Task Force Rainbow(IC/OPEN)

[Malay Raya]

Sergeant Vlastimil "Vlad" Ivanovich
Vlad had been late to the coffee shop, due to unfinished business in one of the HQ's toilets causing him to spend about 30 minutes. Finally however he managed to wrap up the deal and went to the shop via a shuttle bus. However as soon as he arrives walking on the sidewalk towards the shop, he was surprised to see most of his comrades already making their way to the main door. He could saw how grand the coffee shops interior design was, let alone the cup o' Joes there.

"Hey, where are you guys going?" spoke Vlad to everyone in his crowd of comrades. One of them simply said "HQ.", causing him to be disappointed. "Oh man... huh. Alright then." Vlad muttered in a low voice, the others barely hearing it. As soon as he arrived at the conference room in HQ, he sat at one of the chairs, giving a short friendly look at everyone before staring at the table, figuring what kind of mission now will the TF handle.

[Main Nation Ministry]

While Charles was taking a nap in one of the bunk beds at the barracks, he was rudely awakened by one of the friendly soldiers there. "Hey buddy, they need you at the conference room!" the soldier said and demanded. "Well, fuck me. I guess it's time." Charles complained as he sat up from the bunk. Leaving his stuff in the barracks, he was directed to the conference room, where he opened the door to get inside. The room already had a couple of people sitting in their chairs, waiting for the commander. Charles didn't say a word to neither of them, as he put both of his feet on the table, as he lean back in the comfy chair of his.

[Apror]

Andrew

Andrew had been in the mess hall until he saw a mess of soldiers starting to leave. Deciding to check it out, apparently everyone was heading to HQ. "Shit" he said silently as they moved forward to the HQ. He wondered what joys the brass had come up for them today, as he walked towards the building.

[Anowa]

Wolfram Herrman, Windsor 1-1
En Route to Operation Hotcake
03/03/2012, 1213 Alpha, Algerian Sahara

Wolfram always found Arid Cammies a tad more comfortable than the normal set. That being said, the ass end of a CV-22 over the Sahara was going to be hot as fuck no matter what you were wearing. It was times like this that the Canuck had to envy Akarah and Gerhart, having grown up in the ungodly hot areas they were born in, they'd have gotten used to shit like this by now.

That being said, the operation was going to be... difficult.

Jax had briefed them on the tarmac, alongside a rather lanky looking Signal Corpsman. A Friendly uniform at least. That was after they were told to get their kit and be ready in three mikes. Which was never a good thing, seeing as how it emphasized the pressure of time.

Wolfram shifted his weight. Exact same gear set up to the prior operation, sans his primary, in the MP5's stead was an amalgamation of the M16A4, SCAR-H, and SR-25. Based of the regular old SCAR-H, it had a modified trigger group allowing full auto and burst fire along side the regular semi, a 13 inch barrel and compensator, allowing for one handed fire is for whatever reason he only had one hand. Next was the lower receiver, having been replaced with an SR-25 compatible one for interchangeability. On top was an 4x optic and on top of that was a collimator sight, so he didn't have a close up on a man's face at point blank. The stock had been replaced with a marksman variant, making the ass end of the gun both sturdier and well adjusted to that large man's frame. Other than that was the EGLM mounted under the barrel with a modified mag housing, allowing for the 2 50 round drum mags he had on him to fit, the IR laser sight mounted on the side rail, and back up irons. It was the Pug of guns, so ugly you couldn't help but love it.

On his person was his trusty Hi-Power, three frags, three 40mm HEDP rounds, three 30 round mags for the SCAR, three 13 round mags for the H-P, a satchel charge, and a few chem lights.

Their objective was to reclaim three Iskander Cruise Missile launchers. All of which were in the hands of roughly 20-40 Al-Qaeda militants, and anywhere from half to a full dozen technicals, outside a cave complex embedded into the Saharan bedrock. Granted it was going to be relatively easy compared to other things, but still not a cake walk.

The ramp at the ass end of the V-22 lowered as Wolfram felt the speed of the vehicle decrease, he un-clipped the buckle that held him in place as he sat, before standing and flipping his rifle off safe. Walking out he took a position at the side of the ramp, watching for any hostiles. His radio squelched to life as the V-22 pilot broke through.

Casper: <<Casper to Geronimo. This is the LZ, any further and we risk getting pinged by HMGs. The Site is roughly two klicks to your north, Good Luck. Over and Out.>>

As everyone shuffled off the aircraft and took their positions around the craft, Wolfram received yet another hail.

