CHAPTER 5 - Heads Or Tails

[Corporal Hicks]

Sykes shook his head to clear it. He had been so focused on the combat inside the ship he almost missed Greer's remark about the escaping mercenaries.

"Sergeant Cano, weapons free. Take the shot if you have it!"
<Tag Cano>

"Morse and Sarafian, support Honeysett and Grisham with the breach."
<Tag Morse/Sarafian>

"Eagle, Pitt, move up on my six and support our attack on the fleeing mercs."
<Tag Eagle/Pitt>

Danny turned to Pushkin and thumped him on the shoulder. "You're with me. Attack." He rushed forward before the fleeing mercs had a chance to prepare. If he had a shot he would open fire.
<Tag Pushkin>
(Roll: Gun combat, multiple targets)

[BarbarianMathematics]

Nikolai Pushkin jogged forward to Sykes' position as the other marines breached the ship's entrance. With his pulse rifle primed and his grenade launcher full, he was itching for combat. He heard Greer call out the retreating enemies and felt Sykes punch his shoulder.

"You're with me. Attack."

Pushkin, getting this order, gave a small grin under his mask, though giving a nod in recognition to Sykes to acknowledge the order.

"Consider it done." He responds back, his thick accent coming through slightly muffled from the mask that he still wears.
<Tag Sykes>

Readying his rifle scope in front of him, he takes a look down his irons, hoping to line it up with any kind of mercenary that would be so unfortunate as to end up in its line of sight. If any of them were to cross into his scope, he would certainly be more than happy to pull the trigger.
<Roll gun combat>

[JuanPerez]

June 7, 2189
Location: Outer Veil, Neroid Sector, Near Former Penal Labor Colony
Mission Time: 08:45:41
End-Of-Turn: 10.05.2019

<Inside Ship: Honeysett's and Grisham's Point Of View>
the merc got distracted by Grisham's intervention, his eyes moved for a frag of a second, still ... that was enough for Honeysett. He rocketed forward, his knife sliced across the man's tighs. He scored big, blood splattered and spilled out of the legs in no time, spraying Honeysett, and the merc screamed in pain. The scream did not last long though, Grishams knife found its way into the man's throat, turning the scream into a fading gurgling noice.

Suddenly, across the room, a heavy security steel framed and closed door was pounded from the other side. Within a few seconds the dura-steel got ripped away and torn open ...
<Tag Honeysett and Gisham>

<Outside>
"Sergeant Cano, weapons free. Take the shot if you have it!"

*plop* the signature sound of a silenced shot was heard ...

"one down, two got away, but at least you don't have to worry about the cryo-gun anymore, sergeant major" ... crackled Cano's voice over the com
<Tag Sykes>

Sykes and his men charged in the direction of the fleeing merc, but came to a sudden halt, as something crawled out of the open emergency hatch and charged the fleeing mercs, too. Something they got to know too well over the last years and nobody wants to see that close. A xenomorph jumped the remaining two mercs and began its rampard. Everything happened so fast. A second one jumped out of the hatch and charged the dawgs.
<Tag Dawgs>

[Corporal Hicks]

*plop* the signature sound of a silenced shot was heard ...

"one down, two got away, but at least you don't have to worry about the cryo-gun anymore, sergeant major" ... crackled Cano's voice over the com.

"Thank you, Sergeant. Nice work," Sykes replied. Then he saw the hideous form of the xenomorph ahead of him. "Pushkin, hold up." he said as the creature followed the mercs. He wasted no time with reflections on the creatures, he knew how to kill them and that was all that mattered. "Hostile sighted, xenomorph, repeat, xenomorph," he said with emphasis so that everyone was aware of the danger.
<Tag EVERYONE>

"Shoot that fucker," he said to Pushkin as the second xenomorph exited the hatch. With that he squeezed the trigger of his pulse rifle, hoping to splatter its guts all over the snow.
<Tag Pushkin>
(Roll: Gun combat)

[Oliver Grisham]

Oliver felt a quiet, grave sense of triumph as he sliced the man's throat open. This quickly gave way to a sickening dread as he heard the pounding on the door. He immediately regretted the carelessness with which he had flung aside his weapon. He had only a split second to dwell on this thought before leaping into action. He dove towards his smart-gun in the hopes of retrieving it in time to use it on the enemy.

[Quinn]

Move slowly. From cover to cover.

This mission had gone from hell in a hand basket right to total clusterfuck. It was supposed to be simple, confirm the xeno presence on the planet, then get out and drop Kinetic Energy Weapons on them if they were found in sufficient numbers. Oh, the numbers were sufficient alright. Gorram bugs...

Slowly, low crawl so you don’t appear above parapet. Nice and easy, don’t pop up on any motion trackers.

Then the mercs showed up. They were very good at their jobs, but not good enough to get the better of Marine FORCE RECON. Which had some pretty awesome gear, but the medic felt very out of place when he was plucked from the shit end of a bad court martial right into black ops. But with the situation having dropped straight into the septic tank, he felt more or less at ease.

I guess the Eights attitude rubbed off... he thought to himself, pulling himself slowly to a crouching position behind a large air processing tower. His micro-motion sensor buzzed on his wrist. The thing was pretty handy, but had a third of the range of a proper motion tracker and couldn’t give a direction. He froze, and carefully looked around, his Mk. 2 pulse rifle in his hands. He peeked to the side of the air vent, and saw some figures moving. It was hard to tell up here on the roof who they were, but they were a little too... uniform for mercenaries. He could be wrong though.

