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Realistic or Modern War of the New Age

H3LLJUMPER_177

Feet First into hell
Welcome to the world as you now know it, a virus wiped half of mankind, the virus was unknown until 3 years later, X-Virus was what people called it... I caused the body to decay as if the person was dead already... It was a slow process, painful for some, numbing for others. When the virus was cured by having people with the vaccine and cure walk among the people, letting it spread... America saw the cure first, then what was left of canada, mexico, so on and so forth... Far away countries saw the cure in months when enough right minded people flew jets to drop the cure in areas that were said to be safe zones...
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Many years have passed.. Many governments rose, many fell... Only a few stayed alive...

The New World Order, located in New york, it is highly militarized and controls, the Atlantic Coastal plains, most of the appellation mountains, and Alaska. Alaska is only a military state, very little people live there that are not military. The rest are some of NWO's elite troops... New york isn't as foresty now

Integrated Communist Alliance
(Name courtesy of Raku Raku )
The ICA is a more futuristic version of the Soviet Union. Following where it left off, it is at war with NWO, and the other new governments... ICA was one of the green countries, too cold for the virus to spread too much, and with its military power, completely isolated itself from the world. The military ruled and kept the country safe.

United People of Freedom


This is a world wide faction really. It originated in Texas when the first government formed, New American Republic. NAR was good at first, but then the new leader got power hungry and started a war with every small faction and the long running NWO, who saw NAR's ways and were doing treaties for NAR to be part of NWO. But were torn apart when the new leader came to power... NWO invaded NAR and destroyed the small government there... Taking all the people who wanted to leave to their own large owned area... United people of freedom was made after the war, the people with the same mind set came together... No more rulers, no more governments.

The last government to talk about is the one in Asia

Peoples republic of Asia.
This government is the only one that ACTUALLY succeded. Like NWO, they made a successful government! Only a few times did it come to war within itself and bounce back. NWO and PRA are great allies, and both strive to defend each other and provide means of supplies. Also helping in the war on
communism.

Your choices of starting:
NWO
Perks(Civilian):
Great house living, good job, wonderful protection and a stable government

----------------CIV LINE----------------

Perks(soldier-Not in Alaska):Stable pay, low amount of action, lots of free time. Go home when off duty, mostly peace keeping
Perks(soldier-Alaska):Great pay, elite training, extensive vacations with pay

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ICA
Perks(civilian):A place to live-Be lucky you have one!-, weekly rations
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Perks(Soldier):Moderately better place to live, better pay
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UPF
Perks:If you pick any above faction but are associated with UPF, you will receive those perks of the faction above
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(Image means, even your doctor, can be a rebel)
PRA
Perks(Civilian): Place of living, rations every 3 days, stable job
-------------
Perks(Soldier-On home ground):Stable pay...Uh...Nothing else sadly
Perks(soldier, overseas):Stable pay, better pay, family receives protection
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JOBS AND WHAT NOT MOVED TO CS

CS

War of the new age CS
 
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YO I LOVE THIS. I'LL SETUP A CHARACTER TOMORROW.

Can I use an anime faceclaim but still keep the character realistic?
 
This looks pretty cool. I'll make a character when inspiration hits. I can't think of anything very interesting at the moment.
 
Jennifer Dawson
Jennifer walks the streets of the small town. It was the 4th of july there. She took up a guarding position by a fence that separates civilians from the supply depot. She just stood there... There was a distant pop, one after another and she looked in the direction of the pops. Her eyes were filled with a hint of fear. When she saw kinds clapping and the sparks of fireworks she calmed... She wouldn't kill, but she will fight... Only if she needs to... A child ran up to her and gave her a cookie, the frosting had the american flag on it and she smiled. "Thank you." she said sweetly, the little girl. "...Yeah... No problem" she said a bit sadly. The kid smiled and ran along... She sighed... She didn't know anyone in her unit that much... She was always alone.. She was called to help with a crowd of people celebrating. When she arrived, flag on her shoulder, rank on her vest... People cheered at her. Fireworks kept going off and she almost hit the floor out of instinct. She smiled shyly and just stood there... Alone.