Elephant: <<Elephant to Geronimo, are you receiving? Over.>>

Windsor 1-1: <<Windsor 1-1 Confirms, Elephant. Over.>>

Elephant: <<Copy Geronimo, I'll be your C&C for the remainder of your operations with Rainbow. In case you were sleeping, your objective today is to reclaim a trio of Iskander series ballistic missile launchers in the hands of OPFOR. If at all possible the site is to remain in tact, and the launchers are to remain undamaged.
However should the latter not be feasible, you have CAS in the form of an F-15E, callsign Empire.>> Wolfram couldn't help but crack a smirk, <<That being said, we expect the local contingent of Al-Qaeda is going to launch them at some point during the next few days. And despite global opinion on the Arabic world right now, the last thing we need is a flattened Algiers. Hop to it Geronimo. Over.>>

Wolfram yelled out over the fading V-22's engines, "Alright! You heard the man, time to beat feet, you don't wanna die in the desert do you?" turning his wrist over he looked at the compass built into his watch. Found north, and started walking.

[Sterkistan]

James Ryan, Windsor 1-5
En Route to Operation Hotcake
03/03/2012, 1215 Alpha, "Middle of Piss-All Nowhere" Algeria

James handled the heat well, he'd grown up in a town where your average summer day was 45-50 degrees centigrade.
He was in the arid brush camo, no markings for nationalities and the name patch replaced with something from his SASR days, a flattering "Go Fuck Yourself" was smacked on for any baddies hoping to catch his name. He gave his F88 and USP a once-over as he exited the CeeVee. Upon exiting he flipped out his sunglasses, putting them on and adjusting his hat. A bucket hat, the same colour as his camouflage.

He was in a flat light-brown tac-vest, with 3 extra mags for the F88, 3 more for the USP, a spare bayonet and 3 hand grenades in case it got toasty. He flicked the full-auto lock off. If he went down he could switch it on. The lock keeping any unsuspecting hostile (assuming they didn't know how to disengage it) from using the bullpup rifle to 'shred'. He kept his finger off-trigger, looking down at the bayonet sticking from the front of the weapon, he hoped he'd not have to use it. Jabbing someone with a bayonet was not the worlds prettiest experience, depending where you got them. He'd done it enough to know. He had the standard scope switched out with a rail-mounted 3x power scope with angled iron sights mounted right in front of them. Other than a bit of padding on the back of the stock mostly everything was standard, apart from the trigger, which he'd switched for a hair trigger.

Looking around the landscape he simply exclaimed, "Can't get much crazier than this."

[Hothnia]

Anna Gerhart
Undisclosed location
Sahara Desert

Anna trudged along through the desert, hanging toward the rear of rainbow operators. Anna had tried something different today. She had bought the BDU's of a German Soldier in the desert from the PX a week ago and was using them for the first time, the rippled tan blending in the desert better than all black or IDF BDUs. Anna had wrapped a head wrap around her head and put googles over hey eyes in order to keep the sand out of her hair and eyes. The head wrap had a US helmet placed on top of it.

Anna didn't mind the sand, it was common for her to work in it back in Israel. What she did mind was when it took hours to clean up thus the purpose of the head wrap. Anna continued along and sidled up to Schulte. " I got cut off last time. Where are you from?" Anna asked in a low voice. Anna squinted into the sun as she waited for a response, shifting her M4A1 from her left hand to her right.

[Malay Raya]

Sergeant "Vlad", Lamochatte 2-4
Operation Hotcake,
1216 Alpha, Somewhere in the Sahara, Algeria

Finally after a few months they're back in action, this time in Algeria, in one of the infamous deserts on Earth. Vlad wore a tan desert camo overall with a tactical vest, a tan kevlar helmet and a small rations backpack containing a water canteen and a MRE. He also had a pair of combat goggles and wore a neckwarmer scarf that he would pull up to protect his eyes and nose just in case a sandstorm happens.

In terms of hardware, he carried his AK-74M fitted with a 3x ACOG sight and a suppressor, along with 3 30-round magazines for it. He also carried a silenced MP-443 Grach (3 magazines) in his left thigh pouch and a combat knife in his right arm pouch. Since they were probably going to explore some cave systems, he also brought a small high power flashlight mounted on the left side of his helmet for easy access. On his utility belt and tactical vest he carried 2 flashbangs and 2 lethal grenades.

