Gaston fell into step next to Spencer. They had worked together extensively in the past. Gaston was light on his feet, and as quiet as the Ghost he was. And he was a crack shot. Of anyone, Spencer knew he could rely on him first. "No...which is strange." Spencer said simply. "I'd guess they think if one of the teams goes down, they'll still have a Ghost."
"No...which is strange." Spencer said simply. "I'd guess they think if one of the teams goes down, they'll still have a Ghost." "I'd like to think if either of our teams go down, we'll still be standing in the end." He shot a grin at Spencer. Gaston looked around at the others. It was a motley crew, to say the least, but the authorities that be had faith in them, so he would have to also. He brought his voice to a whisper: "What do you think of the others so far?"
He allowed the slightest movement of his lips into what may have been a smile at Gaston's comment. A Ghost was certainly not easily hunted. "Not much." Spencer said. "We'll see how they perform." It was hard to judge by appearances and first impressions. When a person faced death; when it stared its cold eyes into their soul; that was when the true person was revealed. All that went on top of that was only masks. Masks that all came off as soon as death drew near. And in this place, death was always near.
Helena pulls her long blonde hair into a sloppy bun and pulls her hat down low on her head. Her heavy coat is already on and buttoned. Finally, she puts on her Goggles. All evidence of femininity is swallowed by the gear protecting her from the harsh weather. That doesn't matter. There is a job to be done. Her first concern after the briefing is not to meet to her companions, but to inspect the vehicle. She heads straightaway to the massive truck she will be driving on the mission. She starts the engine to get it warmed up and circles the vehicle checking each of the 6 wheels in turn. She talks to the truck as she so. She asks the truck how its doing, if there are any ailments she should know about. She listens to the engine as if it answers her questions. After a thorough inspection, she kicks a tire one final time and grunts in approval. "She'll do."
"Not much." Spencer said. "We'll see how they perform." "Aye," Gaston replied. "We'll see." He wasn't usually a man to be caught off his nerves. Now was a better time than any to let them out. That's what he learned from day one with the Ghosts. Being nervous before is fine, being nervous during meant death. Be silent, be quick, be thinking, be deadly, but never be nervous, especially when others' lives were at stake. Spencer was different. If he had a hint of emotion, Gaston never saw it, despite how often they worked together. He was friendly, sure, but it was possible to be friendly and unemotional. Gaston pulled down his hood and removed his beanie. He wiped a gloved hand over his perspiring head. "Good luck out there, brotha," he said with a pat to Spencer's back.
Mika I had a look at the rest of the team in the briefing room and I'm reserving judgment. What really concerns me is the mission, the Drekk are not going to drain the vital life from our planet. It's time someone puts a stop to this. The movements of checking my shotgun and shells, touching my harpoon to make sure I have it, securing my parka, dropping my snowshades into place, and fastening the flap of my parka over my lower face are all automatic. The Outside is not unusual to me, no matter how harsh it is. Boris and I made our living there, finding water running under the snow and ice. Other team members are bundled shapes in a blur of falling snow and I head directly to the vehicle I've been assigned to. It's a bit too cold for lingering and shooting the frigid breeze. I imagine we'll get to know each other as much as need be on the way. The news of Reaver activity in the area we must go to for the train concerns me. I both hate and fear the Reavers as anyone cognizant of their own mortality does.
So cold. It's ridiculously cold. Arthur wasn't ready for this mission, but it's too late now. The look on his face was nothing short of terrified. He had never encountered Drekk before, and given the stories he heard of them, wasn't looking forward to mixing it up with them anytime soon. To say he was expendable was an understatement. He had already heard talk from two men in front of him that made him feel even more unequal to the task. It's as if they were talking about him and only him. He tried to brush it off and throw on his goggles. They were uncomfortable. He would have to come to the realization that the fitting of his eyewear would be the least of his troubles once everyone was in their respective trucks. The words of the General stating everyone was important for this mission obviously hadn't pertained to Artie. He saw a brutal woman take the wheel of one the trucks. After she took it for a spin, she kicked a tire and replied, "She'll do." That woman was serious about her automobiles. He was slightly relieved at the sight of her doing that. "Alright, Artie Boy," he sometimes talked to himself when there was no one else around, "it's time to man up. Look sharp out there."
