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

-
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.

-
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

-
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.

-
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)