly pistols and sawed-off shotguns, and a handful of submachine guns and assault rifles wielded by the lieutenants), Dem Snek Boyz aren't averse to using violence to impose their leaders' will.  Rumors have circulated that dissenters within Madame Chloe's parish have met with gruesome fates. The crime rate in greater McGehee has skyrocketed since the arrival of the Second Wave, and attempts to investigate or arrest gang suspects have been met with bloody resistance.

**At one point during the description of D.S.B.'s predations, Guillory recalls hearing about a request from McGehee to the State House to send the State Anti-gang Task Force. Unfortunately, due to manpower shortages and other, more pressing priorities, said task force had, by that time, essentially ceased to exist.

Americans' worst  atavistic fears  about refugees have become reality in Pendleton. Local law enforcement's ability to maintain law and order in and around the Second Wave's ad-hoc camp was quickly overwhelmed by the emboldened gang's various criminal activities.  Things came to a head after an incident in which two McGehee police officers were ambushed and brutally executed while attempting to detain a D.S.B. member for questioning regarding an earlier aggravated assault. Posse comitatus was invoked and the shorthanded police bolstered by armed citizen volunteers;  the deputized McGehee natives pushed for the immediate eviction of the Second Wave from the town. A hastily planned and clumsily executed dawn raid was repulsed by the D.S.B. in a chaotic, pitched battle that lasted until nightfall. Several posse members were killed or wounded in the fighting, including the chief of police chief, who remains hospitalized; several gang members were killed or badly wounded as well.

In the wake of the bloodshed, an uneasy truce was arranged between the two parties. In exchange for weekly deliveries of food and alcohol, and a guarantee of non-interference in their affairs, Dem Snek Boyz and Madame Chloe's parish agreed to stay east and north of 1st Street, west of the 165, and south of Pine Street, in the railroad siding and its immediate surrounds.  For all intents and purposes, Madame Chloe and D.S.B. also control Lil' Easy (the FEMA camp), and they sometimes operate a road block at a railroad crossing on the 65*** south of the police station where they shake down travelers for money and valuables. Although the truce has held so far, a couple of minor clashes between locals and D.S.B. have occurred, straining the fragile ceasefire. The citizens of McGehee fear that it's only a matter of time before open war breaks out again.

"If they saw you arrive, there could be trouble," Acting Chief Paddock explains. "And soon."

***Paddock reports that an ADOC convoy passed through town on the 65 several days past, exchanging fire with the D.S.B. roadblock on the highway.


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 22:13, Tue 01 Jan 2019.

Scott's face is hard as he listens to Acting Chief Paddock's report.  McGehee's obvious defensive posture was enough to put him on edge as the team pulled into town; for once, Cao hadn't needed to remind him to wear his helmet.  It's on the desk beside him now.  In a street cop habit he's tried hard to break since giving up his beat, his hand is resting on his Safariland holster's retention hood.  "Kontan al kontre ou, éske ou pa devine non mwen?" he murmurs softly as Paddock draws to a close.

The local cop looks at him sharply.  "That sounds like..."

"Yeah."  Scott nods sharply, blinks, and draws himself back into the here-and-now.  "I, uh, visited New Orleans a couple of years ago.  Personnel retrieval thing."  He pauses again, mentally inventorying the Arkansas State Troopers and Louisiana National Guardsmen who accompanied him on that trip's return leg and fantasizing about summoning them down here with a pissed-off and vengeful Jonelle Ralford and a couple of tankers of ersatz napalm.

He turns to Cao.  "Captain: if anything, Leslie here is understating the issue.  There are deep cultural hooks that these mambos and houngans use to run their crews.  It's bullshit but the troops are true believers.  Impossible to intimidate, certain they're immortal, and, if they've got any chemistry chops at all, doped to the eyeballs.  Pain compliance and less-lethals just piss them off and they'll keep coming at you until they bleed out.  Better yet, the citizens under their influence are likely to display significant, hmm, acculturation as a survival mechanism.  Think high-end Stockholm Syndrome.  The ones who would have resisted the takeover in the camp have probably already been tortured to death pour encourager les autres."

A glance back at Paddock shows her nodding reluctantly.  Scott presses on, "They may try to abduct one of our people tonight or tomorrow night.  They'll conduct chemical and forcible interrogation but the primary intent will be to demonstrate their capabilities to both us and their followers."  He sighs.  "This is going to be ugly.  I really recommend flamethrowers."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
In Haitian Creole: "Pleased to meet you, won't you guess my name?"

---

In one sense Lauren is pleased that Scott seems to have finally accepted her 'advice' and is adopting the appropriate defensive posture without her prompting. In another sense it's a reflection of the nature of the World that they are living in that such precautions are deemed necessary in a small town in rural Arkansas.

Her own helmet is currently nestled next to his, having been removed when she'd stepped into McGehee Police Station. The Air Force Captain had stood as she listened to the Acting Police Chief's summary of events and Guillory's response, her sunglasses dangling from an MBLBE loop at the front of her plate carrier vest, her thumbs hooked inside said vest. Her carbine is slung over her back, the barrel pointing downwards.

When both Paddock and Guillory have said their pieces Cao nods, thinks for a moment. If there is 'trouble' as Paddock has stated, Lauren is confident that they can take care of their immediate personal security. A combination of fifty cal, forty mike mike, and excessive volumes of five point five six from Sergeant Anderson's SAW should deal with any frontal attack, regardless of whether the attackers were off their heads on drugs or not. At least that's her professional opinion. She's never actually encountered an Opfor in that condition so she has no practical experience to draw on. Although she suspects Guillory possibly has judging by what he knows about them.

Lauren turns to Acting Chief Paddock, smiles briefly. "Don't worry. If there's trouble we'll deal with it." Her tone is one of confidence. It's intended to sound reassuring. After all, that was part of their remit wasn't it, to support the local authorities. Maybe she's being overconfident. Underestimating the opposition. Either way, if the Sierra Team have to react to events they can do so.

Being proactive is another matter though. They could just drive Razorback up to a point where the railway cars are within fifty cal range and then open up, but that thought is immediately discounted on a number of levels, not least of which that she would be initiating a massacre. The slim Air Force officer's thoughts drift back to the pig farm. No, she would be initiating  another massacre. And on a much larger scale. Events at the pig farm had not come back to haunt her. Yet. But she's not eager to repeat the experience. And besides, some of the gang bangers - maybe most of them - would get away.

But clearly, the status quo is not an acceptable resolution. Unlike the question marks about Gould they can't send this one back up the line for follow up later. And they're further away from Little Rock, which means they're further away from any support. Besides which, most of their reserves are probably still committed to operations in and around Grady. If they had the resource they'd have been here by now.

Cao turns to Guillory. "It seems to me that the most effective solution here is to cut off the head of the snake. They think they can't be harmed, correct?" There are various nods. "So we expose that as a lie. Deal with this Madame Chloe and Napoleon. By which I mean use lethal force. A decapitation strike. Take out the leaders and hope that breaks the rank and file so that they can be taken into custody without any mass loss of life." She looks Scott in the eye. She's well aware that she's advocating executing at least two people without any semblance of due process. And of course, how they would do it as a whole other conversation.

"If you expect that our arrival will break the truce, then I strongly suggest we implement martial law now.  Conscript every able-bodied person in town and implement a dusk to dawn curfew for all other civilians," Tori said, synthesizing Guillroy's worry about abduction into an action plan that might prevent that.  "We've got some spare small arms if needed," Rios added, thinking about some of the ADOC weapons that were collected and the Wilson Combat and Nighthawk firearms she'd obtained in Little Rock.

"There's not a judge in this state who wouldn't approve no-knock warrant in an effort to apprehend suspects wanted in the death of two law enforcement officers; especially given the narcotics nexus," Victoria said when Cao broached the issue of a decapitation strike.  "Assuming we aren't talking about shooting someone who is clearly unarmed and actively surrendering, then I have no issue with a pre-dawn raid on this voodo-bitch and her crew."  Tori's emphasis on the words clearly and actively made it clear that if there was any ambiguity, then the use of deadly force wouldn't be second guessed.

"Do you know if they have any NVGs or other night vision gear?" Tori asked Chief Paddock.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:39, Sat 29 Dec 2018.

Saul watches and listens to the debate over what to do with the ongoing crisis in humanity that is occurring in the vicinity and tries to formulate what to do.  It's tribal, this conflict thing, and while there are levers that can be pulled, there's going to be a cost.  Usually paid in the blood of people who would rather sit out the situation and are doing their level best to keep down and stay alive. This is not the Mississippi contingent, operating out of lack of control and a baseline human selfishness.  This is very opposite: a power structure operating directly through terror and violence, prioritizing it's own survival and growth.

"Okay," Saul says from his chair against the wall, trying to summarize what's going on.  "So we've got an entrenched power structure held up with superstition and a 'bit of the old ultra-violence.'  Anyone who crosses them will be dealt with in the most biblical of manners.  It sounds to me like we're lacking any 'good-bad-guys' to lever against the 'bad-bad-guys.'  I agree with you, ma'am," Saul tips his head to Lauren, "we're going to have to use violence.  This isn't a diplomatic situation.  Long-term coexistence is not the end goal or desirable.  This is an organized hostile force that I recommend we view as either a terrorist organization or an outright enemy.  That's the legal cover.  Hell, have the governor declare them so."

The former cop goes silent for a minute, now channeling the man who worked in reconstruction and COIN operations in Afghanistan.  "We're the new kids on the playground and we came in displaying our strength. They're going to test us, you are right in that.  I'm inclined to punch them in the nose first.  Buy us a few more days, hell maybe only a few more hours, but we can't let them dictate the terms here.  If they send a delegation over, we grab them and arrest them.  If they come and so much as sneeze at us, we highly consider shooting them in the face.  We need to prep our people ASAP."  Saul reclines back.  "Just an old Marine's opinion."

"Night vision? I don't think so. I've heard they think they can see in the dark, though- voodoo magic and all that bullshit. Problem is, we don't have much night vision equipment ourselves." She clarifies that the only NOD the department has was designed for surveillance as opposed to tactical use.

Paddock adds some more intel regarding Dem Snek Boyz' estimated capabilities, "They've got at least one police radio, but I don't know if they have any way of charging batteries. If not, it's gotta be dead by now. They used molotov cocktails- fire bombs," she adds, unnecessarily, "-when we tried to raid their camp. I mentioned the guns, right? They've got at least two police AR-15s, and probably a few more assault rifles of their own. They've got to be hurtin' for ammo, though.

"As for us, we're doing OK on ammo, and we've still got plenty of non-lethal stuff (CS gas, pepper spray, tasers and sting-ball grenades), but my department is tiny- there's only six of us left, and two patrol vehicles. There's maybe twenty posse members that are still gung ho to take on the gang. The rest? The raid fuck-up played holy hell with morale. You know what a 'Soweto Necklace' is? The people the D.S.B. caught during the fight- put a tire around their necks and set 'em on fire. Yeah, that'll make you reassess your priorities right quick. But maybe with y'all here..."

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This message was last edited by the GM at 16:21, Sun 30 Dec 2018.

Everyone has good or bad days at work. It's a fact. The problem is that in Mike Carswell's line of work the bad days can really fucking suck. The War hadn't really changed things that much in that regard. Even before the shit had hit the fan it had been a thing. It had been one of the reasons that Mike had split from his first wife, Luisa. Not the only reason to be fair, but one of them. He would come home and she would want to talk about whatever fucking corporate fun and games had gone down at Stephens Inc that day. Maybe someone had fucked up and deleted a file by mistake. First fucking World problems. Doesn't really compare to having to clean up the mess after an eighteen wheeler hit a compact. Luisa just hadn't got that.

This morning had been bad. It wasn't the look on the mom's face when he'd had to break the news to the parents that there was absolutely fuck all that he could do for their kid. It had been the scream that she'd uttered just before she'd put her face into her boyfriend's shoulder. That scream would stay with him for a long time. Sorry, ma'am, your kid is gonna die. And it ain't gonna be pretty. And you know what, I'm a fucking paramedic and I can't do squat for him. Even if we get him to Little Rock it's not gonna make any difference.

Yep, that was about as bad as it fucking got. At that precise moment in time if Carswell could have laid his hands on one of the stupid fucking bastards that had started this fucking mess he would have gladly smashed the fucker's skull against the ground until it was in a thousand fucking pieces. But that wasn't going to fucking happen either, was it? Nope, there was only one thing that Mike Carswell could do that would make any difference today. He'd waited until the mom had gone to sit with the kid, spoke to the father. Quietly. A strip of pills had passed quietly from one hand to the other so that the kid wouldn't suffer. The only thing Mike could do.

And then he'd gone back outside, went to find Guillory, gave the Governor's right hand man a summary. It would have been evident from the medic's tone that things had not gone well. "Kid's got rabies. Too far gone for anything I've got, too far gone for anything they've got up in Little Rock. You need to pass that on to the Governor. The thing with rabies is, once it takes hold it's pretty much too late. People need to know what to do. I'd suggest Mr Ralford gets on to one of the Docs at UAMS and get them to put together an advisory to broadcast on the radio telling people what to do if they get bitten or scratched. And finds out how much vaccine is available."

So yep, all things being equal it's already been a pretty lousy day as Carswell dismounts from Bourbon Explorer in McGehee, stands next to the vehicle as others troop in to the police station, adopting a position of casual wariness, his rifle still slung over his shoulder, his eyes hidden behind Oakleys as he returns any nods or smiles that come his way. And tries to suppress the memories of earlier today.

-3 doses, strong sedative

Lauren folds her arms, looks over at Saul as he sits back, nods. "I'm in agreement with taking the fight to them. Sooner rather than later. They need to know that the rules of the game have just changed. And not in a good way for them. If they come at us armed I say we give them one chance to surrender. Everything I'm hearing here indicates they will not surrender in which case we have no option but to go guns hot at that point. In the meantime we work out how best to deal with them."

The Air Force Captain then looks over at Paddock. "I am concerned about the possibility that they may take hostages if and when they feel threatened, try and use them as leverage against us. Are any townspeople close enough for that to be a risk?"

"Well, let me show you." Paddock replies. On a wall-to-wall white board, attached side by side, are a large X-scale street map of the town and a blown-up Google Maps print of a satellite image. "Everyone between 1st and 2nd street moved out, or were forced out by the gang, so there's a bit of a DMZ, you could say, between the camp and the inhabited neighborhoods. We run a two-officer vehicle patrol up and down 2nd street 24-7. There are full-time Auxiliary* outposts here at the hospital and here, at the post office/museum. But the camp is still effectively only a block away from inhabited neighborhoods, so hostage-taking is definitely a possibility- a very scary one. We just don't have the manpower to completely cordon off the camp, so if they have a mind to cross 2nd street, there's no way to guarantee they won't."

*The working-name for official posse members is Police Auxiliaries.

https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing

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This message was last edited by the GM at 16:22, Sun 30 Dec 2018.

Scott folds his arms over his chest plate, leans back to cool off, and lets the rest of the command and advisory group carry the conversation with Paddock.  "In this instance, the governor's office will concur with whatever finding we deem appropriate," he puts in when Paddock pauses to move to the map.  He gives Saul a sharp look and a curt nod.  "The roadblock in and of itself would be an extortion racket, but there's a standing no-go zone out there enforced by terror tactics.  That crosses the line from organized crime into whatever agency's proprietary definition of terrorism you care to name.  We need to shut this shit down hard and fast, and if they come at us before we launch, we put their scouts under the jail and melt down the key."

He looks at Paddock.  "I'm assuming you're on board with this."  Based on her demeanor, it's neither phrased nor inflected as a question.  "Should we expect any pushback from your chief or your local executives?"

"Pushback? More like the key to the city. Folks here have wanted them voodoo fugees gone since about a dozen major felonies ago. Last I heard, Arkansas is still under martial law, and this cult/gang bullshit's gone on long enough." Paddock reiterates a caveat already established by the Sierras, "As long as we're only talking about armed subjects, there'll be no legal, ethical, or moral objections to using deadly force, including preemptively. McGehee PD is totally on board with that."

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This message was last edited by the GM at 01:20, Mon 31 Dec 2018.

Lauren's uneasy about where some of this is potentially going. Her number one concern is the welfare of her team, both those under her direct command and those that she is on paper only there to advise. "To be very clear, I am in full agreement with offering them a chance to give themselves up peacefully. However if they choose not to take that chance and my troops feel that they are in clear and present danger I am authorizing them to use lethal force regardless of whether they can confirm their target is armed or not. We are not talking about unarmed refugees throwing rocks here. These insurgents clearly have no regard for human life so under no circumstances am I risking any of my people. If an insurgent lays down his weapon and clearly puts his hands in the air and complies with all instructions they are given then he - or she - will not be shot. Anything else is a judgement call and I will back my people's judgement." There is no way she is risking a mob of insurgents getting close enough to swarm them then drag someone off to be necklaced just because they're not openly carrying weapons.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:13, Mon 31 Dec 2018.

"I think we're both on the same page, Captain." Paddock replies, adding, "If someone's deemed a threat, regardless of whether or not they're visibly armed, we don't take any chances." The acting police chief pauses, weighing her next words carefully, "But, it's important for everyone here to remember that there are women and children in that camp too. I want us all to be able to sleep at night when this is over."

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This message was last edited by the GM at 18:56, Mon 31 Dec 2018.

Outside the leadership pow-wow, Carissa stands near Ace Hardware and watches the residents of McGhee watch the Sierra's pulling security.  As usual, she takes the opportunity to pretend to be her dad and tries to figure out what's going on.  There's hope in a lot of eyes, curiosity in more.  Most of all she sees wariness, as if their presence spells trouble.  A couple of eyes hover at the edge of the crowd and scamper as soon she makes contact with them.  She figures they're reporting in to somebody.

Well this is super shitty.  The town is on the edge of something, energy coiled like a mustang waiting to come out of the chute.  Carissa does a quick pat down inventory to make sure she's not missing anything and flexes the fingers of her hands in turn, just like she would before a horse underneath her is let go.  Her carbine is close, hands on the grips, thumb hovering on the safety.

"Hey girls," Carissa calls back to Xandra, still in the cab, and Watkins who is hovering on the driver's side.  "Anybody else got a funny feeling on this one?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:05, Mon 31 Dec 2018.

"I just want to be clear on the operational parameters we're discussing here.  As soon as they're locked in, I'm happy to brief our people outside."  Saul stands, his hip feeling a little better since he had the opportunity to rest for a little while in a chair not attached to a moving vehicle.  "In summary, if we are challenged here, we will provide one opportunity for the enemy to surrender, if possible before using deadly force to defend ourselves with due regard to the civilian backdrop.  Once we commence an offensive operation, all gloves are off and we'll be dropping bad guys like a contagious cancer.  Again with due regard to the civilian backdrop. Is that correct?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:06, Mon 31 Dec 2018.

"If by opportunity you mean they are standing with both hands up, in a well-lit room and not within three feet of a knife or firearm, yelling 'I surrender'.  Then yes," Tori said with a nod.

Slinging her Remington, Chevelle steps down, circles the slab nose of the M1078A1, stands next to Carissa. "Yeah, something's off here. Tense." She glances at the rifleman on the roof and the second above him, up on the water tower, observes, "That's not usually local PD SOP." Chevelle is wearing her blue USAF beret, but she has half a mind to replace it with her helmet.

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This message was last edited by the player at 23:15, Mon 31 Dec 2018.

"Concur," Scott adds tersely.

He studies the map a little more.  "On the DMZ issue, we have limited surveillance assets we can offer to augment your patrols.  It won't be anything like 24-7 monitoring but it might raise the odds of stopping a hostage grab."  He turns to Cao.  "I'm thinking we should try to rotate all of our people through those positions and the patrol routes to get a feel for the terrain."

Xandra slides behind Ace Hardware's wheel as Chevelle vacates the position.  Every few seconds, her eyes flick to the wing mirrors.  "Feels like hurricane weather," she puts in through the open driver's-side window.  "No one wants to be the first one to leave town but everyone's looking for an excuse to be somewhere else and save face."

She realizes she's checking her pistol to make sure it's still there and accessible, forces herself to stop, and wonders when that started to be a thing and if it'll become her new normal.

"Agreed." Lauren nods. "They get an opportunity to surrender if that doesn't put us in danger. If they come at us waving M4's and molotov cocktails We shoot first." It's clear from her tone that this isn't a negotiation. "Maybe once they see a dozen of their buddies go down it will temper their zeal a little. Although from what I'm hearing I doubt it." A stray thought crosses her mind. "We should probably be particularly wary at sundown. They'll have the Sun at their backs if they want to come at us."

Hearing Guillory's suggestion, the Air Force Captain then walks over to the whiteboard so that she can study it more closely. "Yep, we should probably take a closer look at them. We could use the drone but they might see it, realize that something is brewing." After all, Seeger's troops had seen it. At night.

"It looks like we should be able to get eyes on the railroad from this outpost here." a finger points at the post office. "If it's got some height we might be able to set up a firebase to cover the northern half of the DMZ. We can set up the SAW, one of our grenade launchers, maybe a designated marksman to  deal with anyone trying to cross it."

She pauses, looks at the map again. "If we can set up another fireteam at the southern end of the railway yard they can deal with anyone trying to cross the tracks and cut off any attempts by the roadblock and the railway yards to support each other."

Strands of a plan are starting to come together in her head but it's still far from fully formed.  It's also aggressive. Maybe too aggressive for an urban area. "We could deal with the roadblock today. Before it gets dark. Recce it. Then hit it." She nods in Saul's direction. "Give them the punch in the face that Mr Noble mentioned. The JLTV comes down the 165 and we take it out with the fifty cal and forty mike mike. Maybe some of the local PD or auxiliaries can back us up," Perhaps seeing the roadblock chewed up by heavy machine gun fire and forty mm grenades might boost their morale. Lauren can't help but smile as a thought crosses her mind. "I'll back Ma Deuce over Madame Chloe any day of the week."

She looks over at Paddock. "There would be a risk if you have people in this area here though." She uses her finger to draw a circle in the air over the area just south of the roadblock. "I can't guarantee there wouldn't be stray rounds. Is it residential?"

Paddock shifts to the satellite image, uses her index finger to illustrate the ensuing description of the area surrounding the intersection of the 65 and the railroad tacks, "It's mostly shuttered businesses right around the crossing. There are houses here to the northwest, about 150 yards away. There're more houses on the south side, but they're about a quarter-mile back, and these grain elevators at the southeast corner of the intersection should screen the residential neighborhood behind them." She then adds some details about the roadblock itself, "It's usually just four or five gangbangers, hanging out around this garage at the end of Bush street. They like to posture a lot, but they'll let our cruisers through, and all the locals know by now to avoid that area."

"I guess the big question here is do we chip away, or go straight for the jugular? Hitting their outposts will weaken 'em, for sure, but it'll also tip 'em off that things are about to change, get 'em up on their toes. Then again, if they saw y'all roll into town, they're probably already on their toes."

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This message was last edited by the GM at 19:13, Wed 02 Jan 2019.

"We can assume they have informants," Scott remarks.  "Not casting aspersions on your citizens.  These assholes have ways of getting leverage.  So they already know we're here."

He shifts his weight on the desk.  "We also can assume we won't get anything useful out of an interrogation if we take a few of them into custody first.  They're going to be thoroughly brainwashed.  So there's no intelligence value in taking down the roadblock first.  The tactical question is whether it's worth removing ten percent of their Snek strength and their obvious surveillance post.  If we do that, they'll want to respond immediately to maintain face and prove they aren't intimidated by The Man, so we can assume there'll be a counterattack of some sort after dark."

"We could just drive the fuck out.  Come back in a day or two to hit them in broad daylight.  Anyone who'd say we arrived would also say we left.  Times are tough, we've got other places to be, and the State Government doesn't give a shit about this kind of crap.  Move out, leave the status quo in place and play to their expectations that Madam Chole's Voodoo means even the Arkansas State Militia wouldn't dare tangle with them,"  Cole said with a shrug.  "I mean, how do you say 'all warfare is deception' in Haitian Creole?"

Lauren shrugs. "I've got no problems with taking the JLTV down the road right now and lighting up that roadblock. If they come at us afterwards we'll deal with them accordingly."

"'Tout lagè se manti,' more or less," Scott tells Cole.  "You'll also want 'Drop zam ou epi mete men ou sou tèt ou.'"

He turns to Cao.  "Captain.  A word, please?"

When he and the Air Force officer are away from the others, he turns and runs a hand through his hair.  "Captain.  Lauren.  This is not a lecture."  He holds up a hand as he searches for words.  "Call it a lessons-learned, okay?  Look.  I meant what I said about flamethrowers.  New Orleans?  I was getting Steve's older daughter back for him.  She was at Tulane when everything went to hell.  I went down with a couple of state troopers from his detail and a few more retired road cops who volunteered to tag along.  We ran into those fuckers'," he stabs a finger toward the railroad tracks, "close cousins.  The shit they do... look, just believe me when I say I'm on board with whatever level of force you want to apply here, so long as it's excessive.  You want to roll in on that roadblock, I'll pull the trigger and sleep well tonight."

He smooths his hair again.  "So, be aware, my impartiality is somewhat fucking compromised here.  But also be aware that their kind of crazy is a force multiplier.  Underestimating them is a terminal error."

Saul starts collecting his bits and pieces in order to head out to brief the rest of the team.   He stares at his helmet for a couple seconds, hesitating, especially given his earlier call for violence.    Finally, he clears his throat.  "For what it's worth, I have three words I want everyone to keep in mind and those are Black Hawk Down.  I've been around long enough to remember that particular cluster-fuck."  True, he was like thirteen when it went down, way more concerned with Jamie Leegan then he was with Farrah-Aidid, but still...  The whole situation had played heavily into his early years into the Marine Corp and colored operation in Southwest Asia for decades.

"Numbers and khat versus training and firepower.  Hostile territory. I'm not saying we don't engage.  I'm saying we go in with our eyes wide open.  And with enough gear to sustain our teams for a protracted engagement.  Hopefully we don't need it.  I'm not expecting 5,000 bad guys."  Because, frankly, that would be impossible. "But we need to seize the momentum and not let up once we engage.  And bring lots of water, because it is hot as hell out there."   We is a stretch.  Saul has no illusions that he'll be going out there.  He'll be coordinating with the local cops.  It's Carissa that will bear the brunt of the decisions made here.

