Project Warfighter - Operation: Mirror Force(IC)

[The Central Shadow Nation]

Viper Team, Diego Garcia

(I put in a filler for Dragon. Hes a red shirt.)

"Theres nothing to see here,"Phoenix, the teams medic, said, stirring his hot, steaming chicken soup. They were at the messhall, hours after they arrived. Liberty laughed. She replied, "Not a beach person?" Phoenix shrugged. "No. Not at all." Phoenix said, dipping a cracker inside his soup.

"So, anybody know about the fighting style of these terrorists?" German asked. Liberty replied, saying "We know that they are extremely deadly and that they can take a command point swiftly." Liberty said, taking in a spoonfull of her soup. "Interesting." German said, taking a bite of her fruit and cereal bar. Saturn was reading a science magazine when he heard about his teamates talk about the enemy. "But then again, 'our main hope' would be for them to avoid attacking the task forces bases." Liberty nodded when he said that, however did not reply.

There was a new member of Viper Squad. His name was Nikolai Gravenchko, better known as Dragon by his former team. He was 28 and had alot of experience in the Calldonian war and the rebellion in Chile. He was a machine gunner and used a PPK. He had fought in the Delvosity Liberation War.. He was talking with Nickel about where he grew up and how it was hit hard by the rebellion. "Minnreappy? I heard its good. Excluding the crime." Nickel said. Minnreappy was a crime spotlight, ever since he 80's. It was kind of put out after a height of drug activity, although spouts of major criminal activity sometimes happen.

After they were done talking, it seemed German, Liberty, Phoenix, and Saturn had been playing cards. They joined in, passing time. Combat was still on their mine, however. Phoenix and Saturn would be on guard near the airport for the night so they slept half the ride here. The others were given the night off for sleep.

[Anowa]

Terrenus, Ministry of Defense, Minister of Defense's office
roughly 24 hours ago
The city of Terrenus had yet to spot the sunlight of the new day, and already the city was bustling. The militaristic society of the Anowan people was a well oiled machine, every citizen went through military training at some point in their lives, and a regimented society started and stopped at once. Outside the office window was Legacy Fields. A 350 hectare plot of land which served as the cemetery for every Anowan soldier who died in battle. The massive emerald stone dedicated to the 303rd Shock Battalion stood it's etched surface awash with the last beams of moonlight, it's inscription unreadable at this distance, but was etched into the Casey's mind: "Born broken in mind, but not in spirit." It was the largest memorial stone in the cemetery with enough room for it's 4000+ names etched onto it's surface... All of which were born with mental maladies which considered them 'not fully capable of being productive members of society'.

The Lieutenant Colonel wasn't in the best state at the moment. It wasn't apt to blame the woman however, she and her team had just been pulled straight from the frying pan, dealing with a rather nasty firefight in one of Anowa's Pacific Islands, shipped through a fifteen hour flight, and dropped directly into the Minister of Defense's office with two Brigadiers and the Minister himself. She hadn't been given any time to change out of her blood and grime soaked BDUs either. Her team probably had a better opportunity to do so as she sat in the room.

As the Minster... Excuse me... Field Marshall Urban Blackburn read over a few documents on his desk, Casey surveyed the other two officers in the room. The first Brigadier was older than everyone else present, with an absence of any visible scarring, though the cane he held pointed out that the man either had a leg wound, a shotgun, or a sword. Maybe a combination.

The other officer was a hell of a lot younger, also with an absence of wounds. Though the fact he was in a wheel chair and his bony legs were apparent, pointed to a member of the intelligence corps. For whatever reason he seemed very nervous, likely because of Rivera's own presence. An old 'rule of thumb' usually told in the capital was as follows: If there's a member of the royal family in the room, someone's gonna get shot, or absolutely nothing will happen. Casey really wished it wasn't as true as it actually was.

The sound of ruffling papers on the desk in front of her brought her attention back to Blackburn. The man had once been at the head of the 501st Airbourne, the first unit to test the Kite BDU she wore. The test cost the Field Marshall his eye, the one and a half inch thick visor managed to stop a fifty caliber round from blasting his head to pieces, but the spalling ruined his right eye. He wore a glass one at this point, only really noticeable when he was reading or glancing at something over his shoulder.

"Lieutenant Colonel Rivera, I've brought you as well as Generals Booker and Crown to discuss your next assignment. They've already given their piece so you won't hear much from them. As of now, your team is replacing Lieutenant Winters' as Task Force Atlas liaisons. Before you ask this is because your team is more or less the most experienced we have in SPECTRA. And with the... suspect conditions to a recent operation that Lieutenant Winters' team participated in, it would be best if someone more capable took their place to ensure a safe work environment for both your team as well as other participating teams." The middle aged man sighed, "Simply put we're using you as chess pieces in case someone else in the program tries to pull another stunt we suspect them of doing. Any questions?"

One thing Rivera liked about their Minister, was that he was straight forward, "None, Sir. Where's our first deployment?"

A flash of a grin whipped it's way across Blackburn's face, "Diego Garcia. You'll be carted out to Barit Naval Base. And then out to the RAS Fuckslayer, the missile cruiser we gave on loan to the Task Force. You had best pack toiletries, we have no idea how long you'll be out there. Dismissed."

---

Diego Garcia, Mess Hall
Present
So here she sat with the rest of her team, in the middle of an unfamiliar mess hall, armed to the teeth in case of imminent attack... Could be worse. Moses could start disassembling his MG3...

Chakwas -the squad's medic- groaned, "Goddammit Moses..."

The giant responded in kind, "What? I haven't cleaned the thing in six days."

'Baby Face' a man with the most ironic callsign among the whole base possibly, butted into the conversation, "You start taking that shit apart now and I'm gonna use your feed tray as a spoon to eat..." He stared down at what was on the aluminum tray "...Whatever the fuck this is."

The subject of conversation quickly disappeared back under the table, as the quiet reemerged. She continued to eat the gruel served on the Indian Island as she thought about the coming days and what they may bring.

