Chloe falls inside her scope and all hell breaks loose.  A monochromatic hell lit from chemical fire from above.  Carissa doesn't move.  Her eye doesn't come off the scope.  She knows, in some detached way, that she should get out of there but she sits watching blood on the ground and panic in the streets.  Panic she caused.  Her fault.  The random gunfire of the Sneks seems muted and distant.

"Target down." It's an automatic report, one that comes out of her lips without thought.

The whole thing had been theoretical up until Chloe fell.  Even the dead Snek on the ground had only been a means to an end.  Now...the end is unfolding and it's not what she thought.  Emotions are spilling out of the mass in front of her.  People are getting hurt.  Madness that she unleashed with a few pounds of pressure.

"Car!," her dad's voice comes across the radio net and she becomes aware, distantly, that he's been calling out for her, or for Rawhide, who seems like someone else at the moment. "Get off the fucking roof.  That flare won't blind them for long."

Sound comes crashing back in, the world lights up and Carissa becomes aware that she has been holding her breath.  Oh shit.  What are you doing?

Motion explodes into her limbs.  Carissa scoops the box of bullets she placed down earlier and gets to her feet, running hunched over back across the roof.  The Sneks under the flare won't be able to see her, any paying attention in the treeline might.  It's not a good feeling.  "Rawhide.  I'm moving out the way I came in."

The dumpster she used to get up on isn't going to tolerate her jumping off the roof to land on the plastic roof, if she jumps she's going to end up in the trash.  So a scoot off looks like the order of the day.

”Let’s move.” Lauren says to Tori as the decapitation strike reaches its conclusion, Target down. Was she dead? Had they cut off the head of the snake? They’d likely find out soon enough. For now though Ms Noble is in the wind and she and Rios are probably the closest thing there is to back up, at least until the JLTV gets on scene, particularly given that local PD seem happy enough to sit on their hands.

The Air Force Captain is already moving south east towards the railroad yards as she reaches for her radio, a gloved hand finding the PTT switch. ”Falcon and Lobo are moving towards the rail yard now.” It would be clear from the sound of laboured breathing that she’s running as she talks. At least it’s clear what direction they need to take, both the bonfire and the lights from the flare providing a clear reference point. ”Sexton, we could use some back up from PD.”

She’s tempted to add something sarcastic, decides against it as she sprints forward, sweat running down the upper half of her body under the weight of her body armor and gear, the M79 held in her hands. Still too far away for a shot.

Lauren
Moving SE. Hoping Rios is following.
If she comes under fire will go prone and return fire with 1 x 40mm HE at nearest group of targets. No warnings.
M79 (1/1 HE) in hands, M4A1 (30/30) slung
This message was last edited by the player at 18:54, Sun 30 June 2019.

Sitting in the armored truck's back seat with an antenna angled out the gunner's hatch and almost up Cole's ass, Xandra is too distant from Carissa - both spatially and emotionally - to hear the rifle shot. The picture on her screen gives her the story before the muffled sound could reach her ears, though.  It's enough of an abstraction that she feels nothing but elation as the dancing figure drops.

"Hell yeah."  She reaches up and punches Duane on the shoulder.  "Carissa just dropped her like a bad transmission."

As the J-LTV begins to gather speed, she switches the RQ-11 into autoland mode, sending it back to the PD's parking lot in a controlled 45º descent.  Then she closes the control station and slides it into its case.  Playtime's over - now shit's about to get real again.

Xandra
Left rear seat of Razorback
Raven 2 RTB, prepping for a gunfight

"Sexton clear and responding."  Scott looks over to Paddock.  "That sound," he says with some satisfaction, "is pants-shitting hysteria.  Now we finish the job."

Paddock nods jerkily and keys her own radio.  "202 to all units, Subject One is down."  She can't quite keep the satisfaction out of her own voice either.  "351," the patrol unit that's on third shift, "and all static posts, hold position and report activity.  Break for further."  She pauses a moment for any urgent traffic.

