HELL ON EARTH, Demon hunter RP.

[Amman d Stazia]

"You!  Lady!  Come with us."

Bundie stood, and tightened her harness straps.  The bulky holdall swung across her back and she winced as something caught a bruise on her hip.  Probably a flare round.  "I need to speak with someone who can get me a comms unit, and preferably a flight to Hong Kong."

"Well, we're taking you to the senior officer on-site.  You can ask her.  Quickly, please."

Bundie kept pace easily.  The two black-overalled security men looked like steroid-junkies, and hammered out a fast pace, but they didn't have artificial hearts and lungs, and their pace slipped noticeably over the half-mile jog.  One even had to rest his hands on his knees when they reached the anonymous bunker entrance.
"****!  Runnin' on concrete doesn't agree with me!  You're fit, lady,"

Bundie smiled at him.  "Diet and exercise, mate.  And plenty fluids.  In here?"  She stepped through the door, labelled 'ARMOURY'.

 

[Eino]

Stitch totally missjudged how long it took for the dr to repair his legs what he though was an hour turned out to be several hours. He arrived at the closed armory at 04:00 there he saw guards standing and carefully watching stitchs ever loud move he made towards them.
A bit loud thud could be heard after every step he took, thinking the doctor only messed with him about the noise itsurprised him almost ever step when the empty room echoed his already loud steps. The guards must have heard him long ago.

He didn't get to close before the guardsmen took aim at him.

-Stop right there. One of the guards said authoratively.
State your name and buisness.

Stiched stared dumbfounded at the guards as he startted to feel panic almost rushing to him, no matter how much he trained it still made him nervous whenever anyone raised theres and aimed at him.

-I....I'm...Karl! Karl Feldtmann. Stitch. The medic.

The guards still aimed at stitch when he stopped talking.

- I was told to rondevouz here with the others at 06:00, stitch finally calmed himself a bit and could talk properly.
Had a problem with the legs, missjudged the hour. Cant sleep without doing my routine....So i came. 

One of the guards lowered his firearm while the other stared at him.

-Listend, i dont to hear your life story. But protocol demands that you identify yourself. Just state your name and alias, its for the voice recognition.

The guard faced the other one and spoke.
-You can lower the weapon.

Stitch looke confused as he finally identified him properly.
-Karl "Stitch" Feldtmann.

The men heared a female voice as soon as he identified himself.

-Welcome karl.

The guard spoke after

-Since you arent the commanding officer you wont be allowed to acces the weapons.
But the AI is active so may ask her anything.

Stitch walked through the opening without saying anything

( OOC...just tell me if you have any issues with the post)

 

[Amman d Stazia]

Bundie's eyes didn't adjust too quickly to the dim light.  She saw immediately that there were a few people standing around, some wearing what looked like pressure-resistant suits, although considering the military context, she decided that it was some kind of super hi-tech body armour/weapons system combination.

"I'm looking for the commanding officer?"

 

[Úlfheðinn]

Len offered a quick salute to Angel as she entered; old habits were hard to break. Of course, it seemed even the officers found it so, even in the private sector they were seldom on time. Four minutes. At least now he was being paid well for every moment of waiting.

"I'm looking for the commanding officer?" A new arrival, dressed in protective gear, civilian perhaps, glowing with stripes even; as if to attract the attention of any foes within a 2km radius.

Raising his left hand, Len pointed amicably towards the commander.

 

[Amman d Stazia]

Bundie nodded "Thanks,"
She turned to the woman indicated.

"Hi.  I'm Bundie, a rescue specialist with PACRim Rescue.  My unit was supposed to co-ordinate a rescue operation at the nuclear refinery up the road.  Problem is, the site rescue team were all dead when we arrived, and my partner died on the insertion.  Can you get me access to a decent comms unit, or ideally a flight to Hong Kong so that I can get back and make a report?  There's nothing I can do here...  Unless..."

She paused for a second.

"You must have a rescue unit of your own here?  On the base, I mean?  If I can have access to them, we can probably get some of the survivors out of the refinery before they are beyond help.  And more importantly, shut down any reaction.  That needs to be done whether we can rescue anyone or not, and if we can't get a team in there to shut the reactors down normally, it might be your job to destroy the refinery with firepower..."

 

[Stark88]

The giant scoured all the factory marks from the surface of the machine gun, his pale eyes watching the figures who began to amble into the Armoury. He so far had stayed silent and out of view from the direct group of individuals. He gave a raised eyebrow as he flicked his gaze up and down the assembled men and women, picking merits and flaws, trying to gauge each of them. He listened to the civilian, well, that is what she seemed to be in her high-visual gear. He found himself nodding, not because he was a humanitarian, nor did he care about a faulty reactor. It was the last sentiment he agreed vehemently with. He was a simple man with a simple ambition in life. To blow **** up.