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Alex Malice

Alex walks the streets of Russia. Cold and freezing. She hated it there, she wished the UPF would send her to the states, it'd be better but. ICA needed to fall first before UPF could go after the rest when it does fall... She leans against a house and waits for something to happen... The area was dirty, white and very smelly. She wore a mask to not smell it. The sky was gray and the people looked all homeless, though she was sure some had jobs, but it was hard to tell who was a worker, and who wasn't...



Raku Raku
Mossino Mossino
Lord Mitmar Lord Mitmar
Reo7 Reo7

(Sorry that it's small and barely considered a starter. Made it late at night! Once everyone starts to pick it up with the rp I can do more!. That and I really wanted to start this rp after a bunch of delays)
 
Captain Lance Reyes

THUMP The entire Humvee shook as the vehicle's front left wheel directly hit upon a stray pothole. The initial impact caused the Humvee to briefly veer off the dirt road before the driver quickly recovered, keeping speed as if nothing happened. Inside the vehicle, Lance smacked back into the passenger seat producing a small grunt before gradually pulling himself up with the help of a handle top which was currently gripped tightly by his right hand. Sitting back right up, he turned his head to check on his fellow soldiers who sat in the backseats.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked concerned, seeing the two soldiers steadily regain their places and rifles.

"We're both ok here, Sir!" one replied giving him the thumbs up while the other made sure he had everything in order.

"That's good to hear, solider." he said smiling before turning back to face the driver.

"Fine ass driving, corporal." he said while patted him on the back.

"Were you in one of the fast and furious movies at all?" he asked jokingly.

The corporal produced a cocky grin.

"No, Sir. I actually learned how to drive from being in a formula one car a couple of years ago."

Before Lance could get in a response a sudden voice piped from the back.

"Shut the hell up, James! We all know that you were never in a formula one car, let alone near a sports car."

The driver quickly glanced into the rear-view mirror to look at his college while still having that cocky grin.

"Oh? You didn't know? Yeah, I never told you guys about before because I was afraid that I would too much of a cool guy to be friends with you."

One of the soldiers gets up in between the two front seats and turns to Lance.

"Stop listening to his idiot, Cap. This guy has such a massive ego that it compensates for something." he said while motioning at the driver.

The driver briefly gives a look at the other solider. "You really had to go route huh? You couldn't go for any other way to make fun of me? Hey, maybe I should start pulling up those 'accidents' you've been having since you like to be the joker of the group."

The four of them laughed for a bit before Lance drew the line.

"Alright, alright. Let's break it off, break it off. We're almost at the town, so let's dial in for just a bit longer before we start acting crazy." he declared.

While the group was settling down, Lance went to look into his side mirror to observe how the convoy behind them was doing. Within his field of vision, he could see several sand-colored armored Humvees and trucks following firmly behind them. Placing his hand over his radio he brought his left shoulder in and begun transmitting.

"This is Havoc 6, convoy status. Over." he called out into the radio.

A few seconds of silence held still in the air before another voice pierced through the comms.

"This is Havoc 1, we're green. Over."

"Havoc 4 to Havoc 6, we are doing just fine. Out."

"This Havoc 2, we hit the pothole so our vehicles wheel is a bit beat up but I think we're still good on our end. Over."

"Havoc 3, is fine. Over and out."

Lance gave a sigh of relief upon hearing the series of good news. Transmitting the radio again, he gave further orders.

"Copy that, we are approaching the town gentlemen so be prepared to halt convoy when we reach the gates. We are stopping for a resupply and a bit of R&D since you boys deserve it. But don't get too comfortable now, by tomorrow morning we'll receive new orders from dispatch. Over."

A couple of solid responses came from within each platoon leaving Lance nothing to worry about. Letting go of the radio he casually slipped back into his seat while keeping his eyes open for the town ahead.

Eventually after a few minutes on the road, the convoy had suddenly approached the town. Lance immediately straightened himself up and called into his radio once more.

"This is Havoc 6 convoy halt, convoy halt."