Scott doesn't hear the rest of Paddock's instructions as he safes his rifle and takes his pre-planned fast route off the roof.  He shuffle-slides on the wool blanket until he drops off the northwest side of the post office's shingles onto the thick plastic lid of the dumpster positioned beneath the eaves.  He lets the lid flex under the impact, then rolls off, cradling the rifle with one hand and grabbing the dumpster's lifting point with the other for balance.  Muffled cursing and scuffling, then more thumps and bangs as the lid flexes again, tells him that at least one of the cops is following him without further encouragement.

He moves out northeast toward the line of rolling stock that leads to Carissa's position.  Gravel ballast shifts under his feet, his ankles remind him that he isn't twenty, or even thirty, or even forty for that matter, any more.  He slows just enough to be sure of his footing, enough that the fastest (and youngest, goddammit) cop can catch up with him.

"What's the plan, exactly?"  The question is delivered in a tone that strongly implies Scott had better know what the fuck he's doing.  Worse, to the governor's fixer, is the fact that the kid doesn't even have the good grace to be breathing hard despite hauling around a twelve-pound collector's-item StG 58 that's even older than Scott.

"We're gonna secure our shooter before they find her and overrun her."  Scott points - with his hand, not his muzzle - toward the cargo handling shed's roof.  "Then we're gonna kick them while they're down.  You good with that?"

The kid doesn't exactly grin but his tone leaves no doubt.  "Aw, hell yeah."

Scott (+n cops where n >= 1)
Moving east-northeast to use rail cars as cover, then moving to Carissa
Snap shots on positively-ID'd targets in the way
Wilson Recon SR [26/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

Tori jogs along at Cao's 8 o'clock, Colt LE6940 shouldered and ready. The current lighting conditions are somewhere between carnival fun house and end-of-the-world. Piercing screams and muffled shouts only add to the unnerving milieu.

"What's the plan, Cap'n?" the Arkansas State Police lieutenant asks. To describe the situation they're running towards as 'dynamic' would be an understatement.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:49, Mon 01 July 2019.

By the time Carissa's feet are set upon terra firma, Guillory and two Grady PD auxiliaries arrive at a line of rusting rail cars, and Cao and Rios reach the corner of an empty warehouse almost due west of the Sierra sniper's just-vacated ersatz aerie.

Although there's no way to be sure, there's no evidence, at present, that any of the afore-mentioned Sierras have been spotted. That said, the harsh light of the grounded flare is diminishing with each passing second.

PFC Skillins slows briefly to exit the freeway, then again to make a sharp left on East Ash Street. His passengers feel the wheels on the left side of the vehicle briefly leave the asphalt during the turn. Although those aboard the JLTV are a bit too disoriented to put a number on it, about 8 tenths of a mile still separate Sierra's rolling armored cavalry from the chaos of the rail yard shanty town.

Please refer to:

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

Saul and Watkins monitor the kinetically amorphous situation via the drone feed. They're barely able to make heads or tails of what the grey scale bird's-eye view reveals; they can't imagine what it must be like for their comrades on the ground.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:15, Mon 01 July 2019.

Lauren raises a hand, signalling Tori to hold position when they reach the corner of a building, the Air Force Captain peeking her head round carefully. Seeing that no one appears to have noticed them amongst the sudden confusion that has followed the shooting of their leader, Can continues to observe for a moment as she answers the Police Lieutenant’s question.

”Well, we’ve taken out their Voodoo Queen. I guess it’s time we replaced her with our own one.” The Air Force Captain grins in the darkness. An idea of sorts is forming in her head, one that is going to require some coordinationn. Her hand reaches for her radio again. ”Gimp, Sexton, Draugr, this is Falcon. If Draugr can pick me up we can drive towards them. I’ll climb up into the gunner’s station.  You all get every light you can ready to shine on me so that they can see me. When I give the word you turn on the lights and I’ll call for their surrender. Or rather, Madame Lauren will call for their surrender. Over.”

She’s hardly had time to think it through. She sounds confident. Perhaps over confident. She’s going to be putting herself in the line of fire, literally, but then Carissa has already done the same thing and she’s a civilian. And if she can pull this off it might, just might, break this insurgency once and for all. She’s already reaching for an IR chemlight to crack so that Anderson can eyeball her location. If Guillory or Mr Noble want to talk her out of it they’ve got as long as it takes Razorback to get on station to do it.