Vlad checked to make sure that his earpiece is placed firmly in his ear as he steadies himself in a crouched stance, weapons down after getting off the American V-22 Osprey. He observed his surroundings, it wasn't that much different from his brief time in Syria except for the complete lack of buildings and human made structures that were replaced with sand dunes sprinkled with rocks of varying sizes and a light but continuous gust of hot desert wind. Vlad knew they were going to encounter Al-Qaeda's who are known to be zealous mujahideen's and will do anything to defend their cause, depending on their level of belief and loyalty towards their leader.

[Krugeristan]

Cpl. Abu al-Akarah
Someplace, Algeria

Akarah felt almost right at home when they all arrived in Algeria. The air was just as hot and dry as Yemen, but the overall atmosphere of Algeria was a hell of a lot more different than Yemen.

He had studied his home region, plus North Africa, on maps before, but he had never seen photographs of any of the major cities here. He liked to think that Algiers looked somewhat like Damascus, but had a beautiful view of the Mediterranean Sea. He liked to think about sitting on the top of an apartment or office building in Algiers and feel like he could look across the water and see Europe's glittering, more modernized, cities.

But, it was all a dream. It was never going to happen. He glanced over at the rest of the group, focusing on Anna, primarily. Didn't she get hurt?
I thought she'd be made to stay back and recover.

[ButtasticWaffles]

It had been months of grueling training and finally the second mission was a go. It was also a long time since Schulte had been in such a hot place. It brought back memories of her years in the Bundeswehr, when she was deployed in Afghanistan. Schulte equipped herself with a custom HK-417 she recently acquired, her USP.45, grenades and her electronics detector. Schulte also brought along her shemagh she bought back in Afghanistan, something she never left behind when she was in desert environments. She wrapped it around her head, put her ballistic goggles over her eyes and finally put her helmet over everything on her head. The ride in the V-22 was exciting since she had never been in one before. The aircraft slowed down and landed at the LZ. As the back ramp started to lower everyone inside got up and started to exit the V-22. Everyone gathered around Wolfram waiting for his orders, "alright! You heard the man, time to beat feet, you don't wanna die in the desert do you?" The group traveled to the objective, most of them hating the hot weather. Schulte especially hated it. It never got this hot back in Germany and she missed that. Anna walked up to Schulte seeming as if she was going to ask her something. It seemed that she was Schulte's friend in the task force and that made her happy. " I got cut off last time. Where are you from?" Oh I'm from Berlin Anna, it's a very nice place. Maybe I could take you there sometime.

[The Batavia]

SGM. Maxwell "Barricade" Hendriks, Lamochatte 1-5
Sahara Desert, Algeria
Operation Hotcake

It was about time they were going out. After months of training exercises and PT they finally went out in the field. Maxwell felt some kind of odd excitement to finally get into combat again. He had operated in areas such as these before, such like Afghanistan and Iran. The heat wasn't something he wasn't used to, either. Although it would've been nicer if it was a bit cooler.

Maxwell wore a desert MARPAT uniform, this time with no patches at all, with his heavy kelvar vest. On top of that a tactical vest which held 9 30Rnd STANAG magazines, and a knife rig on his left chest pec, which contained a tactical hunting knife. Maxwell wore his ACU kelvar helmet with an cap underneath to protect his eyes against the sun, with ballistic goggles on top of his helmet and an bandana in case of a sandstorm, aswell as a headset for communication. He also wore a belt with 8 40mm HEAT grenades, just in case things get really hairy, aswell as a pistol holster which had 5 .44 Magnum mags.

Maxwell carried his M4A1 SOPMOD with one hand holding the pistol grip, his finger off the trigger. He had slightly modified for less recoil when fired, with a M4 CCO Aimpoint sight, a Muzzle Brake barrel, a tactical laser and, of course, a M203 underbarrel grenade launcher. It wasn't so that Maxwell hated the HK416, which he was standardly issued with. In fact, he loved the Heckler and Koch. It was just that he personally preferred the Colt, he doesn't really know why, it just... feels better. His sidearm was a Deagle 44. Oddly enough, he preferred to shoot left handed, despite being right dominant.

As Maxwell disembarked the V-22, he located his right hand in front of the STANAG mag in his rifle. After leaving the plane, he looked around and saw Akarah, and decided to walk towards him. "Just checking, your name is Akarah, right?" he asked. "I think I heard someone call you that."

[Krugeristan]

SGM. Maxwell "Barricade" Hendriks, Lamochatte 1-5
Sahara Desert, Algeria
Operation Hotcake

It was about time they were going out. After months of training exercises and PT they finally went out in the field. Maxwell felt some kind of odd excitement to finally get into combat again. He had operated in areas such as these before, such like Afghanistan and Iran. The heat wasn't something he wasn't used to, either. Although it would've been nicer if it was a bit cooler.

