Sun, Sea and Oil Sands [PMC RP] [IC]

[Ubaria]

Act 1
Paradise Lost

---

Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:34 local time
En-route to FOB Tempest from Site DELTA

The Caribbean sun hung low in the pristine unbroken skies above, the heavens scorched a cascading aura of mellow orange, high above the zenith of dark blue night began chasing the setting sun. The black silhouette of fanned palms cast a display of long, dancing shadows across the weather worn ribbon of sun-baked tarmac road. A cacophony of tropical birds screeched and squawked from their arboreal dwellings and seabirds circled the coastal waters, harrying the incoming fishermen for their evening catch.

A single road wound it's way a mere couple of dozen meters from the white sandy beaches, a carved path through the ferns and palms that rolled with the natural banks of the terrain. It was a quiet road, unusually silent even given the fact it was a Sunday evening. This was due to the fact that most of the native islanders were celebrating the anniversary of their island's independence. Seventy years to the day when the Dutch relinquished their colonial control of San Marlin to it's people, for better or for worse. The celebrations were being hosted in every town and village across the island, a typical display of Latin American festivities with carnivals, floats and dancing in the streets.

A pair of Mitsubishi Shoguns practically had the road to themselves, aside from the odd car or van in passing. Inside an assortment of armed individuals had just finished their daily assignment of guarding a local petrochemical facility at Icana, given the festivities their shift had been even quieter than usual, now after relinquishing their duties to another team, they travelled onwards towards their home at FOB Tempest for rest and refreshment, ready to do it all over again the next day, a routine that had been kept up for the last fortnight. The lead vehicle was driven by Van-Lingen whilst the second was being driven by Bridges. Their journey was significantly quicker than previous runs, the road was usually rammed this time of the evening with commuters heading home to Iacan from working at the water-port or Airport.

Inside the vehicles was relatively silent, a tune played on the radio which had been tuned to a local station that seemed to only play the same fifteen Spanish songs on a loop. Abruptly, the music was cut by a voice over the vehicle's tactical radio.

"Anubis to Ra. Anybody copy?"

Webber's thick London accent quickly roused Gideon from his inner musings. He tapped a button on the dash mounted radio system to open up the microphone.

“Go ahead Anubis. Don't tell me we've ran out of 'cerveza'”again."

"No. What's your current location. Over?"

Webber seemed more vexed than usual, something about his gravely tone didn't quite as acerbic as usual, something was up. Gideon peered at a passing roadsign for a more accurate estimation.

“Roughly 100 meters away from the Saledo turnoff, why?”

There was a pause, an indistinct conversation occurring somewhere in the background.

“We’ve had a bit of a … situation involving Rayner and his crew. We need you to head up to Suano and see what’s going on. Over.”

“What do you mean, situation? Wasn’t Rayner supposed to be escorting Darren what’s-his-face to that party or some crap?

Darren was the son of one the Taxom Regional Director, Eric Maynard Jr. He'd bought his family along to live with him in San Marlin, being paid a small fortune he was able to afford this with little issue and the family lived at a private residence in the south of the island. The son was a typical frat party boy, being bankrolled on daddy's oil money had meant he was able to treat the island as his own personal playground and had already got into several altercations with the local constabulary for multiple counts of dangerous driving, public intoxication and even public indecency, however he'd been bailed out on every occasion with a well placed bribes to the local police chiefs. It seemed this time he'd got himself into more trouble than money could pay it's way out of, with WhiteTree's protection detail extending to Maynard's family, it seemed the contractors were now being paid to babysit.

"Listen, i don't fucking know. Little shit's caused a stir and now there's an angry mob outside the nightclub he's hired. They're unable to get to their vehicles and you're the closest guys."

Gideon rubbed his sunkissed forehead in exasperation.

“Where the fuck is this club then.”

“Downtown Suano, Castillo Fiesta or something. Just look for the angry mob. And bring the little shite back in one piece. Daddy will go mad if there's even so much of a scratch on 'em”

Gideon heaved a heavy sigh. It seemed like a hot meal and cool beer would have to wait. Quickly he keyed the radio to the other vehicle.

“Bear. Did you copy that?”

[Kyraina]

Joseph "Bear who Flys" Bridges
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:34 local time
En-route to FOB Tempest from Site DELTA

Bear listened to the radio, and cussed under his breath at the situation and Darren, for the millionth time in the 2 weeks that they had been here. The Kid had been nothing but trouble for Bear and the others in the team. It was getting ridiculous. Then Gideon Keyed his truck.

Bear grabbed the radio and keyed his mic.

"5x5 Van. Get the kid out while keeping shit peaceful with the Locals yet again. Ask Command Ambuis for more detail, we need to know if Local Law Enforcement has shown up yet."

He placed the radio back in its spot.

"Okay Red Team, looks like we got to peacefully crash another party for The Darren shit head. Anything you want to add Arthur?"

Beat kept the truck behind Gideon, and Started cussing in Creek, under his breath.