The Sierra brain-trust settles on an immediate, aggressive approach, a hit-and-run raid targeting a known D.S.B. outpost.

Paddock acquiesces. Her demeanor changes, quickly and markedly. Moments earlier she'd seemed bone tired; now, she fairly vibrates with nervous energy. It's like she's about to have a persistent, painful boil lanced- relieved, excited, and scared, all at the same time. She's strapped in, the roller coaster already pulling away from the gate- there's no turning back now. Momentum won't allow it.

Cao and Guillory brief the rest of the Sierra team in the parking lot. The unarmored and encumbered Ace Hardware will remain behind at the police station*. Razorback with take point, with Bourbon Street rolling slack; an MPD patrol vehicle (Paddock and officer Leonard) will act as tail-end-Charlie. The three vehicles maintain 30m intervals in the line-ahead formation.

Paddock uses a series of pre-arranged code words to put the all MPD assets on full alert and call reinforcements to the two permanent police auxiliary outposts. She doesn't elaborate, on the off chance that the D.S.B.'s captured police radios are still functional.

At just after 1400 hours, the attack force rolls out, moving south at speed along the traffic-free 165. They pass several restaurants, motels, and garages, about half still operating in some capacity, the other half repurposed or boarded up. During the first third of their journey, the Sierras catch glimpses of Lil' Easy, the former-FEMA refugee camp houses most the First Wave, on the east side of the road.

The D.S.B. "roadblock" comes into view about 400m ahead, about 180m past a shuttered Chevrolet-GMC dealership. On the south side of the road (left, from the Sierras' POV), grain elevators/silos look down on the railroad crossing like impatient, oversized spectators.

Cao and Anderson spot the first Snek Boy. Standing in the middle of the road near the railroad crossing waving a pistol above his head, he's hard to miss. Anderson spots a second crouching atop the roof of the building at the northwest corner of the intersection. A third is standing in the shadowed interior of the garage bay (the door is open). These two are clutching long arms; at the moment, neither are pointed at the approaching convoy.

Guillory (presumably in the passenger seat of the Seirra Tahoe) catches a glimpse of movement behind a fuel truck in the dirt lot just north of the garage building, on the west side of 165.

The convoy is currently 100m from the "roadblock", closing fast.

Updated Tac-map:
https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing


Your Move.

*Paddock's acting second in command, a former MPD dispatcher, will remain at the police station to monitor and coordinate on the police net. The lookout on the water tower, an auxiliary, will remain in place. Although you can cram the entire Sierra team into Razorback and Bourbon Street, you may leave any PC and/or NPC that you wish behind to guard the M1078A1/Police Station- just let me know who.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 01:31, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

"Razor from Bourbon, giving them the ceremonial warning," Scott advises over the team's private (and encrypted) channel.  He glances at Rios in the driver's seat beside him and adds, "just to get it out of the way."

He grabs the other, less-used hand mic, the one connected to the Suburban's PA, and keys the mic as his other hand switches on the strobes.  "Arkansas State Guard.  You are under arrest.  Drop your weapons and raise your hands or kneel before Baron Kriminel.  Your choice, boys."

He hangs up the mic and pulls the charging handle on the suppressed AR sitting between his knees in the SUV's footwell.

The foreshortened doppler effect of the broadcast warning spurs the Snek Boy in the road to action. He runs east, squeezing off a series of un-aimed shots in the general direction of the approaching convoy. The rounds don't go anywhere near the vehicles. The gangbangers at the garage both assume a more traditional firing stance, but neither one appears to open fire. Yet.

The convoy is now 15m closer to the roadblock.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 23:46, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

Oh boy, here we go, Carissa thinks from her seat in Razorback as the first gunshots of the fight ring out.  She's practically vibrating with something between excitement and fear.  It's a familiar sensation in that she's been tested in danger before, but it's new in that this is the first big fight she's been in.  Different even than the sniping at the pig farm.  This isn't premeditated so much as walking across the school yard and punching the bully square in the nose in front of all his friends.  This here, this is designed to provoke.

Watch the roof tops, girl, Saul had told her.  Look for cover.  You're going to be overwhelmed with input.  Let it wash over you.  You know how to do that.  I've seen you do it before.  The only difference between rodeo and a gunfight is that this horse can reach across space to buck you off and it's going to last a lot longer than eight seconds.  Those, of course, are some mighty big differences.  It was obvious that Saul was trying everything he could to hold it together, doling out advice to his youngest as he sent her on her way into danger.  Trying to be supportive and not overbearing.  The final hug and "I love you," made it clear how much he was worried.  That the consequences here were real in a bad way.

"I've got the garage," Carissa says inside the vehicle.  Her nerves steady with a deep breath, ready.  "Say when."  Her rifle is in her against her leg, barrel pointing down at the floorboard.  Without knowing it, she echoes Scott's motion, sliding the charging handle up and back.

Lauren can feel her heartbeat increasing as the road block grows larger ahead of them and Guillory's warning goes unheeded. Her private conversation with the Governor's right hand man is still fresh in her mind. As is what Saul had said to all of them. Black Hawk Down. Not on my fucking watch. There is no way that one of her airmen - or anyone else for that matter - is getting dragged through the streets then set on fire. No fucking way. Guillory was about to get the excessive force that he had asked for.

Targets are called out. The speed that they're going she only has seconds to react. " Skillins! Pull up!" Lauren's tempted to drive straight at the roadblock but she's mindful of the fact that the gangbangers are reported to have molotov cocktails. So better to stand back, minimize the risk to themselves and use their heavy machine gun to good effect. She puts her gloved hand against the dash to brace herself for the anticipated deceleration. "Sergeant Anderson! Target, one o'clock. Clear that roof! Ms Noble, take your shot! Keep firing until they stop moving!  They've had their chance!"

"Skillins, call out if you see anyone coming at us. No one gets within fifty yards of this vehicle!" The Air Force Captain then does the same herself, her head in constant motion from left to right as she tries to scan the area ahead of them, watching for both threats and targets, which are effectively one and the same thing. If she and Skillins spot them Anderson and Ms Noble can kill them.

Lauren
JLTV, front passenger seat
Voice comms / observing
This message was last edited by the player at 23:17, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

Scott switches back to his personal radio's lapel mic with the hand not steadying his rifle.  "202, watch that fuel truck at our four o'clock," he warns Paddock on the local cops' channel.  He braces a boot against the floor as Rios herringbones right, into the defunct oil company's gravel lot.  Behind the Suburban, he catches a glimpse of the locals' smaller marked SUV mirroring the maneuver, veering left into the paved lot of the thoroughly-looted self-storage business.

The maneuver keeps the fuel truck, and whoever or whatever is behind it, on his side of Bourbon Street, so he moves his off-hand to the door and prepares to bail out and move on that position as soon as Rios comes down to a speed that won't snap his ankles.  The steady fire from Anderson's heavy weapon assures him that there won't be much left to the south that's capable of threatening his six.

Scott
Bourbon Street, front passenger seat
Comms, preparing to assault whoever's behind the fuel truck
Wilson Recon SR [30/30] - suppressed, 6x optic
This message was last edited by the player at 00:57, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

"You got it, boss-lady," Skillins drawls, firmly but smoothly stepping on the brakes. At the moment, all of his attention is focused on successfully completing the straightforward but not-as-easy-at-it-sounds maneuver; once Razorback has safely stopped, he'll devote his full attention to scanning for threats.

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This message was last edited by the player at 01:33, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

Chevelle follows Guillory's lead, exiting the rear passenger side door a split second behind the senior lawman. Her M870 MCS is up, swinging towards the fuel truck...

-

"Copy. Guns hot," Anderson replies over the vehicle intercom system. He's already tracking the rooftop target with the M2. As the J-LTV slows, his index fingers remove any remaining slack from the butterfly triggers. When Razorback stops rocking, post-stop, he recenters the target in his sights and squeezes, sending a stream of .50 rounds downrange.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 16:36, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

"Yeah buddy," Carissa says.  "Kabua you got your side?" Her door to Razorback is opening before the vehicle comes to a complete stop.  The "windows" in the back of the armored vehicle don't amount to much, leaving her with one option.  She's out and using the vehicle as cover as the .50 cal booms overhead.  She doesn't flinch.  It's a shooting drill, trained into her muscles over nine years of shooting classes and her father, rifle tucked into her shoulder.  The target, not the human is up in the reflex sight as she moves towards the garage.  She pulls the trigger.

Rawhide
Engaging target at garage from the cover of Razorback
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining

"Yeah," Kabua answers. Outside of a kitchen, he's a man of relatively few words. When Razorback pulls to a halt, he opens the rear, driver-side door and hops out, taking a knee and covering the vehicle's currently unengaged side with his M4.

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This message was last edited by the player at 02:14, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

In the span of about 5 seconds, J-LTV slows, then comes to a complete stop, rocking briefly on its well-tuned suspension. As soon as the weapons platform is stationary, the M2 hammers out a quintet of rounds, effectively disintegrating about a two-foot length of the raised lip of the flat garage roof, and eviscerating the man kneeling behind it. Threat neutralized. (M2HB -5 rounds .50 caliber)

By this time, Carissa is out, reflex sight hovering over the gangster standing in the open garage bay. She squeezes off a trio of rapid shots. Two puffs of concrete dust erupt from the recessed lintel, signaling near misses. A spray of red shoots out of the target's left thigh, and he falls to the floor with only his legs visible from the street. (Carissa -3 rounds 5.56mm)

From the front passenger seat, Cao sees a figure appear at the southeast corner of the garage. She's not sure, at the moment, but her first impression is that it's the same man who'd been standing in the road a few seconds earlier. He raises what looks to be a semi-automatic pistol at the J-LTV and squeezes the trigger, producing a burst of fully automatic fire. Three or four rounds PING off of Razorback's armored hide. Carissa hears a ricochet buzz by her head.

Guillory and Watkins rapidly debouch from Bourbon Street, pivoting to face the potential threat behind the derelict fuel truck in the garage's large dirt lot. They're looking along the truck's interior flank now, the angle revealing two men in loose single-file. The lead man advances towards the nose of the fuel truck, as he does so raising a stubby submachinegun towards the Sierra LEOs. As the man opens fire, Guillory fixes him in his scope, squeezing the trigger as soon as the crosshairs encounter center mass. With the third shot, the oversized image of the wild-eyed gang banger drops from his sight picture. The man following behind the wounded man thinks better of continuing the advance and lunges suddenly to his right (Scott's left), taking cover behind a shed-like structure. (Scott -3 rounds 5.56mm)

Chevelle follows up Guillory's trio of suppressed shots with a loud blast of buckshot, but succeeds only in blasting a bit of paint off of the fuel truck's passenger-side door. (Watkins -1 round OO buck)

The MPD SUV noses hard into a business lot on the east side of the 165. Paddock and Leonard dismount and do their best to cover the convoy's left (east) flank, without exposing themselves to incoming fire from the right (west).

Tactical summary
G2 (rooftop) is KIA
G3 (interior garage bay) is WIA (left leg) and in 3/4 cover with his legs exposed
G1 is at SE corner of garage, shooting (full-auto) in the direction of Razorback
G4 is WIA (left arm) is scrambling for cover behind shed-like structure SW of fuel truck
G5 is in full cover behind same shed-like structure


Your Move.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 02:59, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

"Target, south east corner of garage, at one o'clock!" Cao calls out to Anderson, directing his fire on to the shooter that is spewing rounds towards them.  "Take it out!" She's aware of more gunfire behind them. They can deal with that after they've finished off whatever's in front of them. If Guillory's people don't take care of them first.

The Air Force Captain swivels round in her seat, aware that the incoming rounds must have been close to where Carissa had dismounted. "Noble, are you OK?" The Ms is dropped in the interests of expediency. Besides, it's fairly obvious which Noble she's addressing.

Lauren
JLTV, front passenger seat
Directing fire towards G1 / checking in on Carissa
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 11:51, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

"Yeah, still here, boss," Carissa returns to Cao.  There's a bit of a hitch in her voice.  That ricochet had been a little too close for comfort.  You can do everything right and still get killed.  One bad bounce and a bullet goes right around cover and brains you.

The shots she delivered weren't amazing.  One out of three might be a career in baseball, but it wasn't going to do much here.  She sweeps the area once, looking for more targets.  "If you can shut down the guy shooting at me, I might be able to get around the backside of the guys shooting at Guillory," she yells into vehicle cab at Cao.  For now, though, she draws up a line on the legs she can see and takes a few more shots, trying to make sure they don't get any nasty surprises.

Rawhide
Engaging G3 from the cover of Razorback
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
27/30 6 mags remaining

"Circle right!" Scott yells over his shoulder to Watkins.  He moves up toward the gap between the shed and the fuel truck, keeping a steady rhythm of somewhat-aimed fire heading into the sheetmetal structure.  He doesn't have any expectation that the 5.56mm rounds will find the gangstas through two layers of galvanized aluminum, and the muzzle blast is somewhat attenuated by the suppressor.  On the other hand, he doesn't need to deafen them, and they're unlikely to miss the fact that he's shooting at them.  He just needs to keep their heads down until he or Watkins is in a position to put aimed fire on them again.

Scott
Gresham Petroleum parking lot, between Bourbon Street and the shed
Advancing (forward and left) and keeping suppressive fire on the shed
Wilson Recon SR [27/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

Carswell is out of the vehicle slightly after the others, held up for a second or so by the rear driver's side passenger door not opening properly the first time he tries the handle, causing the paramedic to utter a curse as he does finally manage to step down on to the asphalt.

All of the activity appears to be happening on the other side of the vehicles, leaving the paramedic with no immediate targets in view, so ge goes down to one knee on the road next to Bourbon Street, brings his carbine up to his shoulder and swings the barrel from right to left, his eyes tracking its movements as he covers the left hand side against any potential attackers. It's way past calling out a warning, so if he spots anyone with a weapon he'll open up whether they're pointing that weapon at him or not.

Carswell
Debussing, left hand side of Bourbon Street
Covering area between nine o'clock and twelve o'clock (twelve being the southern end of the roadway)
Firing on any armed suspect with 3 x 3 rnd single shots. Repeating as needed.
No warnings. No firing on unarmed suspects. Yet.
HK416 (30/30)
This message was last edited by the player at 22:50, Sat 12 Jan 2019.

"Moving right!" Chevelle responds, starting to side shuffle in the indicated direction. Her Remington is still pointed at the gap between the fuel truck and the shed. As soon as the bulk of the vehicle is between her the gangbangers, she lowers the muzzle of her shotgun and breaks into a run, glancing in the direction of the enemy position every couple of seconds. Chevelle's never been this nervous in her entire life. She has about 100 feet to cross before she gets around the rear of the truck.

Cleveland
w/ Guillory (SUV dismount)
M870 (7/8)
Circling right to flank the two DSB behind shed

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This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Sun 13 Jan 2019.

"On it." Anderson replies calmly, swiveling the M2HB left and down. He sees an arm extending out from the southeast corner of the building, a pistol with an unusually long magazine gripped firmly at its terminus. Target acquired. Engaging.

Anderson
Razorback HMG turret
M2HB (95/100)
Firing 5 round burst at G1

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Everyone else in the J-LTV looking at the garage, so Duane tries hard not to. First he looks left, out of his side window, at the storage facility to his left. Seeing nothing of note, he looks foward, towards the railroad crossing. There! Movement. A dark figure rises from the slighly raised embankment to the right (west) of the road, next to an electrical box of some sort. The man raises a pistol and starts squeezing off shots at Razorback- to Duane, it looks like the man is shooting directly at him.

"Shit! Trouble up ahead!"

Rebel
Razorback, driver's seat
Steering wheel
Calling out hostile sighting

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This message was last edited by the player at 17:12, Sun 13 Jan 2019.

There's a pregnant pause while those inside the J-LTV anticipate the roar of the .50 cal. Instead, Anderson breaks the tension with an unwelcome shout of, "Stoppage! Clearing!" Carissa's too busy to notice. She fires three shots at the legs squirming on the garage bay floor; all three rounds strike flesh. One seems to strike bone as well, because the leg suddenly bends sharply, nowhere near  a joint. There's a muffled scream from within the building. The gangster at the SE corner of the garage squeezes off another burst. Carissa feels someone slap her hard on the inner thigh, just above her knee. The strangely out-of-place sensation quickly gives way to a stinging, burning feeling. She realizes that she's been hit. Despite the pain (she's felt worse), her leg seems to be fully functional. Perhaps it is just a flesh wound. (Carissa Noble -3 rounds 5.56mm)

Guillory and Watkins advance on the two gangbangers behind the shed next to the fuel truck. Guillory pumps rounds into the boxy metal structure. The impact of the rounds is louder than his AR's report, a steady CLANG, CLANG, CLANG. The suppressive fire has the desired effect, as neither hostile has yet reappeared. (Guillory -6 rounds 5.56mm)

Watkins is moving faster than he is, but she's got further to go, so Guillory arrives at the interstice between truck and shed before the Airwoman is in position.

On the unengaged side of the convoy, neither Carswell nor Kabua spot any trouble to the east. Paddock and Leonard are also covering that flank.

Updated tac-map:
https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing

Your Move.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 21:02, Sun 13 Jan 2019.

Shit! A stoppage hadn't featured in Lauren's plans. She's trying to process things as quickly as she can, identify the locations of the shooters, above all make sure that no one is coming at them with either a molotov cocktail or an VBIED.

"Anderson! Take out your target!" The Ma Deuce is already orientated towards the target at the south east corner of the garage. It doesn't make sense to have Anderson switch his fire until that shooter has been neutralized. "Once he's down switch fire to..."Fuck! "Skillins, I need a direction. Twelve o'clock, one o'clock, eleven o'clock?" Her tone is terse.

While she's waiting for clarification she reaches for her radio. She was going to yell but what with the noise of the gunfire going on she wants to be sure she's heard. "Chef from Falcon. We have a shooter ahead of us. I need you to move forward and try and put down suppressive fire. Target is at..."

"One o'clock." Skillins chips in.

"Target at one o'clock Chef. Falcon Out."

Lauren
JLTV front passenger seat
Directing fire - Anderson still to G1, Kabua to (presumed) G6
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:15, Sun 13 Jan 2019.

With the bullet impact, Carissa steps back behind Razorback and glances down at the wound on her leg.  There's blood oozing out of a tear in her jeans, but it doesn't look too bad.  No spurting and she's standing, so the bone must be intact.  And she's been hurt way worse than this before.  At least she thinks so.  Maybe it's just the adrenaline talking, but she's been kicked by livestock.

A few snaps and pops of gunfire bring her back to the present.  She looks up to see Kabua looking at her looking at her leg.

"Guess I'm hit," she says.

"Guess so," the big man answers back, eyes on the blood

"It's not bad."  She's certainly not going to report it at this point.  Her dad is listening to the radio net and that would cause all kinds of problems.  And embarrassment.

"Cool."

Cao's order to Kabua to moves through the radio net and she watches the nerves play on his face.  "Yeah," Carissa says with her own nerves, "I'll cover you to get into position on three.  One, two, three..."  The cowgirl leans back out and starts firing at the head sticking out from the side of the garage.

C. Noble
Engaging G1/coverfire from the cover of Razorback
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
24/30 6 mags remaining

Carswell holds position, on one knee now, his carbine tucked in tight to his shoulder, his eyes still scanning the same sector. He can hear gunfire coming from different directions, but so far it's still all quiet in front of him. That could change though.

Carswell
On one knee, left hand side of Bourbon Street
Covering area between nine o'clock and twelve o'clock (twelve being the southern end of the roadway)
Firing on any armed suspect with 3 x 3 rnd single shots. Repeating as needed.
No warnings. No firing on unarmed suspects. Yet.
HK416 (30/30)

Taking cover briefly at the truck's front bumper, Scott flips his rifle to his left shoulder and puts a few more rounds into the northwest corner of the shed.  He's tempted to resolve the issue with a grenade but there's no guarantee that all the yard's petroleum products have been looted, and Watkins might come around the corner at precisely the wrong time.  Instead, he follows up his suppressive fire with a swift advance, slicing the pie around the shed's corner as he switches back to his right shoulder.

Scott
Gresham Petroleum parking lot, at the defunct 5-ton tanker
Advancing (west, between truck and shed) with suppressive fire that'll become rapid fire if a target appears
Wilson Recon SR [21/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

"Working on it!" Anderson reports, frustration and impatience evident in his tone. He's already executing the appropriate stoppage drill, pulling the bolt to the rear in attempt to clear the jam.

Anderson
Razorback HMG turret
M2HB 94/100
Attempting to clear stoppage

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This message was last edited by the GM at 00:24, Tue 15 Jan 2019.

As Anderson fights to clear the extremely inconvenient stoppage, Carissa Noble returns fire at the D.S.B. shooter who's just wounded her. Squeezing the trigger, she sees one of her rounds strike the shooter's arm, slapping it away from her and sending the offending Glock 18 clattering across the pavement. The wounded arm is jerked back out of sight, leaving behind a splattering of blood behind on the cement. (C. Noble -3 rounds 5.56mm)

Kabua, meanwhile, takes one step to his left to open up his lines of sight/fire before advancing slowly towards the intersection, borrowed M249 up and dowsing for the promised target. The D.S.B. shooter is right where Cao said he'd be. It only takes Kabua a second to fix the target in the SAW's reflex sight. The young army cook sends a burst of fire down-rage;  watches a 5.56mm tracer round intersect with the standing figure's upper torso. The wounded gangster doubles over and drops behind the low embankment. (Kabua -5 rounds 5.56mm)

Guillory and Watkins each cut their respective corners almost simultaneously. Guillory's appearance is not entirely unexpected, so he becomes the focus of the waiting gangsters' attention (as evidenced by the muzzle of the pistol gaping at Scott's face). Fortunately for Guillory, the would-be shooter doesn't notice Watkins until it's too late. The airwoman's M870 barks once, sending a full load of OO buck into the gangster's midsection. He's shoved backwards by the force of the impact, colliding with his slightly smaller comrade before rebounding off the bullet-perforated shed to land writhing in the dirt. The bullet meant for Guillory's head sails off into the treetops west of the lot. Although somewhat taken aback by the suddenness and violence of these rapid-fire events, Guillory's already starting to squeeze off shots at his secondary target. Due to the quick target change and jerky movement of the off-balance gangster, the veteran lawman's first round goes wildly astray. Guillory's an experienced shooter, though, and he adjusts his aim rapidly and, more importantly, smoothly. Consequently, the second and third shots both hit his target with devastating effect. The young man crumples to the ground like an empty suit, shot once clean through the head. (Watkins -1 round OO buck; Guillory -6 rounds 5.56mm)

Vigilant and disciplined, Carswell continues to keep a close watch on the team's unengaged left flank/rear, detecting no threats from that quarter.

A flaming bottle arcs up over the garage roof (from behind the northeast corner) and bursts in a gout of flame on the driveway, well short of Razorback.

Another figure pops up suddenly from behind the low railroad embankment and runs, full-sprint for a building 65m to the west of the crossing, machete swinging wildly back and forth as he pumps his arms.

By this time, Anderson's successfully cleared the jam and brought the M2 back into battery. Scanning for a new target (the one he'd been tasked with before the stoppage is no longer visible), he yells, "Gun's up!"


Tactical Summary
G1 WIA (right arm)
G2 KIA
G3 WIA (both legs)
G4 WIA (torso)
G5 KIA
G6 WIA (torso)
G7 Running east


Your Move.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 01:59, Wed 16 Jan 2019.

Maybe it's being wounded.  Maybe it's her actions at the farm.  Or maybe she's just all out of nice-nice.  In any case, Carissa puts her reflex sight on the fleeing dirt-bag and pulls the trigger.

In that split second before the rifle bucks against her shoulder, she wonders if she should be expecting another limb shot.  It's been that kind of firefight so far.

C. Noble
Engaging G7 (aimed shot if possible) from the cover of Razorback
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
21/30 6 mags remaining

"Kabua! We've got a runner!" Cao calls to teh dismounted SAW gunner. "At one o'clock. Headed east. Take him down!" The gang bangers had had their one chance to surrender, had opted not to take it. Now they're about to experience shock and awe. Her grandfather had told her stories when she was a child, about how the ARVN would make examples of the Viet Cong, to discourage others from joining them. This was the same. They thought that bullets could not harm them. Lauren was happy to show them the error of their ways.

"Anderson, we've got incoming moltov cocktails from the left, approximately three o'clock!" The Captain's head swivels in the direction that the improvised weapon appears to have come from, her eyes resting on the building with the blue roof that several shooters had already used. She checks to make sure no friendlies are in sight before continuing. "Walk the Ma Deuce down that building from right to left. Rip it up." There might be an unknown hostile loitering behind it, trying to use it for cover. Maybe they think they're safe from five fifty six, but Razorback has significantly heavier weaponry.

Still watching the building, Lauren reaches for her radio to warn the dismounts of her intent. "All callsigns, Falcon. Putting suppressive fire down on building with blue roof."

Lauren
JLTV front passenger seat
Directing fire - Kabua to G7 (she doesn't know that's a duplication), Anderson to building that G2 is on top of, walking fire from north to south. Note intent is to target building itself, not G2
Warning others

Scott tries to suck his head down below the level of his trauma plate, turtle-like, at the sight of the pistol bore.  The next few seconds are a blur of action processed below the level of conscious thought, but when he can see clearly again, he's still on his feet and neither of the Sneks is.  He puts two insurance rounds into the guy who's still moving, as the pistol in the gangster's hand is dangerous whether or not it's under deliberate control.

"You good?" he yells to Watkins without turning his head.  Then, as Cao's update comes in: "Falcon, Sexton.  Two hostiles," not suspects, "down at your five o'clock.  Cleveland and I will hold position until you're done firing up the neighborhood."

Scott
Gresham Petroleum parking lot, at the defunct 5-ton tanker
2x insurance shot on G4 (-2 rounds recorded), then taking cover at the shed corner and engaging any targets flushed by the .50
Wilson Recon SR [13/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

Jackson surprises himself by dropping his first target with the first burst from the borrowed SAW. He likes this weapon. It's got the heft of a machinegun without the weight, and the attached ammo bag mean he doesn't have to worry about the ammo belt swinging around as he maneuvers the weapon. It's weird what you think about in combat, he muses. He notices the runner a split second before Cao calls out the sighting. He leads the moving target and squeezes the trigger...