Maxwell wore a desert MARPAT uniform, this time with no patches at all, with his heavy kelvar vest. On top of that a tactical vest which held 9 30Rnd STANAG magazines, and a knife rig on his left chest pec, which contained a tactical hunting knife. Maxwell wore his ACU kelvar helmet with an cap underneath to protect his eyes against the sun, with ballistic goggles on top of his helmet and an bandana in case of a sandstorm, aswell as a headset for communication. He also wore a belt with 8 40mm HEAT grenades, just in case things get really hairy, aswell as a pistol holster which had 5 .44 Magnum mags.

Maxwell carried his M4A1 SOPMOD with one hand holding the pistol grip, his finger off the trigger. He had slightly modified for less recoil when fired, with a M4 CCO Aimpoint sight, a Muzzle Brake barrel, a tactical laser and, of course, a M203 underbarrel grenade launcher. It wasn't so that Maxwell hated the HK416, which he was standardly issued with. In fact, he loved the Heckler and Koch. It was just that he personally preferred the Colt, he doesn't really know why, it just... feels better. His sidearm was a Deagle 44. Oddly enough, he preferred to shoot left handed, despite being right dominant.

As Maxwell disembarked the V-22, he located his right hand in front of the STANAG mag in his rifle. After leaving the plane, he looked around and saw Akarah, and decided to walk towards him. "Just checking, your name is Akarah, right?" he asked. "I think I heard someone call you that."

Akarah glanced in the direction where he heard someone say his name, seeing Maxwell--the Australian man who called him a dog in the coffee shop. At this point, Akarah knew that the dog remark wasn't supposed to be an insult, but it still stung a little every time he thought about it. Either way, he faced Maxwell, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "Yeah, it's Akarah," he replied. "Do you need something? Advice? Pep talk?" He shrugged. "Extra bullets?"

[The Batavia]

SGM. Maxwell "Barricade" Hendriks, Lamochatte 1-5
Sahara Desert, Algeria
Operation Hotcake

It was about time they were going out. After months of training exercises and PT they finally went out in the field. Maxwell felt some kind of odd excitement to finally get into combat again. He had operated in areas such as these before, such like Afghanistan and Iran. The heat wasn't something he wasn't used to, either. Although it would've been nicer if it was a bit cooler.

Maxwell wore a desert MARPAT uniform, this time with no patches at all, with his heavy kelvar vest. On top of that a tactical vest which held 9 30Rnd STANAG magazines, and a knife rig on his left chest pec, which contained a tactical hunting knife. Maxwell wore his ACU kelvar helmet with an cap underneath to protect his eyes against the sun, with ballistic goggles on top of his helmet and an bandana in case of a sandstorm, aswell as a headset for communication. He also wore a belt with 8 40mm HEAT grenades, just in case things get really hairy, aswell as a pistol holster which had 5 .44 Magnum mags.

Maxwell carried his M4A1 SOPMOD with one hand holding the pistol grip, his finger off the trigger. He had slightly modified for less recoil when fired, with a M4 CCO Aimpoint sight, a Muzzle Brake barrel, a tactical laser and, of course, a M203 underbarrel grenade launcher. It wasn't so that Maxwell hated the HK416, which he was standardly issued with. In fact, he loved the Heckler and Koch. It was just that he personally preferred the Colt, he doesn't really know why, it just... feels better. His sidearm was a Deagle 44. Oddly enough, he preferred to shoot left handed, despite being right dominant.

As Maxwell disembarked the V-22, he located his right hand in front of the STANAG mag in his rifle. After leaving the plane, he looked around and saw Akarah, and decided to walk towards him. "Just checking, your name is Akarah, right?" he asked. "I think I heard someone call you that."

Akarah glanced in the direction where he heard someone say his name, seeing Maxwell--the Australian man who called him a dog in the coffee shop. At this point, Akarah knew that the dog remark wasn't supposed to be an insult, but it still stung a little every time he thought about it. Either way, he faced Maxwell, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "Yeah, it's Akarah," he replied. "Do you need something? Advice? Pep talk?" He shrugged. "Extra bullets?"

"Well, I already have a bunch of ammo already, and I don't think 7.62x39mm cartridges can go into a AR-15." Maxwell replied, chuckling slightly. "Sorry for being a smart-ass. But anyway, I didn't really want to ask for help or something, but now that you've offered me some anyway, I'll ask something..." He thought for a little while. "Uhm... I haven't had any operations against Al-Qaida yet, do you know how they fight?"