[Relikai]

John Gravosia 'Graves', Konayama Miyuki 'Milky'
Task Force 48 // Task Force Atlas Liaisons
Diego Garcia

Miyuki's eyes lit up as she saw the drawing. Indeed, it was very well drawn, allowing a sense of artistic licence with the style of sketching not limited to exact realistic dimensions. A unique style which captures most of the surroundings, the different emotions of those around the mess. "Amazing, just look at it..." Miyuki said in Nambian as she was practically fangirling over the art, angled the drawing book for her partner to have a good view. John leaned over, swallowing his fish as he peeked at the drawing, his eyes widened as he observed Echo-Three's work, nodding in approval. Looking over to Echo-Three, John gave a friendly smile with an impressed look on his face.

"Hey, looks good... Very good... Didn't know that Raven-Two's capable of such a cute smile tho-urgh..." John's face turned into a temporary grimace as Miyuki's boot made contact with his shin. Whenever John begins to call Miyuki cute, the girl would simply blush in embarrassment, some words being too sensitive for her to take. Miyuki was portrayed as looking at John with her little pose, her annoyed look taking precedence over the care which was visible among the two operators. Miyuki could feel a heat growing from her neck onto her cheeks as she smiled, nodding at Echo-Three before handing the drawing over carefully. "It's very well done..."

Meanwhile, John has returned his gaze to the tablet, nodding as he observed the outline of the vehicle. He has his concerns, of course, but hearing about it's service record assured the man somewhat.

"Looks neat. Sure, we're given free reign so we can attach ourselves to your positions. We're quite modular, just hope that the enemy doesn't have the accuracy to snipe at a moving open top..."

[Armellenia]

Arkady "Ace" Volkov
1/5SOCD, ASFEC
Diego Garcia

Their flight finally over, the first team of the fifth SOCD eventually made it over to the mess hall, much to the dismay of the "MG Clowns," or so they were known. In Arkady's opinion, the machine gunner and his assistant of the first team were almost hilariously unprofessional off-duty, especially when they were out of their element, which included anywhere where it wasn't cold, mountainous, and ridiculously hard to survive.

It was their first operation with Task Force Atlas, and the team had to be rushed from Armellenia's capital during the process of being outfitted in an old Il-76M Midas, which smelled and flew like a barn. The pair in question had harassed the pilot out of boredom, jokingly asking if they could "see the cockpit." It had been a while since the team had seen real combat outside of chasing angry, untrained rabble out of the cold, desolate tundras of Armellenia. And from the briefing, this one was going to be a wild ride.

Arkady got his tray of food and sat down at the table that his team managed to commandeer. Joker, or so was his nickname, had already drawn his combat knife, teaching an audience of the MG clowns how to play Five Finger Fillet. He was in the process of passing the knife to Spades when Arkady stopped him.

"For the love of God, can't you guys go five minutes without losing a goddamn appendage?"

Joker pulled the knife away, offended.

"Why, sir, I was just informing Yudaskin here on how to properly cut his meat! The little man can barely finish that meal of his!"

The machine gunner, a massive man also called "the Tower" by his comrades, leaned over.

"We'll see who's little here, Joker! You tout around your bag of firecrackers while Spades here can at least manage a few cans of ammo."

Arkady cut into the conversation once more, admadant on getting back to eating.

"I'll gladly let you ladies get back to arguing later. Just don't lose any more fingers. That's a lot of paperwork."

The idle chatter eventually died down as the operators resigned themselves to eating after a long flight.

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Birtonian Imperial Rangers
17 NM from Diego Garica
C-100 Skyblazer "Death Rain"

Skyblazers were a new addition to the Adeptus Aerus, though utilizing older turbo prop propulsion methods they were combined with the most advanced technology in the world. The result was a high speed, maneuverable, modular aircraft capable of an extreme variety of missions. This particular one was kitted out for the needs of the Rangers, most notable, a fully stocked bar on the port side where Enrique currently stood, back to the rest of the team as he poured a heavy, dark liquor into his "combat flask" as he liked to call it. He was dressed in standard Ranger kit, black boots, fatigues, vest, in addition to his rifle and sidearm, magazines, grenades, signaling equipment and finally his radio. But this time, a parachute was on his back with a reserve chute attached to his waist. Being Birtonians, they figured why not train and have fun with it. Juliani had arranged for a night insertion by HAHO over the rendezvous area for shits and giggles.

Michael walked past with the heavy this of his boots on the steel floor of the aircraft. Gazing out of the porthole, there wasn't much one could see from this altitude, save for a few dim lights in the distance. Suddenly bright red flares scream out from underneath the wings as the plane jerks up and to left violently before zig zagging back and forth. The pilots dramatically performing evasive maneuvers, show casing yet another feature of the high tier aircraft. All of this causes Michael to lock himself into the jump seat and pour a steely gaze over at John.

Their eyes meet and John can't help but smile and bust into laughter.

"What?? The pilots wanted training too! So we turned of the IFF!" He said in between bouts of laughing.

Unfortunately for Michael this was becoming more and more standard since the team was on an unannounced leave of absence from task force ATLAS, as events back home required their special skill sets in maintaining peace and order in the Imperium.

Without warning the bat lights shifted from the warm glow of red to a bright and crisp green light. The jump door began to unlock, with a whir of electronic motors and pings of locks disengaging. As tradition, the highest ranking soldier jumps first, this one being the revered Commissar. Lexon stood in the doorway, and stood for only a moment before leaping out into the air, his silhouette grew with the light of anti-missile flares once more. Next was John, as per tradition. However this Prima Cohort, being as elite as they are created their ow traditions. This particular one consisted of Enrique's flask in one hand, taking a stern swig and shouting some patriotic slogan, jumping out the door and throwing the flask at the next man.