Chris Kimsey "Elwood is stationed at Pontain Peak. We’ve recently learned that there is a great deal of Reaver Activity there. " The words from the breifing repeated in Chris' head on infinite repeat. Reavers. No one had told him anything about Reavers being a part of this mission. Chris hugged himself for warmth as he lugged his heavy backpack, mostly full of tools, toward his convoy vehicle. He noticed the two Ghosts way out in front, it was a great reassurance to know that the ghosts were involved. He hoped that he wold never have to see them in action though. "it's time to man up. Look sharp out there." It was his fellow roughneck Artie Ackenloe, he always talked to himself when he thought everyone was out of earshot. Chis and the other men on his crew always gave him **** for it. "Look sharp my ass," Chris said, clapping his hand onto Arties shoulder. "Leave that to the Ghosts and the English. We're just handymen, if we ever need to do any fighting then you know we're screwed."
Spencer nodded back to him in a gesture of silent acknowledgment. One of his crew was already over by the vehicle, inspecting the inner workings of the vehicle with the confidence and precision of a person who'd been working with them her whole life. She would be another large part of this mission. Spencer himself climbed up to the top of the VAC to check the mounted gun. Driving into an enemy fort with guns blazing was not his style, but any Ghost knew that the first rule of taking hold of a situation was this: keep your options open. It looked fine. The ammo would last a while, but not too long if they encountered sustained heavy resistance. He jumped down off the truck and approached the woman inspecting the vehicle. "How's it look?" He asked.
Dr. Omar Djalili - Team Two Omar begrudged every trudging step through the thick icy white. "I hate the f-****ing cold," he moaned to the other dark figures around him. "I sh-shouldn't even b-b-be here. I'm a geneticist, not a m-m-mercenary." He glanced to his left and noticed that chick from earlier. Mika Corvo-something. The only reason he could recognise her from the other parka-clad, snow-covered blobs was because he had watched her change. She'd brought her own. Something he should've thought of -- probably much warmer, too. "D-don't suppose we could both snuggle up t-together under that fluffy jacket of yours, eh?" he called after her. Annoying the other combatants was just about the only fun he had to look forward to.
Arthur slightly jumped once he heard a voice closing in on him. He thought he was the only one in the area. Not a good start. He recognized the voice, though, it was Chris Kimsey. A fellow Roughneck, and quite the ladies man, and much braver than Arthur. He had a habit of hitting on the wrong woman. Hopefully this won't manifest on the mission. Arthur turns to Chris, who says "Leave that to the Ghosts and the English. We're just handymen, if we ever need to do any fighting then you know we're screwed." He already felt screwed. But now that his buddy was around, he couldn't look weak. The others viewing him as weak didn't matter, due to the others actually being fighters. He smiled at his friend and fired back some words of his own. "Damn good to see you, bro. Now I know I won't die first. The Reavers will probably do you in for stealing a wife or two."
I came out meeting with a big smile on my face. I am ready to take a hold of this beast and take down the damned Drekk. I remember something about Reavers too. I wouldn't mind stuffing a Frag down their throats those rat bastards. I pat the my Jackhammer strapped to my back and then pat my arms. I like these uniform coats they give us nice and warm. I pass many people and some attractive women on this voyage too. Thank god I won't be lonely in the snow or maybe they can keep me warm at night. I laugh to myself and head to the vehicle I will be driving. This is no vehicle, it is a Battle Ship. I go around it checking and making sure it is ready to go.
Gaston made his way over to the behemoth that would be his crew's vehicle. He noted the driver was already there inspecting it, and he climbed up top to check the weaponry. It was there that he noticed the size of their vehicle in comparison to the others: it was much larger. The gun was well shielded, and had plenty of ammo to go with it. It would definitely come in handy during if the convoy was ambushed. Gaston hopped down from the top. There were a few men standing around the truck, two Roughnecks and an Orlock. He gave a nod to the Roughnecks and approached the Orlock. "So you're the driver," Gaston said and held out his hand. "I'm Alec Gaston."