Soon after giving the order, each vehicle begun to slow down to halt. Once the convoy had completely stopped, Lance opened the passenger door and stepped out to exit his vehicle. Shutting the door behind him, he went to take a couple of steps towards the gate giving space between him and the convoy. As he got closer to the towering gate, he could make out fireworks flaring up from the center of town. The fireworks transformed the dark night sky into a beautiful array of colorful lights. He couldn't help but smile at the scene. Even in the darkest of nights, people still found ways to celebrate. Stopping within a few feet away from the gate, he looked up to see two guards on top the wall, guarding on either side. They were dressed in iconic NWO uniforms and were armed with M4 carbine rifles.

"Who's there?" one of the two ask.

Standing firm and tall with his hands holding onto his sides, Lance returned an answer.

"This is Captain Lance Reyes from the 83rd Infantry Regiment's B-Company. I request entrance to the town to resupply my unit."

The guard takes a moment of thought to process the information. Looking towards at the other guard and nodding his head, the second guard disappears from view before the first guard turns back to Lance.

"Just a moment, Captain. We'll open the gate up for you." he assures him.

Satisfied with the feedback, Lance commenced to returning back to his vehicle to await the entrance to open. Once the gate slowly opens it's metal doors the convoy proceeds to mount up and enter inside. After passing a few additional checkpoints they were finally in the town. The town was like most other small towns. Limited population, mostly local business, and located in a mostly rural area. To the NWO, it had no real strategic value as hard as is to say it. The only reason they were even bothering to hold on to it was because of the townspeople who refused to leave their homes and it's convenient location in the west. It acted more as an outpost than anything else for the army. The neighboring buildings were slightly worn down over the years but still held a good foundation. Much of the current citizens were out in the town center where they were celebrating the 4th of July and all its glory, so many of the establishments were vacant. As the convoy traveled down the ash fault roadway over to the supply depot, nearby passer-buyers cheered them on for their arrival. The men couldn't help but wave back at them, encouraging the people. Pressured by his men, Lance went along with them.

Upon reaching the final checkpoint, the convoy had finally stopped in front the supply depot. As the men got out of their vehicles they started to unload their equipment. As they were hard at work, Lance stood off to the sidelines and supervised the unit to made sure that everything went smoothly.

He stood there, wondering how long of a break he could get away with before they would send them back to that hell...


H3LLJUMPER_177 H3LLJUMPER_177
And whoever is there.
(This was put up late last night since it is the only time I have to do it. Sorry if it's too long, it's only for the introduction bit.)
 
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Anton Kosokov

Anton's eyes scanned the street before him. It looked like hell, but it was his hell. His beautiful, wonderful hell. It was the life he loved. A life of struggle and hardship. Anton personally felt that struggle builds character. It teaches you lessons, offers you experience, to him it was a good thing to have a bad time. He let a grin flash on his face as his mind was quickly flooded with memories of his childhood problems, but the grin soon faded as the always do. He and his grouping of soldiers were tasked as a death squad for the day. The others were occupied elsewhere. Although Anton would rather be off fighting the NWO, but he was pleased with fighting the enemies at home, the street thugs. They believed that they owned the streets, that they owned the city. Idiots.

His eyes stopped on a specific individual however. One of the soldiers under his command who's name he could not recall. She appeared miserable. Cold and miserable. Anton had a hard time understanding why. It was always like this in Russia, you'd expect people to be used to it. Well, some people don't adjust as well as others. He decided to confront her about this and made his way over. Anton may have been seen as an emotionally cold leader, but he still cared for his soldiers in some way. "Why do you look so glum? It's a beautiful day" he said. In a way, what he said was true. It could be an absolute snowstorm, but it wasn't.

H3LLJUMPER_177 H3LLJUMPER_177

Reginald "Reggie" Westbrook

As expected, it was a slightly bumpy ride in the Cerberus. Reggie was not complaining though, it was a day to celebrate. It was the Fourth of July. Everyone was celebrating in some way, well, except for them. There was never a dull day for the soldiers of the NWO. "Bad Company" was running a convoy to unload and resupply. For the Cerberus, that meant getting shells in and out of the tank. Unfortunately, that was Reggie's job. As the tank and the rest of the convoy came to a stop, Reggie and the rest of the crew climbed out of the tank and stretched a bit. It was a bit cramped in the small compartment of the M1A1 Abrams. After finishing their stretches, they got to work. Reggie went about collecting rounds for the main gun. The 120mm rounds weren't too heavy, but his arm was acting weird lately. It was glitching out and would often just seize up. He'd have to go to a technician about it.

