Spencer drew his bloodied katana and washed it off in the snow before replacing it. He then climbed up into the VAC. Helena had proven herself yet again to be a hell of a driver, and Drake had gunned down several of the Van Haar from the top gun. He climbed aboard and gave his squad mates a once-over to make sure they weren't in dire need of medical attention. They both appeared to be doing well. "Captain's ready to pull out again." Spencer said simply, almost as if he had forgotten he had just been fighting for his life. Death was by now familiar to him. There was no regret or shame in those he had killed today. If it wasn't them, it would have been one of his team. He strapped himself back into the passenger seat.
People coming in and out of Convoy 3 placing supplies and equipment and also the occasional person getting some sleep. Steward jolted up and was hit by the warmth confunding him "HOW LONG WAS I DOWN!!!..... huh? what, how did end up in here??" pain suddenly rushed back like knives butt cheeks cramping up "ARGHHHHHH F*CK" quickly noticing Chris sleeping at the back he clamped a hand around his mouth; slowly lowering himself back to the floor of the vehicle he started chuckling to himself "Trust my luck. I can't remember the last time i was hit, now my ass has been de-virgined" 'Might aswell get abit of shut-eye while i wait for the doc' *Falls into a light sleep*
Artie climbed into the truck and strapped in. "Bout damn time," I said as I put the Behemoth into gear and slammed on the hammer. I raced down the slope of the Cornwall cliffs headed for Callis Dunes where we would be sure to meet with the bastards again.
"I don't know about you boys, but I am much happier moving than sitting on my @$$ waiting for round two. Strap in. Oh and Spencer, you got a little," Helena gestured at his face with a gloved hand "Blood right there." Helena gave the truck an affectionate pat on the dashboard. The truck had done a good job and come out more or less unscathed. She handled well for her massive size. One battle down. Who knows how many to go.
The truck was, apparently, salvageable, as Gask and another Orlock Sadie didn’t know rapidly and efficiently got it up and running again. Without a windscreen it was would be damned freezing, but it would at least get them to Cornwall – or so Sadie assumed, as Gask climbed into the driver’s seat. Silently she pulled herself back into the passenger seat, nodding at Gask and deciding not to comment on his less-than-spotless appearance. The Doc would certainly be making himself useful once they got to Cornwall. If they made it through Callis Dunes that was. The freezing air streamed through the gap where the windscreen had been in what Sadie could only call a gleeful manner, needling any bare flesh and bringing with it flurries of snow. Sadie hoisted her parka up to cover her chin and mouth, and hoped Gask’s view wouldn’t be too obscured.
The spattering of blood on his face had already frozen there. Removing a glove he scraped it off as best he could. "Thanks." He said sarcastically. Though he did share her sentiment. The sooner they got this business over with, the better.
Gaston locked down the stubber and hopped off the top of the truck. He climbed into the passenger cabin of the Behemoth and cozied up to the warm air that greeted him. "Well that was a bit of fun," he said with a grin. "Nothing like the Van Haar to brighten one's evening." He looked out the window, listening to the roar of their monster vehicle. He tried to look as far back as he could. He quietly cursed himself for not seeing Spencer, and silently hoped he had made it through unscathed.
The snow began to rain down heavily followed by the strong icy winds, the sky above was dark and not a star in sight. Psyran jumped down from the large black coloured truck his feet crunching into the snow with a heavy thud. The approaching armoured jeep came to a sudden stop and a tall female stepped out. Her hair was long and waved about her face with the blowing wind. She wore a thick black leather jacket and a red scarf across her neck. She must have been early thirties and very attractive. “Well.” Psyran asked. “They’re packing some sh!t we managed to cripple one of their trucks but they held up a good fight and had some good fighters. I recognised one of them as a ghost and another looked like Hawke. Definatly a mixed group. The big trailer is packing something. They defended it well.” She said. Psyran looked up at the black sky. “I wont that trailer. Whatever they are carrying must be good if they’re mixed warriors and have good fighters.” He said. The woman went back to her jeep and took out a large rocket launcher then came back to Psyran. “Abigail you naughty b!tch.” Psyran said with a smirk. “We hurt them though and my spotter tells me they’re heading across the Callis Dune.” She said. “Oh clever girl. We can surround them and take their haulers. Better had let them get a good distance before we make good on that.” Psyran patted her on the shoulder then climbed back aboard his large black truck. Abigail returned to her jeep.