Quinn carefully flipped down a monocular over his boogie hat and shifted it to magnified vision. Still couldn’t make out features, but he could get a fair view on gear and movements. Gear was USCM standard, movements were economical, covering multiple axis of engagement. He was reasonably certain that he wouldn’t be spotted up here, given his attire and camouflaged face, or that his transmission wouldn’t be traced. But MSgt Harper had to be informed. Quinn slowly moved back into total cover and keyed his radio.

”Romeo Actual, Romeo Three. Eyes on potential new player on the board, equipped and trained to Marine standard. Appears to be near platoon strength, how copy?”

[JuanPerez]

Quinns radio came to life ... incoming transmission ... some break-up ...

”Rome* T*r*e ... **meo Thre*, th*s co*ld be **r lucky day, proceed to **** contact over USCM eme**ency frequen**, Actu** out”

[Quinn]

”Goddamn it...” Quinn muttered, and adjusted the gain on his radio. ”Say again, Romeo Actual, bad copy.”

The line came through again with a little less static, so Sixtus could make out what MSgt Harper was transmitting. There was still some interference, but that was largely due to the location of the room they were in, deep in the complex with lots of steel and concrete getting in the way. He switched over to the Colonial Marine Emergency Frequency, which was drilled into every boot that came through the Corps. What it did was override every channel Marines used, to be used in a true emergency. The misuse of said frequency was a sin roughly comparable to eating one’s own young. But the order was direct, and time was of the absolute essence.

”Mayday mayday mayday, this is Corporal Quinn of the Colonial Marines requesting immediate response. I say again, Corporal Quinn in need of immediate assistance, how copy?”

[Morse]

Morse had moved up in support as ordered. Their advance was swift and steady. Though they lacked the numbers that one would have preferred to feel safe in moments such as that, he was ready for whatever would happen. Though in spite of all the training and experience, he couldn't help but feel that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The cold loneliness of having nothing more then body armor and a helmet to cover you from the thought of imminent death as an explosive tip ball ripped into your skin and exploded in your limbs.

Morse had managed to stabilize a marine, but that may have just been pure luck. The next wounds might not be nearly as forgiving as that one had been.

As he'd followed the two marines into the breach, ensuring to search rear in preparation for any adversary that may attempt to strike them from behind, Morse monitored his radio very carefully. He had heard the call of the Xenomorphs... and he blinked. Faster then he thought, but that moment felt like an eternity.

"Yup" he thought to himself... it had been a bad time to not bring his own smartgun.

"Xeno means hold one." Morse noted to the others he'd followed into the breach. That could mean some very serious problems, and they'd need to assess quickly. He took a quick knee, scanning the entire area. But he also heard the call of a familiar voice.

As no one had answered, and the command structure of their current configuration was a bit loose, he responded himself.

"Quinn?" Morse said holding his knee, but scanning and finger hovering over his trigger. "That you? Where'r you?" Morse's thick accent would be unmistakable if he was in fact who he assumed he was

<Tag Quinn and breach team
< Roll Awareness

[Quinn]

At the response given, Sixtus wanted to groan. Of all the people that could have replied in the ENTIRE BLOODY CORPS, it happened to be Allen Morse on the other end of the line. Nobody else could even come close to the southern drawl in that man’s voice, as he’d heard it far too often.

”Penal Colony, rooftop. I can see the APC from here.” Quinn quickly answered, staring out at the cruiser. ”Listen, we got a screwed up situation here. I need your radio freq.”

Once it was supplied and transmissions were secure, Quinn went further on. ”Romeo Three here, I got wounded, with a bunch of mercs and bugs hunting my team. We need an immediate exfil from the penal colony, how copy?”

[Corporal Hicks]

Danny Sykes was surprised to hear the emergency frequency crackle to life and hear the voice of someone named Quinn. Quinn, it sounded familiar but where had he heard it before? For some reason it made him think of his brief time in the Easy Eights, but he wasn't sure if he had known the name or if his mind was making a false connection.

Either way, he was distracted by his current battle and he heard Morse respond to Quinn. "Morse, you know this guy? Is he legit? He wasn't on their roster for this mission." Danny wasn't about to lead his men into a trap, but the voice on the radio sure didn't sound like a Jingti Long mercenary. "Quinn, what's your serial number?"
<Tag Morse and Quinn>

"Ma'am, are you getting this? Can you run his serial number or have Bishop validate him some other way?"
<Tag Lieutenant Harper>

(OOC: Welcome back Quinn, it's been too long!)

[Dirk Pitt]

Sykes shook his head to clear it. He had been so focused on the combat inside the ship he almost missed Greer's remark about the escaping mercenaries.

"Eagle, Pitt, move up on my six and support our attack on the fleeing mercs."
<Tag Eagle/Pitt>

Danny turned to Pushkin and thumped him on the shoulder. "You're with me. Attack." He rushed forward before the fleeing mercs had a chance to prepare. If he had a shot he would open fire.
<Tag Pushkin>
(Roll: Gun combat, multiple targets)

The fight was going like almost every other one he had been in, screwed up fast. Moving quickly, Dirk took his place on Sykes six. Checking his M41A to insure enough ammo he smiled grimly. They were putting up a fight, but that just meant they would all die tired.