As he grabbed a round and began carrying it back to the tank, he passed by his CO, Captain Lance Reyes. He nodded to the man as he passed by. Not 15 feet after he passed Reyes however, his arm did the exact thing he hoped it wouldn't. It began to seize up and become unresponsive. It caused a bit of discomfort for Reggie, causing him to drop the large round. He grasped his prosthetic arm and winced in pain as it went haywire. "God damnit" he exclaimed not only in frustration, but there was a slight, almost unnoticeable hint of embarrassment. He just fucked up in front of his commanding officer.

Reo7 Reo7
 
Fort St. Peterson. A quiet, woefully underused airstrip located just a stone’s toss from the old American-Canadian border. In the past, it had been used for mostly civilian duties, but now, with the world scrambling to find a seat at the rulers’ table, it frequently found itself home to the likes of Inari Nikula and her absurdly unhelpful copilot. Commandeered by the NWO not long after it’s founding and renovated to support just under forty engineers and soldiers, St. Peterson has sheltered more than its fair share of cocky recruits and self-important platoon leaders. While its positioning could hardly be called strategic in the war against Communism, there was some value in holding areas to provide rest and resupply to any unlucky sod who found themselves braving the Northern winds for a few extra dollars an hour. All things considered, it wasn’t half bad.

“O, vittu myös sinuun!” The Pilot’s voice echoed bluntly through the cold morning air accompanied by a series of clanks and mumbled swears. “Hey, Gavin, for the seventeenth time could you please pass me the god damned spanner? This thing isn’t going to fix itself!”

Well, you can’t satisfy everyone.

“Alright, alright! Give me a second!” Replied a comically child-like whine. The awkwardly portly man turned from his spot at the off-duty soldiers’ card table, though he hesitated to actually leave, his cloudy blue eyes swept across the skinny, technically paved road, dancing between a massive scarlet toolbox labelled simply “Hands Off” and his partner’s boots. Not much else could be seen of Inari, having slipped under a fuel truck’s low-lying engine block, not even her supposed assistant had yet to see what damage the truck’s bullet-ridden tubing had done to her light brown jumpsuit.

“The bloody cards can wait, Gav!” She called once more, her incessant shouting finally seeming to have hit its mark as the sound of his loping footsteps eventually began to grow louder.

“This what you wanted, Cap?” He asked as he slid a handful of tools towards her, his unvoiced complaints lying heavily in the air. While unfortunately typical, his petulant attitude wasn’t entirely unfounded. The pair had spent the better part of the day flying milk runs to and from St. Peterson’s. There was a friendly convoy stopping at a relatively nearby town for resupply and, fortunately for them, the tireless crew of the Helvetti, (A personally modified V-22 Osprey featuring improved automatic weapons at the expense of explosives capacity) the first shipment of supplies had arrived late into the night of July 3rd and the last was just a few more minutes’ refueling and flight time away.

“Rampart 7082, you are cleared for takeoff.” The short control tower radioed as the Helvetti began it’s ascent, belly filled to the brim with munitions.

“Rodger that control, Rampart 7082 clearing the LZ now.” The constant hum of the Osprey’s twin engines soon drowned out the crackling radio. From then on it was no more than an hour’s flight until touchdown. Time passed quickly in the air, little was exchanged between the two pilots as each was intent on their own tasks. The rumbling growl of distant explosions was distinct even in the Osprey’s cramped cockpit. Any alarm was quickly dissuaded by the colourful bursts of fireworks, however. It was the Fourth after all, not that it really meant anything these days. A glance of shared amusement flashed between the silent two. There was little Inari and Gavin agreed upon and their fondness of explosive celebration was just about number one on the list.