I really can't advise that Captain, is what Saul almost says to Cao's plan.  He's been down the road with strong women enough to know that he needs a more compelling argument than: it's probably not a great idea, what with the chaos and all.  On the other hand, he kind of designed this whole plan, so he better come up with a way of making it work.  The population needs to be cowed into attention.

"Falcon, Gimp.  The lights are good, we'll coordinate with the PD to light'em up at the same time.  You may need the .50 to get their attention, a few rounds into the air.  Be advised, it's a madhouse up there.  We're having trouble distinguishing individual heat signatures, but there's a lot of scared folks running in circles."  With Car "safe" his brain starts returning to normal operations.

"Break.  Rawhide.  Hold position at the north end of the building, maybe you can provide some cover to the assembling elements."

"Copy," a panting Carissa returns on the radio.  In the corner of the screen, Saul watches her take up position near the dumpster where she shot the second Snek.  That still puts her the most forward positioned Sierra, although now she has cover instead of a moon-tan from hanging out in the open.

Scott opens his mouth to key his mic.  Pauses.  Thinks for a second.  It's a shitty plan as far as risk assessment goes, but this whole episode has been hanging on the ragged edge of bourbon-based planning anyway... and the intent was always to run a psy-op on the Sneks.

"Falcon, Sexton's clear on your last.  Break.  Rawhide, I'm moving up on your six."

Scott looks over his shoulder at the two local cops with him.  "Okay.  Thataway until we link up with our sniper.  She's down on ground level by that shed."  He indicates a southeasterly line with one hand and starts moving in that direction at the best safe speed he can manage.

Scott (+2 cops)
Moving southeast along the rail cars to Carissa
If engaged, will go prone under a rail car, then return fire
Wilson Recon SR [26/30] - suppressed, 6x optic

Guillory et al links up with Carissa on the east side of the warehouse* building, and, a minute or two later, led to its final destination by the beacon of the CO's IR chemlight, Razorback arrives at Cao and Rios' position southeast of the post office. Due to the excitement and stress, and the hot muggy night air, the Sierra's are all sweating profusely.(Cao -1 IR chemlight)

Per the Cao's instructions, all the passengers dismount from the J-LTV, including the limping Kabua, to join Rios on the ground. Rios leads them to the cover of the next building south, pausing at its northeast corner to assess the tactical situation/wait for orders.

At Skillins' suggestion, he and Cao backtrack a bit to cross the railroad tracks just north of the Japanese Internment museum, then he turns right to take the hard-packed gravel easement path southeast which passes the building where Guillory, Carissa, and two Grady auxiliaries are currently positioned.

As the big green AFV rumbles past the large shed, Saul, still monitoring the situation on the ground via Raven 1's feed, spots a quartet of figures exiting the treeline about 150m southeast of the structure. He can tell by their bearing that they're armed. Cao spots them as well, sees that they are armed and looking for trouble.

Sauls notes more heat signatures flitting around the siding- the panicked product of the assassination and light show- moving so quickly and chaotically that they're impossible to count on the drone's view screen. Saul estimates at least two dozen individuals just within view of the drone's camera (given its current altitude and level of zoom; there are many more outside this picture). It's also impossible to tell which of these additional signatures are unarmed civilians and which are armed D.S.B. Chaos reigns.

The grounded flare is almost completely burned out now, but the bonfire still casts off pulsing tendrils of orange light.

*On closer inspection, it appears that this building is some sort of train car storage or repair shed.

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


Your Move.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:58, Thu 04 July 2019.

This is possibly the scariest thing that Lauren Can has ever done. After the others had clambered out of Razorback the Air Force Captain had gotten in and hauled herself up, into the gunner’s position, the vehicle feeling eerily empty with only Skillins for company, then endured a kidney bruising ride over railroad tracks and gravel, every second carrying her closer to the enemy. And when they reached them rather than crouch down in the turret and make herself as small as possible she intended to do the exact opposite.

Her eyes flick towards movement, NVG’s enhancing the scene, gloved hands clutching the M2’s spade grips as another jolt causes the small of her back to smack against the rim of the hatch. Her heart is pounding. They are driving towards chaos, a cacophony of light, sound, God knows how many people milling about.