[Cylarn]

1930
13 June 2018
San Marlín
Arthur "AJ" Irvine


Outstretched before Arthur was the most recent paper copy of the Tribuna de Puerto Marlin, held in both hands as the Jamaican held his gaze upon it. It never hurt for one to stay up to speed on the current happenings in the area of operations. Daily briefings and intelligence reports of the state of affairs, for all of the meticulous analyzing and information-gathering that several million can buy, did not always carry the full picture. As sappy as it may sound, the voices and thoughts of the people - HUMINT - gives one a much clearer picture into a place like San Marlin.

Arthur paid close attention to a particular column: the public record, a collection of various editorial responses to past articles, reported arrests, larcenies, and other information. Being a former cop, Arthur found great value in the information such a repository offered. An older woman complained of how loud and rowdy the Taxom employees would get while they were spending their off-duty hours at a bar located on her block, and accused the paper of putting Taxom in too positive of a light. Another local Puerto resident, a young male, commented on a previous article about college tuition rates at the National University, offering up facts and figures to counter the government's allocation of public scholarship funds. Everyone has a dog, everyone has a gripe.

What caught Arthur's attention, was a report from the National Preventative Police, addressing a local shooting in the main port. A thirty-second gun battle had broken out; an arms deal between two gangs went sour. Two dead, four arrested. Five men were at large, wanted for questioning. No names were listed, but Arthur made note of the report mentioning that the five men in question were Spanish speakers of South American heritage. Second, the National Office of Criminal Investigation, the San Marlin equivalent of the FBI, was involved. That tipped off Arthur; the National Police consisted of Preventative and Investigative Divisions, so there was room to question if the report implied that the case was one of a federal nature. Not every gang investigation had the privilege of reaching the OFIC, thus the context clues told Arthur that something was very important regarding this case. The Bolivarians. The police don't want to outright say it was political, but they say what they have to. After all, unrest might scare off investment.

Arthur reached over to the cup holder, picking up a clear plastic bottle filled a quarter of the way with brown, viscous spit. Just as he spit a globule of tobacco and spit into the open top of the bottle, the music on the radio cut out, and was replaced by the sound of work come a-calling. Arthur sat the paper down in his lap, his gaze turning to stare attentively at the radio. An Afrikaner accent answered back; Webber, making a joke about whether or not the supply of beer had run out. Arthur gave a slight closed-mouth smile to the comment. The smile faded when the report came in that they would be safeguarding a certain HVT. Arthur looked over at Bear, the driver, as the Native American cursed under his breath. Same. Bear spoke up, letting the rest of the team know what was up.

Bear passed the floor over to Arthur, who shifted a bit in his seat as he folded the paper in his lap. The driver started quietly cursing under his breath again.

"See if Anubis has numbers on the crowd. If the Preventatives are there, they had best stick to crowd control," Arthur said. "When we pull up, I want everyone to start counting. Single out the fuckers most prone to cause us hurt."

Arthur reached into a vest pouch, pulling out a bag of Beechnut and unzipping it.

"Hard covers on, once we leave the vehicle," he stated before scooping out a wad of chewing tobacco. "No one needs a brick to the dome, yeah?"

Arthur popped the chew into his mouth, and gave a nod to Bear.

"At least you get mileage pay, right?"

[Anowa]

Two Peas in a Pod
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:34 local time
En-route to FOB Tempest from Site DELTA unfuck some twerp's day

The news that sleep was slowly being pushed further and further away that night didn't do much to improve Pavel's mood. Their shift had been uneventful, besides a scare of a perimeter breach, only to discover an island raccoon had got itself caught under the fencing after about ten minutes of walking and searching for the fucking thing. Anya had been enamored with the obviously scared and admittedly adorable animal, but Pavel, had it not been endangered, would have more than likely shot it out of frustration of wasting his time in such a fashion. The man man just took a deep breath and sighed as he began checking his gear again.

Anya was doing similar, though her mind was still partially on the fact that releasing a raccoon back into the jungle was the highlight of her week. The "shotgun" she usually had slung on her back was now on her lap and being reloaded, her hand dug into the shell bag she had designated the 'not so lethal' bag, though she hesitated as her hand wrapped around a rubber slug, her mind drifting to the veritably mortar she had in her ass pack, "Gideon, you think we should just gas the mob?"

[South Americanastan]

Micheal “Mike” Smith
Sunday, June 13th, 2018
En-Route to babysit a fuckboy

---

Micheal “Mike” Smith sat in the back of the Mitsubishi Shogun, FAL leaning against his seat. It had been cleared and was unloaded, of course, but Mike couldn’t help but flinch at the possibility of a drop fire every time the car hit another pothole. He kept himself distracted, however, by the Tropical landscape, and the music playing through his earbuds. The landscape reminded him of the Zimbabwean landscape, in a way.

Suddenly, the radio broke the sound of looping Spanish music and Mike’s earbuds. Mike listened in on the conversation.

“Listen, I don’t fucking know. Little shit’s caused a stir and now there’s an angry outside the nightclub he’s hired. They’re unable to get to their vehicles and you’re the closest guys.”

Motherfucker.