“Ground, this is Rampart 7082, coming in for scheduled landing in the Eastern courtyard,” Inari called to the officer that had been keeping these deliveries smooth for over 20 hours.

“Rodger that, you’re clear for landing… Please tell me this is the last one, Swede.” The radio barked pleadingly.

“Aye, as far as I’m concerned you’ve more than earned a night’s rest Lexington.” Formality tended to dwindle once the midnight oil has burned into the next day. Especially when nothing of much interest happened.

“The convoy just got here, six trucks and an M1A1, exactly as ordered. They’ve already started loading up some of the other stuff... And hey, have fun out there. It only comes ‘round once a year.” The officer said, giving Inari a final salute as he paced away, no doubt towards the closest thing to a bed he could find.

“Right then, you don’t mind if I take a quick nap, right?” Gavin asked his equally exhausted partner.

“Nah, go ahead. I’m going to make sure this stuff’s actually getting where it needs to be. Who was the convoy’s CO again?” She replied absentmindedly.

“Reyes. I think.” With that, he marched off, most likely to some bar. The amount of cheers someone with a set of military fatigues could get in the tiny city was absurd, it was like everyone thought the admittedly inexperienced pilot was some sort of war hero. It was a long three block walk to the supply depot. There stood the captain, his rank obvious in the glinting light of the fireworks. Beside him stood, or rather cowered a soldier who had seemingly just dropped a live 105mm shell. It’s no wonder why the world collapsed.

“Captain Reyes? Warrant Officer Inari Nikula reporting for duty.” She called with a stiff salute, unintentionally interrupting several people mid-sentence. “The last of your supplies are here now, sir. I apologize for the delay, sir. We were the only spare pilots. Er, my copilot and myself that is. I hope everything made it in one piece.” She glanced towards the soldier, amusement apparent in her hazy eyes.

Reo7 Reo7
Raku Raku
(Crickey that got long winded, sorry! Introductions, ya know?)
 
Captain Lance Reyes

Lance remained where he stood with his arms crossed against his uniform, confidently gazing at his unit with his piercing arctic blue eyes. He continued to watch as each man carried out their own separate tasks and jobs. Wither it would be someone grabbing boxes full of ammo for the guns, repairing and maintaining the vehicles, restocking on first aids and other equipment, or even checking the status of their squadmates, everyone in the company was doing at the very least something useful. It had become one of those unspoken rules that Lance made by the time he became CO that required every person within his unit to carry their own weight. It was a rule that had dramatically changed them as a whole. Back then, only a select few had really done any worthwhile work while the rest sat around all day, drinking booze and sleeping on the job. It was the kind of mindset that disgusted Lance and he wanted a change of habits. Not only did it make them look unprofessional and weak but rather much of it had to do with their mindset on the battlefield. He was undoubtedly convinced that if he let things continue the way they were back then, none of these men would still be alive today.

And sure enough, after some odd months of hard convincing and practice of authority it had finally paid off. And while some of the men still disliked the changes and had their bit of personal grudge against their CO, they eventually were silent on the issue and proceeded to let things be for the time being.

Soon after for what seemed like minutes, a hard but gentle, cold breeze had begun to blow. A faint warm smile had appeared on Lance's face as he felt the wind blew through his light brown colored hair. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about feeling the wind made him feel good inside. Perhaps it was because it helped him cool down after a hard day's work. Even when taking a nice cold shower was treated as a rarity among soldiers, fairly those who were out fighting for months of a period. Yet, he couldn't wait until he was finished with his remaining duties as CO. The thought of taking a nice cold shower and eating some half-decent grub had overtaken him. While in the midst of his blinded paradise, Lance had noticed one of his fellow soldiers walking by, carrying a 120mm tank shell. Immediately familiarized with the soldier's features, Lance could already recognize that it was Private Reginald Westbrook roaming by. Or rather famously nicknamed 'Reggie' by his mates. His prosthetic arm was the only thing that stood him apart from everybody else. That and his unique personality, so right away Lance knew it was him.