Engage the four shooters first or try and end this now? She doesn’t know what to do.  And doesn’t have a lot of time to decide. Saul had said she might need to use the fifty cal to get their attention. But he had mentioned shooting into the air. What would Saul do? Lauren is thinking the same way as Carissa. The Air Force officer is coming to rely on the older man’s counsel. Scott’s as well. But especially Saul’s. He’s the glue that holds them all together.

One hand lets go of the spade grips, reaches for her radio, the movement coinciding with another jolt, one that tosses her about more than the others on account of the fact that she is only holding on with one hand, causes her to utter a muffled curse in Vietnamese before she keys the radio. ”Gimp, Falcon. Give me the lights on three.”

“One.” She inhales. Exhales. Inhales again. She wants to give them time to have the lights ready. The JLTV is getting closer. Fuck knows what Skillins is making of this. Cao set this in motion, her decision. He hasn’t had any say in the matter.  ”Two.”

Another deep breath. Show time. She’s tempted to shout Dracarys but now’s not the time to go off script. Daenerys had always been her heroine, even at the end. As aa thirteen year old in Oakland she had wanted to be a Khaleesi. As a twenty year old Air Force Academy cadet she had had a serious crush on the Mad Queen. Even now she still has a House Targaryen morale patch velcro’d to her 5.11 messenger bag. Maybe this is Lauren’s King’s Landing moment. Maybe. Or maybe they’d bend the knee. Don’t be like the Tarlys.

”Skillins, stop here!” She barks the command to the driver before yelling into her radio. ”Three!”

Her hand moves from the radio, joins the other on the spade grip, the barrel already swinging, orientated upwards as she applies pressure to the butterfly triggers, sends a quick burst skywards, like Saul had said, before yelling, at the top of her voice, regardless of whether the light has found her or not.

”You were warned! You defied me! And now Chloe is dead! Struck down by my power! Kneel before me and I will spare you! But fight me and I will take your souls!” Hopefully that’s how Dany would have done it.

Gunner's position, JLTV
Firing 1 x 5 and airburst from M2
Initiating psyops
Dracarys

Scott steadies his Wilson on a stack of crossties.  Forewarned by Cao's transmission, he tilts his head, shielding his NVGs from whiting out as the cops' searchlights come on.  Razorback is a beacon of light and weaponized theatre.  Scott's attention is on the darkness around it.

"Carissa."  He doesn't raise his voice, doesn't change his tone save for a slight catch as he settles his breathing.  "Get back on the rifle.  Target, four subjects, eleven o'clock, range two hundred.  If anyone raises a weapon, we take their souls for Captain Voodoo."

He cranks up his own scope's magnification and lays his reticle across the chest of a guy carrying a Tapco'd Kalashnikov with a drum magazine.  "Gimp, Sexton.  Rawhide and I are covering your four-pack."

Scott (+2 cops)
Rail maintenance shelter
Aimed fire as needed to encourage compliance from the survivors
Wilson Recon SR [26/30] - suppressed, 6x optic
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Thu 04 July 2019.

Carissa spares a glance over her shoulder at the approach of Scott and the two deputies then returns her eyes to the ongoing show to their front.  She'd had a few minutes to catch her breath and reload and she'd used them wisely.  It feels downright good to have friendlies with her.  Like a weight is off of lungs and she can expand them again.

Scott's commands cause her a bit of embarrassment when she realizes she should have stayed at the ready, but she dumps the feeling quickly, setting it aside for later reflection.  She goes back to the rifle, setting up her shots.

"I've got'em," she says.  "Four Sneks.  Armed and stupid."  A few quick tweaks of her trigger hand and the scope is dialed for the range.  "I've got the two on the left."

Rawhide
Supported on dumpster, aimed fire on left two Sneks if/when hostilities recommence
7mm-08 Remington, suppressed, 3-9x variable scope
5/5, 35 rounds remaining

Well this plan is going...somewhere?  Saul rubs his head and stares at the screen, trying to make heads or tails of what he's seeing.  Bodies moving so rapidly as to be blurring together.  Small groups, some armed, starting to form up as they pull their heads out of the chaos.