Naturally John did just that, bellowing "For the Imperium!" As he exited, his voice hardly audible over the rushing air, missiles flying by and the propellors. And so each Ranger did in turn, taking two steady gulps from the hard stuff. The Lion tossed the flask at William and reminded him not to lose Enrique's prized possession. Though William was a Ranger, well versed and experienced he was still the youngest and lowest ranking member of the team and was treated accordingly. Thankfully the flasks contents helped ease his nerves, though he had to stuff it into his between some magazines to make sure it wouldn't fly away.

He jumped into the icy blast, and felt that awful drop. He counted long, he counted hard, and finally pulled the cord. The chute quickly unfurled in face of the wind and rapidly slowed his descent, allowing Will to steer himself towards the target location.

Within a few moments all members of the team would be boots on ground at Diego Garcia.

[Congreveopia]

Diego Garcia, Nexus Server Building, Temporary Congreveopian Barracks:

Halcombe paced the hallway of the small unused office space that adjoined Nexus’s server farm at Diego Garcia, those offices now being the temporary residence of the Congreveopian unit. Not that the base was short on space, but Halcombe wanted to be near the servers, and wanted to be guarded by Congreveopian security systems. Taking guard duty for the server building and using the unused space for a barracks got two birds with one stone.

“No, I recognise that as a defensive principle ‘to each their due’ makes sense, my point isn’t that the principle is flawed, just that there are more applicable solutions here,” he said, seemingly talking to thin air. The rest of his team was asleep, and he was busy with Nexus, continuing to hammer out the defensive plan. “I recognise that targets like the armory are more important than, say, the kitchens, but the fact is that the location of the armory and other important structures offers natural defenses, and so they don’t need as many troops as you’re suggesting.”

“And I’m saying that there exist a multitude of attack scenarios that basically negate such terrain advantage, and to properly address those, important locations need more troops,” replied Nexus.

“And giving them more troops negates the advantage of many such attack scenarios, meaning they won’t be employed.”

“And that’s just an infinite series, which I can solve, and I have solved, and that has given me the troop figures I’m proposing, which are endorsed by Data Command.”

“Data Command isn’t made up of soldiers. My point is that creating a dynamic reserve has the same impact on enemy planning, while also giving us the flexibility that locking more soldiers into guard duty lacks.”

“But it doesn’t, because the dynamic reserve increases the difficulty of all attack scenarios equally, suggesting that the enemy should again pursue a tactic that negates terrain advantage, like the lightning strike on comms and command.”

“In which all the troops on guard duty get blown up along with their buildings anyways, and the dynamic reserve is too understaffed to respond appropriately.”

“If the enemy had cruise missiles, we should have seen their attack already.”

“Maxim 40: Not all good news is enemy action. We can’t rule out scenarios by assuming our opponent is acting optimally based on the intel we believe them to have. That’s asking for us to be surprised by our opponent's stupidity.”

“Of all the things that could surprise us, I think that is one of my favor—wait, the Birtonian transport plane just stopped authenticating.”

“‘Gone’ stopped?” asked Halcombe, “or-”

“Just the IFF stopped replying,” said Nexus. “Plane’s still on radar. I’m trying… no, sorry, -I don’t have access to the fleet sensors, just their output data. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Transponder,” said Halcombe. “Has the transponder code changed? Are they being hijacked?”

“The transponder’s off,” said Nexus “They aren’t responding to radio calls, I don’t even see their carrier wave. It’s like they’re-”

Nexus was cut off by the deep hiss of a missile launch far away. Halcombe ran to the window and saw the light of an anti-air missile climbing away from the fleet.

“The fuck is that!?” he said. “The plane could have just had an electrical failure and we’re firing on it!”

“I think this was revision 23 of the defensive plan,” said Nexus. “It’s inside bubble zero. If we can’t authenticate it as friendly, we have to treat it has hostile.”

“We can bloody authenticate that there are friendlies on there who we’re about to blow up if you don’t order those morons to stop firing!” said Halcombe, searching through his PCU for the fleet’s radio code.

“Actually, we might not,” said Nexus “The plane’s taking evasive action, and… yup, it’s dropping flares.”

“Then it still has electrical if it has missile warning,” said Halcombe. “Then what are they playing at…”

“Paratroopers!” said Nexus. “Radar has paratroopers jumping out of the plane! Unsure how many!”

“Up! Get up!” yelled Halcombe, slamming open the door to the makeshift sleeping quarters in the largest office. “Grab your rifles, PCUs, glasses, and double time it outside! Nexus, how many paratroopers are we talking?”

“Too many,” said Nexus, as Halcombe grabbed his rifle and the keys to the patrol vehicle the Congreveopians had been given and sprinted for the door. “That plane could have over ten times your squad aboard. I’m radioing the other teams, trying to muster enough to fight these guys off before they can reach cover. Don’t know if I can have them ready quickly enough.”

“Keep trying,” said Halcombe, starting the Humvee as the rest of the Congreveopian squad hurried out sleepily.

“You know, I always did like the ‘suborn an inbound transport’ method of attacking the base,” commented Nexus as the squad sped off in the direction of the inbound paratroopers.

[Anowa]

SPECTRA A1
Diego Garcia Mess Hall
As SPECTRA crew were sitting around their table, shooting the shit between one another, Godfather noticed something out the window to the Mess Hall. The tell tale signs of a SAM launch. He calmly grabbed his gear from under the table and stood, "Guys, I think we're under attack." The rest of his squad followed his gaze out the window and saw the smoke trail, they quickly did the same as Chakwas.

As Moses loaded the GPMG he was so fond of, Black strode over the window, took the butt of his shotgun and smashed it. Glass raining onto the floor and gaining the attention of damn near the rest of the mess hall. He poked his head out the window and looked up, spotting the transport spewing countermeasures, and the tell tale dots of HAHO jumpers, he radioed base's command, "Captain Jeremy Black, Anowan SPECTRA to Diego Garcia Command. Can someone confirm that what I'm looking up at isn't some sort of fucked up training exercise?" The racking of a quintet of weapons behind him signified that everyone else was ready to repel invaders.