"Firepower."

He hefted himself from the back of the vaulted armoury, the servos in his huge bulky armour whining and whirring. He stomped forward, each footstep accented with the clang of metal on the concrete floor. He loomed into view, the static lighting playing in strips along his heavily armoured form. The beast of a machine gun he carried in his right hand, swung back and forth on its axis from the handle he gripped.

" Is something we can do. "

It was evident that English wasn't his native language and he spoke the words with a heavy accent. He bared his teeth in a grin, the white smile deep in the wiry blonde bush around his face. His tattooed neck stood out like steel cable and his facial structure seemed hewn from a stone block. He turned his head to look at the assembled faces, a thin warrior stripe of hair ran like a shark fin down the centre of his head.

"Bergson, Sven. Callsign....Jorgamundr. Maximum...contact specialist. "

He let a smirk filter through his teeth and looked at each person in turn. The commander with her strong posture, the medic with his augmetic legs and surly expression, the new comers, a gruff man with the look a hunter about him and the civilian woman with her ill ease worn on her sleeve.

"Head...division decided I was best needed...here."

 

[Eino]

The synthetic nerve fibres came in handy to kill time while stitch waited for the remainder of the group. They came in one after another and it never broke his concentration from the monitor showing all the weapons they were going to use.
Any bit of information were vital to him, seeing since he dosen't have much weapon knowledge or combat training for that matter. Except for basic.
He set the timer so he would brake his enhanced concentration at 06:00 precisely, but using it for almost to hours straight gave him an unwanted migrane. It isn't supposed to be used in such extended period, he tried desperatley to kill all loud sounds and light so he could recuperate as soon as the officer Angel would arrive. The suit helped greatly but the fact that he still had migraine that the suit couldn't even remove bothered him greatly.
Curiosity took over when he heard loud whining and whirring noises and heavy steps, he looked at the strange man as he came out of the back of the vault.
Stitch would have prefered him to stay there instead of making so much noise.

" Is something we can do. "
"Bergson, Sven. Callsign....Jorgamundr. Maximum...contact specialist. "
"Head...division decided I was best needed...here."

He listened to the man with the heavy accent, even that bothered him grealty. Infact, everyone he had seen so far bothered him greatly. Infact they all seemed like a hellish group of grunts who could easily give him grief if he misspoke. Whether he had the suit or not he knew he probably were no match to they're grand stature, experience and probably great firepower.
Stitch thought to himself.
"Good God, what am I doing here with this group of misfits. How come these grunts have been granted such a privelidge, if any of these assholes misbehave i'll sure punish them one way or another. Medically, if my apperance dosen't scare them off. My medical knowledge might. "
He felt bad after what he thought, he wouldn't hurt them even if they really are assholes.
"Or maybe not, a bit of a scare though. Might not hurt them."
All these new people, place and situation were taking a toll on him.

"1. 2. 3"

*Cough*

"1. 2. 3."

*Cough*

"1. 2. 3."

*Cough*

His OCD was kicking in and he knew it could get worse if he didn't calm himself somehow. He stood up and sat down three times before he felt confident enough to approach the giant standing there.
He stood right beside him and just as he did he looked up to him and felt so tiny. And then the unneasy feeling again, stitched raised his hand more hastily then he'd want and spoke faster then he should have.

-Karl Feldtman. AKA Stitch, I am your field medic. Hopefully we will be lucky enough to not go through anything too violent.
And forced himself into a smirk.

 

[Amman d Stazia]

Bundie nodded politely.  She didn't think that anyone would be alive by now in the refinery - theoretically, given the massive damage and super-high radiation, they should have all been dead before she even arrived in Tokyo.  On the other hand, she wasn't sure she could live with herself if she didn't even try to locate any survivors.

"Well, we may need that firepower soon.  Before that, I need to have a look at the facility.  I'm the rescue leader, so I have to take responsibility for saying that there is nobody left alive in there. If there's even one survivor, I can't just order them to be blown to pieces along with the reactors, not until I've made sure that there is no choice."

She unclipped the holdall, and set it on the ground at her feet.  The chainsaw had shifted as she entered the armoury, and unbalanced the load.  She looked at the female officer again.

"Statistically, nobody can possibly be alive in there.  But I've seen plenty accidents with worse statistical chance of life, and still pulled people out alive. 
I'm here as a specialist advisor and to take control of a Tokyo Power rescue team - but they are all dead, and their equipment destroyed.  I'm pretty damn sure that a military base like this has a rescue team with good equipment on stand-by.  I'm asking to borrow the team, and the equipment.  I need two hours.  If anybody is alive, I can get them out in two hours.  After that we have to destroy the facility totally.  If any two atoms are left together up there, the reaction will go hyper-critical.  That would have the same result as a nuclear warhead being detonated.  A Gigaton warhead."