"Y'all ready with the lights?" he asks his liaison with locals.

"Sure thing. Just say when."

Saul nods and turns back to the screen.  If this fails, if Cao gets killed, it's on him.  His ideas, his attempt at psychological warfare.  Savings Lives Through Terror probably isn't the best of mottoes, even if it's the one that most applies tonight.

"Lights," he says when Cao hits three.  A brief flurry of radio traffic ensues and the call is answered with spotlights flooding the ground.  The pictures on the screen flicker as the on-board cameras adjust to the new sources of photons bouncing around the funeral scene before re-stabilizing.  "Let's see what we just kicked over," his voice to Watkins is steady, meant to be reassuring.  "And keep an eye out for trouble."

Time for the moment of truth.

As Razorback passes them by, Guillory, Carissa, and the two GPD auxiliaries jog forward about 50m, to a low stack of railroad ties, resting their weapons atop the wooden beams, redolent of creosote.

The four armed Sneks are taken aback by the sight of the oncoming AFV. As the vehicle skids to a halt about 50m short of the waning bonfire, Cao looses a spurt of .50 rounds high over their heads. Spurred by the roar of the HMG, three of the gang-bangers break and run, two heading back towards the woods, the other moving fast towards the rows of train cars. The fourth stands his ground, pointing his pimped out AK at the Sierra commander. (Razorback -5 rounds .50 BMG)

By this time, Guillory and Carissa have zeroed in on the threat. The pair fires roughly simultaneously, crumpling the temerarious Snek Boy. (Guillory -1 round 5.56mm; Carissa -1 round .308/7.62mm)

At the prearranged signal, Chief Paddock activates her hand-held spotlight, limning Cao in a halo of diffuse white light. Outpost Dixon follows suit, but the beam from the hospital roof is little more than a pinprick of light at half-a-mile. In fact, the head-on glare works more against the Sierra CO than for her. She proceeds with her plan, shouting,

”You were warned! You defied me! And now Chloe is dead! Struck down by my power! Kneel before me and I will spare you! But fight me and I will take your souls!”

It's unclear whether the stage show has any immediate effect on the Second Wavers. Very few people are visible, most having taken cover amidst the dozens of parked train cars; only a small knot of the most faithful still surround their fallen priestess. These, mostly women, turn their tear-streaked faces at the foreign warrior priestess, glaring at Cao with a mixture of hatred and fear.

After a pregnant pause, ripe with possible outcomes, four dark figures emerge from the gaps between a pair of hopper [train] cars. One stands at the southeast corner of the most distant car (about 50m south-southwest of Razorback) and fires an automatic weapon at the J-LTV, the other three charge the ASDF vehicle, one with pistol blazing, the other two holding flaming objects away from their bodies.

Cao feels a jolt as something impacts the right side of her ACH. She's perfectly lucid, doesn't even see stars, and she quickly realizes that an incoming round just grazed her Kevlar.

A different hopper car blocks Guillory and Carissa's view of this last ditch attack. They still have LOS to the woods into which at least two armed Sneks have just fled.


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


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:33, Thu 11 July 2019.

”Back up!” Lauren yells to Skillins as she sees the four figures rushing towards them. She doesn’t really have time to process the fact that at least one round has almost certainly ricocheted off her helmet, that if she hadn’t been wearing said helmet she would probably now be dead. That’s a conversation that she’ll have to have with Guillory later. If there is a later.

Theater has apparently failed. That only leaves one option as far as she’s concerned. They had given these insurgents every opportunity to end this without further loss of life and they had spurned them. What happens next is on them, not her. As Skillins puts the JLTV into reverse Lauren grasps the M2’s spade grips, her thumbs squeezing down on the butterfly triggers as she begins to walk heavy caliber rounds onto the oncoming insurgents, holding the triggers down as she slowly moves the barrel from right to left then back again, feeling the Ma Deuce buck as it spits out spent cartridges.

