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Halo: Militia (RP)


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Kyro grunted at Grec, "Unimaginative..." Turning away, Kyro noticed first that D.J. had left and gotten on a pelican and nextly that a man was standing somewhat bewildered looking without a group. Walking up to the man, Kyro noticed the tag on him identified him as "Taylor." Getting his attention, Kyro walked up, "You wanna drop some ODSTs?" he growled, in a rough voice. While waiting for his response Kyro also noticed Alison lurking towards the back of some people. He had been wondering where she had been for a bit after the incident in the mess hall. He tried to flag her down as he kept his attention on Taylor.

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Taylor was shocked that Kyro wanted HIM on his team, he stuttered slightly, and readied his rifle, he only responded at the man, "Well, what are we waiting for then?" as a smirk wiped across his face, even with the helmet covering most of his head, it was clear Taylor was ready to pop some shots with his rifle on the ODSTs, as he cocked his rifle, readying it, and turning to his temporary leader, asking, "Alright, so who's on Team Kyro?"

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"Haven't seen you for a bit.." Kyro noted, "Wanna hunt some ODSTs?" By now he had noticed that, behind himself, contrasting the quiet, almost timid appearance of Taylor, had collected a group of some of the bulkier and rougher looking recruits, the type who clearly was looking to get a crack at these ODSTs the others feared.

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"Bait and trap, but for now lets get on the pelican. We can talk plans more midflight now that we have everyone." Kyro motioned the squad towards a waiting pelican and, after ensuring everyone got on, stepped up onto the ramp himself as the pelican lifted off.

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Kyro looked up from a bottle he had been busy unloading the contents of a few stun bullets into, "Yuhuh, the idea is that these guys are wayyyyy to confident that we'll chicken out and avoid them allowing them to terrorize us and pick us off all the way back to the base. If they succeed we won't come in with enough men...err and women to pass. So my thoughts are that we feed into their ego, let em think they are sneeking up on us and then give em all heck." He finished with smashing his fist into the palm of his gloved hand, before hurriedly catching the bottle of parralyzing contents he had just concocted as it began to fall forward off the seat.

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Turning to face her and motioning dangerously with the bottle which now had its lid screwed on with the addition of some various metalic attachments, he stated, "No, they'll THINK they trapped us; we'll arrange it so we're not where they think we are."

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"Not neccessarily, which is why we need to be very cautious, though I'm sure they'll be less cautious since they are expecting newbs who will screw EVERYTHING up." Kyro latched his helmet on and made some final adjustments to his fake IED.

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Grec took a moment to run an assault gloved hand over the matte drab surface of his helmet before rolling it over and placing it on his head. The weight was a bit heavier then he'd been expecting, sliding the orange-tinted ballistic glasses over his eyes and instantly his vision was clouded with every manner of tactical display.

 

"So, uh, who wants to be my battle-buddy?" Andrew said in between trying to figure out what the three-thousand icons clogging his vision meant. Aside from the tiny image of an MA5 with ammunition totals - nothing was exactly clear.

 

Grec took a moment to run an assault gloved hand over the matte drab surface of his helmet before rolling it over and placing it on his head. The weight was a bit heavier then he'd been expecting, sliding the orange-tinted ballistic glasses over his eyes and instantly his vision was clouded with every manner of tactical display.

 

"So, uh, who wants to be my battle-buddy?" Andrew said in between trying to figure out what the three-thousand icons clogging his vision meant. Aside from the tiny image of an MA5 with ammunition totals - nothing was exactly clear.

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Sam shook his head, testing the sturdiness of his awkwardly bulked helmet. Surprisingly, it stayed in place rather well. When he tapped his neural lace into the Heads Up Display, he half-expected a buzz in the back of his skull, having never experienced the benefit of a surgically interface.

 

All at once, his weapon data, navigation, and platoon status icons all flooded his vision at once. It took him a while, but he found some organization and pattern to it all as the data was all ushered to the respective corners of his HUD. It didn't help his peripheral vision, but it helped everything in front.

 

He heard Alec speak, all but requesting a partner, and deep down he felt a little guilty that he didn't pick him in the first place, having seemed to meet eye to eye on a number of things before. Nonetheless, they had a system. "I'm not sure, but I think we might have an odd number of people. If anyone's left, we can always have one group of three." He leaned out, looking to Shields. "What do you think?"