Hawkes gaze remained on his photograph for a while as he smoked his Cigar. He then checked his SA-80 over and began to clean out the barrel. He believed in good gun maintenance. Hawke looked back out the front window and watched as the heavy snow fell across the glass and the wipers moved it away. David drove this beast like a true pro. Now Mike was with them after the destruction of truck two lost its trailer. Hawke wondered how Gask fair up after his blow. And unlucky ambush but one that had failed the Van Haar though Hawke wondered if they had been testing the team before the big strike. “Artie get up on that stubber. Warm up and get on the trigger first sign of movement fire.” Hawke said.
“Artie get up on that stubber. Warm up and get on the trigger first sign of movement fire.” Hawke said. Gaston looked over at Arthur and then back at the Captain. "No offense to Arthur's shootin', he displaced it nicely earlier," he said. "And no offense to your choosin' who should man the stubber, Cap'n, but maybe I should hop up there instead. I'm used to starin' into the dead of night, waitin' for somethin' to move."
"No offense to Arthur's shootin', he displaced it nicely earlier," Gaston Said. "And no offense to your choosin' who should man the stubber, Cap'n, but maybe I should hop up there instead. I'm used to starin' into the dead of night, waitin' for somethin' to move." "No Because I want you out on a snow bike. Ones in the back trailer get some extra thicks on, and scout out a head. I’ve a bad feeling were gonna see more of those Van Haar. Scout out about a mile ahead tops. Take a walky talky first sign of sh!t call in. I’ll have Spencer dog our rear.”
Gask glanced over at Sadie, now his only companion in the cold interior of the truck. She was certainly better to look at than the Doc, but that didn't count for anything when it came down to it. She was a capable woman from what he had seen, but just as likely to be killed as any of them. He thought it was probably best not to try and get to know her after the last attack they group suffered. No sense in making friends with someone whose corpse you could be hauling back after the mission was done. During some of the steadier runs, Gask had managed to clean himself up a little. He made a rough bandage for his injured abdomen and washed off the blood and grease on his face. His head injury had looked worse than it had seemed at first, barely more than a series of small cuts that probably wouldn't even leave scars. He always had been a bleeder though. Puffing on his bent cigarette, Gask threw a few if the levers on the wheel and the truck lurched a little. More than once he had had to knock a fine layer of frost from the gauges. It was cold...couldn't be very comfortable for the lady. Gask reached for one of the knobs and cranked the heat up, doing what he could to at least cancel the cold out.
"Absolutely, cap'n!" Gaston hopped up and made his way to the back. He was already wearing a parka, which kept him warm enough, but he knew the bikes packed some speed, and that meant colder than usual. He threw on an extra set of pants, rolled both pairs over his boots, and put on an extra large snow white parka. He tested his mobility. Just enough to have a somewhat quick draw if need be, he thought. He unlatched the four-wheeled machine that was belted down to the deck. Lastly, he grabbed a walkie-talkie set and attached it inside. He struggled to feed the cord so that it was behind him, and finally put the headset on. He grabbed a pair of clear goggles, put up his hood, turned the walkie-talkie on, and placed the goggles over his eyes. "If you're hearin' this," he said into the headset. "Then I'm ready to roll on your word, cap'n."
Artie listened to the two men discuss strategy and agreed that it would be best if Alec was a little more mobile, picking off lone Van Haars. Arthur's running off the high of a good showing earlier, but he's grounded in reality. He assessed that the first battle was more or less attributed to the fact the raiders underestimated the freedom fighters. Not that he would use those words,because he's not nearly that sharp, but that's an accurate description of how he felt. "Right away, Captain." he says with a salute and gets on the stubber with a quickness.
