USCMRPG

Minuteman arrived ten minutes late. The activity in the hanger had slowed down and the noise level had reached more acceptable levels, although som Powerloaders where still rumaging about in the far end of the hanger.

Caden lined up the marines into their three respective squads and handed over the command to Minuteman.

"At ease people" Minuteman said before continuing. "Looks like we are in for a really rough ride on this one...someone tipped the Cultists off. They know we are coming, as we speak they are destroying clues and datafiles regarding the whereabouts of the...things we saw on WY109. This is an unfortunate and unexpected turn of events. Doubly so since that means someone within the USCM is handing the Cultists information...someone that knew about the operation...except you those can be counted on my two hands." Minuteman let the prospect of a traitor within the ranks of the USCM sink in fully before continuing.

"But high command has still decided to pull this one through, you have a good chance of success. You are highly trained, motivated and armed to the teeth...they are only motivated and armed to the teeth so you have one up on them. "Minuteman flashed a brief and mechanical smile. It was clear he didn't like the outlook either. "We will go with the previous plan. One squad on top and the two others performing a frontal assault. We will bring firesupport in the form of APCs" Minuteman paused slighly turning to Minuteman "Sergeant. I want equipment lists of the marines, who carries what in ten minutes." He then turned back to the Marines.

"I am going to be fair to you - This is going to be one hell of a fight. The cultists will fight to the death - Every man woman and child in that building will throw themselves at you with whatever they got. Whatever happens down there...take as many of those bastards with you as you can!"

Sighing heavily, Jacob made a mental note to be as cautious as possible...he had no problem killing, but he did have a problem with being killed - he'd avoided it on his other tour of duty...and he intended to avoid it here.

Ronald stared at Minuteman as he told them everthing, when he was done Ronald was still starring at him and in the back of his head he wondered if some power had heard his prayer, he stood there for a long while before he woke up and looked around a bit confused.

"Take 'em with me?" Kelly patted her smartgun affectionately, and shook her head, "I think I'll just aim to send 'em on ahead."

A diabolical smirk had found its way onto Goshas face as the Lt. had held his little talk.
"Now we're talking... I hate that sneaking around bullshit, this is real street fighting."

The familiar, mechanical 'click' of the Zippo rung in the air as Rednus pinched the bridge of his nose. 'trap is set.. he mumbled.
As he inhaled, he realised this would be his first mission with 3rd squad...

" Hell of a baptism you boys are about to have... " he blurted, sending a lungful their way.

Chappell counted to ten, trying to forget what he was going to say.
He bit his tongue.
-it didnt work.
He couldn't resist.

"...Just remember that minuteman and the USCM are right behind you...

-about 400 miles behind you, in orbit."

You could cut the cynicysm with a knife.

"But sir"... Ronald said a bit confused.

"If they are in orbit, arent they above us and not behind us then?" Ronald stood and looked at Rednus. Anyone who had the slightest idea of who Ronald was could just hear his lack of brains.

Gosha grinned slightly at the chatter around him, his eyes burning with a strange fire he turned from the rest of the platoon and looked up at the large droppship hulls and said with a calm and muffled voice.
"And I heard a voice amidst the four beasts, I looked and behold a pale horse and the name that sat on him was death... and hell followed with him." Then he crossed his chest with the old christian sign of the cross "In nomine patri, et fili et machina sancti"

"Love is over Gosha, get working and stop praying to the man" Ronald said, acting cocky like always.

Then he shouted out, "are we there yet!"? Clearly he wanted to go as soon as possible

rednus wrote:"...Just remember that minuteman and the USCM are right behind you...

-about 400 miles behind you, in orbit."

You could cut the cynicysm with a knife.

"As usual, then?" Morrison answered with a wolfish grin.

Religious nut? he thought as he threw a glance at the big, overly tattoed lug that was to handle the maneater for third squad. Stuffing even more dip into his mouth, he looked over the rest of the platoon, eyes stopping at private Green.

He does NOT want to grow old...

And with that, Morrison sat back down on his helmet, drifting into his own little world, wondering what Anna would be doing now- and what time it was back home- shiptime always threw him off.