If she takes down the four runners she’ll shift her fire to anyone else that she can see that looks like a hostile until Skillins backs up to a point where they’re no longer in view. Or they stop moving. Whatever happens first. She’s not thinking about collateral damage or warning shots. Or even whether they’re armed or not. She’s not really thinking about anything. They’ve had their chance to surrender.

Lauren
Ordering Skillins to reverse
Engaging approaching hostiles with 5 x 5 rnd bursts aimed center mass
If all hostiles go down looking for alternate targets and opening fire, aiming center mass. Definition of alternate target is any adult moving towards the JLTV, whether armed or not
M2 HMG (?/105)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Thu 11 July 2019.

"Target down," Scott tells Carissa - almost certainly unnecessarily, but it takes more thought to not communicate than to do so reflexively.

The sound of the fifty-cal his head around but he can't see what Cao is firing at.  However, the sight of the J-LTV lurching into reverse makes his stomach drop.  Razorback is the biggest thing on the battlefield and if Cao and Skillins think they need distance from something, things may have just gone sideways.

"Stay here," he tells Carissa.  To the cops: "McConnell," or at least that's the name on the chest of the guy with the StG 58, "watch her six.  Baird, with me.  Sexton checking Gimp, no visual on Falcon's target.  I'm moving up, leaving Rawhide on overwatch."

Scott (+1 cop)
Rail maintenance shelter
Moving toward the fight; taking cover and engaging any hostiles with snap shots as they come into view
Wilson Recon SR [25/30] - suppressed, 6x optic
This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Sat 13 July 2019.

Once, many years ago, back in the bad old days of watching Afghanistan coming apart at the seems, Saul had watched a Marine aviator botch forward control of an airstrike.  It had happened in some sort of slow motion horror show.  The F/A-18 had come in from the west, not the east, and between the pilot and the FAC, no one had noticed that the references the two men were using had been flipped from their cardinal directions.  The pilot was cleared to engage.  The weapon was released.  Then the pilot said "oops."  Like an idiot, Saul had paused and looked to the sky, looking for the descending black speck of the bomb and wondering where "oops" was going to land.  The muscles in his body tried to propel him into motion, but where would he go.  Then common sense kicked in.  He'd begun screaming for everyone to take cover before throwing himself behind a boulder that he hoped would block shrapnel.  A sharp, but not overly sharp, crack/boom shook the ground, proving that the scramble had been overkill (he didn't care).  When he stood up, a friendly outpost on the near side of a small river was a smoking hole emitting screams.  That had taken some patching up.

Watching the muzzle flash of the .50 cal brings the memory screaming back at Saul.  The audible bangs arriving fragments of a second later just add to the details.  He tries to draw and imaginary line through Razorback and rail cars where the half inch bullets are headed. And the homes behind there.  Cao has every right to defend herself.  She's taking fire.  Saul won't interfere, he put her there afterall, but he's guessing there's going to be a cost to his little psychological operation falling on its face.  He's already trying to draw up a plan for the collateral the HMG is going to inflict.

"Sexton, Gimp copies.  You need to vector South/Southwest. Multiple shooters along the rails cars, high heat signatures in their hands. Break."

Saul turns to his liaison and sighs.  "If y'all have more folks with medical knowledge we're probably going to need them."

"Yep," Carissa confirms for Scott.  She's not sure which one of them delivered the killing shot.  Doesn't suppose it matters much.  Despite her best efforts, she winces and turns her head away from the sound of the fifty booming across the battlefield.  That can't be a good sign.  Then Razorback starts to back up. That really can't be a good sign.

"I've got your back," Carissa says to Scott as he starts to move.  She returns her eye to the scope and starts sweeping the treeline where the less than brave Sneks retreated to.  If they get brave, she'll be ready.

Rawhide
Overwatch
Prone supported, aimed fire on any armed Sneks
7mm-08 Remington, suppressed, 3-9x variable scope
4/5, 35 rounds remaining

Standing with the rest of the people that had gotten out of the JLTV when it had made its stop to pick up Cao and Tori Rios, who had already been there when the armored vehicle had come to a halt and they had all started to clamber out, Mike Carswell can hear the pounding of a heavy machine gun, a constant chatter drowning out the rest of the cacophony of sound.