Chef
Out in front of Razorback
M249 (195/200)
Engaging G7

-

Anderson let's the M2 answer the good captain. He swings the barrel to the corner opposite (northeast), and squeezes the trigger, holding it down as he walks a long burst through the garage from right to left. The .50 cal. roars.

Anderson
Razorback MG turret
M2HB (94/100 .50 BMG)
Firing long burst into garage

-

"Yeah," Chevelle answers, uncertain that it's the truth. She feels like she's about to puke, but she knows she's got to hold it together. With a start, Chevelle remembers to rack the slide to chamber a fresh shell, much chagrined at the potentially fatal oversight. Wide-eyed, she scans the area from south to west for threats, shotgun barrel following her gaze.

Watkins
Back of [hopefully empty] tanker truck
M870 (6/7)
Covering Guillory

-

The garage's north wall is torn open, spewing dust and chunks of concrete as .50 rounds punch through the cinderblocks; the few remaining office windows explode is showers of glittering glass; a single red tracer sails into the open bay, briefly illuminating the shadowy interior with a lurid glow, before blasting through the far wall. (M2HB -10 rounds .50 BMG)

Focusing on the rail line to the southwest, Carissa and Kabua both try to shoot the runner, each Sierra employing a slightly different approach. Carissa takes careful aim, squeezes the trigger, and watches a puff of dirt erupt where the runner's legs would be if she could see them (they're behind the slightly-raised embankment). As Kabua sends a burst chasing after the fleeing gangbanger, Carissa takes aim again, fires. The runner is unfazed, continuing to display Olympic-caliber speed. Both Sierras try again, but the seemingly charmed gangster speed demon makes it to cover. (C. Noble -3 rounds 5.56mm; Kabua -10 rounds 5.56mm)

A few seconds after the conclusion of the long burst from the Ma Deuce, two figures break cover from the rear of the garage, running west. Only Guillory and Watkins are in a position to see them, and Guillory is waiting. His first shot accomplishes nothing, but his second proves fatal to the lead runner. The skinny gangbanger falls face-first and slides to a stop in the dirt. Watkins bangs out a shot of her own, but the range is probably too great for her scattergun's buckshot to be effective. A third shot from Guillory's Wilson Tactical causes the second runner to stumble and fall. (Guillory -3 rounds 5.56mm; Watkins -1 round OO buck)

The contents of the Molotov continue to burn on the pavement, but it's hard to see the pale flames in the afternoon sunlight.

As the last of the Sierra's gunshots disipate, something approaching silence falls on the battlefield. Only a faint whimpering from the garage bay disturbs the peace.


Tactical Summary
G1 WIA (right arm, left leg)- on ground west of garage
G2 KIA- garage roof
G3 WIA (both legs)- garage bay
G4 WIA (torso)- behind embankment near crossing
G5 KIA- behind shed near fuel truck
G6 KIA- behind shed near fuel truck
G7 in cover behind grey-roofed building west of the crossing
G8 KIA- west of garage


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:43, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Lauren takes a long look at the building that the solitary runner has managed to get into shelter behind. The immediate temptation is to get Anderson to light it up as well, but she’s tempered by a small knot of uncertainty. As far as they know there are no civilians in this area, but she can’t be absolutely certain. But if they hold position and don’t take any action he can get away, make a run for it, maybe to the south, keeping the building between him and them.

Her eyes flick to her left. So far that area has been quiet. ”Stand by to take us forward to the railroad and stop this side of the tracks.” She says to Skillins. ”But don’t move until I give the word. Anderson, keep eyes on the building to our right. If you see a target you’re clear to fire.” She’s doesn’t think there’s anyone lurking there but she’s still wary as she reaches for her radio. ”Rawhide, Chef, we’re moving forward approx three zero meters towards the railroad crossing.” She wants to own the crossing, get boots on it. ”Stand by to advance with us. Cover our left flank as we move forward. One shooter still active, behind building with grey roof south of the tracks.” Technically she’d only seen a machete, but she isn’t about to split hairs. ” Sexton, intent is to secure the railroad crossing and interdict any reinforcements inbound. Break. Gimp, can you check with PD outposts for any sign of hostile activity? Over.”

”Go.” she then says to Skillins quietly, her own eyes fixed on the ground ahead of them as they begin to roll forward.

Lauren
JLTV, front passenger seat
Comms / observing forward / directing Anderson to observe east and Noble and Kabua to observe west

"Rawhide copies, ready to move." Carissa reports the status before she checks her leg again.  A few test bends and weight bearing movements convince her that it's not too bad, even if the wound is bleeding.  Come on, you've bled more from shaving your legs.  Well, that might not technically be true but is plays to motivation.

A few peeks around Razorback's side show her the faded alcohol flames of the missed firebomb and the building that Cao says they're headed for.  As the vehicle starts its slow roll, Carissa moves around to the left side to cover their movement and limit her exposure to what she can't see on the right.  It's hard to be everywhere at once.  And the slow trot is good to keep her mind off of the bullets she's driven into the flesh over the last minute or so.

Besides, if Anderson lights up the .50 again, maybe the ringing in my ears will be symmetrical.  She can feel echoes of the weapon's discharge bouncing around in her chest.

C. Noble
covering Razorback's advance and moving to stay with the vehicle
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
18/30 6 mags remaining

Saul doesn't pace.  He's too controlled for that, but he does spend the time his people are rolling out alternating between standing and sitting, doing what he can to keep his hip flexible.  And, really, his mind occupied.  The acting police station isn't so far away that he can't hear when the firefight kicks off.  The sharp cracks of M4's, the dull thump of the .50.  The quieter cracks of pistol fire.  "You'd really think I'd be better at this by now," he mumbles to no one.  The whole waiting and listening thing is terrible.  Part of him is very glad that his combat days are mostly behind him.  Well, hopefully.  The other part of his wishes he was there to help.

All in all, he listens and is there to answer Cao when she calls.  "Gimp here, I'll see what I can find out."

"Sandoval, ma'am," he calls over to the acting station commander.  "Any word from anyone on whether our friendly neighborhood gang-bangers are responding to the provocation yet?"  Saul risks a glance towards the battle.  "And a related question, do we have the ability to put a blocking force out there somewhere in case our principle targets decide to take a runner when they start losing?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:45, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Maya Sandoval is a former dispatcher for the MPD, transferred to patrol a couple of years ago as the small department lost officers to the National Guard. "Nothing from the outposts yet, or patrol. They should be able to stop the D.S.B. from breaking out to the north, west, or south- hopefully. If they try to break out to the east, then we*," she twirls her finger to indicate the occupants of the station, "are the blocking force."

*Officer Sandoval, Saul, Xandra, and the auxiliary manning the water tower.

-

Without turning around, Kabua gives Razorback a thumbs up and takes another step to his left to give the big vehicle a little more leeway. When Carissa joins him, he asks, "You want point?" hoping, as the words leave his mouth, that she doesn't take his attempt at chivalry as cowardice.

Chef
Dismount
M249 (185/200)
Advancing in sync (point or slack) with Razorback, covering left, left-front

-

"Yes, ma'am," Duane answers, happy to get moving again. Despite the reassuring firepower of Razorback's heavy machine gun, being stationary makes him feel like a sitting duck- vulnerable- and, like tits on a bull, practically useless. He eases off the brake, gives the J-LTV a little gas. Once she's moving again, he takes his foot off the accelerator, allows the 445-hp. engine to idle in gear, its 900 pounds of torque enough to move the vehicle forward. He uses the brake to avoid overtaking Kabua and Carissa.

-

Scott takes advantage of the brief lull to drop his half-empty mag, stow it in the dump pouch attached to the back of his vest, and slap in a fresh one.  "Hey.  Top off," he advises Watkins as she draws even with him, emphasizing the instruction with a nod toward the two rows of shotgun shells across the chest of her own armor.

"Sexton copies," he transmits after Saul's acknowledgement.  "Cleveland and I will advance parallel on the far side of the garage, staying behind your three-nine axis."  There's absolutely no way he wants to be between the .50 and whatever Anderson decides to light up, so staying aft of Razorback's 180º forward arc seems highly advisable.  "Break.  Loba, Doc, we're moving forward through your twelve-three arc."

Scott
Gresham Petroleum parking lot, moving west to the garage's northwest corner, then south along its west wall
Engaging targets of opportunity; if under fire, will go to cover or prone first
Wilson Recon SR [31/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

Xandra is nowhere near as controlled as Saul, so she paces, the now-familiar-but-still-odd weight of the AR in her hands at what she's been taught is a low ready.  As she turns, she surreptitiously checks Saul's face from under her bangs.  She's learning to recognize the poker face he puts up when he's tense.  It's fully deployed now.

"Hey, Maya?" she asks when there's a break in the discussion.  "Does that fish-cop truck still run in case we need to be mobile?"  She hooks a thumb toward the window, where a dust-enshrouded gray Silverado bearing a lightbar and the Arkansas Game & Fish Commission's seal sits, backed into a parking space with the front wheels sharply cut.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:56, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

"Sometimes," Maya replies with a slight shrug. Noting the look of dismay this response elicits, Sandoval continues, "It did last time I checked, so- knock on wood- yeah, it should."

-

"All copied." Carswell replies as the various transmissions crackle over the airwaves. As they tail off he can hear the moans coming from somewhere off to his right. The paramedic is certain that if any of the assault team had been seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now, so logically there must be a wounded gangbanger somewhere. Part of Carswell's mind is telling him that he's supposed to help the dude. It's what a first responder is supposed to do. Respond. But it's not that straightforward. Is it? The guns might have temporarily ceased but this is still a battlefield. And the battle is probably far from over.

Maybe after we're done. If the casualty lives that long. If not then shit happens. They'd had their chance to walk away from this.

The medic rises slowly from his knee, his weapon still covering the arc ahead of him and to the right as he steps forward so that he can talk to Rios. "I'm good with rolling forward behind them if you are." It's clearly just a suggestion. He's not about to tell the cop what to do. But if she wants to advance with the others he has no objection. It keeps them close. Just in case he's needed urgently. "Paddock and Leonard can follow and watch our six."

Carswell
'Suggesting' to Rios that Bourbon Street and local PD follow Razorback, keeping ten metres of separation between each vehicle
HK416 (30/30)

"And they say chivalry is dead," Carissa nods as she passes Kabua.  Truth be told, she'd rather be on point anyway.  She feels better with the SAW behind her to cover any problems she find might herself in.

Saul nods at Sandoval before making his report back to Cao on the lack of reaction.  So far.  He pleased to know there are at least a few options for containing any of the opposition who try to break out, but he less pleased to know that he's standing on one of them.  Still, better to know now than to find out the hard way.

Just to be sure, he starts exchanging the buckshot rounds in his shotgun for slugs.  Hopefully if anyone comes their way, they'll have some distance to deal with it first.

Rios doesn't see any reason to stay put. On the contrary- if there's trouble ahead, she wants to be in position to pick up Guillory and Watkins.

"Yeah, let's go."

"Loba copies, Sexton. Bourbon Street will follow your lead." As Carswell climbs aboard, Rios radios Paddock to apprise her of the updated plan.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:27, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

The convoy rolls forward to the crossing, encountering no further resistance along the way. Guillory and Watkins shadow the vehicles on the right flank, clearing the rear of the garage. They arrive at the two Snek Boyz flushed by the .50 cal. One is shot in the head, the other is attempting to crawl west down Bush street, but struggling mightily on one wounded arm and one wounded leg. A thick trail of blood reveals he's only managed to move a few meters since Guillory knocked him down. He half grunts, half whimpers with each exertion. The hot pavement's got to be burning his exposed flesh.

Carissa walks point, Kabua a few steps behind her and to her left. Razorback's armored bulk covers their right flank. They reach the intersection of the 165 and Bush. Looking right, they see Guillory and Watkins checking on a couple of enemy casualties. Carissa pushes forward 10 meters, crossing the railroad tracks; Kabua's got her back. Behind the low railroad embankment to her right, Kabua's first target lies on his back, breathing his last. There's no sign of the runner.

The police net crackles to life, "Eagle Eye here. Looks like they're burning tires in the voodoo camp. Over."

"This is [Outpost] Mason. We see it too. Over."

"[Outpost] Dixon here. Same. Over."

Sandoval frowns. "That's not a good sign. They did the same thing when we tried to raid their camp. I think it's an alarm signal."


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:40, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

These gangbangers are starting to piss Lauren off. Maybe they think that they can use burning tires to intimidate the locals. Maybe they got away with that before. But there's a new gang in town now. The United States Air Force. And they're about to show these people who's in charge here.

"Mr Guillory!" She's got her window rolled down so that she can call over to Scott. "I'm taking Razorback up Bush Street to the railway tracks. We'll stand off at five hundred metres. Anyone shows themselves, we open up with the Ma Deuce. And we'll see what we can do about those tires. I'll leave you to get organized here." The gangbangers are about to be on the receiving end of some psyops. "Kabua, Noble, mount up. Anderson, we are guns hot. If you see movement in those railway carriages you are clear to shoot on sight. That's an order."

Once the dismounts are back aboard the vehicle, she'll roll her window back up, turn to Skillins. "OK, take us forward, but halt at five hundred metres. If it doesn't look safe we'll back up." She doesn't want to get too close, and will halt the advance if they look like they're going to be driving into territory where the gang bangers might be able to swarm out at them from hiding. "And someone prep the M79 with an HE round in case we need it." They'd probably be outside the blooper's optimum range, but there was no harm in being prepared.

Lauren
Front passenger seat, JLTV
Issuing orders / directing Skillins to advance to a point approx 500m south of the gang's base / directing Anderson to shoot anyone moving in the voodoo camp on sight
Ready to signal halt / withdrawal if the area around them looks unsafe (e.g. full of rail cars or buildings that people can hide in
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Scott nods acknowledgement to Cao, gives her a thumbs-up, and keeps his eyes on the wounded Snek in front of him.  "Roll over on your stomach," he advises dispassionately.  "Watkins, cover, please."  He slings his rifle, kicks the gangster's discarded firearm into the ditch, handcuffs the man, then roughly and intrusively pats him down before hauling him onto the grass.

"Loba, post up at the intersection, watch the far side of the tracks," he radios.  "Hold on medical until they're all stepped on or in cuffs.  Break.  202, bring it on in, keep eyes on the roof.  There's suspect times two up there, we'll need to bring them down eventually."  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Paddock and Leonard start rolling forward.

"Okay.  Once the locals get here to cover our backs, you and I are gonna go check the other side of the tracks," he tells Watkins.  Then, lower, so the Snek can't hear: "Hey.  Good job."

Scott
Bush Street at the tracks
Securing the scene, starting with G1 - handcuffs and searches for everyone still breathing
In God We Trust, all others show me your hands
Wilson Recon SR [31/30] - suppressed, 6x optic


This message was last edited by the player at 00:53, Sun 20 Jan 2019.

Carissa stares down Bush street for a few seconds, feeling a bit exposed, but still running on adrenaline.  A bit of pity leaks through her mind, or rather, something that says she should be feeling pity, but not quite managing when she see the Snek boy that Kabua dropped.  That, rather than the violence they've put forward gives her pause.  She takes a quick second to shake her head and put her focus back on the task at hand.  Namely, dealing with these Sneks that have put the hurt on so many of the refugees.

WWSD?  He'd do his job.  Then deal with the consequences when there's time.

Spinning in place, and wincing a bit at the pain the motion causes her leg, Carissa heads back to Razorback and mounts up.  She doesn't say anything to anyone about the injury, just tears open a dressing and binds the wound after giving it a quick once over.  It doesn't take long for the heat of the QuickClot the dressing is impregnated with to register and tell her that it's working its magic.  After that she pulls a quick magazine exchange slamming in a fresh.  The partially filled mag gets exchanged for one of the loaded extras inside Razorback.  That she'll refill later.

Carissa glances over at Kabua when she's done prepping for the next round of trouble. "The M79's not really my thing," she says, "although I can figure it out if I have to."

C. Noble
Inside Razorback, back passenger side seat
Trauma aid (self) and restocking

Saul glances out of the station to see a column of thick black smoke rising from the tire fire at the Voodoo camp. "Yeah," he mumbles, "Black Hawk Down."  The alarm signal was bound to go up.  In fact, the Sierra Team is basically counting on the opposition to coalesce into an fighting force they can deal with.

The retired cop heads back over to where Sandoval is standing and puts on his reassuring face.  "That's smoke just means the plan is working.  They were bound to react to the gunfire.  Our people are good at what they do."

"Do me a favor," Saul says to quietly to Xandra, "go out there and make sure Ace Hardware and the Game and Fish vehicle are both ready for a quick exit.  And that the fish-cop truck," he smiles at that one, "is actually working.  I don't want to get caught with our pants down on this one.  I'll cover you from the door and yell if we get reports of anything sideways," he tacks on in a stress relieving gesture.

"Yeah, same here. Anderson's the expert." Loud enough for Cao to hear, he says, "I could swap out on the .50 so he can use his grenade launcher."

-
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:03, Sun 20 Jan 2019.

"Thanks. You too," Chevelle answers as she thumbs two shells into the M870's tube magazine. She opts for slugs this time, given the range the next engagement is likely to be taking place at. At any rate, she hopes it won't be quite so up close and personal as the last."Ready," she reports.

-
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:03, Sun 20 Jan 2019.

"Loba copies. Be right there," Tori answers. Over her shoulder, she checks with Carswell, pointing at the garage, "You hear that? Keep an eye on that roof."

-
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 22:30, Sun 20 Jan 2019.

"I just want it loaded and a bandolier ready." Cao replies from the front seat. "We may not get close enough to use it at this point but if we do I'll use it myself. If you're not familiar with how to load it pass it forward, I'll do it myself."

The wounded Snek Boy screams in agony as Guillory tries to cuff him- the young man's right forearm is shattered. A quick pat down yields a disposable lighter and a half-smoke spliff. The only weapon nearby is a hatchet lying next to the dead Snek Boy. The cuffed perp passes out when Guillory pulls him by his unwounded arm to the grass at the side of the road. The Sierra's senior LEO wipes his bloody gloves on the back of the wounded gangbanger's dirty t-shirt and leads Watkins across the tracks towards a large steel building southwest of the garage. Bourbon Street moves up to where the wounded gang member lies passed out in the grass.

The MPD unit moves up to secure the garage. They find one suspect down in the bay, unconscious and bleeding to death, and secure a stolen MPD Mossberg 500 12-guage shotgun, a Glock 18 automatic pistol, and an unused Molotov cocktail.

Razorback rolls up Bush Street, pausing where it meets the tracks. From the HMG turret, Anderson reports, "We got civies on the left." Looking in that direction, the J-LTV's passengers see dozens of people in and around a long row of box cars. A few stand on the roofs, pointing and gawking. When Anderson swings the M2HB's long barrel in their direction, most of civies scatter or hide. A few look on defiantly, one older man waving his hands in an odd, subtly aggressive manner suggesting, perhaps, the delivery of a curse. Cao's first instinct is to charge ahead and end this now, but her growing grasp of ground combat tactics tells her it wouldn't be wise to advance, unsupported by dismounts, into a built-up area, leaving this large group of 'fugees unsecured in the rear. Prudently favoring caution over aggression, Cao orders Skillins to reverse about 325m to the last intersection. He complies- backing up slowly, as he has to rely entirely on mirrors to see where he's going.

In the McGehee Police station, Sandoval's radio blares, "Eagle Eye here. I see movement in the greenway, about 500 yards out. Five or six people moving this way. Over."  She explains, "There's a strip of trees from the trainyard to the gas company just northwest of here." She picks up the radio handset, "Copy that, Eagle Eye. I'm heading up the roof to take a look. When I get there, I want you to take a look in the direction of the FEMA camp. Over." Giving Saul and Murray a somewhat worried look, Sandoval asks, "Either of you care to join me?"


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:48, Sun 20 Jan 2019.

These gang bangers are getting under Lauren’s skin. Maybe it’s an anger management issue. The older man in particular had got to her, the one that had waved his arms at them. She’d been sorely tempted to return the gesture with her middle finger. But losing her cool in front of the troops would have been unprofessional. At least she hasn’t repeated the actions that she took against the Allianza in Carthage, pushed on too far. She’d seen the look on Skillins’ face when she’d turned to him, the driver clearly unsure whether she was going to tell him to keep going forward or pull back. He’d looked relieved when she’d ordered him to do the latter.

”All right, people,” The Air Force officer says, her tone attempting to sound calm. Attempting. It would be for each of them to judge whether it was or not. The firefight had likely left all of them with adrenaline pumping and she was no exception. ”We’ll hold here for now. Skillins, Sergeant Anderson, stay with the vehicle. Skillins, stand by to move in a hurry if I gve the word.” She’s heard the radio traffic, is aware that Saul’s team at the police station may need rapid reinforcement. ”Sergeant, I want eyes on our twelve o’clock. Anyone comes down that road, I want to know about it. If you see weapons guns are hot, regardless of whether they’re pointing at us or not. If you don’t see any weapons put a burst above their heads, see if they get the message.”

“Kabua, Noble, dismount and cover our flanks. Watch for anyone coming out of those trees. Same rules of engagement apply. Anyone coming through there with a weapon is hostile. I’m going to dismount as well. Under no circumstances does anyone move away from the vehicle. If we come under sustained attack we pile back in and Skillins gets us out of here. Everyone clear?”

If everyone is happy with their roles Lauren will open her armored door, step down onto the asphalt, her M4 held in her right hand while her left reaches for her personal radio. She’s also got the M79 slung over her left shoulder, a bandolier of eleven M381 HE 40mm grenades across her chest. The twelfth grenade is already in the blooper. ”Sexton from Falcon. Sitrep. We’re holding position approx five hundred metres north west of you –“ to be fair, this was stating the obvious ”- on the corner of Bush and –“ there’s a brief pause while she looks up at the still standing street sign ”- and Green. Be advised there are large numbers of civilians approx three hundred and fifty metres north of our position, on the left as you go into the railway yards. No weapons sighted.” Guillory would not need her to tell him that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. ”Any attempt to advance that way is going to take us within a hundred feet of them for an extended period. That’s danger close for IED’s. Over.”

"Absolutely, ma'am," Saul says to Sandoval's request.  "Just bear with me for a moment while I retrieve a piece of my daughter's hardware."  It's only fair.  Carissa gets his NVGs when she needs them.  He get's to borrow her grandfather's, his father's rifle.  The shotgun, as intimidating a weapon as it can be, would be less effective than throwing rocks at the range they're talking about.  The pending arrival of the enemy doesn't exactly catch him by surprise, but it's not something he's overjoyed with either.

Saul limps over to Ace Hardware and reaches in to remove the Remington M700.  He checks that the round holder on the stock is full then reaches in a grabs another box of shells that he puts into the butt-pouch of his LBV.  When he returns to Maya and Xandra he nods. "Lead on ladies.  I'm not exactly Jeremiah Johnson with this particular longarm, but I'll do in a pinch."  The older man's eyes track the ladder and he suppresses a wince.  "Let's go see what we can see."

Looking out the window at the refugee/potential hostile population causes Carissa's nerves to ratchet up another notch.  The feeling comes in an almost oppressive wave.  She's a country girl, used to space and people not living crammed up on top of each other.  Part of her education, and conversations with her father, had been to try and understand how conditions like this breed hopelessness and malcontents.  How gangs, or terrorist organizations, can form and exploit a hemmed in population with no options into becoming something altogether worse than run of the mill criminals.  It's with a stunning sense of relief that Carissa watches out the window as the rail cars recede a bit.  Less eyes on her maybe.

"Jackson," she says, "there's a bit of cover at our five o'clock, maybe ten yards."  And by covers, she means that in true redneck fashion there's an old mid 2000's Buick on bricks in the front yard of a house that has definitely seen better days.  "I'm gonna set up shop there to cover the right."  Because cars stop bullets, right Car?  Just like in the movies.  Well, it's either the car or the house and that's a conversation she's not really interested in having with the inhabitants.

She's out of the vehicle and walking confidently to the Buick before she can talk herself out of the action.  It's not like anybody dug foxholes for them in preparation of this fight.

C. Noble
covering Razorback's right flank, partial cover behind Buick.
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining

"Sexton copies."  Scott glances over his shoulder at Paddock and Leonard; the latter gives him a shaky grin and a thumbs-up.  "We're securing prisoners and weapons for transport, over."

He lets go of the mic and focuses his full attention on the rail right-of-way.  The softball-sized ballast under his feet is treacherous on the slope up to the tracks.  He lets his rifle lead the way as he crests the rise, scanning forward and right, trusting Watkins to watch her sector to the left.

Scott
Crossing the tracks, ready to engage the ones that got away
Wilson Recon SR [31/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

The Silverado's a bit hesitant to start, so Xandra leaves the truck running once it finally coughs to life.  It may be a waste of fuel but it'll get the battery back in operating condition.  Ace Hardware, better-maintained and parked only a couple of hours ago, is much more compliant.

She slides out of the larger truck's cab in time to see Saul not quite hold in his displeasure at the prospect of the climb.  "Or you could let me do that," she tells him with a significant flick of one hand toward his knee.  Sotto vocce, as she slips past him: "I'm fairly sure you're too much of a gentleman to watch my ass while I climb."

”I’m getting out.” Carswell announces to Rios, reaching for the door handle and swinging his legs out, carbine in one hand as boots touch the asphalt and he looks around, sees one of their attackers lying cuffed in the grass, apparently unconscious.

”I’m going to check on that dude, Tori. Call it in.” He says to Loba, slinging his carbine over his shoulder and walking over to where the dude’s lying. Reaching him he stands, looks at him for a moment, a quick glance enough to reassure him that the perp doesn’t appear to be in a position to offer any resistance.

”All right, let’s see what we’ve got.” he mutters to himself, pulling on a pair of latex gloves before squatting down so that he can examine the casualty. That’s how he has to think of him now, as a casualty not a perp. And it’s hardly like he’s the first gang banger he’s treated. In a way it feels kind of crazy. You try your best to kill them and then you try your best to save them. Maybe that’s the difference. He’s got little doubt that if the roles were reversed the best that he could hope for was a quick end. Best to make sure that the roles aren’t reversed in that case.