He was one of the crewmen for the tank 'Cerberus' that had recently been linked up with B-Company a few weeks ago after their last one had been blown up into smithereens by an ICA anti-tank personnel during an operation at Fairfield, Iowa. Ever since then, command had a hard time finding a new fitting replacement for the unit. It turns out that Cerberus was their final replacement. Seemingly Reginald was currently collecting new rounds for the Cerberus. As he did, the private nodded at Lance as he passed by. In a show of mutual respect, Lance nodded back in turn. However, something about him caught Lance's attention. He almost seemed in of some kind distress one way or another. By simply reading his facial expressions, he could tell right away that Reginald had done his best to hide it. Seconds later after Reggie walked away, the live round had fallen from his arms grasp producing a large crash throughout the depot. Several men who were working stopped to look onward of what had gone on. Seeing him wince in pain, Lance quickly rushed over to check on him.

"Ah shit. Someone get me the technician and a medic over here quickly!" he hastily shouted at the nearby soldiers.

Sure enough, a few soldiers had promptly dropped what they were doing and ran off to find them. With another few soldiers running up to help Reggie get his arm back into control, Lance guided him to a nearby foldable chair to help him sit down.

"Hey, relax here for a bit. I'm getting someone to check up on you real soon." Putting his hand on his shoulder while looking him straight in the eyes with an expression of assurance.

As some of the soldiers started to ask Reginald questions about his medical conditions, a Scandinavian accent had abruptly emerged from behind. Taken surprised by the accent alone, Lance turned to see who was speaking to him. Appearing before him was one of the pilots who just came in. She was slightly smaller than him by an full inch and had faded brown eyes alongside a set of long orange locks. And to be honest, he was more startled at her appearance alone than to see a women pilot working within the NWO. It wasn't commonplace to see women working in the army but they were very few in number. Taken aback for what seemed like a moment, Lance adequately adjusted himself to the saluting pilot. Clearing his throat, he began to speak in a firm voice while holding his hands behind his back.

"At ease, Pilot. You've actually come at the perfect time. I'll get some of my men to quickly unload them from your vehicle so you can be on your way."

As he said this he motioned his head over to some soldiers who were nearby to go fetch the new equipment. Looking back at the pilot, he continued.

"As you see I didn't notice you come in at all. We were just trying to handle this small situation here over here." Lance briefly glanced back at Reggie whom was still trying to wrestle his arm back under control.

"Do you by chance have the list of equipment that was brought in on hand?" he asked with curiosity.

Lord Mitmar Lord Mitmar
Raku Raku
(Sorry for the length, I get carried away!)
 
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Jennifer
Jennifer watched as a convoy drove into the small town. She didn't know they were getting more supplies... Then again it wasn't her job. She was near a loading area when she heard a large crash and gets jumpy. Taking cover behind a wall and peeking around it. Seeing that it was just a dropped shell she calms and walks in to sit down by a shelf that held ration bars and packs. She took a chocolate bar and eats it. She took her helmet off and looked up at the people around her. She didn't mind being a soldier... Just, didn't think it'd be great to be a fighting one. She then goes to see what everyone was doing when she saw the large round on the floor and she picks it up with a bit of ease and sets it on a stable shelf so it doesn't fall and go off. "...He ok?" she asked in a voice. Soft and kinda quiet. But loud enough to hear.
( Reo7 Reo7 Raku Raku Lord Mitmar Lord Mitmar )
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Alex
Alex looked up at the man and sighs. "It's freaking cold. " She grumbled. "I don't see how-I mean..." she stops herself from saying you people. "Why aren't there any good checkpoint areas with a heater." she said. She was kinda short for her age because of the virus, but she was still a good fighter. "...So why are you here sir?" she asked shyly. She didn't know one of the higher ups would be there to see her.
( Raku Raku )
 
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Anton Kosokov

Anton shook his head as his question was met by an immediate complaint. It was not that cold. Anton had been in much colder. Besides, it was summer time, but over the course of the last couple decades it appeared that the weather had worsened greatly. It used to reach temperatures of 30 degrees Celsius in the summertime. Now, the were barely above freezing. The beautiful Russian summer was something Anton missed dearly. She also had a question however. She asked why he was here. "I may be a glacial commander, but I still have to take care of my troops" he said in his typical cold tone.