Hawke watches as Artie climbers up on the stubber a gush of cold air chills him as the hatch opens for Artie to climb up. "If you're hearin' this," Gaston said into the headset. "Then I'm ready to roll on your word, cap'n." “That word is given. Keep in contact. First sign of movement signal us.” Hawke replied through his walky talky.
Gaston pressed a button and the hatch opened up behind him. Revving the bike up, he checked to make sure he was clear. He waved to the driver behind him, who slowed up, giving him about fifty yards. He back the bike up and rolled down the ramp. He signaled the all clear and saw the ramp and hatch close back up. After a few minutes he got his bearing, turned on the light, and sped ahead of the Behemoth into the darkness that awaited him.
Hawke watched gaston disappear into the darkness alone. He looked across at Mika and David. “Don’t worry he’s a ghost. And we need a heads up.” Hawke said to the pair. He tapped the CB and picked up the mic. “Spencer get on the second snow bike and circle the convoy the bikes faster and we need you running along side looking for adversaries.” Hawke ordered. He tapped his gun and looked on at his photo. “David keep driving through the night we’ll rest in the morning. I have a feeling the Van Haar are closer than we’d like.” Hawke said.
I nodded at Hawke and kept the speed I was going. I would like to take a stab at those bastards and killing a few more might make me feel a bit better. I watched as Gaston disappeared into the night alone. That guy was just as a good as Hawke. I am sure this calm is only last a little longer.
Gaston ended up slowing his pace. The wind was knocking about heavily, and icy roads made it hell to drive at incredible speeds. The only benefit this weather had was it masked the roar of his own engine. The other downside was that it masked the enemy's as well. It was clear Gaston would have to rely on his own eyes as much as possible. He remembered the Captain's words to stay within a mile. He checked the odometer, and once he was at a mile, he turned into the embankment. He moved slower, and kept his eyes peeled for anything. "Nothin' yet," he said into the headset to whoever was listening.. "Bloody dark, but I don't see anything suspicious."
Hawke sat back consolidated in a calm state of mind. Words could not explain what he felt. But he was sure something big was on the horizon. He glimpsed out of the window and saw three white bears running into the darkness two large and a smaller. One of the bears stopped and Hawke momentarily felt as though that bear just made eye contact and then it turned to catch up with the other two. The sky was black and the fog of snow kept their vision to a minimal. Hawke glanced above to see Arties feet as the Roughneck manned the large stubber. Hawke again rested back into his seat smoking his Cigar.
Abigail sat in her jeep hidden by the fog of snow and the darkness but close enough to see the Ghost speeding across the start of the Callis Dune. It was too dark for him to see much. She picked up her CB mic. “Psyran they’ve sent a spotter out. It’s the ghost I recognised. He should be passing the dip shortly.” “Keep watch tally around the back if you can.” Came Psyrans reply.
Spencer heard the order over the CB. "Copy that." He said as he unstrapped and moved to the back of the vehicle. He mounted up on the bike, and pulled the release for the back trap. It slid open, and Spence revved the bike a few times before killing the restraints. With a rush of snow and adrenaline, he was out in the middle of it. He veered off in a long swath around the vehicles, keeping his eyes open for anything.
Gaston drove fast on the snow bike and suddenly crashed nose first into a dip in the Ice. The Bike skidded off and cut out as Gaston stumbled quickly pulling the key from the ignition. The ghost slid across the ice path cracking his elbow.
Gaston seethed with pain. "Bloody godd**n hell," he muttered, gripping his elbow and coming to a halt. "Where the f*** did that come from?" He took out his pistol and gazed into the darkness, straining for any bit of movement. "Cap'n, if you can hear," he said into the headset. "There's an unexpected cutoff on the road coming up. Took me by surprise. Not sure if it's natural or man made."