”So you think you can’t be killed?” He’s still talking to himself as he starts his examination, his unconscious ‘casualty’ clearly in no condition to reply. ”Dude, you are clearly fucking batshit crazy. Everyone knows the only person that can live forever is Connor MacLeod.” Now there’s a movie that should never have had any sequels. Or TV spin offs.

Carswell
Dismounting / carrying out triage on wounded gangbanger that Guillory secured in Msg 84 (not 100% sure which one, map has G1 and G8 together
HK416 (30/30), slung over shoulder

”All copied. We’ll hold here and block anyone attempting to move in from northwest. Falcon Out.” Releasing her PTT switch Lauren takes a quick look round hoisting herself back into the JLTV, wedging herself in the still open doorway and letting her carbine rest in the gap between the vehicle and the fully open door, hoping that her slightly elevated position will give her greater visibility while the JLTV will still offer her some protection from small arms fire.

Once she’s got herself in to position she’ll watch the road ahead of them, her eyes hidden behind the polarized lenses of her ballistic sunglasses as she covers the arc from ten to two, trying to ignore the beads of sweat that she can feel trickling down her spine and forehead, the latter leaving trails in the streaks of camo paint that are on her face.

Lauren
Standing in open door of JLTV, front passenger side, observing forward
M4A1 (30/30) ready, M79 (1/1 HE) slung

"Well Mizz Murray," the way Saul drawls it out makes it clear that it's less a term of respect and one of affection, "I sure do appreciate that offer, but I think I'm gonna have to get myself up there anyway.  Lucky for you, my wife always said I looked amazing in a pair of Wranglers and guess what I'm wearing today."  He winks at Xandra before grasping the first rung of the ladder to start making his way up the the tower.

Razorback stays put at Bush and Green, nose pointing at the 2nd Wave Camp. Carissa Murray covers the right flank, Kabua the left. Cao, Anderson, and Skillins maintain eyes front. They see two children appear near where the road meets the rails. The kids easily spot the large J-LTV and begin gesturing in its direction, presumably to unseen actors.

Carswell examines the wounded Snek Boy (G1). The young man flips in and out of consciousness; in the former state all he can do is whimper and mutter unintelligibly. His right forearm is shattered. If he doesn't die of blood loss and/or shock (he's displaying most of the latter's symptoms), the arm will need to come off, probably above the elbow joint. The wound in his thigh is nearly as ugly. The 5.56mm round that produced the wound didn't strike the bone, but it tumbled through the casualty's hamstring, tearing out a fist sized chunk of muscle. The large would pours blood into the grass in a steady trickle.

Guillory and Watkins approach the large metallic building just south of the tracks. Cautiously, they circle around the west side, finding nothing. The large sliding doors are shut but not locked. How easy it would be for one person to move them is hard to determine by sight alone, but they look pretty heavy, and neither Guillory nor Watkins heard anything like a large metallic door opening and closing again. Looking down, Guillory notices fresh tracks in the pale dirt of the lot. They lead southeast to a house-like office building.

At the McGehee Police station, Murray, Saul, and Officer Sandoval take turns climbing an aluminum ladder to the roof. Sandoval pulls it up after them. They study the greenway to the southwest, but fail to spot any movement, despite Eagle Eye's emphatic pointing. Then, a lone figure breaks from the trees nearly due west of the station. The individual performs a crude dance for the watching audience, waving a machete over his head. Saul estimates the range from the station roof to the dancer to be about 500m.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:16, Thu 24 Jan 2019.

"We may have company inbound soon." Lauren transmits the heads up over the net for everyone to hear as she watches the kids pointing. She's feeling a certain amount of powerlessness. The kids are in full view, may well be part of the gang and there's nothing that she can really do about. After all, regardless of her suspicions, she can hardly open fire on some kids just for pointing and gesticulating. So she's just got to stand there, let them get away with it. Not for the first time since leaving Little Rock she wishes that she was up against an enemy that wears a uniform, Russians, Chinese, even the Allianza.

Her finger lifting off the PTT, her next remarks are addressed only to those around her. "Everybody stay alert and if we do have to fire make sure you hit them hard." She hopes she sounds calm. Panic can be contagious, but so can calmness. She wants the troops to feel like she's got this, is in control of the situation. They're in control of the situation, not the gangbangers.

The beads of sweat running down her forehead are distracting. Her left hand strays from the foregrip of her carbine, a multicam clad sleeve wiping the sweat away before a gloved hand reaches for her binos, raises them to her eyes, her right hand still holding the trigger guard of her weapon as she turns the binos on the kids, looks at them, tries to pick out who they are gesturing to.

Lauren
Standing in open door of JLTV, front passenger side, observing forward with binos - concentrating on the area behind the kids, i.e. to try and see who they might be signalling to
M4A1 (30/30) ready, M79 (1/1 HE) slung

"Dude, you are seriously fucked up." Carswell says as he stands on the asphalt and looks down at the badly wounded gangbanger. The only response is an angry stare and some gurgling that causes more blood to trickle out of his mouth. The medic shrugs, continues to talk, his tone almost casual, conversational. "I guess you know by now that Madame whatsername lied to you, yeah? Course you do. You are dying little mother fucker." More gurgling.

"Don't worry though buddy. She's gonna be following you real soon." The stare gets even more intense. Carswell chuckles. "You trying to stare me out man?" The tip of a boot brushes against shattered forearm. The scream that follows is probably audible to Guillory and Watkins.

"Sorry dude, my bad." The medic draws his sidearm, squats down. "Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah, Madame Chloe. Don't sweat it man, she'll be keeping you company real soon. Not in the afterlife. You don't really believe that shit do ya? Hell that's fuckin' bull man. But when we dump your bodies in a field I'll make sure Chloe's right next to ya. Birds can peck her eyes out before they to you." More gurgling, a moan.

"Because you picked a fight with the wrong people shit for brains. Me and my buddies are the meanest motherfuckers in this State." The pistol's barrel presses lightly against the guy's forehead. Carswell holds it there for a moment, shakes his head. Memories of the kid with rabies are still raw. Way too raw. He'd made sure that kid wouldn't suffer when the time came. That was different. He lifts the pistol away, slips it back into its holster as he rises to his feet, grins. "Nah man, you don't get off that easy."

The paramedic then takes a step back, reaches for his radio. "Sexton from Doc. Nothing I can do for your perp man. He's too far gone. If you want to question him I'd do it now, but he ain't sayin' much. Over."

Saul watches the dancer taunting the police station and sighs.  500 meters is a helluva shot.  The tough guy is waving a machete over his head and clearly is trying to provoke some kind of response. Take the shot and miss, and he's emboldened, believing more and more into whatever invincibility bullshit Ms. Chloe has been pouring into his brain.  Take the shot and hit and there's one less dirtbag in the world.  Plus maybe his buddies take the hint.  Yeah, that never works.

Moving slowly Saul flips the covers off the M700's scope and places the weapon on the railing in front of him to act as a field-expedient biped.  He makes sure the dancer can see him move and he gets into position to take the shot.  He's not quite there yet.  The psychologist in him wants to see what the dancer will do when he knows he's being drawn down on.  Probably double down.

What the retired Marine wants to avoid more than anything is another falsely brave group deciding to join the building fray his daughter is soon to be engaged in.  And they are trying to bait their adversary into bad decisions.

"Is anybody going to think less of me if I dump this asshole?"  Saul asks while watching the cross-hairs move across the target's chest in time with his breathing.  He's only partly kidding.  It'd be nice to have someone remove the decision for him, but that's probably not going to happen.

Saul
M700 .30-06 w/Steiner T5Xi 5-25x56mm SCR Reticle Scope
6/6 45 rounds remaining
Aiming at machete man, watching for reaction.  Continued aggression will be met with an aimed shot.

Carissa looks around from her position behind the rust-bucket she's calling her fighting position.  There's a misnomer.  The gathering children, complete with pointing, is causing a chill to roll down her spine despite the heat.  There's a profound sense of exposure coming from unarmed children showing the bad guys where she and her friends are hiding.  Rawhide can't help it.  She looks at the JLTV and tries to calculate how many steps it will take her to get back inside if it becomes necessary.

"I'm not shooting kids," she whispers to herself.  "I'm not shooting kids."  That's not the mantra she needs, but it's a start.  Sweeping the area again, she spies Cao standing tall practically daring the Sneks to come get her.  Kabua looks to be hanging in there and Anderson, as usual, doesn't look like anything is bothering him.  Carissa blinks twice and takes a quick inhale, blowing out hard between pursed lips to slow her pulse.  It helps.

Yeah, I'll hit'em hard.  Hard enough their moms'll feel it.  Her left hand comes away from the rifle for a second or two.  She pats down the knife as brass knuckles attached to her harness.  She pushes her hip against the old car to feel her sidearm press back. "Let's do this shit," she mumbles, echoing all the times she stepped up to roll in Jujitsu.  Maybe it's bravado, but the farm-girl has made and effort never to enter a fight she not ready for.  And she's ready for this one.

C. Noble
covering Razorback's right flank, partial cover behind Buick.
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remainingfor this one.

At more than a quarter-mile out, Xandra can barely see the dancer, even with the aid of the monocular she swiped from the fish-cop truck.  But the guy's intent is unmistakable.  She pops her nicotine gum for emphasis and glances over at Saul.  "Naw," she drawls.  "But if you pull all the aggro, we're all gonna wish I had some claymores.  I'm not saying I'm opposed.  I'm just saying."

"Well, shit," Scott says resignedly.  "Grab some cover."  He takes his own advice, moving away from Watkins so a single burst can't catch both of them, and keys up.  "Doc, Sexton copies.  No need for him.  Break.  Falcon, Sexton, we've got barricaded subjects times two.  I'm setting a perimeter until you're available to gas them out.  202, come up and take the back door for us, please."

”Sexton, copy that. Stand by.” Lauren lowers her binos, ponders for a moment. Her intent in coming up this road had been to push the fight to the enemy, to draw on the momentum that they had generated and keep punching. But that momentum had stalled. Pushing on isn’t an option, at least now at the moment. So they can hold, act as a blocking force against any counter attack, rely on superior firepower to break up any enemy surge.

But what if it didn’t work out as neatly as that? What if the gangbangers used human shields to cover their advance? Or kids? But on the other hand pull back now and it would look as though they were backing down. Decisions. Neither option was good. Which was the least bad?

”Noble, Kabua, mount up. We’re moving back to where the others are at.” They’ve made their point. The gangbangers know that they are here. Her finger keys her radio again. ”Sexton, Falcon. Rolling back towards you now. Out.” The Air Force Captain then turns her attention back towards the road ahead, maintaining her current position and keeping watch as the dismounts get back aboard the vehicle.

Cao will be the last one to retake her seat and before she does so she’ll yell as loudly as she can ”We’ll be back!” Closing the door she’ll then nod to Skillins. ”Take us back to Mr Guillory’s team.”

Saul has to wrack his brain for “aggro” before remembering another Marine from the way back who had been hooked on World of Dragons or something.  The guy has been intense about it. Skipping meals and yelling at his computer at 3am.  ”That’s a good point.  Let’s keep an eye on’em for now.  It saves him the opportunity to miss in front of everyone too.  Saul keeps his eye on the scope, but moves his finger off the trigger.

Police Station Roof

After a few minutes of increasingly demonstrative dancing without any appreciable response, the Snek Boy performer gets creative. He drops his athletic shorts and starts wagging his penis at his distant audience. This detail is only visible through image enhancement devices (like binoculars or telescopic rifle scopes).

Railroad Crossing

Guillory and Watkins take cover on either side of a large sand pile east of the office building. From this position, Watkins can cover the front entrance from an oblique angle, Guillory its back lot. He can't quite see the whole length of the office building's rear (just the southeast corner) without taking a few steps away from the sand pile (moving to his left). This maneuver, however, will leave him bereft of cover.

After having made a brief show of force on the edge of the railyard fugee camp, Razorback arrives and stops nose to nose with the Sierra Suburban on Bush St.

The MPD unit is still parked in front of the garage. Acting Chief Paddock calls over to Carswell. "Got another wounded suspect here! He ain't lookin' too good."

As Carswell trots over, he notices a drying rivulet of blood running down the south side of the garage, presumably from a point of origin on the roof. A row of jagged holes in the wall illustrate the power of Razorback's HMG. As the medic arrives outside the garage bay, Paddock lowers her voice to elaborate, "He's lost a lot of blood. Legs look like hamburger." Two weapons lie on the ground near the police SUV- a shotgun and a Glock with a long magazine.


G7 is currently unaccounted for. He was last seen sprinting east towards the large, metal-roofed structure between the tracks and the office building currently under surveillance by Guillory and Watkins.

https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing


Your Move.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:42, Thu 31 Jan 2019.

"Keep pointing towards them." Lauren tells Skillins as the JLTV rolls to a halt, her right index finger pointing towards where they have just come from for emphasis. "Sergeant Anderson, keep covering the road. ROE is unchanged. If you see armed insurgents coming towards us shoot on sight. If they're unarmed put a warning burst over their heads. I do not want anyone getting within a hundred yards of this vehicle."

"Kabua, Noble, dismount." The Air Force Captain is already opening her own door, steps down onto the ground,  sees Guillory and Watkins covering the building due south of their current position. Guess that's where the gangbangers are holed up. She could have Anderson rip the building up with the fifty cal, like they'd done on the other one a few minutes ago. Guillory wanted them gassed out though. Slinging her carbine over her shoulder, she hefts the M79,

Lauren looks at the building for a moment then nods to Carissa and Kabua. "You two keep the building covered. I'm going to fire a 40mm CS round into it. Stand by to intercept any runners. We'll try to take them alive if possible." She's not motivated by any particular sense of compassion. There's always the chance that they might talk if they're interrogated. Especially when they see their dead buddies. She's not going to take any chances though. "If you see any weapons pointed at us don't hesitate to shoot."

The Air Force officer then breaks open the M79, takes a moment to swap out the HE round that she had prepped for a CS gas one before reaching for her radio. "All callsigns, Falcon. Deploying tear gas on suspect building now. Out." Lauren then goes down to one knee, picks out a window as near to the center of the building as she can find, lines up the M79's sights on it then squeezes the trigger.

Lauren
On one knee
Trying to put a 40mm CS round into the building the gangbangers are hold up in
M79 (1/1 CS), M4A1 (slung)

"Copy that." Carswell responds to Paddock's calls, nodding towards the weapons lying on the ground as she approaches. "You want to secure those, Chief?"

The paramedic then walks over to where the other wounded gangbanger is lying, takes a good look round to make sure that no weapons are within his reach. "Anyone search him?" The look on Paddock's face gives him the answer. Clearly she's not sure. Carswell shrugs, stands for a moment, looking at the dude's legs. It's the first time he's seen the results of fifty cal on human blood and tissue. And it's a fucking mess. "You watch him, I'll search him." He reckons these fuckers would be crazy enough to try and stab him or some other shit like that even when their legs have been shot off. "If he acts up put a round in his skull."

The medic then steps forward, stands astride the gangbanger for a moment before squattoing down and starting to pat him down. "Guess that voodoo shit didn't work out so well, huh?" he remarks as he begins his search. "Bullets don't bounce off ya after all." If the fucker doesn't give him any shit he'll search him, secure his hands behind his back with a zip tie then start assessing his injuries.

Carswell
Patting the perp down / cuffing him (hands behind back) / administering trauma aid (in that order)
HK416 (30/30), slung over shoulder

"Sure thing," Carissa says to Cao.  She out the door the same time the boss-lady is and moving to cover.  By this point she's got the drill down.  Overwatch on the right flank of Razorback, and in this case, make sure no one takes a pot shot at Lauren while she gets ready to send some CS into the bad guy held building.  The assault rifle is feeling more and more familiar in her hands and she scans the doors and windows of the target building, looking for movements and threats.  She gives Cao another nod to acknowledge her orders and settles down to wait for whatever comes next.

C. Noble
covering Razorback's right flank, scanning target building, will engage hostile targets
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining.
This message was last updated by the player at 15:56, Fri 01 Feb 2019.

Through the scope on his borrowed rifle, Saul watches as the Snek Boy's dance takes on more elaborate and then more obscene gestures.  "He's really daring us to take a shot," the former cop muses.  There's a hint of humor in his voice. "Giving us a view of the 'Little Snek' isn't really drawing my interest, though." Saul pulls back from the scope to give his eye and back a break from the cramped position.  They can see their adversaries well enough from here that he doesn't need to focus through the scope.

"Okay," Saul says, "Eagle Eye, keep your gaze on Stripper McStripper pants over there.  Everybody else, keep your eyes peeled for anyone trying to sneak around while we all gawk at the awesome dance moves.  If our buddies out there in the treeline get much closer, we'll start offering them an alternative to just dancing."

S. Noble
On the lookout for more bad guys trying to make use of a distraction.

"Huh," Xandra says in an elaborately meditative tone.  "It's like a cock but smaller."  She waits for Saul to process that, then grins and turns her "borrowed" optic to scanning the near distance.

Scott double-checks the wind direction to make sure he and Watkins aren't downwind of the building that's about to be fumigated.  Reasonably assured of avoiding contamination - he'd rather take a full shot of OC than the chemical agent about to be dispensed - he gives Cao a thumbs-up and hunkers down behind the pile of railroad ties.  The sun-warmed wood is oozing creosote but it's better than what the Sneks are about to experience.

Scott
In cover, ready to engage anyone who comes out armed
Wilson Recon SR [31/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

"Yes, ma'am," Duane answers. He thinks he should be annoyed with the Driving Miss Daisy routine, but he really gets a kick out of operating the big, powerful J-LTV so, to his surprise, he doesn't mind. He waits for Cao and the others to dismount again and move out the way before executing the order. Although Razorback is pretty nimble for its size, he has to execute a three-point turn to get its metal snout pointed back at the rail yard.

-

Railway Crossing

Cao, Carissa, and Kabua dismount and move to the railroad embankment. They can alternately use it as elevation and cover/concealment (but not both simultaneously). With Guillory and Watkins covering the target building on its east side, and Carissa and Kabua covering its north and west, Cao takes aim at one of its barred front (north-facing) windows. When she squeezes the trigger, the 40mm CS round leaves the stumpy barrel with a sound that earned the M79 its nickname, "Blooper". The round sails through the humid air in a shallow arc, ultimately passing through the iron bars and breaking the glass pane beyond on its way into the structure. White gas starts leaking out of the shattered front window. (M79 -1 round 40mm CS)

Guillory's still watching the back of the building. A face appears at the southeast corner. The lawman fires. The bullet kicks up a puff of dust and splinters a few inches above his target, which promptly disappears. If Guillory take a couple of steps to his left, he'll be able to see along the entirety of the building's back wall, but he'll be exposed in turn. If he stays put, the target will remain in defilade. (Guillory -1 round 5.56mm)

Carswell pats down the wounded Snek Boy, finds nothing (Leonard had already patted the perp down, cuffed him, secured his weapon- the stolen shotgun). The young man is unconscious from severe blood loss, so there's no struggle. Even if Carswell applies tourniquets, the patient probably won't live much longer without a transfusion. Lying near the gang banger is a small cloth bag, tied at the top with twine embellished with a small feather. Perhaps this is the magical voodoo gris-gris bag that supposed to protect Madame Chloe's followers.


Police Station

Saul, Xandra, and Officer Sandoval continue to observe the surrounding area from the station roof. They've pegged the X-rated America's Got Talent reject as a tactical distraction, so they focus their attention elsewhere. The white weatherproof coating underfoot reflects the heat of the sun's rays, cooking them from below as Sol's blazing orb does so from above. A couple of seaty minutes pass. The observers would be miserable if their attention hadn't been focused elsewhere.

"Holy shit!" Sandoval exclaims, "Over there!" She's looking roughly south, raising her police-issue AR-15 carbine towards a gap between a couple of buildings.

Eagle Eye's voice crackles over the radio, "Eagle Eye here. They're on the move again, still comin' this way. Over." (he's referring the dancer's group).


https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 04:06, Sat 02 Feb 2019.

Lauren has a satisfied smile on her face as the CS round goes flying into the building. Breaking open the Vietnam War era weapon to reload it, she wonders if her grandfather might have used one against the Communists as she reaches to the bandolier slung across her chest and reloads with an HE round. Just in case. Once she's done that she slings the weapon over her left shoulder, swapping it for her carbine, before leaning against the embankment, watching for any sign of anyone coming out of the house that she's just gassed. She's counting on Anderson and Skillins to yell out if there's any sign of trouble coming from the direction of the rail yards.

Lauren
Reloading M79 with 40mm HE round then swapping GL for carbine
Engaging any runners with multiple single shots
M4A1 (30/30), M79 slung (1/1 HE)

"I guess you're fucked too." Carswell remarks to himself after the most cursory of examinations reveal that the gang banger's wounds are far beyond anything that he has the ability to treat in the field. Maybe if they got him to hospital, maybe he'd have a chance although the paramedic doubts that he would keep both of his legs. But that's going to take time, use up valuable resources.

The medic takes a step back, away from the unconscious gang banger, sees the bag lying near him, takes a step towards it, raises an eyebrow. Some of his voodoo shit from the looks of it. Maybe Guillory might want to take a look at it later. He seemed to know about this crap. Not really sure why he's not just picking it up, Carswell squats down and reaches into his pocket, extracts a pen and uses that to scoop up the bag, slipping the pen into the twine that holds the bag closed, using the pen to lift it as he stands up and keys his radio. "Sexton from Doc. Second Whisky India Alpha isn't going to last long either. I recovered some sort of bag from him, could be his voodoo shit. Don't know if you want to have a look at when you're done? Over."

Mike
Recovering voodoo shit
Not touching voodoo shit. Just because...

Scott elects to stay in cover and let the gas do its work, though he does shift to the other end of the crosstie stack in case the Snek marked his position earlier.  "Falcon, Sexton, one's trying to poke his head out the back," he reports.  Then, louder and repeating the phrase he gave Anderson a few hours ago: "Come out with your hands up!  Drop zam ou epi mete men ou sou tèt ou!"

At Carswell's report, he smiles slightly.  "Sexton copies.  Bag that and any similar you find. We can use it for psy-ops later, over."

Scott
Still in cover, still ready to engage anyone who comes out armed
Wilson Recon SR [30/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

Xandra turns and sees the subjects of Sandoval's concern.  "Shit.  Um, Saul?  I think that counts as much closer."  She points with the muzzle of her Colt, then belatedly realizes that based on the briefing Cao gave them before setting off on the raid, this probably counts as one of those situations in which she's allowed to shoot first.

The salvage engineer drops prone, suddenly thankful for the long sleeves of her ACUs as the heat of the roof tries to cook her elbows.  She snugs the carbine's butt tight against her shoulder, eases her helmet back on her head, and flips the safety off.  She's not sure how far away the Sneks are but it's gotta be within the 200 yards at which her Aimpoint is zeroed, so she puts the red dot on the shirtless chest of the machete-waving guy.  She tells herself the hesitation before she opens fire is just an extra second to make sure the rifle is steady.

Xandra
Going prone, aimed fire on the group south of the police station
Colt 6940 [30/30] - Aimpoint PRO

I should really feel more satisfaction at figuring that little trick out, Saul thinks.  Of course, it took me way too long.  And now we're going to tangle with folks a lot closer.

Without wasting time on further self-recrimination, which would be both pointless and a potentially fatal time-suck, Saul turns into the direction Sandoval has indicated and puts his rifle on the parapet wall of the police station for support.

"Have Eagle Eye engage the dancing fool when he's good at ready.  We're going to be dealing with these folks here," he tells Sandoval.  Cop eyes are looking for targets even as he keys up the radio. "Falcon, Gimp.  We've got six hostiles two hundred meters south of us and closing.  That's puts them between us and you.  We're good for now, and engaging, but they're getting organized out there."

There's a runner out there, catching Saul's attention.  One that looks particularly nimble and maybe important.  "Yeah Xandra," Saul says in a calm he doesn't quite feel, "that's closer.  Feel free to shoot.  Don't forget to breathe." Cross-hairs start to line up. "And Mizz Murray? Don't mistake those things out there for people.  Cuz they're not."  Maybe the lie will help.

Saul
M700 .30-06 w/Steiner T5Xi 5-25x56mm SCR Reticle Scope
6/6 45 rounds remaining
Aimed shots engaging the runners

Carissa risks a glance to the north when her father's radio report comes across the net.  She gets a sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought of the folks they left behind in the relative safety of the police station having to deal with attackers.  This, she reflects, is probably just the slightest taste of what Saul must go through every time she goes forward.  If he can hold it together, and operate well, Carissa figures she can too.

The cowgirl looks around her immediate area before settling into the embankment and using it as cover.  There's brave and there's being prudent.  Carissa, in this moment, leans towards prudence and decides to put something between her and potential incoming.

C. Noble
covering with partial cover from embankment
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining.

"Gimp, Falcon. All copied. Stand by." Lauren replies when Saul's disembodied voice has crackled over the airwaves. She tries to sound calm. Confident. Tries. A counter attack. It was to be expected. They'd hit the gang bangers hard, now they wanted to hit back. Perhaps they'd realized that group that had just smashed their roadblock to pieces was too powerful for them, thought they'd found an easier target.

She keys the PTT. "Sexton, Metro Two Zero Two, we need to wrap up here now. All dismounts get back to your vehicles asap. Sexton, we can't wait for your perps to show themselves. If they're not out by the time we're ready to roll Drauger will light up that building. Let's move people, Gimp needs backup. Razorback will take point. Stay alert as we move up the road. Guns are hot, anyone with a weapon is a target. Break." There's a possibility that they're going to leave one tear gassed survivor behind but if they spend time playing whack a mole with him the risk to the rest of their team increases and right now the safety of Saul and his people are her top priority. He'd said they were good for now. But she doesn't want to take any chances. And there's the chance to take out at least six more shooters, maybe more, further degrade the Opfor. And demonstrate to the others that bullets will kill them stone dead.

"We're falling back to the vehicle. Noble, you and me will go first, Kabua covers us, then we cover him." She says to Carissa and Kabua, nodding to Ms Noble as she does so. "We'll deal with this." It's intended to be reassuring. Lauren has no idea what might be going through Carissa's head knowing that her father is in danger. In a way though Lauren envies her. The Air Force Captain would have loved to have gone to War with her grandfather.

Preparing to withdraw herself, she keys her radio one more time. "Gimp, Falcon, we're inbound to your location. Be with you shortly. Out." It's a hammer and anvil. The police station is the unintended anvil. The gangbangers are about to experience the hammer.