[Krugeristan]

Akarah glanced in the direction where he heard someone say his name, seeing Maxwell--the Australian man who called him a dog in the coffee shop. At this point, Akarah knew that the dog remark wasn't supposed to be an insult, but it still stung a little every time he thought about it. Either way, he faced Maxwell, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "Yeah, it's Akarah," he replied. "Do you need something? Advice? Pep talk?" He shrugged. "Extra bullets?"

"Well, I already have a bunch of ammo already, and I don't think 7.62x39mm cartridges can go into a AR-15." Maxwell replied, chuckling slightly. "Sorry for being a smart-ass. But anyway, I didn't really want to ask for help or something, but now that you've offered me some anyway, I'll ask something..." He thought for a little while. "Uhm... I haven't had any operations against Al-Qaida yet, do you know how they fight?"

"I haven't been face-to-face with al-Qaeda, either," Akarah replied, "but I do know that I can take what I've seen against the Syrian rebels, multiply it by a hundred, and you have al-Qaeda. They're not that different from the Taliban. They have suicide bombings, car bombings, machine gun ambushes, booby traps--" Akarah made a sweeping motion with his hand. "All of what you'd expect in facing organized terrorists." He jerked his thumb toward himself. "They can't hide from us, considering you have me, and I can read all their signs and translate everything they say."

[Hothnia]

It had been months of grueling training and finally the second mission was a go. It was also a long time since Schulte had been in such a hot place. It brought back memories of her years in the Bundeswehr, when she was deployed in Afghanistan. Schulte equipped herself with a custom HK-417 she recently acquired, her USP.45, grenades and her electronics detector. Schulte also brought along her shemagh she bought back in Afghanistan, something she never left behind when she was in desert environments. She wrapped it around her head, put her ballistic goggles over her eyes and finally put her helmet over everything on her head. The ride in the V-22 was exciting since she had never been in one before. The aircraft slowed down and landed at the LZ. As the back ramp started to lower everyone inside got up and started to exit the V-22. Everyone gathered around Wolfram waiting for his orders, "alright! You heard the man, time to beat feet, you don't wanna die in the desert do you?" The group traveled to the objective, most of them hating the hot weather. Schulte especially hated it. It never got this hot back in Germany and she missed that. Anna walked up to Schulte seeming as if she was going to ask her something. It seemed that she was Schulte's friend in the task force and that made her happy. " I got cut off last time. Where are you from?" Oh I'm from Berlin Anna, it's a very nice place. Maybe I could take you there sometime.

Anna Gerhart
Undisclosed Location
Sahara Desert


" Berlin? I haven't been there in years. I would love it if you took me sometime. Anyway, ever fought Al-Qaeda before? Or any other Al-Qaeda like terror organization? " Anna was happy that she had seemingly made a friend in Rainbow. Maybe the Rainbow assignment wouldn't be as unbearable as she thought it would be. Anna comtinued waking, kicking the dust. Anna raised the goggles from her eyes and placed them on the head wrap since not much sand was blowing. " I'm wondering what Wolfram is planning for us to do this time strategy wise. I'm hoping it was a better one than last time."

[Romic]

Dean disembarked from the V-22, he was sitting in awe he had never been inside one of those beasts. However the awe washed away when the ramp opened and the warm arid air rushed in. He boasted a MARPAT uniform with no colored patches visible, he had an IR flag that was just a plain tan so that he would be visible should the team be in the dark and using nvg.

He had his ballistic vest along with MOLLE gear. His M4 with a Trijicon ACOG / RMR Combo, Angled foregrip, Fire selector (always on semi unless needing suppressing fire). A holster on his side with his trusty Glock standard nothing fancy attached aside from a threaded barrel. He carried with him Nine magazines for his rifle (plus one inside of it) and three extra magazines for his side arm (also one inside of it), his helmet was tan with crudely painted MARPAT on it goggles on top if he needed them and a small band of cloth if he needed it, for the time being however he pulled over his sun glasses and looked around "Sand....Sand everywhere..." he looked down at his watch just a quarter past noon local time. He began thinking over the time table, standard person can walk 2km in about 20-25 minutes in optimal conditions, he looked around again, not optimal conditions at all. He figured they would make the trek in about 45 minutes give or take if they run into any baddies before then.

He made a vocalized "huh" and checked the numbers they'd arrive in the target zone at about 1:00 local time, which means if they are good Islamic boys they ought to be preparing for Dhuhr prayer time giving them an element of surprise.