 

 

 

 

PFC Lester Hargray stood with one foot on a landing skid of his assigned M12 LRV and watched the quartet of Pelicans depart with a low rumble, vanishing in the now duskly sky. It was something serene.

 

"What do you think, Les?" he heard Private Lauren Chase ask.

 

"Half of 'em look like they're shaking," he said as he turned to his fireteam, "and the other half look cocky as all hell. I honestly don't know what to think."

 

Corporal Robert Bosco, a man with a taller, bulkier frame about twice Les' size, laughed with a hearty voice. "She means about Jim Dandy's."

 

"Oh," he stammered in realization. "F***in' overrated."

 

"Hey, I eat there every morning I can."

 

"I didn't say it was bad, Rob, I'm just saying it's overrated. I like local places, not chains."

 

Lance Corporal Yuki Winters appeared from behind the LRV, a gloved hand resting against its rear fender as she gave him a tilt of the head and a sly grin that was calling him out. "You weren't saying that after we left Finnigan's Grill that one night."

 

A sickly feeling washed over Les. He remembered that night; upset stomach full of food that was just trying to crawl back out. "You can't let that go, can you?"

 

"Wait," Bosco intervened, "I've been to Fin's before. What happened?"

 

Yuki raised a brow. "You mean he didn't tell you?" Rob shook his head, looking back to Les awaiting his side of the story.

 

He simply rolled his eyes. "Long story short, my burger was undercooked and I ended up puking my guts out."

 

"No...At Fins? Really? That's gotta be bad luck..."

 

"No," he said, brows raised as though he had heard the news for the first time as well. "I told a couple of other guys on base at Anvil about it--turns out they said similar **** happened to them. I don't know what happened; either new cooking staff came in or...just something. I mean, every time I've been on Reach, anywhere near this region I take a trip there at least once. But this time, I tell ya, I could've done better."

 

"That's a shame, man. Thanks for tellin' me, I'll make sure they find out too."

 

"What good are you gonna be?"

 

"Good customers give feedback, and unlike you, I'm not afraid to be a good customer."

 

"D**k..."

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[i'm just gonna assume I'm running with a squad of NPCs. That Okay? If not, let me know, and I'll edit.]

 

D.J. looked at his "squad".

 

It was clear he hadn't made a good first impression on anyone, because he only had about 5 others with him, and they weren't to pleased about it. He felt like he should say something, establish dominance and whatnot, but that wasn't his style.

 

"Alright... Here's the deal." He started. "I'm not the brightest bulb in the box, but I can tell you guys ain't too happy about bein' in my squad. So I'll tell ya what we'll do. You don't like following my orders, you're more than welcome to try it on your own. You just better hope you can explain why you abandoned your team if you make it back to base, before the Sergeant shoves eight shades of s--- down your throat for it."

 

If anything, it made them ponder their chances on their own.

 

D.J. flipped his helmet in his hands and secured it on his head.

 

"That's all I wanna say. so, now that I'm done bein' an A-- hole, what's your names?"

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Shields looked up to Dwyer, who was suggesting they group as a three. He shook his head at the proposal, watching the last of the empty slots on the platoon roster. They were First Platoon of Asimov company, consisting of four squads. He assumed that meant they were Asimov 1, and he was Asimov 1-1 Actual, being the leader of the squad that was chosen first. Then that would mean second squad would be 1-2, and fourth would be 1-4, lead by 1-4 Actual.

 

Man, he was glad he'd played a lot of accurate video games.

 

"Negative. I'm Squad Lead, I don't get a partner." Shields looked at the men in the Pelican, putting together a structure. "Dwyer, you're to lead Fireteam Alpha. That's you, Andrew, Basic and Clark. Aves, you'll have Fireteam Bravo, leading Griffiths and you two."

 

With four left, Shields chose the hardy-looking brunette, Harlin, as the lead of Fireteam Charlie. He reorganized his team's roster in this way, indents showing subordinates.

 

"Okay, when we're down there we'll need to be moving at different paces, with fire focused on different angles. We'll use a column when we want to move fast, a diamond when we want to cover all of our flanks, and a line when we want to maximize fire to a target in the front."

 

He went on to explain how a wedge was like a diamond, with three guys forming the left, front and rear points, with the fireteam lead taking the right point. He then explained that Alpha would be in the front, Bravo the middle and Charlie the rear. He would be stood inbetween Alpha and Bravo, so that he had good visibility of the situation, as well as good cover. There were a few objections to that, but he went on about how everyone would be disorganized if he were hit.