Gabriel Hawke rose up from the back of the Briefing room and watched the team leave letting in the cold air from outside. He walked to the front and took his coat from the hanger slowly he put it on and then took out his blue tinted shades. He felt the generals hand on his shoulder. “What do you think of the team so far Captain.” The general asked with a slight smile. Hawke took his SA-80A3 from the rack and slung it over his shoulder with the strap neatly resting on his left. He then checked his golden coloured Desert Eagle and placed it back in the holster. Everything else needed was already stored on the convoy. “Hard to tell this early. As long as they get the job done that’s all that can be expected.” Hawke replied. He took out a large fat cigar from his thick coat then placing his hand in his pocket he revealed his golden zippo lighter with the spread out eagle image across the side. He lit the Cigar covering it with one hand. Hawke took a relaxing drag of smoke that he let fill his lungs. He savoured these moments the first drag of a newly lit cigar. One of the few joys he had. “Captain you ready for the Drekk.” General Clarkson questioned. Hawke turned to face the older man looking into his face his moustache was neatly groomed and his short hair greying. “I’ve come up against them before. I’ll give ‘em credit their hard bastards to fight.” “Be careful Hawke. These reports also speak of great amounts of reaver activity in around Pontains Peak.” The General explained. Hawke took another drag from his cigar and again savoured the inhalation of smoke. “Ain’t that why I’m here.” Hawke saluted his general fastened up his thick coat placed his blue tinted shades over his eyes and stepped out into the icy wind closing the briefing door behind him with a slam as the wind forced the door shut from his hand. Instantly the cold took its hold on Hawke he felt his fingers chill especially in the gaps. His nose became instantly cold and the chill breached his cheeks. He took another drag from his cigar and watched both the Ghosts for a moment. Highly skilled and well deserving of their name. Mika the only Skarren on the team Hawke looked on at her for a moment he saw a sadness inside her while she was sat in that briefing room. Then he looked over at the lead Driver David Wayne, a man with a reputation for driving across the dunes. And then Artie Arthur Ackenloe the Roughneck. Hawke had read his rap sheet a highly skilled mechanic amongst other things. Hawke walks over to what can only be described as a battleship on wheels he notices David Wayne checking it over. Again the chill grips Hawke across the face forcing the chattering of his teeth. He took another drag of the fat cigar resting on his lips. He enjoyed that sudden warmth to his lungs. Hawke slowly trudged around the front of the large mammoth truck. Its front much like that of a Dog a long nose were the engine was two large windows covered by a mesh the whole thing had been painted white which made sense considering they would hide better in plain sight. Or so it was meant to be. He trudged his feet through the snow and opened up the side door to the passenger side then hauled himself up sitting down. Another soldier came running up through the snow and handed him his Map. He thanked the man who quickly turned and headed back. He unstrapped his SA-80A3 and placed it down the side on a holder made for guns. The wind blew through the open truck almost extinguishing his cigar. He took another drag. Fresh smoke meets cold air he mused to himself. Then the realism of their journey sank in. This was to be his most perilous mission to date. Looking across the compound from his seat he found himself wondering what it was like before the snow came. Or even what would it be like if the snow went.
I turned around to meet a nice fellow introducing himself as Alec Gaston. I grabbed his hand firmly and shook it. "Nice ta meet ya my man, The name is David and yup I am gonna be driven this convo ta takin' out these damned Drekk bastards," I said whole heartedly and with a smile. I squinted my eyes a bit and moved my head left and right scanning this guy. "You a ghost," I asked Alec.
"D-don't suppose we could both snuggle up t-together under that fluffy jacket of yours, eh?" Mika turned to see the Iranian, muffled to the eyeballs like her. She chuckled. "Only if you think you can fit into a space that's half your size," she told him, "and you'd have to share the space with the contents of a dozen pockets!"