He shook his head firmly for a minute, he hadn't experienced this kind of heat since Afghanistan and even then he hated it, reminded him of his hometown though the blistering hot summers getting up to 102 some days.... He snapped back to reality and began looking at the rest of the team awaiting for orders.

[Hansdeltania]

Capt Jack Nguyen, USAF (Lamochatte 1-3)
Operation: HOTCAKE
Algeria
03MAR12

Jack grabbed his Mk. 14 Mod 0 7.62mm battle rifle as he left the CV-22. When his foot touched the ramp, he flicked the safety off and held it at a high-ready position, somewhat similar to but not exactly port arms. About 25 yards from the tilt-rotor, he knelt down and pointed it downrange.

Barely two minutes had passed when he started sweating. The midday North African beat down on him mercilessly; even though he was wearing the Airman Battle System, which featured a moisture-wicking combat shirt, the dominant color of the MultiCam Arid pattern that was coyote brown absorbed the sun's radiation and started baking the Vietnamese-American Special Tactics Officer. Jack pulled out his weather measurement device; the display read 116 degrees Fahrenheit.

Damn, Jack thought to himself. You can fry an egg on a tank hull out here! Jack was not wrong; in fact, eggs have been fried on tank hulls in the desert before. He lowered his rifle to get a drink from his two-liter hydration pack. The water had been bagged at about 45 degrees Fahrenheit six hours earlier. Now, it had warmed up to nearly 80 degrees. The 40-degree difference between the ambient air temperature and the water made the precious liquid that 70 percent of the body was composed of feel like a cold beer on a hot day in Seattle. At least this isn't Vietnam, he added. That was also true; whereas the Saharan Desert was 116 degrees of dry heat, Vietnam was about 30 degrees cooler but ten times more humid. The humidity could make anyone's skin feel sticky after a few minutes while the dry Saharan heat "merely" burned. Sticky skin could increase exhaustion.

Strapped to his back was his Warrior Aid and Litter Kit filled with medical supplies and bags of water. However, there was an antenna attached to the top of the bag, and that antenna was connected to an AN/PRC-117F satellite radio in the upper compartment. Jack also carried one Combat Casualty Response Kit on the right side of the WALK bag. Normally he carried two, but the left side had a Velcro-secured AN/PED-1 laser designator with its sand-colored tripod. The MultiCam-patterned bump helmet that adorned his head had a simple boom mic headset, with the earpiece covering his left ear. The mic extended from the left; he like the boom to be on his right, but that would get in the way of his rifle. Black 5.11 RAID sunglasses shielded his eyes from the harsh sun.

[ButtasticWaffles]

"Anyway, ever fought Al-Qaeda before? Or any other Al-Qaeda like terror organization?' Well I did have experience fighting Al Qadea but that was when I enlisted into the Bundeswehr. That was 8 years ago and I got to say I don't remember much about it. Yet there is one thing to know when you're fighting them...never underestimate them because they will try anything to kill you. All the other terrorist groups I've fought were small and nowhere near the size of Al Qaeda. Schulte opened her bag and took out two water canteen and handed one to Anna.Here Anna I figured since it's so hot out here you'd probably want water too." I'm wondering what Wolfram is planning for us to do this time strategy wise. I'm hoping it was a better one than last time." Well I just hope the plan actually involves team communication instead of everybody going Rambo style in combat.

[Arengin Union]

Alexei Demidov

After getting to land Alexei signaled his team to fall in close behind the rest of Lamochatte. He had been assigned as the team leader of Lamochatte fire team and as given the missions nature and his overall role he had chosen the appropriate weapon, a bullpup pecheneg machine gun, with an ACOG scope, a HK vertical grip as well as flash hider muzzle break. Demidov carried several boxes of ammunition along with two sidearms, his PP-2000 and a Glock 17 that Williams had provided for him in case he needed another gun. The lieutenant ordered the team to follow behind the rest of the team and be aware oft he surroundings.

Alexei then got to Bridges, he walked besides him for a few minutes. He then spoke.

"What is the plan in regards to the missiles sir? Do we disarm them or keep them intact. I brought equipment to disarm them just in case." Alexei said.

[Malay Raya]

Lamochatte 2-4, Vlastimil "Vlad" Ivanovich
As the Lamochatte squad kept on walking on the harsh Saharan desert, Vlad couldn't help but grabbed his water canteen. It was somewhat during afternoon, and the sun's giving it all to scorch the desert and the task force. Vlad knew at this time good muslims would be preparing for their Dhuhr prayer; and he certainly hoped that these Al-Qaeda soldiers still consider the prayer as obligatory even though they chose the extremist way.