Lauren
Returning to JLTV
Ordering all vehicles to proceed back up the 65
Ordering Anderson to fire on the house that's just been gassed if perp is not apprehended

"Dude, so long as you're not planning to use it for recreational purposes, ya know?" It's probably a breach of some sort of protocol to call the Governor's right hand man and go to guy 'dude'. Carswell takes his finger off his radio and, still using the pen, drops the bag into one of his pants' cargo pockets. Wonder if that means I can't be shot? He looks at the gangbanger with the shredded legs. Nah, probably not.

He's barely done that when he hears Cao's transmission, looks from one wounded gangbanger to the other. Fuck. What am I supposed to do with these guys? He could leave them to bleed out. Neither of them looked like they had any chance of surviving their wounds. But there's always the chance and he doesn't want any of his people to be staring down the barrel of a gun held by one of these guys further down the line. So there was only one way to be absolutely sure. The paramedic shakes his head. This is fucked up. Sure, he'd put his pistol against the other fucker's head, but he'd known that he wouldn't pull the trigger. Shoot a cuffed, wounded man? Nah, he can't.

He sighs, turns to the two local cops. "Can we get both of these guys in the back of your cruiser? We're kinda full." Yep, there's gonna be blood on the seats.

Carswell
Recovering bag of voodoo stuff
Trying to organise loading of wounded perps into police car

Leonard's face reveals a flash of horror at Carswell's inquiry. He glances at Paddock, who nods, resigned to the distasteful suggestion. Leonard turns back to Carswell, answers, "Uh, yeah." He looks at the unconscious gangbanger, then back at his patrol vehicle, before asking Carswell, "Wanna give me a hand?"

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:50, Sun 03 Feb 2019.

Carswell just nods. "Sure. That's why I said we dude." The medic reaches into one of his pouches, produces two pairs of latex gloves, offers one to each cop. "Here ya go. Use these."

Once he's done that he moves to the unconscious guy that he's just taken the voodoo shit from, starts to drag the guy across the asphalt, trying to ignore the blood that's streaking the ground and any screams the perp makes. He's gonna get them out of here but he really doesn't give a shit how much it hurts.

Railroad Crossing

A thin white fog of caustic gas oozes from every crevice of the the sand & gravel company office, but the Snek Boy seen earlier refuses to reveal himself. While Carswell and Leonard transfer the grievously-wounded gangbangers to the back seat of the MPD patrol vehicle*, Guillory and Watkins pull back to the road where both Razorback and Bourbon Street are waiting. Lying prone behind Anderson's SAW, Kabua covers his teamamtes, from the top railroad embankment. No one notices any more movement from the gas-misted office.

For now, Anderson is still facing the railyard (as is his mount). He's counting on someone to tell him when everyone is mounted and ready to roll. At that point, he'll blast the haze-enveloped office with 10 rounds of .50 BMG. Cao and Carissa climb aboard. Guillory and Watkins are on their way back to Bourbon Street, running up the south side of the embankment, between the boxy metal building and the railroad crossing.

*This will take a couple of minutes as both wounded gangstas are dead weight and slippery with blood.

Note: Several gang weapons are still unsecured and lying where they were dropped. Two automatic pistols near the fuel truck, an assault rifle on the garage roof, and a revolver at the base of the embankment near the crossing. Guillory or Watkins could grab the latter on their way back to the vehicles on Bush St.

Police Station

The sprinting Snek Boys are in a bad spot, exposed momentarily as they move between sources of cover. The Sierras and Officer Sandoval quickly get into positions from which to engage the attackers. Sandoval fires first; Murray and Saul take aim and follow suit. Their collective marksmanship is poor as six shots (combined) fail to hit a single Snek.

"Fuck!" Sandoval shouts, as she lowers her AR-15 and starts working the charging hangle and forward assist. It looks like her carbine's just experienced a very inconvenient stoppage. The measured pop of gunshots from above and behind them reassure the rooftop trio that Eagle Eye is engaging the D.S.B. group in the greenway to the west.

The assaulting Snek Boys are undeterred. They continue to sprint towards the police station. They reach the northeast corner of the building just south of the station, slowing momentarily as they cut left (west). Murray and Saul continue trying to pick off the fast-moving gang bangers. Puffs of dust from the wall behind them again herald disappointing results. At this point, Murray starts squeezing the trigger rapidly, opting for volume over deliberateness. Using a bolt-action rifle, Saul doesn't have this option. He manages one more aimed shot before the targets are out of view behind the south wall of the station. One of the Snek Boys staggers with a jolt, stumbles and falls doubled-over, rolling out of sight behind the southern edge of the roof. (Murray -7 rounds 5.56mm; Saul -3 shots 7.62mm; Sandoval -3 rounds 5.56mm)

https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:04, Sun 03 Feb 2019.

Seconds seem to be stretching into minutes as Lauren reaches the JLTV and takes up a position where she can cover Kabua, Guillroy, and Watkins as they withdraw. Once she’s sure that everyone, including the local PD, are back aboard their respective vehicles she’ll clamber into her own seat, give Skillins the nod. ”Get us back to the police station. We’re on point. And put the foot down.” As the suspect house comes into view out of her side window the Air Force Captain then gives the word to Anderson. ”Light it up, Sergeant.”

As they’re rolling back up the road towards the police station she’ll put her left hand out to brace herself as Razorback picks up speed, turn her head and look past Anderson’s legs to Noble and Kabua. ”Same drill as before.” She’s raised her voice to be heard over the engine, tries to sound confident. They’ve already smashed one nest of insurgents. Time for the next group. ”Anderson, you’re clear to fire on any armed hostile. No warnings this time. I’ll be dismounting with Noble and Kabua. Skillins, move the vehicle as Sergeant Anderson directs. Everybody good?”

Once her own crew are clear on the plan she’ll face forward again, reach for her radio as the police station starts to grow larger on the horizon. ”Sexton, we’ll do this one same as the last one. Once we’re on site dismount and engage with maximum force. Break. Gimp, we’re closing on your location now. Can you confirm where your people are? Over.” There’s likely to be a lot of lead flying any moment now and she wants to try and take the risk of a blue on blue off the table.

Lauren
Covering dismounts’ withdrawal
Instructing Skillins to move once remaining dismounts are back in vehicles / instructing Anderson to perforate suspect building
Organising / communicating
JLTV is on point.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:51, Mon 04 Feb 2019.

In hindsight, Carswell is starting to regret not passing the question of what to do with the gang bangers onto the local PD. It is their town after all, and maybe they might have had a quicker solution, one that would have involved summary justice. Would the paramedic have been cool with that? On the benefit of reflection probably. And his gear and clothes wouldn’t now be covered in enough blood to make him look like an extra from The Walking Dead. There’s a thing. Maybe Madame whatsername will think he’s risen from the grave. That triggers another stray thought, whether she actually believes in the bullshit that she’s feeding her followers or not, is just using it to manipulate them.

Nah, he reckons she’s probably a true believer as his hand grasps the handle of Bourbon Street’s rear passenger door and he clambers in. Which means she’s gonna get one almighty disappointment if she has a close encounter with the fifty cal given the evidence that Carswell’s just witnessed, both to a building and human flesh. And judging by the radio transmissions G.I. Jane sounds like she’s just getting started.

”I’m OK.” He says to Rios as he gets in, cutting off the anticipated question when she turns to look at him and sees the blood on his clothing. The medic grins as he reaches for the oh shit handle, braces himself for a fast run back up the road. ”You should see the other guy.” It’s dark humor. At least the Suburban isn’t going to take just as much cleaning, cleaning which he’ll feel obliged to give Paddock and Leonard a hand with. And the gangbangers will probably be dead by then anyway.

When Guillory scrambles into the front seat he’ll give him the tl;dr. ”We got two badly wounded perps in the back of Paddock’s cruiser. I doubt they’ll make it but –“ his shoulders wrinkle into a shrug. ”- who knows. Oh, and I’ve got your bag of weed.” And I think Leonard might be pissed at me.

Carswell
Boarding Bourbon Street (rear passenger side)
Trying not to get too much blood on the seat

Saul wants to swear so badly at the collective level of marksmanship was that just displayed from the police station rooftop that he practically bites a hole in his cheek.  Instead of giving into that self defeating urge, he just grunts.  "Okay, deep breaths people.  That didn't go as planned.  That's combat." Trying to figure out what to do next is the hard part.  Go inside and engage?  Split the difference?

"Falcon, Gimp.  We've got six hostiles exterior south side of police station.  Also have one group, 4-6 hostiles, northwest and inbound.  All friendlies are in or on the police station plus one observer on the water tower.  We're spreading out on the roof, over."

They can't see Ace Hardware from here and that makes Saul nineteen kinds of nervous.  Roughly nineteen.

"Sandoval, you stay put here.  Clear that rifle.  If they stick their heads around that corner, make'em think twice if you have to throw rocks.  Xandra, you're with me, we need eyes on our rigs and that other group of Sneks," Saul says to his companions.  "Only so much good all of us can do from here."  Saul starts leading the way across the roof trying to get to where he can see the west side of the police station.  Old muscle reflexes slide fresh cartridges into the rifle in his arms while he hustles.

S. Noble
Repositioning to West side of police station roof.  Reloading.  Will engage as necessary on arrival of new observation point.
M700 .30-06 w/Steiner T5Xi 5-25x56mm SCR Reticle Scope
6/6 42 rounds remaining
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Mon 04 Feb 2019.

"Yeah," Carissa says between gritted teeth.  "Got it."  Let's fucking do this dammit.  Not that Cao is being aggravating, it's the growing helpless feeling in her gut.  She wills Skillins to drive this armored piece of shit faster than it's factory settings should allow.  Finger tips tap out a beat on the grip of her rifle that translates in her mind to 'hurry, hurry, hurry.'

"Breathe girl," she tries to tell herself in a whisper.  She knows too much anxiety and her performance will crap out.  But it's hard to focus.

C. Noble
chomping at the bit to shoot Snek Boys
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining.

Scott covers Watkins' withdrawal before moving out himself, not out of any particular sense of chivalry but more from a faint shred of hope that he'll get another opportunity to shoot a voodoo cultist.  When none is forthcoming, he re-mounts, consoling himself with the knowledge of what Anderson is about to apply to the Snek.  He thinks about topping off but decides the single round isn't worth the fumble-fuckery of administrative gunhandling in a moving vehicle.

"Duuuude.  Weeeed," he replies to Mike, taking the proffered charm and tucking it into his dump pouch.  "If we have the time before we take down the priestess, I think I remember how to mess with these.  In the meantime - Sexton's clear: lead on, apply directly to the forehead," he tells Cao.

Just in case, he takes a ready magazine from the black-and-yellow ammo can at his feet, stuffs the mag into the empty slot on his chest rig, then offers the can to the others in the vehicle.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:15, Fri 08 Feb 2019.

"Yeah."  Xandra crawls backward a few feet before coming up to a hunched shuffle, staying as low as possible while in motion.

Xandra
Following Saul's lead, aimed fire as directed
Colt 6940 [23/30] - Aimpoint PRO

Before Departure...

Cole points the long barrel of the M2 at the target building. The west edge of the office is concealed by the interposition of the large metal outbuilding nearer the tracks. Anderson doesn't want to waste precious .50 BMG ammunition and firing from a stationary platform is a better bet than shooting from one executing a three-point turn, or a rapidly accelerating moving one.

"Hey D-Skill, scoot up about 10 meters would ya?" Cole asks with a tone suggesting that 'no' is not an acceptable answer. "I don't have a clean shot."

When Skillins clears the lines, Anderson is ready to blast away.



Cole squeezes the trigger and attempts to walk rounds across the north face of the target building before Razorback starts moving.

On the Move...



"Captain, if there're friendlies in the station, we shouldn't use the fifty." He doesn't need to explain why. "Hey Kabua, pass me up my SAW."

Anderson
Razorback gun turret
M2 HB (80/100)
Firing 10 rounds into the office building; transitioning to his SAW as the J-LTV approaches the police station

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:34, Wed 06 Feb 2019.

McGehee Police Station

Leaving Sandoval to keep an eye on the back lot, Saul limps to the northwest corner of the station roof. Murray beats him there. A stand of tall, leafy trees conceals the the greenway. Looking up, they see Eagle Eye, his back to the station, still plinking away with his scoped AR. From the angle of its standard-length barrel, the Sneks are steadily getting closer.

From the south side of the station, gunshots. Whoever designed the facility clearly wasn't concerned about an assault. There are three entrances- west (from the main lot), south (a side door, at the end of a paved footpath), and east (from the back lot). From the sound of it, the Sneks below are forcing the south entrance.


From the Railroad Crossing to the McGehee Police Station

As Cao mounts back up, Anderson rakes the target building with fifty-caliber fire. He intends to fire a ten-round burst but, on the ninth shot, the weapon balks. Another stoppage. (M2HB -9 rounds .50)

"Motherfucker!" he growls, beginning to execute the standard stoppage drill.

Razorback is already moving. Skillins has to execute another three-point turn to get the J-LTV headed back in the right direction. He squeezes the big AV past Bourbon Street on his way to the 65 North. Rios has to follow suit with the slightly more nimble Chevy Tahoe, falling in line behind the rapidly accelerating J-LTV. Bringing up the rear is the MPD patrol vehicle.

One on the highway, Skillins pushes the speedometer needle into the red, where the vehicle's electronic limiter tops out at 70mph. Fortunately, there's no other traffic on the road.

He slows down to take the turn at Airport Road. This street approaches the station from the south, leading to its back parking lot. As Skillins turns left off of Airport Road, a figure in civies becomes visible, sitting, back against the wall, next to the police station's side entrance. His hands are concealed in his lap.

https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing


Your Turn.

-

Lauren’s opening her door before the vehicle has come to a complete standstill, hitting the ground on the right hand side, not waiting to see if Noble and Kabua are doing the same. Her carbine is in her hands, the M79 currently slung over her left shoulder, the stock banging hard against her hip as she feels the asphalt under her combat boots.

Shit. The civilian is a complication. More specifically, the fact that she can’t see if he’s armed or not. It’s enough to cause her to hesitate for a split second. In some ways fighting the Allianza had been a lot more straightforward. Then the barrel of her carbine is rising as steps forward and to the side. It puts her more in the open, increases the risk, but she needs to give Skillins room to manoeuvre if he needs it. The weapon’s stock pulled into her shoulder as she trains the weapon on the unidentified individual. She can’t call him a gang banger. Yet. ”State Guard! Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head or we will shoot! This is your only warning!”

One chance. He gets one chance. Beads of sweat are trickling down her spine. She’s ready to take the shot, she will take the shot if he doesn’t immediately comply. It will be on him.

Lauren
Dismounting front right (I’m presuming this thing is left hand drive)
Aiming at unidentified civilian / issuing challenge
If no response to challenge will shoot (3 x single shots)
If figure appears to be going for a weapon will shoot (3 x single shots)
M4A1 (30/30)

Training wars with instinct in Carissa's head as she exits the vehicle with her rifle at the ready.  Everything in her wants to cut right to the south side of the police station and follow these assholes until she catches up with them, whereupon she can dish out some 5.56mm attitude adjustments.  Still, Cao is just up ahead of her and that pulls self control back into the fold and she keeps her spot in the advance.  She knows, even if it isn't true at the emotional level, that the best chance her dad (and anyone in the police station) has is if the relief force arrives acting as a coherent unit.  She's not aware of the steady stream of profanity leaking out of her mouth as she moves.

C. Noble
Advancing with Cao, engaging hostile targets at will
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining.

"Christ on an crutch," Saul swears, this time out loud.  While not the most blasphemous thing he's ever uttered, he's enjoyed the mouthfeel of this one since his "incident."  He couldn't be calling this situation more wrong and people are going to be bleeding because of it.  "Come on," he tells Xandra as he starts angling for the ladder along side the building with all the haste his hip will let him manage.  He pushes the ladder back to the ground before giving it a good hard look and deciding to stall for one last bit of time by giving Cao an update.

"Falcon, Gimp.  Bad guys are making entrance on the south end. Moray and I are moving to engage via the interior."

The ladder hurts, there's no getting around it, and when Saul gets to the base, his jaw is locked, teeth grinding.  He leads his partner back inside, retrieving  his shotgun from the space by the door and checking the load to ensure it's ready.  "Look," he says to Xandra while looking directly in her eyes. His is voice taking on an edge, that of the chief warrant officer serving in Afghanistan.  "Just stay with me and shoot whatever I miss or can't see.  This is going to be loud and fucked up.  Ready?"

S. Noble
Moving to engage Snek boys interior of police station
Nighthawk Remington 870 Overseer 4 Shotgun w/ reflex sight
6/6, 6 on rail, 40 remaining

This message was last edited by the player at 01:14, Fri 08 Feb 2019.

"Why don't I have grenades?" Xandra asks rhetorically, not entirely speaking to Saul.  "I blow shit up for a living.  This was a fail.  I want some of those Claymore thingies too.  Wait."  She lets her Colt hang from its sling, slaps at the still-not-entirely-familiar pouches on the front of her plate carrier, comes up with a pair of olive drab cylinders.  "Fumigate first?" she asks.

”Mizz Murray, you bring all the fun,” Saul says, trying to be be reassuring to both of them.  He starts digging at the mask carrier on his LBV.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Fri 08 Feb 2019.

"Razor, Bourbon, we're heading for the main door," Scott advises, pointing out the windshield to cue Rios toward the police station's west side - and the parking lot where Ace Hardware squats.  It's not the best in terms of crossfire potential but it'll position them secure the logistics vehicle.  "Okay.  Watkins, on me again.  Rios, Doc, stick with the G-ride here."  As the up-armored SUV makes the turn off US 65, he hooks two fingers into the door handle and prepares to shoulder it open.

"You got it." Carswell nods as the SUV begins its turn into the parking lot, his hand coming off oh shit handle above the door and moving to the door handle itself, ready to open it whenever the vehicle has come to a halt.

When it does halt he'll be out the door and going down into a crouch, swinging around to cover as much of an arc as he can and trying to spot any gangbangers. If he sees any he'll immediately open fire with a series of single shots, hoping to further demonstrate to them the ineffectiveness of the little bags of crap that they're carrying.

Carswell
Dismounting / looking for gangbangers
Shooting any armed gangbanger on sight provided no friendlies are in the vicinity (multiple single shots)
HK416 (30/30)
This message was last edited by the player at 21:43, Fri 08 Feb 2019.

The is-he-a-civilian-or-a-gangbanger weakly raises his hands from his lap. Cao clearly sees a pistol in one of them. She fires three shots, hitting the sitting figure with all three, including one that splatters his brains against the wall behind him. He slumps slowly sideways, leaving broad red smears on the white façade of the building.

Carissa and Kabua dismount behind their CO, ready to assault the police station at her command.

Just a few seconds before this transpires, Saul and Murray attempt to smoke the five remaining Snek Boys from the station's interior. Sandoval locked the back door behind her, so she drops the keys down to Murray while Saul covers the bulletproof glass doors with his shotgun. After unlocking the door, Murray pulls the pin on one of her smoke grenades and tosses it into the lobby of the Desha County Circuit Court (which shares the building with the MPP). It's not a great throw. The cylindrical grenade bounces off the front desk and, spewing thick, green smoke, rolls back towards the entrance. The smoke will undoubtedly fill most of the large foyer, but it probably won't make its way into the police station. Murray still has another smoke grenade, though, and, if the gunshots from the south mean what she and Saul hope they mean, the side entrance to the station will soon be under Sierra control.

Meanwhile, Bourbon Street and the MPD patrol vehicle enter the front parking lot. The good guys now have 11 fighters on site, to the bad guys' five. Eagle Eye continues to plink away at the D.S.B. force coming in from the west. He's now out of sight on the north side of the water tower tank, meaning that the enemy reinforcements are getting closer.

The MPD/auxiliary outposts and the roving MPD vehicle patrol all report no sighted D.S.B. activity in their sectors.

https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:12, Sun 10 Feb 2019.

Lauren experiences a quick surge of satisfaction as she sees the wall behind the insurgent splattered with blood and brain matter. He'd made his choice. The Air Force Captain then sprints across the open ground, the M79 still banging against her as she races towards the spot that the gangbanger had been occupying and flattens herself against the wall.

She's buzzing, breathing hard, sweating, adrenaline pumping through her system. She has to fight her immediate instinct, which is to just charge into the building. It's a confused battlespace, she needs to try and coordinate their efforts. She looks to Carissa Noble as the other woman arrives on the scene, holds up left hand to signal her to wait. She imagines that the next few seconds are probably going to feel like hours to the younger woman but if they go charging right in it's a risk. Saul would get that. Hopefully.

That hand that had signalled Noble to wait reaches for her radio. "All callsigns, Falcon. One insurgent KIA. We are entering building from south side. Say again, friendlies entering from south side. Break. Gimp, can you get all of your people on to the roof? Or failing that all in to one place?" She doesn't want multiple Sierras roaming the building. If Saul can consolidate then that leaves her team with a relatively free hand. "Sexton, Drauger, hold in place, shoot anyone coming out that is not a friendly." She's left Anderson in the JLTV's turret for that express purpose. He can also give Skillins direction of the vehicle needs to move. "Falcon entering now with Rawhide and Chef."

She then gives Carissa the nod. "Go! I'll follow, then Kabua." When the younger woman moves Cao will follow her in, her M4 raised, scanning the interior of the police station, looking for any gangbangers.

Lauren
Communicating
Entering building via southern entrance - engaging any hostile target with 3 x single shots. No warnings
M4A1 (27/30)

"Okay, we're all sticking with the G-ride," Scott amends.  "Sexton's clear.  be advised, Eagle Eye is still engaged with that other force to the west."  He glances back to the Suburban.  "Hey, guys, watch our backs for those assholes."

Scott
Moving to cover, engaging any Sneks visible in the station
Wilson Recon SR [30/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

"Yeah, but I throw like a girl," Xandra tells Saul, disgusted with her performance.  "I think that's why I don't have grenades."  She takes a couple of steps back from the ladder, kneels, and doffs her own helmet and sunglasses so she can mask up.  She decides to save her other smoke canister for later, unslinging her Colt again once her gas mask is on.

Xandra
Following Saul's lead, aimed fire as directed
Colt 6940 [23/30] - Aimpoint PRO

"You got it." Carswell calls over to Guillory and gives him a quick thumbs up. Looking around the parking lot, the medic ends moving up forward several metres and going down to one knee  behind what's either a small tree or a large bush - he can't make up his mind which - and turning his attention to the cluster of buildings northwest of him, watching them for any sign of hostile movement.

As he settles into position he calls out to Rios. "I've got eyes on the buildings. Do you want to cover the field?"

Carswell
On one knee behind tree/ bush in parking lot
Looking towards Scott Petroleum
Shooting any armed gangbanger on sight (multiple single shots, no warnings)
HK416 (30/30)

”Falcon, Gimp.  I’ve got two friendlies, on the ground, one on the roof.  We’re out of your way and we’ll take any runners out the back.”. Saul’s voice is muffled from the mask, but he speaks slowly enough that Cao should be able to understand.  He’s flooded with relief that he’s not going to have to lead Xandra into CQB, but that feeling is tempered quickly with the fact that Carissa will be taking his place. “Lessons learned, huh?  Let’s hope the girls with guns shoot like the girls they are and not like these male jokers.” He’d smile at Xandra to take the edge off, but there’s no point with the mask.  Hopefully his voice does to for him.  “Here we go...”

S. Noble
Kneeling, ready to shoot Snek boys
Remington 870 w/reflex site
6/6, 6 on the rail, 40 shells remaining
Wearing gas mask

Carissa arrives right behind Cao, setting herself up for security and getting ready for what she knows is coming next.  All the years of practicing and training are about to come to a head.  Live fire CQB with a hostile force.  Gangbangers or not, she knows from having it drilled into her head over and over by Saul that the billers of amateurs kill you just as dead as the bullets from pros.  Her breath is coming gasps and she can feel the sweat inside her gloves.

Breathe.

Hurry.  Dad needs you.

Breathe.

Hurry!

Breathe dumbass!  Breathe. 

Self excoriation works where rational thought won’t and Carissa brings herself under control. When Cao gives her go order, Carissa Noble wraps around the door frame and reenters the police station as a combatant looking for targets.

C. Noble
Assaulting with Cao and Kabua, engaging hostile targets at will
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:17, Sun 10 Feb 2019.

The side entrance has been forced open. The door is riddled with bullet holes- at least one of them must have disabled the lock. The three-person Sierra assault team enter the building. In front of them, a long hallway, wide enough for four adults to walk abreast. At intervals on either side are doors, some open, some shut. Up ahead and to the left, the main lobby. Only Cao's been inside the building, and in this section only briefly. The smoke from Murray's grenade has not reached this part of the building, but the hallway smells like sweaty bodies and ganja.

The trio advances, knowing that they are outnumbered 5 to 3 and that the Snek Boyz have had a few minutes to hunker down and prepare a hasty defense. The Sierras stop at the first pair of doors. A quick peek reveals a lounge/kitchenette on the right, a locker room on the left. A few cabinets and lockers have been flung open, assorted contents strewn about on the floor. There's a racket up ahead, muffled voices and crashing.

A man appears in the open doorway at the far end of the hall. His eyes widen as he spots the intruders (pot, meet kettle). He seems caught between two ideas- fight and flee. The surprised Snek tries to do both, halving his odds of successfully accomplishing either. Carissa doesn't give him much of a chance. She's ready, squeezes off three shots in quick succession. The Snek Boy bends at the waist as the first round punches through his guts. The second strikes the crown of his head, killing him instantly. The third round tears through his left leg as he face plants on the linoleum floor with a sickening splat. The Sierra building clearing team has just improved the odds (it's now 3 v 4, advantage D.S.B.). Shouted patois sprinkled with gangta lingo and good ol' fashioned American profanity finds its way into the hallway but it's difficult to tell exactly where the voices are coming from, or what's being said (Guillory could help with that, if he was there).

There are still two doors ahead on both sides of the hallway, four more rooms to either clear or bypass. The ones nearest the far end of the hall are the team room on the left, and the evidence locker on the right. The two doors closer to the Sierras open into unknown spaces.