"Damn good to see you, bro. Now I know I won't die first. The Reavers will probably do you in for stealing a wife or two." Chris frowned. "Don't joke about that Artie, last thing i want to think about is getting beat up and butt-fu**ed by those sick ass pervs." They finally came up on the transports, Chris's eyes welled up with tears. "Do you see what i see Art?" He didn't wait for an answer, he quickly dropped his pack in the snow and ran over to the vehicle. "450hp Frostrunner engine, 6 wheel independant hydropneumatic suspension with height management system, trailblazer tires with up to 2 times auto-reinflate capabilities, kevlar alloy ballistic sheilding and slat armor for projectile defense, remote/manual fired gun mount with hydraulic counterbalancing systems. Jesus christ Artie, I think i just creamed my pants." Chris noticed the Ghost nod at him. "Dude, I think i just creamed em again."
He saw the Ghost pass by and nod. He couldn't help but smile in admiration and nod back. How sweet it must be to roll like that. The nod was in between Chris "creaming" his pants, twice. "That's fu**ing disgusting, bro." he said to Chris at the mention of soiling himself. "I'm supposed to be in the lead truck. I must riding with the disposable soldiers." he said with a little doubt starting to show now. "Hey man, do me a favor. If I die and you don't, please stay away from my wife. The bitch is crazy."
"and you'd have to share the space with the contents of a dozen pockets!" Omar could barely hear her response over the angry winds, but he noted an attractive, sultry Skarren accent. Exotic. Or maybe it'd just been too long since he'd heard a woman's voice. Not many girls in science these days. Not much science at all, these days. Omar raised an eyebrow. "And what, p-pray tell, might you be carrying in a d-dozen pockets?"
Mika just laughed. "Believe me," she told him, "it would take too long to inventory." She had reached the vehicle and swung herself up into the cab. The Orlock wasn't there yet so she claimed the small seat behind the front passenger's seat and made herself comfortable as possible. She shivered, it would be nice if they had warmed these things up before getting the teams on board. ((switched to 3rd person to make it easier on Emerald. ))
Hawke sat still inhaling and exhaling his smoke from his now half smoked Cigar the door wide open the cold still biting at his nose. He watched the others meet and greet. The Ghosts shared a companionship of brother’s. All of them eager to move and all of them fearing the Reaver’s it would seem more than the Drekk. Hawke new better. He would never forget his confrontation’s with those lunatics. Hawke blew smoke from his nostrils and watched David Wayne talk with the others. Hwke took out his golden Desert Eagle Pistol and checked the chamber making sure he was ready for a sudden attack.
"Hey man, do me a favor. If I die and you don't, please stay away from my wife. The bitch is crazy." "Right, i swear I'll look after her when you're gone." Chris said, not really listening. "Where the hell is my driver at? I have a bunch of technical questions to ask. Most of them center around the heating systems inside these things." Shivering, Chris struggled to get his pack back on. "Help!" he screamed a little louder than he meant to as he fell backwards into the snow... Hopefully no one noticed...
Artie laughed at Chris falling backwards. Roughnecks aren't the most agile, but come on, buddy. He reaches his hand out to help Chris up. "Need a hand? And as far as the heating systems, I think we can forget about it. I'm expecting to thoroughly freeze my nuts off. And I said stay AWAY from my wife if I die, or did you forget what she did to my pinky just because she thought I was lookin at another girl?"
(( Aww, thanks Foxee ;P )) Omar followed Mika into the armoured trailer. It wasn't much bigger inside than a garden shed. He collapsed onto the seat behind the driver's, opposite Mika, and set about checking his medical supplies. A silence fell over the tiny tin can they would be calling home the next few weeks. Omar shivered, and then sneezed. "Ugh... I just got over the last cold..." He took some Valium out of the medicine pack and popped one. "Want a little something to take the edge off?" he asked, offering Mika the package. "Bad enough we're going on a suicide mission into Reaver territory, but I am badly claustrophobic. It's gonna be a long ride..."
Mika shook her head. "I prefer my edge," she told him. She was a little taken aback that the doc was taking something so soon. She wasn't a medical professional but he wasn't taking antibiotics. Mika huddled into her parka and mentally cursed the rest of the team for taking their sweet time. 'Badly claustrophobic?' "Oh, you're in for loads of fun." Mika said dryly.