He took a couple of sips from the water canteen, and put it back in his small backpack. At this point he grew kinda bored not being able to talk to anyone, so he caught up on Maxwell and Akarah who were already hitting it on having a chat and walked somewhat close to them for a few minutes. He overheard that they were talking about Al-Qaeda and left off at Akarah saying that he could help the team by translating whatever they would say during combat. Though he chose not to interfere with the chat and just kept on walking with them as he took in their surrounding environment.

Vlad could see a relatively medium sized mountain ridge on the direction that they're walking, with him assuming that is where their mission objectives are. He kept looking at his surroundings, sometimes looking through his ACOG scope just in case if there were any enemy scouts laying somewhere with a shelter above their head.

[Hothnia]

Anna Gerhart
Undisclosed Locatiom
Sahara Desert

Anna took the canteen from Schulte and took a small sip, letting the cool liquid run down and wet her dry throat. Anna screwed back on the lid before handing the canteen back to Schulte. " Thank you or Dunkashun." Anna looked ahead as Schulte spoke of wanting an actual formulated plan. " I agree. Last time I'd was virtually every soldier for himself. Not a very effective strategy. We should have worked as a team, clearing rooms and getting civvies out as soon as possible. It may be just my opinion, but I don't think Wolfram should be team leader. "

[Anowa]

Wolfram Herrman, Windsor 1-1
Operation Hotcake
03/03/2012, 1213 Alpha, Northern Tamanrasset Province, Algeria

Wolfram kept his ears open. Unlike nigh everyone else in Geronimo it seemed, he was the only one keeping his ears out for other things. He engines churning through the desert. Looking up he scanned for Empire, a quick swivel revealed the the F-15 was to their rear, about three quarters of a klick up and moving perpendicular from them.

Turning back around, Wolfram started up a sand dune, thinking about the local ambiance. The noise that Tombstone and Fantasy were making was feint, the roar of their engines barely above a whine at this distance. He couldn't fucking tell if something else was making noise with all the backwash everyone talking was making. And the most talkative happened to be the two trouble makers, "Gerhart, shut the fuck up."

[Sterkistan]

James Ryan, Windsor 1-5
Operation Hotcake
03/03/2012, 1213 Alpha, "Middle of Piss-All Nowhere" Algeria

James took in the area around him, analyzing the blind spots and possible lookout locations. He looked over at Wolfram, "We've got too many blinds between these dunes." He said it quietly, loud enough so Wolfram could here him, but not much past that.
Taking his canteen from his belt, he took a sip. Surveying the land around him while he did so.
Deserts were bad for combat, he much preferred rockier ground. Deserts provide too many alternate movement abilities for the enemy, and the formation prevented usage of choke points or suppression of backup. There was also the problem with the technicals, worst case scenario, they'd fitted a .50 or an RPG, with the open spaces available to them, and they'd be dead in this landscape. Sand also can't be used for cover, from his time in Iraq he learned that these guys knew that, and they'd spray sand-hills with the hope of getting a lucky shot in. James fucking hated deserts, he'd take the jungles of Vietnam over this any day.
He looked back at the 'chatty' group, trying to block out the irritation and focus on the ambient noise. This is also why he hated deserts, it's significantly harder to hear someone walking on sand, while surrounded by sand than on plants, or stone for that matter.

He kept going, raising the F88 to scan the horizon, the heat radiating from the sand made distance viewing a problem, but he raised his scope, or his binoculars to check for far-off threats.

[Kyraina]

Joseph Bridges

Joseph hefted the MK48, made sure the TYR MICO was still connected to the MK48, and had stepped off the CV-22 dressed in sand colored cloths, sand color baseball cap, sand colored Semagh, and sand colored plate carrier, and listened in on the conversation between Elephant and Wolfram, and had started out towards the objective. In fact he was about to say something about the talking when Wolframm decided to do that.


Joseph shook his head and scanned with the 4x ACOG scope on the MK48 but didn't see any thing, so he dropped to his stomach and crawled slowly to the crest of the dune.

[Anowa]

Wolfram Herrman, Windsor 1-1
Operation Hotcake
03/03/2012, 1215 Alpha, Northern Tamanrasset Province, Algeria

As everyone quieted down, the sound seemed to remain constant. As if it were something machine based. With the fact that sand eats noise like a fat kid eats candy, it was very difficult to discern anything more than the constant droning of it... Though it did waver from time to time, getting louder or quieter with frequency.

Almost like... An engine .

The vehicle in question happened to pop out over the dune they were one, sending a spray of sand over everyone and landing less than a foot away from Bridges.