Outside the police station, more sound but no fury. Not yet, anyway. Measured gunshots from the water tower dissipate in the open air, a trio of muffled gunshots escapes from inside the building.

Eagle Eye's voice pipes in over the MPD net. Its elevated pitch suggests a heightened level of concern. "Eagle Eye here. I'm, uh, burnin' through ammo, ain't hit shit. Those slippery Snek bastards can move! They're at the Scott fuel station now. I reckon they're fixin' to cross the highway soon. Over."


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:26, Tue 12 Feb 2019.

Carissa almost freezes, momentarily transfixed by the falling Snek Boy that she has just help speed into the great beyond.  The hold doesn't last more than a fraction of a second before she files the memory for later processing and focuses on the present.  "Target down," Carissa says, loud enough for Cao to hear her.  Probably louder than she has to, but it's hard to tell with the ringing in her ears.  "Moving." The cowgirl turned combatant moves farther into the hallway, angling towards the door on the right, coming up short and stopping close enough that she can make entry without hanging out in the doorway.

"Ready for entry, right," she says.  Truth be told, the bad guys are probably at the end of the hall, but there's no way she's bypassing room to have some jerk-wad come up behind them and spray their outnumbered party.  She'll hold here until Cao tells her to go, watching the hall for more hostiles.

C. Noble
moving to first door on right, covering hall and ready to enter room on Cao's order, engaging hostile targets at will
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
27/30 6 mags remaining.

Lauren nods in response to Carissa. "Kabua, cover the hall. I've got the left hand door." They'll work their way forward. Methodical. Clear each room, make sure there's nothing left behind them, then move forward, until the enemy have nowhere left to go. Then they'll kill them. Unless they surrender, which based on evidence so far seems fairly unlikely.

The Air Force Captain moves forward, up the corridor, her eyes on the end of the hallway as she takes up position across the corridor from Carissa, at the left hand side door, flattens herself against the wall. She's got flash bangs on her LBE but she's saving them for later. They're going to have to clear these rooms the hard way.

She looks over at Noble. "On three. One. Two. Three." On the count of three she's jerking down on the door handle, going in fast and low, the barrel of her carbine up, ready to take down anyone in the room.

Lauren
Instructing Kabua to cover the hallway / moving to first door on left  / entering on count of three
Firing on anyone in the room. No warnings or calls for surrender, just multiple single shots until they're dead.
M4A1 (27/30)

Carswell continues to watch the buildings to the northwest of his current position. Given that Eagle Eye is saying that the bad guys are about to cross the highway he presumes that said buildings are the Scott fuel station that the cop is referring to, although he can't see anyone yet. Maybe they're hiding behind the building.

Carswell shrugs. He's seen up close what the M2 can do to bodies and buildings. And that building is probably what passes for close range for the heavy machine gun. Without taking eyes off the building, the paramedic calls out to Guillory. "Yo, Scott, do you want to get the Air Force to move Razorback into a position where it can shoot the fuck out of that fuel station?" That would give the little fuckers something to think about.

Carswell
Offering advice
Looking towards Scott Petroleum
Shooting any armed gangbanger on sight (multiple single shots, no warnings)
HK416 (30/30)
This message was last edited by the player at 23:09, Tue 12 Feb 2019.

Scott glances over his shoulder.  "Crap.  Love to, but those fifty cal rounds will go right across the park and into town.  And if one of those tanks still has fumes, earth-shattering kaboom.  Swap with me and cover the door."

He relieves the medic and pops the Suburban's rear hatch, hauling out the double case.  His Remington is on top, bolt down on an empty chamber over a full magazine.  He slings his AR and grabs the long gun and the pouch of 7mm-08 rounds.

Scott
Moving to Bourbon Street to deploy long-distance therapy tool
Aimed fire on any Sneks crossing the road
Remington 700 Ti [5/5] - suppressed, 3-9x scope

 
This message was last edited by the player at 01:09, Wed 13 Feb 2019.

The three sharp cracks of an M4 reach Saul's ears, and if he doesn't quite flinch, it's only because he was able to spot the weapons the Snek Boyz were carrying as they approached the police station.  Most likely the weapon reports were from a friendly weapon and since no one was screaming for a medic, everything must be relatively okay.  So far.  For a definition of 'okay' that was pretty far outside the norm.

So once again, the older man is forced to wait.  Sidelined by injury and position.  He and Xandra are a blocking force, and an important one, but the moment is one of powerlessness.  The Sneks have had enough time to get organized and set up some cover.  At least if they are any kind of competent.  Here's hoping they're not.

"How ya doin, Mizz Murray?" Saul asks from inside the plastic bag strapped to his face without taking his eyes from the door.

S. Noble
Kneeling, ready to shoot Snek boys
Remington 870 w/reflex site
6/6, 6 on the rail, 40 shells remaining
Wearing gas mask

”And a loud bang would be a bad thing why, exactly?” Carswell asks with a grin as he moves to trade places with Guillory. He’s joking. More or less. After all, he doesn’t know quite how big a bang Guillory might be anticipating, but one big enough to level the building and take out any gangbangers skulking on the other side of it doesn’t seem like a worst case scenario to the paramedic.

Still, probably better safe than sorry he reckons as he moves into the spot of cover just vacated by Scott, goes down to one knee and levels his weapon at the police station’s main entrance, ready to fire on anyone coming through there that’s not Team Sierra or local PD.

Carswell
Relocating to position vacated by Guillory
Targeting main doors of police station / firing on any armed gangbanger exiting building (no warnings).
Unarmed gangbangers get one chance to surrender. Non compliance will result in use of lethal force
HK416 (30/30)

Police Station, Interior

Carissa and Cao advance rapidly to the next set of doors, peeling off to either side to engage in some solo room clearing. Both women enter their respective rooms, primed and ready for a fight. Both rooms are unoccupied and, at first glance, appear undisturbed. Apparently, the Snek's aren't interested in general office supplies or Dell paperweights.

A couple of seconds after the female Sierra's exit the hallway, pistols emerge from the last room on the right and the doorway at the end of the hall. Six shots rattle off so rapidly that the merging reports sound like they're coming from a single submachine gun. It's blind fire, but the hallway acts like a funnel. Kabua collapses to the floor, calling out in pain. A figure emerges from the last room on the right and darts through the doorway at the end of the hall. Kabua's in no condition to engage.

Police Station, Exterior

Saul and Xandra continue to cover the building's east entrance. Green smoke fills the foyer of the county courthouse. In a relatively contained space, without a functioning ventilation system, the smoke with take longer to disipate.

With Mike and the MPD officers covering the west entrance, Guillory walks to the highway, takes a knee on the grassy shoulder just shy of the scorching hot asphalt, and prepares to engage any gangbanger who tries to cross the highway. It looks to be a long shot, 350m at least, but Eagle Eye needs help. Several seconds pass. Through the magnifying aperture of the rifle scope, Guillory studies the lane between the petroleum business and a white building on the east side of the 65. There! A cluster of figures breaking from left to right. Airy cracks from Eagle Eye's long-barreled AR. Scott leads the frontrunner, squeezes the trigger, absorbs the kick of the rifle stock. Quickly recovering his sight picture, Guillory's disappointed to not that the Snek Boyz are still moving, all of them. He has time for one more aimed shot before the runners make it to cover. The Remington bucks again, again without apparent effect. (Guillory -2 rounds 7mm-08)


Your Turn.

-
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 00:51, Thu 14 Feb 2019.

Jackson's been wounded before, but it didn't feel like this. As a teenager, he and a friend had taken turns shocking one another with a taser they'd found and it feels more like that- a painful, electric shock that's just shut down his right leg. He fell hard, banging his right elbow against the hard floor and hitting his head against the baseboard. He's still seeing stars, but not stunned enough not to feel the burning sensation growing in his right leg. He rolls onto his back against the east wall, glancing to his right, down the hall. The disembodied pistols are gone, for now- there's no telling if/when they'll be back. Jackson looks down, sees a dark stain spreading from a hole in his multicam trousers, just above and to the right of his knee. He blinks, thinking he might be seeing double. A stain is growing on the same side of his leg, this one just below his knee.

"I'm hit," he calls out, trying to sound calm, while he fumbles to switch his M4 to his left hand so that he can point it down the hallway, lest the bad guys come back to finish him off.

-

Shit. Lauren emerges from the now clear room to hear Kabua call out, see him on the ground, gesturing to the doorway at the end of the hall. ”Thataway.”

The Air Force Captain nods, her carbine swinging in the direction that Kabua has just pointed. ”Noble! Cover those doors.” Once Carissa has the hall covered Cao takes her left hand of her weapon’s foregrip, reaches for her radio. ”Man down. We need the medic. Out.” If she had had time to dwell on it she would have specified the casualty so that Saul would know that it wasn’t his daughter. But that thought would take n extra few seconds to process and she’s already moving on to the next thing, dealing with the shooters.

They can pull back, drag Kabua out, wait for Carswell, but then they’ll have to move down the hall again. And Saul and the others are still inside. She looks down at Kabua. ”Hold tight, help’s on the way.” Looking over to Carissa, her left index finger points to the doors at the end of the hall then taps one of the frag grenades attached to her LBE. ”You crack the door, I’ll put this in.”

If she gets a nod of understanding from Ms Noble Cao will begin to move forward, slowly, ready to shoot through the door if she sees it stir so much as a millimetre. If she makes it to the end of the hallway her plan is to crouch down, prep a frag, then wait for Noble to open the door wide enough for her to toss the grenade through the gap.

Lauren
Comms / advancing to the end of the hall, putting 1 x 5 rnd burst into the door if it so much as twitches
If she makes it to the end of the hall prepping a frag then tossing it through when Carissa opens the door.
M4A1 (27/30)

”Falcon, Doc. On my way. Out.” Once he’s acknowledged the request for assistance Carswell takes a quick look at the building, immediately discounts going in the entrance that’s just ahead of him. The area hasn’t been cleared so he’s no idea what he’d be sprinting into.

So it’s going to have to be around the exterior. ”Tori! Chevelle! Cover me. If you see any fuckers moving inside shoot them!” Figuring that the two of them can cover him as he skirts around the building, the medic then takes off at a run, his weapon in his hands. Whatever happens he’s going to have to cover some open ground, so best thing he can do is get it over and done with, rely on Watkins and Rios to cover his back as he sprints diagonally across the grass, taking the shortest path towards the same set of doors that Cao and her team used to gain access. If he makes it unscathed he’ll enter the building, see what he can do for their casualty.

Mike
Requesting covering fire then moving diagonally towards southern entrance (spot marked by G9)
Intent to enter building and render trauma aid as required
If he comes under fire running faster / weaving
HK416 (30/30)

Carissa's eyes flick back and forth, first to where the gunfire must have been coming from.  Next to Cao and then to Jackson.  Her medically trained eyes take in a split second triage, sizing him up as suffering from survivable wounds, then, finally, she gets her attention back on the direction the bad guys were presumably setting up in and puts her weapon up for coverage.  Sloppy way to die there, Car.  Jackson doesn't need her medical skills right now.  He and Cao need her eyes on the prize to make sure another handgun death fan doesn't come down the hallway.

Cao's plan to frag the room seems prudent at the moment, too.  Because she really doesn't want to go through that door without a sizable distraction first.  Preferably one that does a world of damage at the same time.  "Yeah, got it," the farm girl tells Cao.  "Moving."

Moving slowly, Carissa keeps her weapon up and aimed at the door way.  Anything suspicious gets gunfire.

C. Noble
moving down hall to cover door, prep for frag.  Will enter room behind grenade detonation if this round.  Engagine hostile targets at will.
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
27/30 6 mags remaining.

Hearing Cao's call for a medic causes Saul to half climb to his feet before he thinks better of it and settles back down, just managing to get his reaction under control.  This is worse than being at a distance, because Carissa is right there.  She's not a quarter of a mile away where he's helpless.  His daughter is a hundred feet away and the father of three girls, can't do anything to help.  It almost reminds him of watching her compete in the rodeo, except this time he can't actually see her and these particular bulls shoot back.

"Not Car, not Car, not Car," he mumbles, not sure if he's telling or asking.  Stay focused, Saul.  You've been here before.  The only difference is that this time your daughter is in the fray and you've trained her well.  Right?  Well, time would tell that one.

Sweat from the heat and stress rolls down his back in streams.  The smell of humid summer, rot, sweat, smoke, and cordite hangs in the air.   It's combat all right.

S. Noble
Kneeling, ready to shoot Snek boys
Remington 870 w/reflex site
6/6, 6 on the rail, 40 shells remaining
Wearing gas mask

In Scott's estimation, the situation is deteriorating rapidly, but it's one of those times when everyone is doing everything right and getting fucked anyway.  Trusting Watkins and Rios to cover his back, he prones out for better support and waits for the Sneks to break cover again.

Scott
Going prone
Aimed fire on any available Sneks
Remington 700 Ti [3/5] - suppressed, 3-9x scope

 

Paradoxically, Saul almost losing it next to her steadies Xandra's nerves.  "Hey."  She reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, hits the plate carrier, settles for a bicep before returning her hand to her rifle.  "Collect your shit.  You're not gonna do her any good by running in and tripping on a donut."

Xandra
Waiting to whack a Snek
Colt 6940 [23/30] - Aimpoint PRO

Police Station, interior

With Carswell's arrival, Cao and Carissa press forward. The door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar, propped open by the legs of the Snek Carissa killed. The last door on the right is the evidence locker. A glance in that direction reveals several boxes and their sundry contents strewn about on the floor. The last room on the left is some sort of evidence processing room. It appears undisturbed. As the two Sierra women get to within touching distance of the door to the lobby, they have to step carefully to avoid exposing themselves through the gap or slipping in pooled blood. As Carissa, crouching low, reaches out to pull the door open, bullets start hitting it. Most are stopped by the two layers of thin steel but a couple punch through above her head, leaving jagged holes in the metal. Cao quickly pulls the pin on the fragmentation grenade clutched in her right hand and tosses through the briefly widened gap. The door swings back but can't shut because of the dead Snek's legs. Three to four seconds pass, more bullets clang into the metal door. And explosion rocks the operations room. Those outside in the front parking lot can see the bullet-proof glass of the lobby doors bow briefly from the overpressure.

The shooting stops- for how long, no one knows. Cao remains aggressive, pushing through the door with her M4A1 raised. Carissa is right behind her, just off her CO's right shoulder. The large operations room is hazy with smoke from the grenade explosion, a few sheets of paper flutter to the floor. A couple of tables have been overturned and lie on their sides facing the door. One is speckled with shrapnel. Like at a shooting gallery, figures rise suddenly from behind each of the tables. Cao fires first, rapidly sending three rounds downrange. Two rounds punch through the table, possibly finding Snek flesh on the other side. Her target jumps drops his pistol, and falls backwards, at the very least hit in the right arm. (Cao -1 fragmentation hand grenade, -3 rounds 5.56mm)

Carissa also squeezes the trigger thrice, but only two rounds leave the barrel of her carbine. The results of the stoppage could have been fatal for the young Sierra, had not one of her shots struck home. Her target grimaces and doubles over, dropping behind the holed desk. Defying her inexperience, Carrisa stays calm and quickly clears the jam. (Carissa -3 rounds 5.56mm)

A shotgun blast rocks the room. Buckshot peppers the wall to Carissa's right. Miraculously, neither of the Sierras are hit. As Carissa brings her rifle back into the fight, Cao swings her M4A1 to her right, engages the shooter with three quick shots. The shotgun-wielding Snek drops, shot through the throat. (Cao -3 rounds 5.56mm)

The room goes momentarily quiet, save for the ringing in the women's ears. Carissa's first target leaps upright from behind the desk and, clutching his bleeding belly with one hand, levels his pistol at the Sierras with the other. This time, there's no doubt- before he can get off a shot, Carissa shoots him dead with a round in the face. (Carissa -3 rounds 5.56mm)

That makes five Snek Boyz down, leaving one still unaccounted for somewhere inside the station.

On the far side (N) of the trashed operations room, opposite the entrance Cao and Carissa just used, are two doors. The one on the left (NW) leads to the jail, the one on the right (NE) opens into the County Courthouse. To the left (W), is the front lobby and main reception, that latter consisting of a long counter behind a bulletproof window. A door next to the desk counter leads to the lobby waiting area.

Meanwhile, Carswell assesses the wounded Kabua. Using one of the bullet holes to tear open the Marshalese Islander's pant leg, Carswell assesses the damage. A small caliber bullet is lodged in Kabua's outer thigh, just above the knee. The wound isn't bleeding badly, and Carswell can actually a glint of lead, about a half-inch into the red muscle. Carswell finds the second wound- a gouge across the inside of the young man's upper calf. Neither wound appeares particularly dangerous. The calf wound simply requires cleaning and bandaging. The bullet will need to be removed from Kabua's thigh, but Carswell's confident that he can successfully perform the procedue without complicated surgery.

Outside the station...

Guillory goes prone, waits for the Snek Boyz to emerge from behind the building to the north. His window is tight, as a stand of trees in the middle ground to his right provides a measure of concealment to anyone moving east. Furthermore, there is a berm behind the building, running west to east, fronted by a second line of trees. If the Snek's are smart, they'll use this avenue as an concealed approach to swing around and hit the station from the northeast. Eagle Eye starts shooting again, but no targets appear in Guillory's waiting scope.

"Eagle Eye here. The Sneks are moving east behind a line of trees. Over."


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:17, Sun 17 Feb 2019.

”Dude, seriously.” Carswell is breathing slightly more heavily after his sprint round the side of the building, beads of sweat running down his forehead. ”You just got a scratch.” He’s grinning, his tone intended to reassure Kabua. ”I’ll get that fixed up for you in no time man. Probably be a scar, but that’s cool, chicks dig scars. Give me a sec to call it in, then I’ll get you outta here, OK?”

He’s got a secondary reason to call it in. He’d heard the original transmission. Chances are someone else had as well. So while his eyes watch the door that GI Jane and Carissa had disappeared through one hand reaches for his radio. ”Ah, this is Doc. I’m with Chef. He’s taken a couple of rounds but I reckon he’s going to be OK. Out.” That one’s for you Saul, buddy.

The paramedic then turns his attention back to Kabua. ”Right man, let’s get you outside. You OK to lean on me until you’re out? And you got your weapon yeah?”

Mike
Attempting to get Kabua outside (back the way they came)

"Yeah," Jackson grunts, leaning on his left side and offering the medic his right arm. The wounded Sierra is holding his M4 in his left hand. After Carswell lifts him to his feet, Jackson takes a tentative step on his wounded leg, eases a little more of his body weight on it. The damaged limb protests vociferously, but cooperates. Leaning on the team medic, and favoring his right leg, Jackson limps towards the side exit.

-

”Cover me while I secure them!” Lauren’s eyes sweep the room as she hisses to Carissa. She’s fairly sure that two of the insurgents are dead – she can see that one of them’s got a hole drilled in his forehead and the wall behind him is splattered with blood and gore – but she’s less sure about the other two so under Noble’s watchful gaze the Air Force Captain will quickly move about the room, checking bodies for signs of life.

Any insurgent that is still alive and doesn’t try to resist will get his hands ziptied behind his back and another set of zipties around his ankles. If they try to resist in any way, shape, or form they’ll get two rounds of 5.56N in the head. Resistance is a relative term. Lauren doesn’t care whether these guys walk out of here or are carried out. She does care about whether her team walk out or not. Tie does not go to the runner. She knows it will take a few moments but she can’t risk leaving anyone behind them unsecured.

Once that’s done there’s a chance to assess the situation. The odds, clearly, have just swung dramatically in their favor. Five down, one to go. The Captain reaches for her radio, keys the PTT switch, speaks quietly. ”All callsigns, Falcon. SITREP. Five tangos down. No eyes on the sixth. Break. Sexton, I’m sending Razorback to support you. Drauger, have Rebel move around to the front of the building and link up with Sexton. Stand by.” She’s heard Eagle Eye’s transmission, knows that there’s another group of insurgents out there somewhere. The JLTV can do more use supporting Guillory. She’d like to make it a swap, get Watkins and Rios in here to support her and Noble, but it sounds like the primary threat is shifting. Again.

She looks around the room again. Three doors. One leads towards the outside. And Guillory’s team. So if he’s gone that way he should run in to them. That makes the other two her main concern. She looks over at Carissa, points to the two doors on the far side of the room. ”Let’s clear the left first, then the right. Same drill, grenade first, then clear.”

If she gets an affirm from her team mate the Air Force Captain will move up to the left hand door (jail) and repeat the same drill, frag first, then clear the room. As she reaches for the frag she’d notice that it’s her last one, so if he’s in one of the other rooms it will have to be an M84 flash bang that she uses. Maybe it’ll be his lucky day.

Lauren
Comms (ordering JLTV to move to support Guillory) / continued room clearance
Frag into NW door (jail) then follow up clearance
M4A1 (21/30)

When Cao steps around the upturned table to check on the first man she'd shot, he clumsily waves his pistol in her direction. Her carbine barks twice, finishing the job. (Cao -2 rounds)

The other two Snek Boyz are definitely dead, one just hasn't quite finished bleeding out yet. The wrecked head of Carissa's target leaves no doubt. The other one, the shotgunner with the terrible marksmanship, lies on his back, so weak now that his slick hand slips away from his severed carotid. Blood pumps out of his jagged neck wound in steadily diminishing pulses, until only a trickle dribbles into the expanding pool around his head and his eyes roll back in their sockets.

-

"Yeah, got it.  You're covered." Carissa nods grimly and sweeps her rifle slowly back and forth across the doors she and Cao are facing.  Remembering to aware of cover opportunities, she shifts over to her left a bit, trying to get a little bit more desk between her and any potential incoming fire.  And tries pretty hard not to spend more than a second staring at the bodies she and the Captain have just torn extra holes in.  She doesn't flinch, too much, when the other woman finishes off the wounded Snek.  Her ears have been abused far beyond what is reasonable for the rifles crack to raise more than a signal of a loud noise.  When the Snek's have been secured, Rawhide starts moving towards the jail door.  Her eyes catch the grenade appearing in her leader's hands.

"Beg your pardon, ma'am, but we might want to go with a flashbang here.  I don't know who's in those jail cells, but I'd rather not splatter the town drunk across the walls.  Hearts and minds and all of that."  Even a newcomer to combat can see that moving to "less lethal" ordnance has it's drawbacks, but in this case it might be worth the risk.

C. Noble
Covering and preparing to enter jail area.  Engagine hostile targets at will.
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
21/30 6 mags remaining.

Lauren’s hand is on her sole remaining M67 frag grenade ready to remove it from its MOLLE loop  when Carissa cautions against it. There’s a brief pause, no more than a second, and then the Air Force Captain nods. ”Good idea.” Her hand shifts from the frag grenade to the M84 flashbang that’s less than two inches from it, preps it, nods to her team mate to open the door, same way as they did the last time. Door open, flash bang in, clear.

Lauren
Switching to flashbang per Carissa’s suggestion
Deploying flashbang / clearing jail
M4A1 (19/30)

Supporting Kabua until they’re both outside the building, Carswell will then lean the wounded man against the wall, keeping a decent distance away from the dead gangbanger as he helps him to get settled on the ground, his back against the wall of the police station. ”OK, dude, let’s get you patched up. Just do me a favor, I’m gonna be concentrating on you so watch out for any fucker moving about that shouldn’t be here.” He’s already reaching into one of the pockets of his vest to get his EMT shears. ”You got a spare pair of pants, yeah?”

Carswell
Commencing further treatment
Removing bullet first then dressing both wounds

The tempo of the gunfight behind Scott isn't the sort of wild, uncontrolled spray'n'pray that comes from assholes with guns being left to their own devices.  Even without the radio traffic, he'd feel pretty good about the STAR team coming out ahead in this one.

The Snek reinforcements' maneuvering, on the other hand, is concerning.  The gang members may be a superstitious lot, but they clearly aren't cowardly, and they're possessed of a certain measure of cunning.  They almost certainly know the terrain as well as the local cops, too.  Speaking of... Scott keys up.  "Eagle Eye, Sexton here.  I've got one long rifle on foot and one vehicle-mounted heavy machine gun at your disposal.  Tell me where you want us, over."

As he waits for a response, he picks up the Remington and thumbs two rounds into the magazine to top it off while he trots toward Bourbon Street.  It's as good a starting point as any if the marksman/observer in the tower doesn't give him a better location from which to interdict the group coming in from the northwest.

Scott
Moving to Bourbon Street, reloading
If presented with a pop-up Snek at close range, will let the rifle hang on sling and engage with sidearm
Remington 700 Ti [5/5] - suppressed, 3-9x scope

Eagle Eye has just resumed his plinking, albeit at a much more leisurely pace. Apparently, he can still see the D.S.B. flanking force, but probably not very well. He interupts his shooting to reply to Guillory's offer,

"This is Eagle Eye. County Line Road is just north of here. I'd feel a whole lot better with that heavy machinegun between them gangsters and the station. Over."

-

"Yeah," is all Jackson can manage to say. The pain in his quad flares white hot as he straightens his wounded leg out on the grass. The upside is that this drowns out the lesser pain from his calf. The Marshallese-American has got a pair of Levis in his duffle. Indicating his bloody, holed multicam ACU trousers, he tries to joke, "These might look pretty fire as a pair of shorts."

-

Inside the Station

As she and Carissa move towards the door to the jail, Cao's eye is drawn to the ceiling. Whether it was sound or movement that caught her attention, she can't quite say, but something about a particular drop panel just seems off. She stops the younger woman short, points to the ceiling. By Cao's reckoning, the MPD officer on the roof should be positioned well right of the spot. Cao hold up three fingers, silently signaling, "On three." Both Sierras take aim at the sketchy ceiling panel.

Four shots, one from Cao, three from Carissa. The 5.56mm punch through the thin, stiff foam-like material with ease. The panel bulges outward, the splits. A body explodes out of the ceiling in a shower of foam and dust, hitting the floor with a sickening splat. The dead gangster's machete makes an unholy racket as it bounces across the tile. The sixth Snek has been located and neutralized. The Sierra officer had intended to fire three shots but her weapon failed to respond to the second trigger-pull. It is her turn to experience a jam. (Cao -2 rounds; Carissa -3 rounds)


Outside the Station

Based on Eagle Eye's request/recommendation, Guillory orders Rebel to advance Razorback to County Line Road. Skillins complies, driving through the station's east parking lot and across about 80m of grass to the afore-mentioned road, which runs parallel to the tree-concealed berm the flanking party of Snek Boyz are reportedly using. About 210m separates the two features, with a straggling copse of trees separating them. Guillory jogs to meet the J-LTV. At the moment, the D.S.B. flankers can't be seen from ground level.