[Congreveopia]

Diego Garcia, Mess Hall, Nexus:

“This is Nexus, Congreveopian intelligence support and current acting chief of response,” replied Nexus to Jeremy Black and anyone else who had their radio on. “This is not an exercise. An unidentified transport aircraft formerly believed to belonging to the Birtonian team has released paratroopers above the base. All available teams are to arm themselves with full haste and proceed at top speed to the unidentified force’s landing point to repel potential hostiles. Lieutenant Halcombe of the Congreveopian detachment will organize defenses on-site. Will advise further once hostile force is low enough to estimate their target.”

[The Central Shadow Nation]

Diego Garcia, Mess Hall

"I was hoping to get some sleep..."German said, loading her H-3 DMR. "Dragon, German, and Saturn, you'll be on the other side of the island,"Liberty said, carrying her MSBS Radon. "Phoenix, Nickel, your coming to the front. She looked out from the messhall, seeing the red dots fill the darkening sky. "Alright. I always liked bird hunting,"Saturn said, before following German and Dragon out the door.

Liberty and the two others, Phoenix and Nickel made their way to one side where another team was waiting. The found what they could use as 'cover', a few empty barrels and a patch of shrubs. "This is Liberty, Viper 1. We are awaiting in a patch of shrubs for the moment. Will advance on command, over."

The other three not with Liberty came to the conclusion that they would do the same. "Looks like they pulled their chutes." She said, kneeling down and watching their every move. It was like reading a book, she was studying the enemy. The other two did the same, awaiting their next orders.

[Anowa]

SPECTRA A1
Diego Garcia
Captain Black replied, "Copy Nexus, we'll engage when hostility is guaranteed."

Turning back to the rest of his team he continued, "You all got that right?"

They all nodded, Shmuckatelli hefted the XM-25, "Haven't been clay pigeon shooting in a while."

As they began to file out the door Rivera gave out orders, "Sorry Lucky, but chances are we're gonna want to take one alive. And if we start firing everyone else is gonna want into the party. We can wait until they're on the deck like the rest of us. Black, Moses, when we get to the landing site B Frame to our far left. Lucky, load airburst. Everyone else shoot them if they move in a threatening manner... And no 'G' raising their hands isn't hostile."

'Awww." Despite the rather grim scene depicted, the end of that conversation had some humor to it.

As the team hoofed it towards where they thought the invaders would land, they came across their home country's leased BTR. Seeing as how the internal construction to the vehicle was all written in Latin -the 80s were a time of nationalist rise for Anowa- the crew was in fact from the Allied States, as there weren't many people from outside the country who were fluent in Latin. So the SPECTRA squad 'ablated' the vehicle and headed towards the general area of landing at a much faster pace.

En route to the landing site, they happened to fall in behind a certain Humvee, within the vehicle Rivera spotted a certain robot she was briefed about. Smiling she radioed the AI, "Lieutenant Colonel Rivera to Nexus, we brought a little something extra, hope you don't mind."

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Birtonian Imperial Rangers
En Route
Diego Garcia

The six man Ranger team drifted slowly towards the shining light starkly contrasted by darkness on all sides, that was their objective Diego Garcia as it was called in the mission dossier. From the brief it was to hold as a staging point for ATLAS operations, as evidenced by the furious missile defense system set in place. William was the last out of the plane and therefore the highest up and could see the chutes of the rest of his team silhouetted against the horizon, though it was hard to see without night vision devices. The base got closer and closer as a few minutes had passed by and the lights on the ground became clearer and clearer it also became evident. Even from his position from the top of the parachute team he could see several groups of soldiers moving between the lighting along with a couple of vehicles headed towards their landing zone.

"Sir! Sir!" screamed William frantically, waving his arms and pointing at the ground.

John simply laughed at the rooky trooper and looked back up to his team. He was low enough to hear the shouting of the ATLAS troopers below. Of course this reaction was already planned for and he waited about another minute to be sure he was low enough for everyone to hear him.

"Hit it team!" John shouted up towards Enrique and the rest of the team.

From the ground below one could hear the shouting chorus of six voices being carried upon the wind.

"He was just a rooky trooper and he surely shook with fright
as he checked all his equipment and made sure his pack was tight
He had to sit and listen to the awful engines roar,
And he ain't gonna jump no more.

Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die,
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die,
Gory, gory what a helluva way to die,
And he ain't gonna jump no more!"

The song would continue until every member of the team hit the ground.

[Vacif]

Oxide, 29th Spec Ops.
Diego Garcia

Long since finished their meals, the Vacifian First Detachment had sat in the mess hall of Diego Garcia discussing the possibilities of how their unknown opponent would attack them. If they were after their assets, they'd probably go after communications, and then the docks, hangars, and motor pools. Disrupt any communications, and coordination. If they were after the members of ATLAS, they'd probably hit the barracks, maybe bait the armory. Scout any obvious places to make a stand, and set up a trap maybe? Divide and conquer, but how would they divide the teams up? Create multiple situations to lure the teams out, and hit them while they're on their way to respond to the bait? The higher ups, and those with actual intelligence on the situation (not to mention robots, and fully functional AIs) probably had some kind of plan ready, but until they released that plan, they were relegated to speculation. It was hard to simple go about life when you could be hit any moment, when the enemy knows where you are, and you knew nothing. It was only a matter of time, which was also a large issue. Time, when would they attack? Tomorrow, next week, next month? Today? Maybe they were already on the base, and were waiting for all the ATLAS teams to show up before springing some kind of elaborate trap? They didn't need to wait very much longer for some kind of action.

“This is Nexus, Congreveopian intelligence support and current acting chief of response,” replied Nexus to Jeremy Black and anyone else who had their radio on. “This is not an exercise. An unidentified transport aircraft formerly believed to belonging to the Birtonian team has released paratroopers above the base. All available teams are to arm themselves with full haste and proceed at top speed to the unidentified force’s landing point to repel potential hostiles. Lieutenant Halcombe of the Congreveopian detachment will organize defenses on-site. Will advise further once hostile force is low enough to estimate their target.”