This is a clusterfuck. The medic’s face is impassive, suppressing the urge to wince, no sign of any emotions obvious as he turns to Anderson. It’s almost as though the thinks that showing his emotions would be letting his guard down, exposing a chink in the air of jaded cynicism that he wears as almost a default setting.

”We moving in?” The MEMS STARS medic asks the USAF Special Ops Technical Sergeant, figuring that this is Anderson’s call to make. And Carswell presumes that he’s going to want to move in, help out Cao. After all, he’s Air Force, she’s Air Force. Presumably he’s going to want to cover her six, haul her ass out of the fire that it sounds like it’s in.

The medic keeps his carbine at the low ready as he looks in the direction of the gunfire again. ”Just say the word.”

Carswell
Preparing to move forward to contact at Anderson’s direction
HK416 (30/30)

"Hang on," Anderson replies, trying to piece together the tactical picture. This is a somewhat of a fool's errand, given how little he can see from his current position. Most of the action is taking place on the opposite side of the rail cars, out of his view, and the soundtrack of screams, shouts, and sundry gunshots only further confuses the picture. What he can see- shadowy figures flitting past the gaps between the rail cars, doesn't tell him much except that panic has set in. Moving toward that chaos, out of sight from the Sierras already engaged on the east side of the rail line, seems, at this moment, counter-productive. Although he's already questioning his decision, it's been made, and he shares it with the others.

"We stay here, cover the west side of the yard. Engage anyone who appears armed, and let's try not to shoot any 'fugees."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:33, Sun 14 July 2019.

Skillins throws the J-LTV into reverse and steps on the accelerator. Cao's already pivoting the weapon station turret to her right, to engage the nearest of the fire-bombers. Razorback's sudden reversal makes proper aiming all but impossible, but the USAF captain does her best, hammering out burst after burst as she struggles to bring the fifty caliber's long barrel to bear on successive moving targets.

The first [northernmost] of these, apparently unscathed, continues his forward run, before hurling the Molotov at the retreating weapons carrier. The flaming object cartwheels through the air promisingly before clipping the outstretch branch of a tree, and dropping like a stone to shatter in a blanket of flames well short of its intended target.

The second fire bomber erupts into a ball of flames as a .50 BMG round shatters the ersatz incendiary in his hand. He probably doesn't suffer long, as another punches through his torso and drops him, burning, to the ground.

The shooter, who's continuing to pelt the retreating J-LTV with rounds, disappears in a cloud of pink mist.

Although several of the outgoing rounds have struck their respective targets, most have carried through the target zone and into the first few hopper cars. At such close range, it's likely that at least some of the heavy projectiles have punched through the unarmored train cars and continued their destructive flights. (M2HB -15 .50 BMG rounds)

Guillory and his backup arrive at the northwest corner of the nearest cargo car, just in time to see the first fire bomber retreating. The senior lawman encourages the man's flight with a quintet rapid shots, the last of which effects a brief stumble before fleeing Snek Boy disappears behind cover. (Guillory -5 rounds 5.56mm)

Carissa's LOS to the spot in the woods where two of the armed Snek Boys were last seen is briefly blocked by the J-LTV. When it clears, she spots and engages a muzzle flash, firing a single round at the pulsing yellow flare. This is enough to stop the hostile fire from the woods. (Carissa -1 round .308/7.62mm)

By this time, Razorback is out of the line of fire, stopping roughly even with the southern end of the repair shed. There are no longer any targets in sight, unless Cao decides to engage the cluster of mourners surrounding the fallen voodoo priestess.

A relative hush falls over the rail yard. As seconds turn into minutes, it becomes apparent that organized resistance has ceased. At the very least, Sierra has added around a half-dozen casualties to the D.S.B. rolls, as well as eliminating the gang's spiritual leader.


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


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 20:06, Mon 15 July 2019.

The silence, when it comes, is almost disconcerting, even although Lauren doesn’t immediately get its full effect for her ears are still ringing from the constant hammering of the fifty cal. Adrenaline is coursing through her, causing her to shake as the heavy machine gun’s barrel swings ominously towards the group of mourners gathered around Chloe, her hands grasping the spade grips tightly as her thumbs hover above the butterfly triggers. All she has to do is apply a little pressure and more rounds will be headed downrange, into the middle of that group. Or maybe they’ll rip right through them, carry on who knew where.