After sterilizing the area and making two small incisions to slightly enlarge the wound, Carswell successfully removes the bullet from Kabua's thigh with a pair of forceps. The young Marshallese-American grits his teeth and bears it. Examining the small hunk of metal, the medic guesses (correctly) that it's a .32 caliber round. Kabua is fortunate that it wasn't a larger caliber bullet. Carswell then cleans, sutures, and bandages the wound. This takes a little over five minutes start to finish. Cleaning and dressing the graze to Kabua's calf takes about one. (Carswell -short length of suture [five stitches' worth], -2 lengths of bandage)


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:44, Thu 21 Feb 2019.

”Shit!” By the time the profanity has spilled from Lauren’s lips its evident that the stoppage has had no detrimental effect for the sixth insurgent has already fallen through the ceiling. It briefly reminds her of the scene in Aliens where the xenomorphs are advancing through the crawl spaces.

A moment later she’s going through her drills to clear the stoppage and then reaching to her MOLLE vest, gloved fingers grasping a full magazine, swapping it for the partly expended one in her carbine. Six insurgents had been reported in the area around the police station.  One had died outside, another in the hallway. Three more during their initial assault, two of them dead, the third one secured and most likely bleeding out. Plus this one. Six reported. Six accounted for.

Her eyes find Carissa’s. ”Good job.” She flashes the younger woman a quick grin. ”I’m going outside to see what’s happening there. I’ll send Watkins in to help clear up here. You check in with Saul, let him know we’ve taken out the six of them.” Cao could do that herself, isn’t, prefers instead to let the Nobles touch base, however briefly. ”Then meet me outside. OK?”

If the younger woman is good with that, Lauren will reach for her radio. ”All callsigns, Falcon is exiting building by west entrance.” She really doesn’t want any of her people to shoot her on the way out. ”Six tangoes down.”

Once she’s satisfied that they know she’s coming out the Air Force Captain heads out via the main entrance, looks around for Chevelle and Tori, calls out to the pair of them as she moves to the Suburban. ”Watkins, I need you inside to help with the clear up. Make sure you secure their weapons. Lieutenant Rios, can you give me a sitrep?”

Lauren
Reloading / exiting the police station / moving to Bourbon Explorer
Communicating / sending Watkins in to assist with clear up
M4A1 (30/30)
This message was last edited by the player at 18:29, Thu 21 Feb 2019.

”There ya go man, a souvenir.” Carswell grins as he holds up the bullet between a latex gloved thumb and forefinger. ”You want it?” After the bullet has been dealt with one way or the other he’ll then reach into one of the pouches on his vest, extract a small pill bottle. ”You want some painkillers?”

Once he’s made Kabua as comfortable as he can Carswell will pat him on the shoulder. ”Hang tight dude, we’ll get you inside just as soon as they say the place is clear. I’m just gonna have a look at this guy here. You watch the door, yeah?” The medic will then move over towards the dead gangbanger, search him and recover any weapons that he can find either on the body or lying around close to it.

Carswell
Finishing up with Kabua
1 x dose strong painkillers available on request
Searching the guy that Cao shot on the way in

Carissa gives Cao a nod and a thumbs up from her left hand.  With the room at least nominally secure, the cowgirl takes a second to switch magazines in her weapon.  The simple programmed action helps settle her mind in an environment that smells of blood, cordite, and bodies that are letting go of all kinds of foul smelling crap.  Probably literal crap.  Moving efficiently through the room, she goes from body to body, securing weapons to make sure they aren't going to have any nasty surprises.  It's hard not to focus too much on the destruction she and Cao unleashed on the human flesh, but Carissa tries her best not to get fixated.  Probably a good idea if I ever want to sleep again.

Finally, she stands upright and leans against a desk, taking a moment for a drink of water, she gives Watkins a nod when Chevelle enters the butcher shop. "Weapons are good, we'll take a peek into the jail here in a second."  Then, Carissa takes a deep breath and clicks the PTT on her radio.

"Gimp, Rawhide, over."

C. Noble
Radio comms and then making sure the building is clear from here by looking into jail and lobby

Saul's heart leaps into his throat when he hear's Carissa's voice calling out to him over the radio.  To his experienced father's ear, even the first few words tell him that she's probably at least okay.  He can hear tension in her voice, but not a world of pain, and that gives him hope.  "Rawhide, Gimp, go ahead."  His voice is muffled by the gas mask that he hopes is hiding the emotions that he's feeling.  Carissa doesn't need to hear his worry.

"Gimp, we've got your six runners accounted for.  Unless you had a few more slip by while your were old-manning, we should be good in here, over." The teasing is gentle and further relief.

Saul pulls the mask off his face, sweat exploding out of the container and flying across the space around him.  He gives Xandra a genuine smile, eyes saying thank you for the support she'd thrown his way.  Even if he's a little embarrassed that he needed it.  Supposed to be more professional here, Marine.  "Rawhide, y'all did well.  We're clear out here and moving to support Eagle Eye."

Creaking joints grind as Saul comes to his feet and he stretches underneath his body armor before smiling again at Xandra.  Red lines from the mask's seal surround the older man's face.  "Feels good to get that damn mask off."  It's obviously not the only thing he's feeling good about.  Even if the fight is still moving in their direction.  "Let's go see what we can do."

S. Noble
Moving to North East corner of police station and looking for cover to intercept Snek Boys should they come this way.

Scott nods to Rios, keeps moving north, and peeks around the station's corner to survey a whole lot of nothing through his rifle scope.  "Gimp, Sexton.  If y'all can link up with me at Razorback, we'll anchor our line off of it."

Scott
Moving to cover in Razorback's general vicinity
If Sneks make an appearance, will go to cover (or prone) and engage with aimed fire
Remington 700 Ti [5/5] - suppressed, 3-9x scope

"Ugh.  Yeah."  Xandra peels off her own gas mask and stows it, making sure to fasten the carrier's flap over the irreplaceable PPE.  She safes her rifle before descending from the roof.  Once she's on solid ground again, she unslings the weapon and swaps in a fresh magazine.

"Everything cool?" she belatedly asks Saul, having heard only part of the radio traffic through her earplugs.  She's fairly certain Carissa, at least, is okay, judging from Saul's lack of freakout, but she also figures Saul might want the opportunity to talk.

Xandra
Still following Saul's lead
Colt 6940 [31/30] - Aimpoint PRO

”Sexton, Gimp copies.  I think we can get to ya.” Saul tries to put together the developments of the last several minutes to place Razorback.  When he’s reasonably certain he’s got it right he starts leading Xandra that direction.  “I’m good, thanks,” he says to the younger woman.  “Or rather Car is, and that’s good enough for me.”. After a moments reflection, Saul sighs.  ”I don’t think fathers are supposed to watch their kids go into combat.”. Not dwelling how common that action must be these days strikes the Marine as a particularly good idea at the moment.

"Yes, please." Jackson answers to both. He pockets the bullet, then holds his hand back out to accept the painkiller.

Hoping the meds kick in soon, he sits watching the door while Carswell moves to search the dead Snek Boy.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 20:49, Sun 24 Feb 2019.

"Approximately six gangbangers crossed the highway about 330m north of here. Eagle Eye says they're moving east behind a berm of some sort. Old man up there can't shoot for shit, apparently. Razorback just rolled up to the next road north of here," Tori points north-northeast, "Guillory's moving up to support now. I'll stay here, watch your flank and rear, rest of you wanna join him."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:00, Sun 24 Feb 2019.

"You sure you don't want them to do it?" Chevelle asks, tilting her head towards Paddock and Leonard. It's not that Chevelle has a problem with Cao's orders, it's just that she'd rather stay with her CO and watch her six.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:52, Sun 24 Feb 2019.

Lauren crouches down behind the Suburban while Rios gives her a quick update, nods when the other woman has finished. ”OK, we’ll move up this road here –“ a gloved hand indicates the road directly ahead of them that gradually veered off to the left. ”See if we can outflank them.”

Turning then towards the hesitating Watkins, the Vietnamese American officer nods. ”Watkins, you’re with me and Ms Noble.” She then calls over to the two local Police officers. ”I need one of you two to keep an eye on the prisoners and the other one to help make sure the station is secure.” They could decide amongst themselves which one did which.

So far so good. The body count is well into double figures. That doesn’t particularly trouble her, not given the atrocities that the local PD have said the insurgents have committed. If they can deal with this other group then it surely won’t be much short of twenty. What had their reported strength been? Thirty to fifty? In that case even in a worst case scenario they’d have degraded their effectiveness by just short of fifty per cent, with only one of her team injured, and not seriously. Lauren’s confidence is soaring right now. Maybe they can finish this by nightfall. Her hand reaches for her radio. ”Eagle Eye, Sexton, this is Falcon. Am advancing up the –“ she briefly pauses.

”Sixty Five.” Rios anticipates the reason for the pause.

”– Sixty Five on foot. Eagle Eye, call out any sightings. Out.” Once Carrissa rejoins them they can move.

Lauren
Coordinating move forward up the 65 to junction of County Line Rd in attempt to outflank insurgents
M4A1 (30/30) carried, M79 (1/1 HE) slung

With the radio transmissions to her father checking all the squares in her mind labled "family duty," (and let's be honest here, the reassurance feels good) Carissa trots back out of the impromptu butcher shop and rejoins Cao.  Blood and adrenaline are pumping fast and furious through her body, reminding the now one-time farm girl of the hardest rodeo rides of her life.  If it wasn't all so terrible, it would probably be a strange combination of exciting and fun.  And that's not something she's so keen on sharing with the old man.

"I'm good to go here, ma'am," Carissa reports after pausing for a second to catch her breath and using the time to switch out mags.  "Let's go get the next group."  Before there's a next one, she adds mentally.  With the training formed under her father's watchful eye, Rawhide takes another second or two to sweep their area in all directions, trying to make sure they aren't about to get hit from the flanks during another distraction.


C. Noble
Moving with Cao, watching the flanks
M4A1 with SOPMOD package and reflex sight
30/30 6 mags remaining (one at 18/30).

Acting Chief Paddock and Officer Leonard enter the building to secure the facility. Sandoval climbs down from the station roof to keep an eye on the wounded prisoners in the west lot. (Paddock insists that whoever goes into the building does not do so alone.)

Carswell searches the dead Snek slumped by the station's side door. A cheap Hipoint 9mm pistol in gaudy desert digi-cam lies next to the body. Besides a gris-gris bag and half a roach, the dead man has nothing else of note on his person.

Leaving Rios to guard Bourbon Street and Ace Hardware, and watch the team's left flank, Cao leads Carissa and Watkins northwest on the 165, on foot. In body armor, the short jog on the sun-baked asphalt produces veritable torrents of perspiration. When the pair reaches County Line Road, Eagle Eye's now familiar nasal tenor breaks in over the shared net.

"Eagle Eye here. The Sneks just cut south on, eh, hold on..." there's a pause of a few seconds, "Shady Oaks Circle. Still a lot o' trees between me and them. Over."

Murray and Saul, meanwhile, follow Razorback's tire tracks, joining Guillory in the shadow of the J-LTV. If Eagle Eye's latest report is accurate, Guillory's team is about 260m from the D.S.B. flanking force.

Unencumbered by body armor, the gang-bangers move fast, not seeming to tire. Perhaps they're hopped up on something that increases their endurance. Perhaps they're just remarkably fit. Either way, they're covering a lot of ground relatively quickly and leading the Sierras on a merry chase.

https://drive.google.com/open?...ZAW3&usp=sharing


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:53, Sat 02 Mar 2019.

"Hold up."  Scott raises a hand to forestall further movement on the part of Saul and Xandra, giving the (not that much) older man a few moments to rest his leg.  "We don't know where they're going or what they're about to lead us into.  Mount up."  He sees recognition in the other former cop's eyes as they swing open the J-LTV's heavy armored doors.

"Sexton checking Falcon.  They know we have a spotter and they're still maneuvering within sight.  This feels like they want us watching them.  I recommend we regroup and concentrate force, over."

As he climbs aboard the armored vehicle, he grabs the hand mic from the dash and flips the vehicle's radio to the local police frequency.  "Sexton checking 311 and 340," the two roving MPD patrol units, "status check."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 01:44, Sat 02 Mar 2019.

Saul nods an agreement to Scott's order that is part relief and part pain compensation.  The old cop has always been a sweater and the last 30 minutes or so haven't helped him stay dry.  Mounting up sounds really good about now.  He pulls a canteen off of his LBV and after a drink or two of the water, he offers the open canteen to Xandra before turning his attention to Guillory.

"This group has already caught us staring once, I really don't want to fall for it twice.  We need to find out if there's anything else out there these runners can fuck-up or if we can put them on the 'deal with later' list."  Saul pauses again to catch his breath.  He's in decent shape, but limp-hustling with body armor on is hard work.  "There's more organization on the op-for than I gave them credit for.  A bit lazy on my part."

In his mind, he's trying to figure out where the fist they're not looking at his going to land.  The observation posts?  A civilian massacre?  The Snek's aren't dumb.  They're either going to string Sierra along until they're exhausted or force them into fighting somewhere really fucked up.  Maybe both.

"This isn't close to over yet."

This is a sweat soaked, adrenaline fueled, game of whack-a-mole, Carissa thinks to herself as she pulls up next to Cao and sweeps the area.  Breath comes in great lung fulls of air, chest muscles fighting against the oppressive humidity.

"Ma'am," she says to Cao, flicking sweat out of her eyes with the gloved fingers of her left hand, "I'm in good shape, but I'm not gonna catch these guys decked out of war.  If they don't stop to fight..." Carissa lets the thought peter out.  Doesn't want to be thought of as a whiner, but figures it's better to face reality than burn out due to ego.  "My dad would say they're holding the initiative.  That they're driving this fight.  We need to bring them to us."  Or I'll just have a heatstroke.  It's good to have a sense of perspective.

Her dry mouth reminds her to pound water.  It's not cotton mouth from fear, the farmgirl tells herself.  It's just hot as fuck.

Lauren is breathing hard after her jog up the road. She’s fit, but it had still been hard going in full kit, the M79 blooper adding additional weight to her load. She’s still confident though. Perhaps over confident, although she wouldn’t see it that way. They have engaged and completely destroyed two groups of insurgents. If they can catch up with the third group she has zero doubts that they will do the same to them. If the can catch them.

But if they can’t catch them the question is what are the insurgents planning? To draw them away from the police station so that it’s exposed to another attack? Or attack someone else? The Air Force Captain isn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of leaving this force at liberty to do as they please. And it isn’t going to be daylight forever. Lauren still entertains the hope of finishing this by nightfall, such are her levels of confidence.

”Maybe it’s time we took the fight to them.” She muses aloud in response to Carissa. ”Surgical strike, attack their leadership.” It’s easier said than done of course, she knows that. Their previous brief excursion that had ended when the enemy had started deploying children as observers had already demonstrated that. But it’s still tempting.

Her hand reaches for her radio. ”Sexton, Falcon. I’d prefer to deal with this group if possible rather than leave them loose in our rear. Can you take Razorback east along County Line Road and try and stop them from moving further east?” They may be fast, but they surely can’t outrun the JLTV. Still, it’s clearly a question rather than an instruction at this stage. ”Drauger, I need your assessment of any possible collateral damage if you engage those insurgents with the fifty cal.”

Cole chuckles. It's a release of frustration- he hasn't been in the fight for the last quarter of an hour or so and he's beginning to feel like his redneck driver friend's "tits on a bull"- not an indictment of Cao's request. "Falcon, Drauger. If there're houses behind the hostiles, they're gonna get fucked up, Cap. I can use my SAW, though- less chance of collateral damage. Over."

-

"311 here. Neighborhood's quiet. I'm about to turn around at the hospital, head north again. Over."

"340 here. I see white smoke now, pretty thick, same spot as the black smoke was earlier. Could be another signal, different message this time. Over."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:39, Sat 02 Mar 2019.

Scott nods up at Anderson as he juggles two rifles and settles himself into the J-LTV's unfamiliar front seat.  "Falcon, Sexton.  We'll see what we can do."

He swaps mics again.  "Sexton's clear on both.  Be advised, we're about to try to engage the last group north of your station.  Keep your eyes open for the next wave."

He turns to look over his shoulder as Skillins drops the vehicle back into gear and begins pulling forward.  "Okay.  Eyes out, tell Anderson if you see anything.  If he can pin them down, we'll bail out on the opposite side and use the truck for cover while we try to flank them.  We good?"  The question is directed mainly to Saul - while Murray hasn't been That Girl, she's still not exactly what Scott would call experienced in this particular venue.

”Sexton, Falcon, all copied. If you can use the JLTV to block their access to the south and east we can cover the west. That leaves them with north as the only way to manoeuvre. That’s open ground, so Drauger should have an open field of fire.” Either that or they stay holed up of course, at which point they’ll need to be dislodged. But Lauren is still hoping that this can all be dealt with by nightfall. ”In the meantime if any more of them try to come at us from their camp we’ll intercept them. Out.”

Taking her gloved finger off her radio, Lauren then looks at her two companions. ”OK, Watkins, you keep an eye on our six, yell out if any of those insurgents start to double back towards us. Noble, you and I have eyes on the main encampment. If they start moving towards us we kill them. Everyone clear?” Once they’re set the Air Force Captain will look for what cover she can, go down to one knee, watch for any sign of anyone else approaching from the main bandit camp.

Figuring Guillory might want this bag of whatever the fuck it is as well, Carswell drops it into the cargo pocket of his OD pants when he recovers it. The pistol causes him to shake his head, although he still makes it safe before tucking it into his belt for now, while the magazine also disappears into a pocket. It may look like a piece of crap but it’s still a lethal weapon. The joint stays where it is.

That done, he turns to Kabua. ”Once PD confirm the station is clear we’ll get you inside, dude. Are those painkillers starting to kick in yet?”

+1 Gris gris bag
+1 pistol (unloaded)
+1 magazine (separate)

"What'd you give me?" Jackson slurs. His leg is still killing him but he's starting to feel a little... fuzzy.

-

"Sexton, clear and en route."  Scott glances around the cabin.  "Y'all heard the captain.  Skillins, roll us out.  Let's go do some public service."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:12, Fri 08 Mar 2019.

Duane smiles. "Hell yeah. Rollin'." He turns the wheel hard right, eases down on the accelerator; when Razorback's snout is pointing east, he gives her some more gas, one eye out for the voodoo gangstas.

-

Razorback rolls east about 200m, stopping abruptly at the intersection of County Line Road and Lawson Lane.

Anderson's ready, catches the D.S.B. flankers in the middle of the lane, lights them up with a long burst from his SAW. Three of the six voodoo gangstas fall hard to the pavement, dead or badly wounded; the three survivors scatter, two running northwest towards a house, the other east towards a different residence. Cognizant of the danger or through rounds, Anderson tracks the latter, looses a second, shorter burst which knocks the runner sideways, forcing him to stumble and fall. He lies squirming in the grass just off the road. By this time, the other two runners have disappeared behind the house on the west side of the lane. (Anderson -15 rounds 5.56mm)

Cao's group observes nothing out of the ordinary, save the already-reported column of white smoke rising from the switching yard.


Your Turn.

-

”Morphine.” Carswell replies to Kabua in a conversational tone. ”You might feel a bit fizzy or light headed but don’t stress it man. We’ll have you back up on your feet in no time.”

The paramedic then walks a leisurely circle around their immediate area, his eyes flicking backwards and forwards between Kabua and the middle distance, keeping watch in case some devious little fucker decides to try and sneak up on them.

"S'pose that about solves that problem," Saul says from the back seat of Razorback.  His tone is flat, more neutral than anything.  It would be kind of an asshole move to wish death upon anyone, even these upgraded gangbangers.  "Cao's folks should be freed up for our next punch," the former cop drawls out, "but we're going to have to dig those coackroaches out.  Can't have them operating in our rear.  We have any more CS stashed around here?"

"Think it's in the back," Scott says distractedly, "but I'm pretty sure Cao has the launcher."  He eyes the Snek casualties with a distinct lack of sympathy.  "Skillins, roll us forward.  Be ready to throw it in reverse if they come out with Molotovs.  Anderson, good shooting.  We may have to bail out to flush them but let's get a little closer first."

Saul doesn't say much, just grunts an agreement. No real need to spend words when he agrees with Scott's calls so far.  His only real concern at this point is that the two surviving runners manage to get themselves a hostage situation.  Of course, one good thing about the apocalypse (at least in this case) is most folks have guns.  He's guessing that if those houses are occupied, the Snek boys aren't going to have any easy time of making entry into one of them.  Anybody around here that still has a house has the means of keeping it.

Carissa cracks her neck to stretch the tension out of her muscles that have been holding her helmet up and dealing with the stress of combat.  Under the hot Arkansas sun sweat is coming off of her in buckets, causing the wound in her leg to sting a bit.  The tough girl choice is to sit here kneeling on the asphalt, but the farmgirl gives into her contrarian tendencies and decides to complain to her CO.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to whine, but do you mind if we relocate to those trees right over there," she tilts her head to the east in the direction of a copse of trees just off the road. "I'd like to tell you it's for tactical reasons, with better cover and all, but truth is I'm gonna cook if we stay on this asphalt.  Pretty sure we can see what we need to see from there, too."

Lauren looks over in Carissa’s direction when the other woman speaks, hesitates for a moment. She was right, of course. Cao has been so focused on one particular thing, smashing the enemy that she’d barely thought about the river of sweat that was running down her own spine, causing her khaki t shirt to stick to her skin under the layers of clothing and protective armor that she was wearing.

”OK, let’s do it. You and Watkins move first and I’ll cover you. Then you cover me while I move.”

"You got it," Duane answers, spinning the steering wheel to make a sharp left turn on to the short residential street. Razorback rolls slowly forward. Duane stops short of the bodies in the road, some deep sense of propriety halting him from running them over.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:39, Mon 11 Mar 2019.

As Razorback slows to a halt, there's a muffled gunshot. It sounds like a shotgun blast.

Eagle Eye chimes in over the shared net, "Eagle Eye, one runner hightailin' it north from the house to your front-right, no, correction- I mean left. Over." This is the house the two Snek Boyz who escaped Anderson's SAW were running towards just a few moments before.

The three bodies lying in the road are not moving. The man in the grass just off the right shoulder is lying on his back, clutching his side and groaning. He appears to have been gut-shot.

Meanwhile, Cao leads Carissa and Watkins into the shade of one of the large trees just east of the highway.

Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:40, Mon 11 Mar 2019.

Scott exchanges a look with Saul and raises his eyebrows.

"Sexton's clear.  Thank ya.  Okay.  Miz Murray, with me.  Kick that asshole's gun away from him on the way.  We're going straight up the left side of the road.  The rest of y'all, drive around the circle and cut off the runner."

Scott
Dismounting and moving north, using what cover is available
Wilson Recon SR [31/30] - suppressed, 6x optic
(leaving Remington 700 and spare ammo in vehicle)

"Hm," Xandra grunts noncommittally as she puts her weight into opening the armored door.  She'd swear she can feel the asphalt squish under her boots, though that's probably just a psychosomatic effect of leaving the armored truck's air conditioning.

She trots over to the moaning gangster, letting her Colt's muzzle lead the way.  "Huh.  This is some cut-rate drug lord shit," she observes as she plants a foot on the gleaming (albeit now scuffed) metal of what appears to be a Glock with a gold-plated slide.  Rather than follow Scott's suggestion/order and kick it into the nearby drainage ditch, she picks it up and tucks it onto her empty grenade pouch, securing it with the bungee cord the way she's seen some of the ASDF troops do.  Turning to the nearby house, she waves cheerily.  "Hey!  We'll be back for him in a minute!  Keep an eye on him for us, please!"

Xandra
Recovering weapon, following Scott
Colt 6940 [31/30] - Aimpoint PRO

When Scott and Xandra disembark from the vehicle, Saul moves into the passenger seat of Razorback.  "Let's go get a runner," he says to Skillins with a nod of the head. "I think we can squeeze by on the right up there, get around between him and an exit."  He spends a few second craning his neck around to take in the surrounding area before calling up to Anderson.  "Yo, no need to be discrete.  Prior rules in full effect.  You get a clear shot, dump the motherfucker."

The bit of sporadic gunfire to the east keeps Carissa on alert, but she tries her best to let Watkins handle that direction, keeping her attention on the west instead.  Arriving in the shade had made an immediate difference in her comfort level and she's glad that Cao was willing to listen to reason.

"What's next on the agenda?" she asks the boss-lady with a hint of anticipation in her voice.  "Hit that temple?  Maybe try from the north?"

Lauren remains on one knee, grateful for the respite that the shade is offering, eyes hidden behind her ballistic sunglasses still trained to the west as she replies to Carissa, her head briefly tilting upwards to see where the Sun is sitting on the horizon. ”Yep, the Temple should be our next objective, try and finish them off once and for all before they get a chance to regroup. Maybe we can hit them after dark.”

She turns briefly towards the younger woman, flashes her a smile that is more California girl than Air Force officer. ”They think that they can see in the dark. We know that we can.” Her focus then turns back to the fields ahead of them as she continues. ”That way we can target the remaining fighters and the leaders, try not to get entangled with any non combatants.” That was her thoughts at least. But it was still a long way away from a plan.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:32, Tue 12 Mar 2019.

Outside the police station, Carswell reaches for his radio, flicks it over to the local PD frequency. There’s been no word for some time from either of the two cops that went inside to clear it. ”Paddock, Leonard, it’s Carswell. Are we clear in there yet or is there a problem? Over.”

A few seconds pass before Acting Chief Paddock replies, "Carswell, this is Paddock. It's a fuckin' mess in here, but it's clear. Over."

-

Skillins deftly maneuvers the big J-LTV around the dead gangbangers, proceeds north up the cul-de-sac. From his perch in the gun turret, Anderson spots the runner, tries to stop his flight with a burst of 5.56mm rounds. The third cartridge jams in the receiver, eliciting a burst of colorful vituperation. The fleeing Snek Boy, apparently unhit, keeps on fleeing. (Anderson -3 rounds)

At the moment, the house from which the report of the shotgun heard moments earlier seems to have emanated is blocking Guillory and Murray's view of the runner. (It later turns out that the homeowner shot and killed one of the two intruding Snek Boys. Read on to learn the fate of the other.)