'Such a blatant "attack". This couldn't of been the attack could it? Unless maybe it was a decoy? If they knew previously that this was a Birtonian transport, how'd they suddenly realize that it were compromised?' Pondered the Vacifian leader. Well regardless of the why, there was a situation that required reaction. The Vacifians had been in the mess hall since landing, so they didn't need to head to the barracks or armory to acquire their gear. They simple slid their dufflebags out from under their table, and unzipped them to retrieve their tools of trade.

After gearing up, the Vacifian Spec Ops. detachment raced out of the mess hall, and towards the motor pool. Borrowing a pair M1161 Growlers, they tailed the column of ATLAS HMMWVs, and BTR towards what they presumed to be the insertion point of the mystery jumpers. "This is Captain Stacer, Vacifian First Detachment. We're on your six, we'll follow your lead Lieutenant." He announced.

[The GAmeTopians]

Earlier, Fort Bragg
Field Commander Jackson strapped her handgun in place, gearing up inside her private quarters. Wheatley was relaying the briefing through comms between the Romeos and her laptop. As she finished packing her gear, Chell turned to Wheatley.
"Order Romeo to report to me. They'll report directly to me, and we'll head to Diego Garcia and secure command."
"Affirmative, Field Commander," Wheatley's cheerful face nodded. The commander snapped the laptop shut and set it aside, deeming it non-essential. She hefted her backpack and stepped outside, awaiting Squad Romeo.

Now, Reaching Diego Garcia
"Now approaching Diego Garcia runway, commander. I'm getting action reports on the radio." The pilot called back to the Field Commander, entering a swift descent towards the runway.
"Broadcast our ID, pilot. We don't need to get caught up in anything before we land."
The VTOL neared the runway, just about ready to touch down.

Meanwhile
Wheatley pinged a communication tunnel with Nexus, and sent him a message.
"I got Field Commander Jackson touching down at Diego Garcia right now, so a briefing on the current situation would be appreciated."

[Congreveopia]

Diego Garcia, Runway:

“Yeah, here. Stop the vehicle.” Nexus highlighted an area on Halcombe’s HUD and he brought the vehicle to a stop inside the zone.

“ETA to first landing?” asked Halcombe, looking up as he jumped out of the Humvee and saw the yellow flower pattern outlines on his HUD where the parachuters were in the dark sky. Off in his peripheral vision, the transport plane let off another volley of flares.

“Thirty seconds,” replied Nexus. Halcombe ran around to the back of the Humvee and opened the trunk as the rest of the Congreveopian team disembarked. He pulled out a ballistic vest from the small pile of equipment he’d placed there and donned it quickly.

“Not too many of them,” he said, gesturing for his team to stay in cover behind the Humvee as he advanced in front of it. He had been walking around in basically full kit before the incident, and now he was wearing armor in addition to that. The rest of his team had been sleeping, and could maybe muster three T-shirts worth of fabric between them, plus their rifles, glasses, and PCUs.

“Same number as the Birtonian detachment,” said Nexus, as other TFA vehicles began pulling up, and other teams disembarked into defensive positions as the paratroopers closed on the runway. “There are some similar incidents to this in the team's history.”

“Lovely,” said Halcombe, checking his rifle and disengaging the safety, but keeping it pointed at the ground. “Is that singing?”

“At some point, this all slips below the threshold of how incompetent we can really expect the hostile force to be,” commented Nexus.

The headlights of one of the vehicles caught the first paratrooper as he floated towards the assembled group and landed on the tarmac in front of the semicircle of TFA troops. Halcombe tensed for a moment, but nobody fired. The paratrooper didn’t raise their rifle.

“By joint international agreement, you are trespassing inside a restricted Task Force Atlas controlled area!” shouted Halcombe. “Place your hands above your head, and make no sudden movement! You will be held until you are identified, and then remanded to the authorities of the relevant nation! You may, er, disengage your parachute first to avoid falling over, if you want.”

A blurry image appeared on Halcombe’s HUD of the paratrooper’s face, taken by someone in his squad as he’d been talking, and the image of one of the Birtonian troops on file. Nexus had cross-referenced the pictures, and was now showing an 88% probable match between the two people.

“You morons.” Halcombe muttered, reengaging the safety on his rifle as the yellow flowers vanished and were replaced with green squares.

Diego Garcia, Nexus:

“The situation is in hand, however there are currently friendly force on the runway responding to the situation. Assuming tower has not already instructed you to, I would greatly appreciate it if you could go-around and wait until this has been dealt with before entering the pattern again,” replied Nexus to Wheatley. “I’m passing you a full report, and the data from Halcombe’s cameras and the fleet’s radar.”

[Anowa]

SPECTRA A1
Diego Garcia
As the BTR rolled onto scene behind the Congrevopian Humvee, the Anowan team dismounted and took up positions beside the APC, Lawson and Black setting up a standing B-Frame. Black aimed his AA-12 from his hip, as he grasped Moses' MG3 Bipod over his left shoulder. Chakwas, Cortez and Rivera took up cover behind the massive tires of the BTR, as Shmuckatelli ranged his XM-25 smack dab in the center of all the paratroopers.

After a brief 'exchange' of words by Lieutenant Halcombe, Rivera quickly clued in, as did Black. "Oh boy, we get to fight alongside these dumbasses."

Cortez pretty much finished Black's thoughts for him, "We're going to fucking die aren't we?"

Rivera stepped out from behind the wheel of the APC and approached Halcombe, "Lieutenant... I'm not too familiar with Task Force protocols, so what should we do here?" Under Anowan military commands a stunt like this was worth an immediate discharge, and with the potential of lives wasted and equipment trashed the potential for life imprisonment in a mining camp would also be on the table. However this was as far away from Anowa as one could get, so the proper route was relegated to Halcombe and his people.