 

[Incaa]

Cross listened as Bundie explained her situation, and her intent to diffuse the danger posed by the damaged reactor.

"You've got my squad's support, It's our responsibility to make sure nothing inhuman escaped the initial rift point.. and from what you've said it's highly likely that we've got some housecleaning to do.." She responded after a moment's silent contemplation, the commander cleared her throat and looked around at the rest of the squad. "Weapon familiarization!" She commanded, moving over to the ammunition locker and tossing clips at the idle squad members "Guess we'll have to get familiar on the move" she grinned.

 

[Amman d Stazia]

"hang on - did you say in-human?  And....  if we need weapons, can I get some standard grenade shells please?  I've got a pistol-launcher of my own but my only rounds are marker-smoke and teargas."

Bundie knew she hadn't misheard, really.  And this officer didn't look like the kind to make jokes about her job.  But.... inhuman - could only mean one thing.  And Bundie was rather shaken by the implication.

 

[Incaa]

"Affirmative" Cross replied, her smile fading quickly.. replaced by a look of determination. The officer's armored hand absently drifted along the deep scratch marks in her armor's outer layer and over her newly replaced eye "Classified information of-course" she added.

 

[Amman d Stazia]

"OK.  Guys, My name's Bundie, call me Coke.  As the officer, err... commander Cross said, we can get familiar as we move.  We'll have to leg it though.  The earthquake has made a real mess of the terrain up there, we can't get a vehicle closer than half a click, and there's no way were going in by air.  That's how my buddy died this morning.  Something is doing horrible things to the air currents, chopper just got thrown all over the place.

I need to get as close as possible to the main reactor building.  I've got a 100% radiation shielding suit, so I can go in there, but you guys probably can't come too close.  Unless those natty armour suits are a whole lot better than last years model?"

 

[Úlfheðinn]

Catching a clip of ammunition which had been thrown in his general direction, Len offered a quick nod before turning to find his weapon.

Scanning the room he found his eyes drawn to two particular weapons cases, though nondescript he recognized the shape without a second thought. The larger of the two cases had a length several times greater than its width. The smaller box was carefully placed upon the former, though it too shared a simpler aspect ratio. The heavy material indicated an interest in avoiding any damage or great alteration to the arms.

"AR-89 Precision Rifle" was burned into the side of the bottom box. Carefully replacing the small case, Len opened its companion. Semi-automatic, synthetic material, lightweight but clearly a quality rifle. It bore traits that he could recognize, yet it was unlike any other weapon he was familiar with, whoever had made it was certainly at the head of the field.

Pausing for a moment he stood merely looking. Carefully he removed the weapon, closed the lid of the case and rested the rifle on it as he opened the smaller box. Inside lay a scope, embellished in protective material it looked pristine and of a similarly advanced nature. Idly, Len held the scope in his hands, studying the dials that were found on its sides. Variable magnification was always appreciated.

Attaching the scope onto the rifle Len, retrieved the magazine silently counting the number of rounds to himself. Twenty in number, standard. Scouring the immediate vicinity Len ensured that his stock of ammunition was by no means lacking.

With a satisfying clack, the magazine popped into place.

Resting the weapon in his arms he wandered back to where the commander and the civilian stood.

 

[Draco Wrath]

"Hmm... AR-88? Sounds like my style." Preacher picked up the weapon and loaded a click, a metallic cling made Preacher sure it was ready.

He picked up a few grenades and things, being a pyro and all. He walked towards Commander Cross and the rest.

 

[Eino]

Karl ignored the huge thing he tried to speak to when he noticed commander cross speaking to the unidentified person who entered the room. Until he heard cross shout

"Weapon familiarization!"

He stood and stared while he tried to figure out what ever she meant by that, when a clip of ammunition seemingly from no where hit him in the chest. Being here early going trough the weapons stat over and over he couldn't help but get fixated about the "Sammy". That retro 50's look modernised and improved was just an offer he couldn't resist.

He practically ran in, grabbed it and armed himself. Just in time to hear the estranged person speak again to the crowd.

Spoiler

"OK.  Guys, My name's Bundie, call me Coke.  As the officer, err... commander Cross said, we can get familiar as we move.  We'll have to leg it though.  The earthquake has made a real mess of the terrain up there, we can't get a vehicle closer than half a click, and there's no way were going in by air.  That's how my buddy died this morning.  Something is doing horrible things to the air currents, chopper just got thrown all over the place.

I need to get as close as possible to the main reactor building.  I've got a 100% radiation shielding suit, so I can go in there, but you guys probably can't come too close.  Unless those natty armour suits are a whole lot better than last years model?"

Stitch just couldn't help himself but to question the persons initative. He tried very hard not to sound pumpous or agrivated in anyway so everyone would get their facts straight.

