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| Fireteam Dysjunction; The one where foresight would have been useful. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 27 2012, 08:36 PM (642 Views) | |
| Gleam | Aug 27 2012, 08:36 PM Post #1 |
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BLAM Goes Rueham's shotgun, and the boothguard at the top of Custodia, set into the edge of a towering cliff, soars into the back of his little building, a metal slug smashing its wall through both walls and in the midst, the guard's colon. "TASTE IT, MOTHERFUCKER!" Rueham bellows, cocks the shotgun, and pounds another shot through the wall, turning the guard's chest into paste when it barrels through his diaphragm. The opposite boothguard, scrambling for his gun, gapes at the grenade Rueham had dropped into his cubicle. Rueham dives for cover. The betokened booth is erased in a thundercrack of explosive power and sends pieces of drywall flying for dozens of feet. |
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.
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| Smitejr | Aug 27 2012, 08:51 PM Post #2 |
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If Desmond was the emotional type, he might have been crying by this point, the element of surprise being completely destroyed. Fortunately for all concerned, he wasn't, and so he didn't. So, he contents himself by breaking the arm of an NOL guard attacking him, twisting him around so he was behind the poor man, and sinking his wristblade into his heart. Once the sound of the explosion has vanished, he addresses Rueham and Epsilon. His irritation is palpable. "Since silence seems to be beyond you, we must take advantage of the confusion. Speed is our ally, since you have abandoned stealth." |
| Tune your ear to the frequency of despair, and cross-reference by the longitude and latitude of a heart in agony. | |
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| LornMind | Aug 27 2012, 08:56 PM Post #3 |
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Bigger Than A Breadbox
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Epsilon tosses several entropic grenades at guards rushing towards them and says defensively, "Rueham is the one that went Evil Dead on us, not me." He backhands a nearby guard, who crumples into a screaming mess, his face bloodied and burned, before shooting him in the face and quieting him. "I was all for stealth. I knew I'd cock it up somewhere, but still, I was all in for the sneaky sneaky wahey. But still, this is more fun." He glances at Rueham and asks, "Can you sniff out a Shebalve for us? Not literally but...actually, yeah, you probably can at this point, you're around them so often." |
| When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got. | |
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| Gleam | Aug 27 2012, 09:05 PM Post #4 |
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Rueham chuckles and chambers another round in his Remington, completely disregarding Desmond. "Baby, I'm fast everywhere. Let's roll out." He hops the railing to the stairs down, and starts to descend them, when he spots the lobby and doubles back at breakneck pace - parked directly in the entrance is a large desk that spans between the two walls, turnstiles punctuating it at steady intervals. Behind the middle of this desk is a mild-looking clerk, and in this mild-looking clerk's hands is a RPL grenade launcher that he immediately punches a round out of at Rueham. He doesn't precisely dodge - the concussive blast hurls him up and out of the entrance tunnel, throwing him into a skidding stop. " . . . Yep." he groans. "Seein' your point now." Rueham rolls over, and snaps off a shot at another guard climbing the stairs, who ducks back into cover before it can hit him. "Stairs are NOT an option. Anyone see an alternate route?" There is a distant rumble as bay doors start to open in the cliff, and Rueham's eyes are suddenly very wide. "I'd say that's a Shebalve." he says, and scrambles to his feet. |
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.