[Congreveopia]

Diego Garcia, Runway:

"We've got a field commander over, um... there." Halcombe pointed into the night sky at a green diamond that his HUD told him was the GAmeTopian aircraft. "Let's get these idiots off the runway, so that she can land, then she's the one who'll have final authority pertaining to them. Assuming that their government doesn't, har har, take action about this themselves."

(OOC: Yes, he said the words "har har," because Nexus has briefed him on the team's previous escapades. He didn't laugh.)

[Sonitusia]

"Looks neat. Sure, we're given free reign so we can attach ourselves to your positions. We're quite modular, just hope that the enemy doesn't have the accuracy to snipe at a moving open top..."

---

Diego Garcia
Afternoon

"Merci, I'll send you both the scan later," Maria replied, putting the book away to finish her food. Meanwhile Sulthon put away the tablet for the meantime so he could sip on his beverage. He knew that the man had a point, but it simply wasn't something that he wanted to think about, unless the enemy planned on using the trees like Japanese snipers back in the day.

"They're most likely going to put up a flat canopy, so I wouldn't worry too much about that," Sulthon wondered, "I suppose we'll have to keep an eye on high areas though just to be safe." Finishing his drink, he decided it was time for them to set up camp at the barracks. Excusing himself, Maria followed suit as they exited the mess.

[The United Remnants of America]

Diego Garcia, Indian Ocean
Six Days Since Deployment

Jolly stood and stared at the island's bay from the large glass window of the second floor of the operations center. It had been roughly a week since him and the majority of the operators here had been mobilized to Diego Garcia, with a few stragglers coming in at later points. Not to mention that Birtonian airdrop that had caused quite a ruckus. That debacle almost ended up with a dead team and a destroyed aircraft, but luckily it hadn't come to that and the crisis had been diverted in the end.

From the window, Jolly could see the nine ships of the Mobile Task Fleet, all sitting proud in sunny late morning. The skies looked clear, with not a cloud in sight, as it had been every day they'd been here, and from what the staff said, this was the normal. Through the windows, at the edge of the island, passing into the bay, was the Bride, the island's resupply ship. On time as usual.

The Bride looked as old as it was. The white paint on the hull of the aged decommissioned hospital ship was fading and streaked in some spots. The name on the forefront of the hull was faded black, and the national code of the ship's original owners could still barely be seen through several layers of white paint used in a vain attempt to cover them up. In its hayday, the Bride could have a crew of over a thousand and supported at least a thousand beds. Now it only supported a crew of a few dozen made to keep the thing floating and to keep the cargo on it secure.

From here in the operations center, in one corner, was the dock radioman, who directed the naval traffic that occasionally came in and out of the island, and Jolly could hear him and the responses from where he was as he watched.

"This is the Bride, coming in for our scheduled drop-off of supplies, requesting permission to dock," came the voice in the radio, coming from the radio watch aboard the hospital ship.

"Bride, you are cleared to dock and unload. You appear to be riding low." The dock radioman had noticed the ship seemed to be carrying more weight than usual.

"Yes, we got a new stop we have to do after this, so as soon as we offload, we'll be moving around to leave."

"Alright, copy that. So, you a newbie? Brandon used to be Bride's radioman."

"Oh, you didn't hear? Brandon's on leave. His girlfriend had their kid."

"What? I didn't know Brandon had a girlfriend. Good for him. Send congrats from Mike at DG."

"You got it."

Jolly sighed. At least life was going well for someone. He looked at his watch to check the time. There was another daily briefing downstairs in about twenty minutes with the TFA personnel that had been at Diego Garcia. Hopefully, most of them were already down there and Chell was giving them the preliminary stuff; That nothing had changed in the last three or so days. Fort Bragg was still up and running. All the Firebases were alright, and a couple TFA teams had been sent to each to guard them as well. And that their posting hadn't changed. Diego Garcia was still the next threat, but nobody knew if that was true anymore. They'd probably be loaded up and sent back to Bragg in the next few days to plan their next move. Jolly still needed to talk to that Congreveopian Halcombe about his thoughts on modifying his defensive plans. Great and creative as they were, Jolly had some ideas to work on it, since Jolly assumed Halcombe didn't know all the little ins and out of Diego Garcia...

Or maybe he did. Halcombe was a stereotypical creepy Congreveopian.

---

The Bride sauntered slowly into the waters, passing by the Task Force Fleet on its way towards the docks. On the deck of the ship were several average-looking crew members in nondescript coveralls. Crates sat around them on dollies as they waited for the Bride to slow to a stop at the docks. The base staff at the dock tossed out heavy ropes to the hospital ships that the crew tied to mooring posts on the deck, finally stopping the ship against the dock with a barely perceptible dulled impact as steel met steel and wood. The crew slid a heavy ramp down onto the dock, connecting deck to dock.

The offloading of supplies was uneventful, though the crew of the Bride looked different up close. None of the base staff recognized the usual ship hands. They also seemed quieter than usual, and less open to conversation. The crew last month did a lot more meandering and screwing around.

The majority of the crew of the Bride assisted in the unloading, leaving an ever more skeletal crew aboard the ship.

"Bride, you look unloaded. As usual, you're cleared to move onto the Fleet to unload." The report from the operation center was expected.

The itinerary for the hospital ship at Diego Garcia was to supply the base, and then to undock and moor itself to the super carrier URS Hyperion to resupply the Task Force with food. The Hyperion would use RHIBs to trade supplies to the other boats. It was a fairly unwieldy process, but it was the best they had at the facility. During this entire process, the crew of the ship that stayed on the island was allowed to take a handful of the on-base Humvees to travel up to the base's personnel quarters to get a bite to eat, a shower, or a change of clothes while the Bride moved to the super carrier and the carrier's staff offloaded the fleet supplies.

Normally, at this time of day, the collection of housing, exchange stores, commissaries and whatnot placed on the northern section of the island should be mostly deserted at the majority of base staff would be at the military part of the base.