Just a little pressure. That’s all it would take. Just the slightest of touches. But that would be stepping over a line. Up until now she had been acting in self defense. Whether it was proportionate or not would likely be a source of much debate afterwards. But if she squeezes those triggers that’s not self defense. It’s murder. That doesn’t stop the HMG lingering on them for five long seconds before the barrel slowly swings upwards until it points towards the sky.

”Skillins.” Lauren doesn’t realise she’s shouting. She can’t really hear anything, repeats herself. ”Skillins! You OK?”

Once she’s spoken with her driver she takes a deep breath, reaches for her radio, finds the PTT switch. Sweat is running down her bare arms, obscuring the fake voodoo symbols she’s scrawled on them. Not that that really matters now. ”Sexton, Gimp, this is Falcon.” She sounds deflated. Actually, deflated is putting it mildly. She sounds like she’s teetering on the edge of losing it. Probably not the best state of mind for someone who’s still behind a heavy machine gun. ”I….uhhhh…I….stand by.” She’s shaking and it’s probably not from adrenaline. She can see the scene of carnage in front of her, can’t help the abstract thought that courses through her mind. The Bells. Just like the Bells.

Another deep breath before she depresses her PTT switch again. ”Sexton, I…uhhh…suggest we move forward. Start taking the insurgents into custody. Draugr and local PD can…” her voice briefly falters as she hears a wailing cry pierce the silence ”…can link up with you, while Razorback provides overwatch. Break. Draugr…” there is a noticeable break, ”Draugr, coordinate with Sexton.” She had been on the verge of telling Anderson to assume tactical command. But that would be the easy way out. ”I’ll join you as soon as someone can take over on the fifty cal. Over.

Scott frowns at the verbal hitches in Cao's transmission.  He's not sure what's going on in her head but it sounds like she's not entirely in control.  Whether the redacted parts of her file are breaking loose or she's a little too into her voodoo captain role, he's not sure, but...  "Sexton checking Draugr, you've got tactical control.  Stand by for a quick command conference.  Break.  Falcon and Gimp, meet me on TAC THREE, please."  That channel isn't entirely private - it's programmed into all of the team's radios - but it's an encrypted setting that none of the local cops have.

He turns his own channel selector two clicks and waits for Cao and the elder Noble to come up on channel, weighing how to diplomatically give the Air Force officer an option to step back and lock down whatever she's dealing with.  "Captain, it looks like we're into the prisoner management and scene processing phase.  Do you want to keep this a DSCA --" Defense Support of Civil Authorities, the legal structure that Steve had used to justify his "acquisition" of active-duty personnel for the State Guard -- "operation or shift over to local law enforcement?"

He releases the mic and lets his hands handle a proactive reload while he waits for her to think about it.  He figures that between himself, Saul, and Rios, they've probably run a couple hundred scenes like this.  If Cao wants to give them their heads.

OOC @Dave - player to player, I'm not trying to cut you out of the loop here.  Scott may be doing so a little bit ICly but he has good intentions.  ;)

There’s a pause after Scott has finished speaking, during which Lauren remains silent. The entire railyard is still relatively quiet, although the wailing that Lauren heard earlier is still audible. Eyes that are aided by NVG’s sweep over the battlefield. Is it still a battlefield, or is it something else now? Whatever it is Lauren looks over it for a moment before reaching for her radio, the M2 still pointing harmlessly into the night sky.

”Sexton, Falcon, all copied. I….uhhhh…I agree.” Her voice is low, her tone flat. ”You have primacy.” There’s no challenge, no embellishment, nothing else, just a simple statement that puts Guillory in the wheelhouse. Part of her thinks that it makes sense, that it’s the logical call. The cops are trained in this sort of thing. She’s not. But another part of her thinks that she’s running away. Or at least trying to. Because it’s not going to be that easy. Lauren knows that no matter what, this is her mess, she owns it, will always own it. ”Where do you want us? Over.” By us she means the JLTV.

@Teg, no worries man, I think it’s a pretty legit response