With Razorback's A gunner temporarily indisposed, Skillins decides to take matters into his own hands. He cuts a sharp left, sets a course that will converge with the runner's, and accelerates. The startled Snek Boy trikes to juke the green metal bull, but the driver anticipates the evasive maneuver. Razorback plows into the slip of a gangster, catching him mid-stride. Skillins brakes hard at the moment of impact. The runner goes flying, ragdolling across the turf as the J-LTV skids to a stop. When the young hood stops tumbling, he lays completely still.

The battle- it's first phase, at least- is over. START Sierra and its allies have killed 20 D.S.B. fighters*, sustaining only two friendly WIA in the progress. Carissa's thigh wound is minor, just a graze. Kabua's leg wound is worse, but not particularly serious. Hobbled and doped up on morphine, he won't be able to contribute much for the foreseeable future.

As the Sierras regroup at the police station to plan the next phase of their anti-D.S.B. operation, a lone figure appears in the field (reported by Eagle Eye) and begins waving a white flag. It appears that the D.S.B. seeks a parley.

*The two D.S.B. shot during the raid on the roadblock are found to have succumbed to their wounds in the back of the patrol vehicle. The gut-shot D.S.B. flanker will not survive without emergency surgery.


Your Turn.

-

When the Sierra's re-group, Saul gives his daughter a quick hug.  His nostrils fill with the scent of her sweat and adrenaline.  She's vibrating in his arms and shrugging out of them quickly, unwilling to tolerate, or maybe not needing, the support for long.  Protective eyes look over his flesh and blood, making note of the bandage wrapped around her leg.  An arched eyebrow asks the question.  Car waves it away.  "Ricochet," she says.  "No big."

"Says you," Saul smiles.  He doesn't push it.  Knows better.  Had his share of parental heart attacks from his youngest.

Car shrugs and goes about her business of hydrating and replacing spent 5.56mm rounds in her magazines.  It takes experienced eyes, but Saul can see that she is studiously ignoring the spots of the station that she has sprayed bio-matter across with the help of the assault rifle strapped across her chest.

It doesn't take long for his attention to get pulled away from his daughter and into the planning meeting of what to do next.  A meeting that is rapidly hijacked by the appearance of a sacrificial lamb carrying a white flag.

"Well now," Saul says, looking across the field at the lone figure.  "Ain't this something new."  He drags a sweaty hand over the sweaty stubble of his thinning hair.  Eyes track over to Cao  "Not sure how to play this one, ma'am.  If this was the Taliban, I wouldn't put any stock in the offer, zealots that they were.  This group... could be knocking down twenty of them has put some fear into the others.  Made them think that maybe Madam Chloe's hoodoo isn't all she's selling it for.  On the other hand, if I'm her, right now I'm pushing those still loyal and living hard.  Telling them that when their faith is found lacking, they get killed dead."  That presents and interesting problem.  So how much to trust this guy?  "Maybe Scott can fill us in on the psychological make-up a bit more."

"We can go one of three ways on this.  One, we head over chat with this guy and play it straight.  Two, we ignore him or shoot him. Three, we have some fun.  Hang up the newly acquired gris-gris bags on a totem, tell them our witch is stronger than theirs and that her mojo will end them.  Say the only way to save themselves is to hand Chloe over."  His eyes sparkle with humor as he locks his gaze on Cao. "Ever wanted to be the Wicked Witch of the West?" 
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:34, Fri 15 Mar 2019.

Carissa can't sit still.  She's pacing, trying to work off the adrenaline that has been pumping through her veins since the firefight began.  This time is so very different from the attack on the pig-farm.  That had been sniping from a distance followed by a smash and grab.  This...this was sustained, moving in phases of violence that came in waves.  Room clearing, taking fire.

Christ, it was fun.

The bodies and stench weren't so cool, for sure.  But the sheer excitement of it.  Combat iswas like rodeo turned up to 11.  Everything she's been training for since she was a girl.  Her nerve endings feel like they're singing in tune with the ringing in her ears.  Saul watches her out of the corner of his eyes, she can feel it.  That doesn't bother her, that's what he's always done.  And she does her level best not to replay the memories of Snek Boys bodies coming apart under her rifle fire.  That's harder.  That part isn't fun.

She's going to need something to bring her down tonight.  Of that she's sure. Something to cool her down, hide the fact that she can't shake the buzz.  After we finish this.

While Lauren isn’t exactly dishing out high fives or fist bumps when she walks in to the office that they’re using as a makeshift operations center, it’s evident from the look on her face that she’s quite satisfied with how the last few hours have unfolded. If she’s got any misgivings about the extreme lethality of their response to the insurgent situation it’s certainly not showing as she takes occasional sips of water while they try to assess exactly how much damage they’ve inflicted on their enemy, all at virtually no cost to themselves.

She’s about to get into the details of next moves when Eagle Eye tells them that they’ve got more company incoming, but this time it appears that they might want to talk. Raising an eyebrow, Cao joins those making their way outside, finds herself standing next to Saul as she attaches her sunglasses to her vest and brings her binoculars up so that she can study the approaching figure more closely for a few moments.

Lowering her binos, she turns to Saul when he finishes speaking, nods as she takes in his counsel. As always, the former Marine gives the sense that he knows what he’s talking about.  ”We can’t shoot him.” She muses after a moment. They could ignore him. But shooting a man carrying a white flag is stepping over the line. Even if the thought had crossed her mind before Saul had put voice to it. Her eyes meet his for a moment. She knows he’s only giving her options. Advice. It’s an option. But one that they probably both knew she wouldn’t take.

Her lips curl into a grin. ”Tell me more about the Wicked Witch.” She presumes he has a plan. And they’re certainly not in Kansas any more.

Saul's mouth forms itself into a smile.  "Kinda hoped you'd say that.  It's a little bit of theater, a little bit of psyops.  We collect all the gris-gris bags and put'em in a sack.  Dump it out in front of their messenger and control the dialog from the beginning.  This is your chat.  He's been called by your power.  She's no longer Madam Chloe, after her offenses.  Chloe's power has been stripped and the spirits have sent us here to clean house.  Their only chance is hand over Chloe over to us in chains and submit to your power."  Saul turns and spits.

"Sure it's nonsense, but it's their nonsense and it will play against her power. Instill doubt in the believers and knock her down a peg.  We'll dress you up a bit, smear some paint or something on your body armor, draw some symbols on your cheeks with face paint or grease and have you stand behind us, staring.  Scott and I can make a big show of walking back and forth to get your permission for any kind of decision or dialog.  If all goes well, he won't even get to deliver his ultimatum, threats, or deals because we're going to roll right over him.  Keep the power with us."

Scott tops off his ammo from Ace Hardware.  At Eagle Eye's radio call, he looks up to see the flag.  "Huh.  That's a thing," he comments to no one in particular, and goes to find Cao.

He wanders up behind Saul in time to hear most of the scheme.  "You've pretty much got it, depending on how we want to play it," he says.  "If we wanted to fully sell the crazy, we could dress you up as an avatar of Papa Legba.  We'd need to hit the local thrift store for a straw hat, but you're already set up for the cane and the silver tongue."

He studies the flag-waving figure with obvious distaste.  "That's new, though.  They didn't come out and negotiate in New Orleans regardless of how many we killed.  I'd really like to have a couple of spotters and counter-snipers in place before we go for a chat."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:24, Mon 18 Mar 2019.

Xandra isn't really sure what to do after a firefight.  She's been around a few before but this was the first time she's truly been in one as a participant rather than a spectator.  Even though she's pretty sure she didn't hit anyone, and her partial fumigation of the courthouse was singularly unproductive, it's still an odd headspace to be in.  She uncertainly follows the lead of the more experienced combatants in topping off her ammo, but once the command group starts assembling, she's at a loss.

A few minutes of introspective nausea and two pieces of Nicorette aren't cutting it, so she decides to grab the bullshit by the horns.  "Hey.  Carissa."  She waits for the younger woman to look over.  "So, like, what are we supposed to do now?  Do a dudebro fistbump and find the place with the freshest sawdust on the floor?"

”It’s a risk.” Lauren concedes in response to Scott’s points. ”I agree that we should have sharp shooters in place. Just in case. And support weapons.” It could be a ploy to try and snatch some of them. And that is a sobering thought given what had happened to some of their other captives. ”Anyone gets too close, we take them down.”

The Air Force Captain lapses into silence for a moment, looks at the man with the flag. Saul’s idea would simply never have occurred to her. She would have went to talk to the flag wielding insurgent but she would have addressed him like…well, like an insurgent. But she secretly quite likes the idea of playing the wicked voodoo witch. And it makes sense. Is worse the risk, at least she thinks so. She presumes Saul does as well or he wouldn’t have brought it up.

”Let’s do it.” She says with a decisive nod. Sergeant Anderson, get some people on the roof, where they can get eyes on the parley Make sure you have the SAW and your M320 with you. And have Skillins stand by in Razorback ready to roll if he’s needed. With some on the Ma Deuce. The JLTV is our QRF if things go south and we need to get out of there in a hurry.”

She turns to Scott. ”Mr Guillory, I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to come with us or stay and manage the situation here.” On the one hand she’s quite certain that Guilory’s insights will be useful during the parley, but on the other hand if it does turn into carnage someone is going to have to take charge of the situation.

”And can we get a drone up?” She looks over at Saul, grins. ”Maybe we can crank up the voodoo and make them think we can see for miles.” There’s another brief pause as she considers something, addresses both Saul and Scott. ”Should I take off my helmet?” Now there’s a question Scott Guillory probably never thought he’d hear.

"I'll prep the drone for takeoff, Cap. Murray and Watkins are both checked out on it.

"I don't know what we'll be able to do for you from the station roof, though. That field looks to be about a half-a-mile across. I suggest anyone who's going along- negotiation team, security, lighting and makeup- ride over in Razorback, maybe park 100m back or something, run over-watch from there."

-

"Yeah," Carissa says quickly to Xandra, rushing.  Like she's trying to get it out. "ManIdon'teven..." She clears her throat and takes a calming breath.  "I honestly have no idea.  Reloading done.  Hydrating up.  Now?  What?  Wait around and hope for the best?  Never covered this part in all the run and gun courses."  A freshly reloaded magazine get pushed back into the carrying pouch on her vest a little harder than strictly necessary.

"It's not Jiu-Jitsu or rodeo, that's for sure.  A fistbump sounds even more douchy than normal.  After the whole ultraviolence thing." And bourbon sounds like a bad idea.  At least until this is wound up.  Carissa shrugs.  "I guess we could go the guy-inspired route and talk about dicks.  Talk about how living through 'the shit' has us all hot and bothered." She smiles a half sardonic/half wicked grin.  "Of course, that's pretty much all they talk about in any case.  Anyone got a deck of cards?" 
This message was last edited by the player at 00:44, Tue 19 Mar 2019.

"Well here's hoping they know as much about 'Papa Legba' as I do, but I do like where your mind is at, Scott."  Saul's distinct lack of voodoo knowledge is a point of concern, but he figures if the average Snek Boy understands it as well as he understands combat, Sierra has a fighting chance of sowing some discord.  At least he's got that whole degree is psychology thing covered, and there was that whole cult scare of the late aught's that had all the ridiculous con-eds.  Satan-worshipers.  Pffffttt.

"We should probably 'spookify' ourselves a bit.  Paint under the eyes, etc, etc...  I'll make the approach, play up my limp, and say my piece.  Ma'am," he says to Cao, "I need you like twenty feet behind me, standing there arms crossed and disgusted.  If you really want to play it up, prick your finger and wipe some blood around your mouth.  We didn't just beat his friends, we consumed them.  Body and soul.  We're going to out do the crazy here."   At that Saul smiles at Lauren.  "And yeah, helmets are for people who believe they can die."

”I had a feeling you might say that.” Lauren grins as she reaches for her helmet’s chin strap, apparently not needing any additional persuasion to remove it. While she could debate the wisdom the act, there was no question that if this was going to work she had to buy into her part fully.

That being the case, it’s not just the helmet that ends up placed on a convenient table. It’s soon joined by her plate carrier vest – although that is just a temporary move – and then her OCP camo jacket. After a brief pause the Air Force Captain then pulls her desert tan t shirt over her head, exposing the black Under Armour sports bra worn under it. She doesn’t appear particularly self conscious as she puts the t shirt down next to the jacket, pulls her plate carrier vest back on again. To be fair, it’s not as though she’s exposing any more skin than she would do if she was in the gym or out for a run. But it does leave her arms bare, and Saul had said that they needed to ‘spookify’ themselves. She’s probably not going to look too spooky in Air Force uniform.

”Blood around my mouth. Check. I’ll prick my thumb with my knife just before we head off. And I’ll take my sunglasses off when I eyeball him. And speak Vietnamese.” She speaks slowly, tries to sound menacing, to channel her inner Daenerys Targaryen. ”Mang phù thủy giả cho tôi. Hiện nay! Bring the false witch to me. Now!”

”OK, let’s paint ourselves before the guy with the flag decides we're not coming.” She then looks over to Cole. ”Good idea, Sergeant. So if we have myself and Saul walking out to meet them the JLTV can follow at a discrete distance. Skillins can drive, Sergeant Anderson on the M2. Ms Noble and Carswell can ride inside.” She figures Carissa will want to be close to the action and there’s always the chance that they might need Carswell. ”I’ll be carrying the M79 –“ she figures it looks more intimidating than a carbine, particularly when she has a couple of full bandoliers slung across her chest ”- and have my M4 slung.”

She looks over at Saul, letting her hair out of its usual bun as she does so and letting it fall about her shoulders in a distinctly non military looking manner. ”Does that all sound OK?”

"Sounds fine to me, ma'am," Saul returns to Cao.  This plan is either brilliant or the dumbest thing you have ever come up with in a lifetime of bucking the expected.

The appearance Saul adopts is part props and part just letting nature take its course.  Carissa procures a straw hat, a la the recommendation of Guillory. Like Lauren, he strips off his BDU top, leaving his sweat stained brown t-shirt that he recovers with armored vest and LBV.  He gives the webbing a quick splash of water to darken it and make it look a little less refined.  A light smear of black face paint goes under each eye, rubbed in to give his eyes the sunken appearance of zombies everywhere.  Like Lauren, he'll wait until the last second before doing up the blood aspect of the disguise.

Changing his walk won't be hard.  To shuffle like demented servant, all Saul has to do is relax his core and let the pain that he's usually dealing with take the lead.  The hip does a fantastic job of screwing up his walk without any theatrics.

Saul pulls the hat down low and shoulders his shotgun.

"Allright, let's go play evil."

The response startles a laugh out of Xandra. "Wait, what? Courses? Did you go to vo-tech for applied violence?"

She pulls a battered ADCI-logoed Hydroflask from her vest, drains what's left in it, and starts refilling it from one of the jerrycans aboard Ace Hardware.  "I know, right?  I've totally turned off my sex drive until there's a pharmaceutical industry again.  Do you know what the mortality rate for childbirth is these days?"

Scott smiles lopsidedly at Saul.  "Legba is the guy who says whether or not you're allowed to speak with the other loa.  Or the spirits of the dead, for that matter.  He's the first power they invoke in ritual because he's the one who translates between living and dead languages, and, um, opens the roads that the other spirits travel to interact with humans.  He's usually not real white, though."  He scratches his stubble as he thinks.  "He's got some trickster aspects.  Not malevolent, from what I know.  And he's got additional duties as someone who facilitates destiny."

He gives Cao a sideways look as she gears down.  He pointedly doesn't say anything about the helmet but his suppressed smirk says there'll be words sometime in the future.  "Tell ya what.  Take my earpiece.  I've got spare tips for it somewhere in my pack.  Put me and Carissa on the long rifles for overwatch.  Leave a mic hot on a side channel so she and I can monitor, and I'll key up on our main tac channel if we have a warning or if I've got cultural input.  Cool?"

Lauren is in the middle of using the same face paint that Saul used on his face to daub what might be vaguely described as an inverted pentagram at the base of her throat, where it’s going to be visible above her plate carrier vest when Scott produces the earpiece. ”Sounds good. Saul’s going to be doing the talking so probably best if he takes it.” Other symbols are on her bare arms, random squiggles. A casual observer might be forgiven for thinking that they could be oriental letters or symbols, although they’re actually meaningless. Other streaks of black are under her eyes.

When the former Marine pulls his straw hat down she nods. ”Let’s do it.” Her survival knife is briefly drawn, a wince as the tip presses into the ball of her thumb hard enough to draw blood, that blood then smeared about her lips and chin and then she’s walking out after him, the M79 cradled in her arms, her face unsmiling, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses that she’ll remove when she’s close enough to stare out the messenger.

"Screw the maternal death-rate, have you seen childbirth without an epidural?  Yeah, no.  I'm not signing up for that ride," Carissa quips back with a grin.  The farm-girl has been present for more than a few births, none of which she would describe as "easy."  As for vocational courses in killing..."My Uncle Rick...well he's not really my uncle but my dad's ex-partner, was a Memphis Tac Officer.  He's a good guy, but he made the mistake of telling me when I was ten that girls couldn't be SWAT.  Whoops.  After that I made my dad take me to every 'bring your kid to work day' extravaganza that came around.  Then I convinced him that shooting classes would be a good bonding exercise for us."

Carissa shrugs.  "Some girls go to sleep away camp with horses.  I went to Shooting and Tactics.  I had horses at home."

Murray puts the drone up, operates the small prop-driven UAV from the rooftop of the police station. A couple of McGehee auxiliaries and Bobcat are digging a mass grave for the D.S.B. killed in and around the police station in a lot across the east parking lot. The D.S.B. killed at the roadblock remain in situ, until the area can be secured without weakening the loose cordon keeping the gang from rampaging into the town proper (west of the camp).

Skillins guides Razorback out of the west lot, up and over a raised causeway just west of the highway, then across the furrowed ruts of the west field. In his estimation, Ace Hardware won't be able to follow- the levee is too steep and the M1078A1 much less agile. This leaves the long-range shooters (Guillory & Rios) to set up atop the berm, approximately 650m away.

Murray watches from overhead, monitoring the area via the drone's data link. She circles above the envoy, a tall man in a white wife-beater with upwardly protruding dreads, then makes several passes over the tree-line behind him. There are a few people standing on train cars parked on the rails to the west but none of them appear armed. She can't see if anyone is lurking under the trees.

Skillins parks the J-LTV about 100m from the D.S.B. envoy, 180m or so from the tree-line. With Anderson providing over-watch behind the M2HB, and Carissa and Carswell Saul posted on its flanks, Saul limps forward, Cao in her warrior priestess guise following slowly behind, allowing the senior Sierra to draw out well ahead.

When they're close enough to see his face, Saul and Cao notice that the envoy looks confident, haughty even. When he notices Cao's get-up, some of that attitude seems to bleed away. Saul tosses the pile of gris-gris bags on the dirt at the envoy's feet. The man flinches, recoils, recognition siphoning off the remainder of his bravado. When he looks up again, fear is in his eyes.

OOC: Watkins is currently unassigned. Feel free to place her wherever you see fit to.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:56, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

Lauren steps down from the JLTV, takes a look at the envoy, polarized lenses still hiding her eyes. For the moment. The M79 is held in her arms, cradled there, the twin bandoliers containing 40mm HE rounds crisscrossed across her chest.

She stands for a moment while Saul also dismounts, waits for him to get a decent head start before she follows. Every footstep is measured, her pace steady as she walks across the field, her expression unsmiling. Part of her is nervous. What she’s doing defies common sense. A sniper could take her out with a headshot at any second. Or a mob could emerge from the other side of the field, surge forward, try and grab her and Saul. Maybe they already have the tires ready for them.

But then their enemy are not rational. Their enemy defy common sense. They actually think that they are immune to bullets. Although perhaps that faith has been weakened. But in any event, they are fighting fire with fire here. And so she keeps her eyes on the man standing there holding the flag, sees him grow larger as she draws closer, until, finally, Saul is eyeball to eyeball with him.

Lauren stops, around ten feet or so behind Saul, stands, her right hand holding the blooper against her hip, the barrel pointed skywards, her left slowly removing her sunglasses, letting the envoy see the dark paint under her eyes as she slowly fastens the shades to her LBE. He would already be able to see the blood that was trickling down her chin of course, the pseudo sacrilegious symbol that she had daubed on her throat, all of those would be visible as she stands there, leaving the talking to Saul as they’d planned and simply watching the envoy, her expression sombre, her eyes never leaving his.

"This kinda sucks," Scott admits to Carissa as he settles in behind his rifle.  He rests the Remington on a sandbag - an actual frayed plastic-weave sandbag filched from the local fortifications and adjusts his baseball cap.  "Sexton to all units.  In position, out.  Okay.  I've got everything left of the burned-out school bus, you take the right side of it."  He pauses to crank up his scope's magnification to the middle of its range.  "Dunno about you, but I think I brought the wrong rifle for this trip.  Longest I've ever taken a deer with this one was inside four hundred yards.  I shoulda packed the elk rifle and better glass."

OOC: Overwatch with the Remington, using the scope up to its maximum 9x to scan any likely cover.  If forced to engage, priority will be heavy weapons and counter-sniper work.  NPC as needed.

This is just dress-up.

Or not.  Dress up with a decidedly more dangerous outcome than ending up fake married and holding a plastic baby.  Each step on the ground gives Saul a not so gentle reminder that he better bring his A game.  The upshot of the limp is that by the time he's approaching the Snek's envoy, he doesn't have to worry about faking intensity.  He's sweating from icepicks stabbing him in the hip.

"You don't get to talk yet," he snaps at the Snek when he's close enough to aww arrogance start to fade from the man's (well let's just call him a boy, really) face.  The former cop watches as self-control battles anger and being belittled for a few seconds before emerging victorious.  At least I'm not dealing with a total dipshit.

In a move born of pure theater, Saul upends the bag he's carrying at watches the man watch the tokens of voodoo power spill out on the ground.  The fading sense of power reminds Saul of the one time he pulled the 'dad cleaning his guns card' on a boy.  Nathan, maybe?  Thought he would be billy-bad-ass and come take Saul's first daughter away to a dance.  Talk a good game about it.  Nathan had walked in, all high and mighty, just as Saul was wracking the slide on a .45.  Just to oil it, you know Nathan?  Got anything you'd like to say to me about Teagan?  No?  Maybe it had been a young Carissa grinning like crazy as she cleaned her 20 gauge next to dear old dad that had really set the kid off kilter.  Teagan was appalled at both the action and the stereotype, Eva, his wife less than thrilled.  Saul and Carissa couldn't stop laughing.  And Nathan was never a problem again.

Time to clean my gun.

When the last bag hits the ground, Saul leans heavily on his walking stick.  The straw hat may not stop bullets, but it sure stops the sun, and that feels pretty good right now.  "Madam Chloe, she's done.  Power fading away.  Can't keep you safe no more." His voice drops into the easy cadence he'd used on the streets of Memphis.  Not pandering, but just slick enough to sound like he knows where he's standing. "That's twenty of you Sneks.  Dead.  Consumed.  Soul...and body."  At that Saul does throw up a grin as well as tilt he his head back towards Cao.

"We're here to put things right.  Put the Loa back on top where they belong." Thank you Scott for that tidbit.  I'm now officially out of Voodoo-hoodoo. "Your Madam, she's not welcome here anymore."

Saul goes silent.  Watches and waits.  Stares.  The Snek can't stand the silence after about fifteen seconds.  "We..." he starts, clears his throat.  "We want to leave.  Head south back to Louisiana.  This place is whack anyway.  You give us food, fuel, vehicles.  We-"

"Give you?" Saul buts in.  "Give you?  You turn away and then demand?  Do we look like givers, son?"

"Uh..."

"Right.  We give death.  That's what we give.  You want to repeat your demand?"

"We want, uh," the boy's eyes flick up as he tries to remember what to say.  "Non-perishable food, five vehicles, and fuel for them.  And we'll leave."

Saul chuckles darkly.  Not even he likes the sound coming out of his mouth.  He turns part way around, checks in with Lauren out of the corner of his eye and appreciates sheer psychopathic radiation coming off of her.  "You hear that Madam Cao?  They'll leave.  After we 'give' them what they want.  Twenty Sneks dead and they think they get to makes demands."

"Uh...well...we..." the Snek's eyes flick towards Lauren.  "Madam-"

"You don't talk to her!" Saul snaps again.  "Your kind doesn't get to talk to hers'.  You talk to me.  I talk to her.  Got that?"  Saul moves into the kids sight line.  "This is the deal the Sneks have earned in this place.  Are you ready?  Can you remember it or should we carve it in your skin?"

"No!  No I got it!"

"One, Madam Chloe here in chains at sundown.  We want what piss-all power she has left.  Two, the rest of you Sneks are walking south never to return to our place.  With the clothes on your back or we start harvesting Sneks again.  Bodies and souls.  You got me?"  Saul wipes the dried blood at his chin.  "Everything here tastes like pork and I'm still hungry."

Lauren simply stands, watches, tries to ooze menace. No, not menace, it goes deeper than that. She’s a witch. Sure, it’s only make believe, but the asshole that’s been sent to talk to them has to believe it. When said asshole addresses her directly she just stares, doesn’t say anything, sticking to the prearranged script and letting Saul handle the talking. She does let her tongue flick at the blood at the sides of her mouth though, as though tasting it, slowly rubs her free hand over her belly, in a circle, sending him a message, the same one as Saul. We’re hungry.

The envoy, clearly shaken, stoops down to pick up the pile of gris-gris bags. He's still holding the ersatz white flag in his other hand.

"I'm gonna go tell my people what you said," he announces almost sullenly.

The lone Snek Boy turns and walks quickly back to the tree line, leaving Saul and Cao standing by themselves in the field.

A few seconds after the gang envoy disappears into the dark line of trees, the Sierra negotiators hear muffled shouting. The ready themselves to face a screaming hoarde of machete-wielding gang-bangers, but the charge doesn't materialize. Instead, it sounds like some sort of internal argument has broken out. Apparently, the D.S.B. spokesperson brought some backup of his own, and there are some differences of opinion regarding the Sierra's aggressive counter-offer.

-