Wolfram immediately dropped to his belly, as everyone in the situation slowly grinded into gear. Full auto fire from Wolfram raked into the engine block, driver's cab and subsequently the cab, blood started repainting the inside. Though the turret on the vehicle did get a full ten round burst off. The gunner was killed before long... but not before he did damage.

The moments before the gunner was killed, found Marks, Cruise, and Albu reduced to various states of dead. Albu had a head sized hole in the center of her chest and her left arm was ripped off, Cruise no longer had a connection between upper and lower body, and Marks no longer had a head, neck, or collarbones. All thre were killed nigh instantly by the massive .50 caliber rounds.

Wolfram rolled over to see the amount of blood filling the Saharan sands. He stared for a few seconds, "Bridges... you're the CO... You gotta call it in." a pause, "That's why we stay fucking quiet. So we can hear what's over the fucking sand dune. Next person to make a sound that isn't directly related to the operation will get an imprint of my boot superimposed into their ass."

With that said, Wolfram stood and walked towards the back of the technical, a few men had spilled out and were now moaning on the ground. Wolfram ended their suffering, with unflinching callousness. His report would say they all died upon contact.

[Dayganistan]

Coming from a southeast Asian country, heat was nothing new to Naomi. Neither was fighting Al Qaeda linked militants in such weather. But this desert heat was something new. It was dry and made her want to drink water from the camelbak attached to her coyote brown plate carrier almost compulsively. The light material and colours of the 3 colour desert camouflage uniform she wore at least helped keep her somewhat cool. Not like back home, where the blacks and dark greens of her jungle camo would absorb the sunlight, making the unbearable weather that much worse. As well, she wore a boonie hat in matching camo and aviator sunglasses. Her short barreled rifle wasn't the best choice for the desert and the long range engagements that would be expected. She wished she would have taken an M14 or SR-25 instead, having been trained on both rifles. But with 5.56mm Mk. 262 ammo optimized for long range and a flip magnifier coupled with her EOTech sight, the piston driven AR-15 clone that had seen her through countless firefights with Abu Sayyaf in the jungles would probably do perfectly fine.

Moving through the desert, on their way to the operation area, Naomi kept quiet, keeping an ear out for anything that seemed out of place, visually scanning as well. This wasn't like the jungle where you listened for plants rustling or branches snapping or people stepping in mud and water. The sand muffled footsteps, making them quiet. And then there was the damn group who wouldn't shut up. All this time to talk to each other on the flight to... somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Algeria, and they just had to wait until now. If this was Abu Sayyaf territory, they'd have every jihadi on the island shooting at them by now with all this noise giving away their position. She almost didn't realize the enemy technical was coming towards them until just seconds before it came speeding over the sand dune the team was on, firing wildly with its heavy machine gun.

Naomi dropped to the ground as .50 caliber bullets flew over her head and flicked the selector switch on her rifle from safe to auto. Taking aim at the technical, she started firing in controlled bursts, watching as fire from her weapon and several others tore apart the truck and its occupants. After her magazine had been emptied she quickly switched to another and took aim at the truck again, only to see that it had been immobilized probably through a combination of injuries to the driver and damage to the engine. The truck was filled with bullet holes from various small arms and several men had been spilled out of the back of it. With the contact down, Naomi looked back at the team. Three operators had gone down, torn to shreds by a heavy machine gun. She'd seen it before, both friendlies and enemies missing limbs or even being outright sawed in half by such large rounds, pulverized brain matter, internal organs, and blood scattered all over, but it was something that you could never truly get used to. Like injuries like this are something humans were never meant to see. By now, Wolfram had started to yell at the team for not being quiet and getting three of their own killed, and she could only imagine what punishment awaited them when they got home for this mess. Naomi wanted to tkae out her anger on the rest of the team as well, but she had a feeling such a thing would only make it worse.

She noticed Wolfram start to move and then turned her attention back to the truck, covering him as he moved. If any of the wounded jihadis still had the strength to reach for their Kalashnikovs, she'd put a round through their heads. But that wouldn't be necessary. Wolfram made it to the truck safely, and executed the wounded men. Not the first execution she'd seen, she'd seen plenty of Abu Sayyaf prisoners take a 5.56 or a 9mm to the base of the skull when they surrendered after particularly brutal firefights. At least these guys didn't have the strength to beg for their life, simply moaning for their mothers or Allah. Naomi would have preferred to leave them to suffer and die slowly, but then again, maybe that would be noise enough to attract more enemies. As if the chorus of full auto fire from a heavy machine gun and small arms hadn't done that already.