The Diego Garcia base staff paid them no heed. The crewmen and women of the Bride were trusted as the givers of sustinence to the base staff, and the base staff gave them the benefit of the doubt because of their thankless jobs.

If only the base staff had paid more attention this time. They might have noticed that there were more crew on the island than usual, and that the crew that decided not to take the Humvees up to the personnel base had wandered with a little less wandering and a little more purpose towards the air control tower and the hangars, rucksacks in hand carrying what passerby base staff could only assume were a change of clothes or a lunch.

Little did the personnel of Diego Garcia know that they were letting Task Force Logos maneuver slowly for a kill, like a pack of wolves circling its prey for the perfect time to make a quick kill.

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Birtonian Imperial Rangers
Daily Briefing
Diego Garcia

In the hallways of the command center lights flickered every now and then, giving an age to the entire facility, accented by the yellowing of illumination produced by the bulbs. John led his team from the billeting areas towards the room designated for briefings, which the next was due to start in about twenty minutes. From their own briefing before the "simulated night assault" as John kept telling the other nations operators, they knew Diego Garcia was a high priority target, ergo the team was in full kit, weapons and armor, save for larger items like rucksacks.

"Look top, I just don't get why I have to apologize" groaned Enrique as they all moved past several base personnel.

"Bro, you told one of their lieutenants to go stuff himself" quipped William from the rear of their group.

Silence pervaded the hallway, save for footsteps. Enrique likely pondered his course of action and was figuring the best way to avoid actually apologizing. John was focused on the task at hand, while William was going over protocols in his head. Lionel simply going through the motions, Jessica was as calm as always, just waiting for the next mission to start. And of course Lexon was feverishly scrutinizing everybody for treason and/or heresy.

Moments later the team entered the command post for the mission. The room itself was reasonably sized but obviously updated with task force equipment as massive monitors filled an entire wall in addition to banks of communications hardware opposite their entrance. Over the murmur of voices John picked out a few familiar voices and nodded in the direction of their owners, giving a polite and discreet greeting across the room. Most Rangers filed into the seating area, and began overlooking the dossier that was placed there. Meanwhile Enrique, still at odds with a few foreigners took his folder and leaned against the wall, absentmindedly thumbing through its contents.

Lionel sat quietly, scanning the room. Producing a small non descript bag from his cargo pocket he then proceeded to introduce a rather large chaw of tobacco into his mouth. Moving around and began to spit into a water bottle he brought with.

[Altito Asmoro]

Diego Garcia
Garuda Corps


While the girls, the two women within the team, decided to took a stroll, lightly armed with the primary weapon on the back and the sidearm, with the kevlar. It's actually not a lightly armed, turns out. Corporal Hana and Corporal Elisa perhaps took the assignment a little bit less serious than before. Then again, it's been almost a week since they had been deployed, and despite the threat of the attack is imminent, they kind of not coming to the base.

Well, not now.

Yet.

So while the corporals took a stroll, perhaps a light stroll, around the hangars. It's quite large, the hangars. There's even the prime jet of their own, which is the Sukhoi. To be fair, it's more like of a joint program production, since they just didn't have the capability to made the fifth-generation aircraft by themselves. Captain Budi's in the locker room, reading.

The other two is seen eating at the mess.

[Relikai]

John Gravosia 'Graves', Konayama Miyuki 'Milky'
Task Force 48 // Task Force Atlas Liaisons
Diego Garcia

They did not spend their time indoors all the while, John was literally holding onto Miyuki with a leash as they continued to train their bodies, familiarizing themselves with Diego Garcia's geography. John had a favorite tree branch, which he would do his pull ups on it while Miyuki dangled below him from a rope tied to his waist, using this chance to practice her balance while suspended in the air. Climbing and adjusting themselves to trees was a priority, John modifying their rifles so that John's short-barreled M4A1 CQBR and Miyuki's M4A1 SOPMOD could be used from a tight vantage point. Miyuki got on with her training by firing paintball projectiles from her rifle, combining well with John to do fire and maneuver exercises in the bush. Miyuki could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins whenever she heard the solid smack of the metal ball against a metal figure, feeling as if she was training back in the jungles of Namba, encountering the enemy during their training or live-fire exercises was something common.

At night, John made sure that the rooms were soundproof, before getting on with their night activities. Miyuki was pleasing as always, always on form on her primary vocation as an infiltrator and a courtesan. She occasionally confided in John after the man made her drop the 'Ice Queen' image, Miyuki's tsundere personality around her comrades, and the man responded in kind. While soldiers from other outfits might see them as extremely close partners, the ORPHAN Force sees them as both instructor and pupil, as well as lovers.

The Bride came in with supplies, and many crewmen came onshore to rest. John found it weird that most of them moved on foot, the crew of a hospital ship mulling about sensitive areas like the hangars and the control tower. Perhaps it's simple modus operandi of Task Force Atlas, but Miyuki picked up the odd vibes as well. No matter, they would continue their training in the jungle, their heavy backpacks being little more than a burden as they climbed trees, rested themselves on branches and 'sniped' at the wandering crewmen with imaginary shots. They carried their full equipment of combat goggles and the Standard Battle Order, but no live ammunition except a cilp for Miyuki's Five-Seven and John's Desert Eagle. However, they were armed with their knives and most importantly, themselves.

[Anowa]

SPECTRA A1
Diego Garcia, Hangar 13

The resident SPECTRA team was currently guarding the second most expensive object The Allied States leased to the Task Force: the AC-130U and it's crew, callsign Grave Digger. Currently everyone was geared for an immediate scramble, and should the incoming attack come from the ground, the first thing that would be going up would the the Spooky. AT least that was the general plan, actually doing it would be the heard part. With only six of them and no vehicle to keep up with the taxiing gunship chances were nill, and the BTR was patrolling elsewhere at the moment.

'G' was the first to notice the mass amount of swabbies currently in the area, and despite his middle-aged eyes, he could tell they weren't walking like swabbies, the slight sway due to being used on a rocking boat was completely absent, like they were more accustomed to land than the deck. Something Rivera could attest to.