H3LLJUMPER_177 H3LLJUMPER_177

Reginald "Reggie" Westbrook

"Faulty piece of shit" he grumbled before Reyes arrived at his side to help. He had called for a medic and a technician to assist him. His CO had led him to a chair and told him to relax as a few medics and technicians made there way to him. "Thank you, sir" Reggie responded before Reyes went to speak with another woman, presumably a pilot based on her patch and uniform. He was glad that Reyes was a bit more kind than Reggie's last CO. Before he and his tank were transferred to Bad Company, his last CO was a bit of an ass. This same thing had happened before and he got so pissed at Reggie that he had kicked him in the stomach when he went to pick up the round. Thankfully, Reyes was more respectable.

Reggie complied with the medics and techs as they asked questions. The arm was still fidgeting a bit as well. He had an idea to why it was doing that. A few days ago it was raining and Reggie had taken his arm off beforehand. Some water must have slipped into the prosthetic and was now wreaking havoc on it. With that thought in mind, Reggie reached his other hand over to undo the vices that kept the arm on before taking it off and handing it to a tech and pulling his sleeve down over the residual limb. "The damn thing probably got water in it and fucked up the electronics inside" he said. He then reached over to grab a roll of tape. He folded his sleeve up against the inside of what was left of his right arm and taped it. Reggie stood up from the chair and went for the round he dropped. The medics and the techs looked at him with eyebrows raised and widened eyes. Reggie wasn't one to stop working, so he wasn't gonna stop now.

He picked up the round with his left arm and heard another soldier ask if he was alright. Not necessarily straight to him, but he felt obligated to answer. "Yeah, I'm fine. My arm's just a little busted at the moment" he said as he placed the shell on his shoulder. "Oh well. Hope they get it fixed soon" he finished before turning back and walking towards his tank.
Reo7 Reo7 H3LLJUMPER_177 H3LLJUMPER_177 Lord Mitmar Lord Mitmar
 
While Inari hadn't initially taken much interest in the Captain and his convoy, upon spotting the rather infamous "Bad Company" patch that had been sewn onto his uniform she couldn't help her herself. Bad Company wasn't exactly the largest of the NWO's forces but there were certainly one of the most interesting. There had always been some rumours about their strategies, how they had a tendency to ignore the rule book. Some of the stories made it sound like they were a band of pirates who acted without any semblance of real order, of course, these were completely absurd. Tall tales spoke between weary guardsmen in the dead of night, nothing more. Probably.

At the captain's look of poorly disguised surprise, Inari's attempt to hold a tight-lipped frown fell apart in an instant as her features cracked into a subtle grin. It was sometimes hard not to take pleasure in an officer's confusion. Though his shock was unsurprising, considering the pilot's appearance wasn't exactly that of a standard trooper. Her slightly-too-large navy blue flight suit stood as a sharp contrast to her loose hair, the survival gear she had neglected to take off upon landing only adding to her noisy uniform. A series of bright red flares had been strapped to her shoulder parallel to the matte black sidearm that rested just below her breast in a half-assed attempt to bring some order into the clutter, not that it actually worked. Her goggles still pressed against her slightly pale forehead, though she miraculously hadn't forgotten to leave her helmet with the Helvetti.

Snapping back to the present, she gladly dropped her stiff posture as Reyes continued. Nodding to the soldiers he had sent to help unload the supplies as they passed, she began fumbling with the seemingly endless pockets that adorned her body.

"Of course, sir. I've got the manifest right here..." She glanced towards Reyes, an embarrassed grin taking over as she began mumbling to herself.

"It's here somewhere... Damn it, Gav, if you took... Got it! Sorry, sir. Everything's here." She exclaimed after an excruciatingly long four seconds. Handing a fairly sizable sheet of paper to the CO, she continued.

"Mortars, replacement parts for that Abrams and a whole lotta' ammunition. Is there anything else you need, sir?"

Reo7 Reo7
(Had to rush this one out, I apologize for any errors and general potato writing!)
 
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