 

Then, he managed to show them all arrangements on their HUDs, despite killing his own eyes in the process. When he was happy they sort of knew what he was going on about, he smiled a little, before looking down at his rifle.

 

[if you're interested, I'm using this for formations. It'll open a WordDoc when you click it http://tinyurl.com/lry3fne It's what I use for Airsoft.]

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"Well! Looks like its just me and Aaron Im guessing!" Marvin shouted out. He then looked at everyone boarding the pelicans. Marvin then struck a feeling of lonliness, And then continued on with his day...

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"Copy that," Dwyer said flatly, hiding a tone of diappointment. "Leading Alpha."

 

Few times he cared to take point on anything. The few emergency calls that he responded to typically went awkwardly slow. On time, on a mass casualty incident--being only four victims in a vehicle collision--he had to assume the responsibility of triage and command, as he was first on scene. The incident happened at 0400, and by the time the scene was suitable enough for daily activities they were able to see light on the horizon.

 

It didn't help that the paramedic responders chided him for improperly triaging the victims. He chose to have one crew service a victim with a head/neck injury over someone with an actively bleeding lower leg. Looking back on it, they were right to give him hell, but at the same time he knew a neck injury was just as life threatening.

 

Now he was responsible for three others with the duty of preventing an incident altogether. Part of him wished someone would get hurt right off the bat, and it not be his fault. At least then he would know what to do. Cleaning up a mess was his forte.

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"At least pretend you're excited, Dwyer." Shields smiled, clapping him on the shoulder at his less-than-enthusiastic tone of voice. The sound of the Pelican's rumbling differed than how it had for the previous few minutes. The vibrations throughout the metal were less violent, leading Shields to believe that the craft was landing somewhere. His theory was proved right when an officer, probably the crew chief, walked through to where the recruits were.

 

"Here we are, recruits. Good luck."

 

He didn't sound too sure they were going to do well. They were ushered out of the craft by the guy as the ramp lowered, revealing a clearing in the middle of a forest. The other three Pelicans could be seen a few hundred metres away, approaching them.

 

"So, I guess we wait for Kawolski and Geza, or just go ahead when those asshat squad leaders get here." he said to nobody in particular as their Pelican took off.

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Sam tried to get his bearings once he set off of the Pelican, hitting the cooling ground with a hard thud that he felt in his knees as they supported the combined weight of his kit. He looked around, scanning the environment. They had been dropped in a clearing, a patch of treeless green surrounded by thick forest. Aside from the transitioning glow from Reach's sun to one of its two moons, the D77s were the only source of light as they drifted away slowly.

 

"Man, none of this sh** looks familiar at all."

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Grec toddled out of the Pelican, transitioning from the hard metallic 'clank-clank-clank' of boots traversing the last few feet of ramp to the soft 'squish-squish-squish' of semi-damp soil underfoot. ((Because trying to write a sound effect for normal dirt would be too difficult for amateur writer dryskim.)) The murmur from Sam about finding no familiarity in there surroundings - well, it put a damper on things rather suddenly.

 

"Ah, ****, man. I had you pegged as the Boy Scout who could navigate by the stars," Grec said, removing a hand from his rifle's pistol grip so he could adjust the shoulder strap on his backpack. The whole thing was still lumpy and awkward and heavy, but that one shoulder strap wasn't currently biting into his shoulder like a barracuda. 

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At Grec's words, Shields chuckled. He nodded in agreement at what he said, but with the compass and map on their HMDs, they'd be able to figure something out. However, dusk wasn't going to help them underneath the thick canopy of leaves, especially since the ODSTs would blend into the darkness with that damn incredible armour they wore. It wasn't the stuff the Spartans wore, but it was still cool as hell.

 

"Yeah, well, there's a reason I put him at the front." Shields said to Grec, grinning at Dwyer. "You can just imagine him lined with patches."

 

He looked up at the roar of another Pelican's engines. As loose dirt and rocks began to move away from the LZ, Shields ushered everyone back. Mickey, looked at him as he gave the order, rolling his eyes at him. He complied, trying to ignore what he assumed to be power rushing to his head. He had to give him credit though - Oliver was doing pretty well.

 

Then again, that's basically Shields telling himself he's great. It's sort of like a bi-polar, same-puppeteer kind of thing. You understand.

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