To the LC's credit, she didn't become showy and interrogatory. Instead she simply whistled, getting the flight crew's attention away from their poker game. A simple nod towards the Spooky and they figured out the rest. They quickly took position inside the craft and started checking flight surfaces and electronic systems, yet to start the engines.

The SPECTRA team remained content to simply watch the suspicious naval enlisted, confident in their own abilities, and the flight crew's abilities. Things weren't all around that stressful, and for Black, shooting the Minister of health in the face was more nerve wracking.

[Sonitusia]

---

Diego Garcia
Havoc 1

Residing inside of the tropical jungle was rather mundane after a few nights, but the crew had made good use of their time patrolling the surrounding terrain for use later on during the defense, should it come to happen. Thanks to the low fuel consumption and the amount of extra jerry cans on board, the Havoc took on several movements during the past week. They had been given reports by Sulthon on the main base's news during that time, including the latest development of the Bride finally turning up on shore. While it did ease them that the base would be getting supplies at last, it didn't matter if they weren't going to check in until several more days to restock.

The vehicle's position was only given to the communication's team, of which would instantly relay combat reports from HQ when the time came. It was also a good way to send artillery commands later on.

"We can keep going for another four days of studying," Roland reported, shaving a beard he had been growing for some time in front of a mirror as they took a break, the Havoc covered in bushes and netting to avoid detection, "Fuel's still good, and Sarah says that the tropical filters are working smoothly. We still have several boxes of rations as well, so that's good."

Theodore nodded, sipping on a coconut he had obtained from a nearby tree. They had made good use of the natural foods to be found around the island, easily identifying edibles and non. The coconut trees dominated, and they didn't have to use much of their water due to this. After checking the map, it Theodore looked at the progress they had made from the west side to the east, where they could watch the base from across the body of water between. If required, he estimated a fifteen minute drive to return to the base, but considering the range of about 5 kilometers, it may not even be necessary, unless the base was absolutely compromised.

"Great, I think we'll go for one more run towards the north and set up back here," the major finally decided, and they began their final patrol.

---

Diego Garcia
Communications Team

Sulthon and Maria had been busy, taking into account everything they could about the base and the surrounding area. If needed, they were ready to run towards the south and begin operating in the jungle, but for the most part they would stick with their fellow operators. Night time training as also a norm for them, as they stayed out during late hours and hunted giant crabs in the jungle to adjust their eyesight to the island's darkness. Oddly enough, upon consuming one or two of the wild delicacies, Maria may or may not have become extremely attracted to Sulthon in a sexual matter. It wasn't important, as she kept herself restrained from being addled by the aphrodisiac nature of the crab meat.

In any case, the landing of the Bride was highly suspicious in the two's minds. This was of course due to the trauma that Sonitusia had towards boats arriving upon islands with oddly large crews, similar to what the Lant rebels did back then. They reported this to the Havoc, which shared the same sentiment as the team kept a close eye on the newest members of the island. They were armed at all times with their Velox submachine guns due to this, and their SMBRs were never far away.

[Vacif]

Oxide, 29th Spec Ops.
Operations Center, Briefing room
Diego Garcia

It had been almost a week since they'd been deployed to Diego Garcia, and since then, nothing had changed. The multinational force patrolled the perimeter daily, went over briefings every morning, and trained in the environment of Diego Garcia everyday to get used to the base. Today was no different. They woke up, they trained, they ate, then they were onto the daily briefing. Maybe the enemy hadn't attacked because they didn't want to deal with the force. After all, why hit the target when security is up? Maybe they would wait for them to pull out, and then attack?

The Vacifians sat in the briefing room awaiting the other teams. Unlike some of the other groups, they were not wearing their kits. The eight of them were clad in dark coloured combat boots, dark grey cargo pants, and a simple black t-shirt. Most of the breifing appeared to of already been set up. All that was left was to wait for the others, including the commander, to enter the room.

[The Central Shadow Nation]

Diego Garcia

After sidearm training in the next morning the group split up. Dragon, German, Liberty, and Nickel went back to the living quarters to rest for an hour or two. Saturn was out in the open sitting on an old fuel barrel which had noticeable rips in it, and dents. He was reading a book without a title, missing a few titles, and appearing to have a few permanently drenched pages. "So, whats that piece of shit your reading?"Phoenix said, walking over. Saturn picked a spot under a few large shrubs and a palm tree to relax and read his 'book'. It reminded him of his home, the humidity and plant life. Every now and then he heard the engines of aircraft, however living near one of the most busiest airports in the CSN he had learned to ignore that.

"Its a book given to me by my a friend when he retired from the marines. Its a ballistics book," Saturn said, smiling.

"Well where the hell did he get it from?" Phoenix asked once more.

" The library. Before he went off to war in the middle east, he grabbed it from the library. When he came home he didnt return it, and in the condition it was in I dont think they wouldve accepted it or money. So when he became leader of my team and we went to Calldonia, he had it with him. We became friends and when he retired he gave me the book. Do you remember Gunnery Sergeant Ignatowsk?" Phoenix, having been one of the SNI marines to fight in Calldonia, managed to meet Saturn and his squad in the jungles of Brazil in the first stage of the invasion. Phoenix was one of the first foreign soldiers to be let into the special forces.

"Him? That day was rough. The vaccinations for jungle viruses and shit, the humidity..." Saturn laughed, interrupting Phoenix. "We gave you air conditioned car's!"

Phoenix shrugged. "Like I was saying...I remember him. I just dont remember that...thing in your hands." Saturn gave him a sarcastic, un-serious glare. "I thought we got through this. Its a book."

"Heh." Phoenix mumbled, unwrapping a rather dry granola bar, before taking a bite asking, "Shall I leave you do read?" Saturn closed the book. "Chapters over. I know whats on your mind," Saturn said. "Good. Lets head to the gym." They went walking. Soon the others would follow up with their daily routine on the base.