-I regret to tell you that "100%" dosen't neccesarily mean "100%" safe! His toned changed as he quoted the person saying 100% which really iritated him.
-Keep in mind that this is radiation were talking about! Whether it's a small reactor or not, the amount of radiation that ggoes trough ones body can be really fatal.
I know for a fact! That the people in these reactors works in long shifts, because of the radiation build up. Meaning they can probably work for some time until they have too much that will make them sick. Or worse. It's a very hard thing to treat and stay safe from even in modern days! And honestly I don't know whether these suits are made to withstand radiation.
Even if the "survivors" at the reactor are alive, their suits have probably been torn by those hellish things. Which means that even if they are always, they may all suffer from acute radiation syndrome.
Stitch chuckled as he got carried away.
-Even little exposure to radiation can cause nausea and vomiting.
It has come to the point where it's NOT an actual "Rescue mission" as it is a retrievement of bodys and gathering of intel. Stitch pondered as he said his last word. Intel.
-Then again, seeing how these hellish creature reacts to said situation might be of great importance. So, yeah. Sure, i'm in.
As long as it is a get in, get out type of thing!


(OOC: See this is why I didn't want to be a medic, it means an extensive means of research to get the facts right. Which I didn't do because I'm a lazy git!)

 

[Stark88]

Sven listened intently to the banter between the 'civi' and the Commander. No pomp or formal introduction. Good, he liked that. It kept things simple. His previous superior had been all about unit bonding and soppy crap that got people killed. He tilted his head slightly, the golden torc around his neck clacking against the hardened structure of his torso armour. His ink spiralled around his neck and down into his suit of armour. The big block letters SSD sat over one eye. He nodded his mohawked head and then listened to the squad medic natter on about the hazards of radiation.

He gave a low chuckle and clapped the smaller man on the back with one of his wide hands.

"I need not worry about such things, if I die, I die, if I don't....well, that's why you are here, doc."

He turned his huge bulk away from the group with a wide smile spread across his face. He retrieved his environmental helmet and clipped it to his belt and began to procedure of feeding a drum mag into the huge machine gun clutched reverently in his hands. It was time, to go shoot something and he was as giddy as a school child. 

 

[Amman d Stazia]

"hey, I never said 100% safe, doc, don't worry.  I said 100% shielding.  It's got 1.2mm of gold lining it, this set of overalls.  As good as three centimetres of lead for radiation shielding.  It's my pension, too.  The boss reckons this suit is worth half a million Swiss Francs.

Anyway, I need to grab my helmet from the gatehouse or else I'll get fried up top!"

Bundie picked up her holdall, and stuffed two boxes of frag grenades in.  24 rounds - enough to start with at any rate.
She looked at the variety of weapons.  The only weapon she knew well was the AK47, the indestructible old warhorse that PACRim Rescue still used.  After all, you could swim with them, and drag them through toxic waste, and they worked just fine. 
These looked like something NASA boffins had dreams about....

She picked the one that looked most simple, and three clips of ammunition from the box under the rack.

"heh, big fella...  Sven? yeah?"

"I get that this is the trigger, and this is the muzzle... Can you show me the safety on this?  And the magazine-release? thanks bud."

 

[Stark88]

The big man used his long fingers to prime the gun for set up then hovered his thumb over the safety catch. He waited a second, running things through his head, before clicking it in place and swinging the massive gun to an ease position.

Then the civilian began to talk at him. She'd gone straight for an AR-88. Workhorse of the armed H.U.N.T.E.R squads. He couldn't help but give a stupid grin through his beard, so simple even a child can operate them. He nodded his head and stepped towards her. His huge bulk blocked the vault behind him and he pointed to a slim iron lever upon the side of the assault rifle. Shaped much like a tear drop.

"This, is your safety catch. If it's up, you're good to shoot people in their face. If it is down, not so much. "

He then moved his finger slowly and deliberately to a half centimeter long iron catch in front of the trigger guard and behind the magazine.

"This is your release catch. Don't hit it in the middle of a fight or you might as well start hurling foul language at the beasts. "

He gave a friendly smile from that big tattooed and hairy face of his.

 

[Grimmend]

Daniel spent most of his time in the armoury looking at the guns, trying to choose between the shotgun or the assault rifle, but also looking at the team talking ot each other.

Seems like this will be a fun group to hang with.

As the rest of the team began choose and prep the new weapons, Dan finally chose the A-1 shotgun, and started a check out the features on his new monster masher.

 

[Incaa]

Cross exited the armory with her squad in toe, and headed toward hangar bay twelve. The commander hoisted the armored bulk of her suit into back of a transport and approached the front of the vehicle, watching the others pile in. "Good to go" she shouted, and rapped on the cab with a metal fist. Reaper floored the accelerator and headed for the insertion point.