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| Smitejr | Aug 27 2012, 09:16 PM Post #5 |
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Desmond sighs, and activates the power of the Shroud. Turning both intangible and hard to see, Desmond moves with his usual speed, throwing two knives that become dangerously tangible the moment they leave his hands at the clerk and soldier. As his shroud runs out, he jumps behind a wrecked portion of wall, using it as cover. "Is that the Shebalve we will try to take? Or will there be more in this hangar?" Desmond hated working with inadequate intel. It had been the first nail in the coffin for his work with the NOL. Having him assigned to kill Rust was generally a bad idea, and he would have turned the assignment down if it was honestly offered to him. "I can do the impossible, but not without knowing which impossibility it is to be!" As it was, taking down a Shebalve didn't seem too hard, if it came within his range. However, he had very little experience with the machines, the NOL didn't want their mercenaries to get too close to the equipment if they could avoid it. |
| Tune your ear to the frequency of despair, and cross-reference by the longitude and latitude of a heart in agony. | |
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| LornMind | Aug 27 2012, 09:51 PM Post #6 |
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Bigger Than A Breadbox
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Epsilon bolts in after Desmond, his arms projecting an entropic screen and slides into cover alongside him. "Well, a Shebalve isn't too hard to take down. We've got Rueham here, and he knows the things inside and out. Besides, a few of these puppies and it probably won't want to stay in the air anyway." He lobs another entropic grenade at a freshly arrived group of soldiers shrugs. "I mean just look what it does to flesh." He frowns and notices a few soldiers are shaken, but largely intact. "Well, flesh that isn't protected with Ars. But that's what these are for." He sprays a stream of bullets at the nearest staggered soldier and after a steady stream of lead, his ars breaks, leaving him bleeding and perforated. Satisfied, Epsilon shouts to Rueham, "Up or down buddy?" |
| When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got. | |
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| Gleam | Aug 27 2012, 11:35 PM Post #7 |
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The soldier ducks Desmond's knife, but is forced to keep under cover as Rueham covers his teammates' advance with a trio of blasts from his shotgun, blasting divots out of the earth by the stairs and punching huge dents in its steel siding. "Down!" he calls, as the whine increases in volume. "Definitely down! Aerial crossfires are bad news!" He scrambles towards the stairs and manages to catch the soldier there with a running butt from the stock of his weapon, then fires directly into the man's belly as he stumbles away. That opponent put down, he starts to descend the stairs - then leaps for cover. The reason is the clerk - who simply tilted his head out of the way of the knife, reloaded his launcher, and then took a shot at the entrance tunnel, collapsing it. A squad of soldiers arrives from the left side of the room and kicks a hallway door set in, setting the broken panels up as cover, one man unlimbering a SAW LMG and lying it across the top of the cover. |
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.
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| Smitejr | Aug 28 2012, 09:05 PM Post #8 |
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Desmond frowns behind his trouble, trying to come up with a plan. He was currently distracted by trying to understand how terrible one person could be at stealth. Hell, Rust was better than Rueham proved himself to be. Looking back at the state of the battlefield, Desmond lets out a curse. Neither of his targets died, he must be slipping. Engaging the shroud, Desmond slinks across the battlefield, taking advantage of the general confusion. Taking items from a small pouch on the inside of his cloak, Desmond retrieves a few small balls. Once he gets behind the new squad, the assassin throws the small explosives in their midst, and they are enveloped by inky black smoke, left blind and helpless. Desmond gets to the task of picking off the confused soldiers one by one. |
| Tune your ear to the frequency of despair, and cross-reference by the longitude and latitude of a heart in agony. | |
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| LornMind | Aug 29 2012, 07:06 PM Post #9 |
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Bigger Than A Breadbox
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Epsilon notices the LMG being set up and immediately fires an entire magazine in the soldier's direction. "Fuck no! I've played enough video games to know that you should never get a chance to do that!" he shouts angrily. "We have to punch through this shit and get down there Rueham. If we stick here too long we're going to get overwhelmed." He tosses a few more entropic grenades at the oncoming soldiers and adds, "And soon, I don't have an endless supply of these things." |
| When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got. | |
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| Gleam | Aug 29 2012, 09:56 PM Post #10 |
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The LMG squad dies in horrible agony as they get pincered by Desmond and Epilson. Meanwhile the clerk reloads his launcher again, as Rueham ducks out of cover and unloads a round at his oppressor. The solid slug shatters the clerk's left arm just behind the shoulder and almost tears it from his body, leaving the bone broken and mangled. He grunts and goes white - then slowly starts to raise the launcher again. The reason is evident from Desmond's position. The clerk's in a wheelchair, his legs absent just below the knee. "JESUS FUCK WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO KILL YOU!" Rueham roars, and rolls back into cover as he gets menaced by the launcher, but the clerk holds fire, searching for a better target. The hallway the LMG squad entered from leads to an elevator; it pings open now, and a man wearing a Captain's bars and flanked by a pair of soldiers steps out. He spots Desmond, roars "READY TO RUMBLE!" and charges forward. His advance is covered by fire from his subordinates, who take either side of the hallway and open up on the assassin with precision fire. The Captain himself just runs, but he's getting faster, and faster, and a faint glow of seithr hangs about him. |
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.
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6:54 AM Jul 13