He sighed. Muttering a myriad of curse words under his breath, he eventually turned back towards the window. His earbuds continued playing as his hand tightly gripped the handguard of his FAL.

Fucking frat boy had to go out and get an angry mob to go after him, because fuck me and my opportunity to sleep.

“What’d ole fuckboy get himself into now?”, and are we going to have to babysit him again?”

[Soviet Farm]

Mirjana "Merge" Višnjić
Sunday, June 13th 2018
En-route to rescue a moron from himself

Merge tapped her fingers against her knees in time with the beat thumping from the car radio, killing time while the Bear drove them towards their destination. Killing time was what most of the job felt like anyways. Day in and day out she stood around on the lookout for signs of trouble that usually didn't appear, serving not as a peacekeeper or a soldier but as a glorified rent-a-cop. Whitetree could dress it up as much as they liked with their talk of close personal protection and tactical assistance but Merge liked to keep it straightforward. She had gone from being the elite to security guard detail.

And she was getting paid better for it. Much better, in fact so much better she couldn't help but wish she had gone private a little earlier in her career. Mercenary work might not have been the most moral business in the world but damn if it didn't fill pockets.

The ex-Cobra scratched at a spot under her jaw as she prepared to snag some shut-eye, perfectly happy to let someone else handle everything until the radio crackled to life

Fresh-faced baby boy Darren needing to get his stupid ass bailed out of some trouble he started, that meant the sun would indeed be rising the next morning. But this time it sounded like he was really in the shit. A mob of locals surrounding a nightclub would probably be harder to buy off than a few cops more worried about their pension than state security. Mirjana rolled her eyes as she straightened up in her seat, turning her attention to the fireteam leader.

"You got it."

Put on a helmet, tag anyone who looked extra ornery and make sure that none of the crowd got close enough to ventilate the stupid prick with a pocketknife or anything. Common sense commands that needed to be stated because people just forgot the most obvious things sometimes.

The Zimbabwean made his displeasure known, white-knuckling that FAL of his like he was worried it'd fly away. "He probably called a waiter something he shouldn't have and got the whole island rallied against him. Of course we have to babysit him, Mr. Maynard isn't going to like it if his son goes home with a broken neck. If we're lucky this shit'll be enough to get him sent off the island."

[Cylarn]

1930
13 June 2018
San Marlín
Arthur "AJ" Irvine


The call soon elicited a comment from the rest of the team members riding in the Shogun. Everyone had an opinion, largely the same opinion: Darren was a shithead, and the mission was a waste of the collective ability of the operators heading to respond. Arthur listened to each comment. The white Zimbabwean, Mike, asked what Darren had gotten into. The Croatian, who everyone called Merge, had several things to say about the situation. Chief among them, was that Darren had offended a waiter.

Arthur chuckled at the unlikely event that a waiter would snap after being called a racist name. He had been called by the n-word several times, but his parents - resort workers who saw the best and worst of rich tourists on a daily basis - had to put up with a lot worse. For all Dad railed against Babylon and America, he never once lost his temper for every time someone called him something. Waiters, custodians, and other service workers put up with a lot of shit. Getting called a racist name wasn't enough to lose a job over. Arthur's deduction: Darren touched a woman the wrong way, or maybe more, and now was dealing with righteous consequences.

Had Arthur not been on the clock, he would not care the slightest. If the kid acted out of turn anywhere else, at any time, he deserved what he got. But the fact of the matter: Darren was one of their principals, and could not be harmed. Angry mob aside, Arthur worried of the possibility that someone - someone with an agenda - would take advantage of the tense situation. Darren was out in the open, and if someone tried to kidnap him or make a play at killing him, the circumstances of the event were in their favor. Arthur reached down to the pack between his legs and unclasped the helmet from the pack, setting it down in his lap. Next, he brandished his bottle and let loose a globule of spit down into the bottom.

"We can shitcan complaints and theories for later," he stated, intending to keep the team focused. "Right now, make sure your kit is squared away. Weapons on safe, barrels down, heads on a swivel once we roll in. If you are rolling less-than-lethal, keep it handy."

Next, Arthur turned his attention to Bear. "What's our ETA into Puerto?"

[Hastur]

Lesley Sarah Rutledge
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:34 local time
En-route to FOB Tempest from Site DELTA

---

The sky burned orange as the sun slunk below the horizon. The night overtaking day in the Caribbean utopia as the summer Sunday concluded, island roads serene as the residents celebrated the islands seventy years of independence from the Dutch. Lesley had celebrated the event by guarding one of the many petrochemical sites that had entrenched themselves deep within the community. Watching and learning the environment through the extension of a rifle scope, Lesley attaching names and stories to the more frequent faces to stave off boredom.

Now fatigued, she leaned her head against the window, a low smirk on her face as her eyes glanced over the picturesque white sands and tranquil ocean obscured behind the ferns and palms that coiled along the avenue. The lead vehicle relaxed as the radio whispered compositions in Spanish, the same collection of fifteen choruses she’d grown used to over the so far two-week back-and-forth trips to FOB Tempest. It was something she could quickly get adjusted to, and it certainly beat reenlisting, maritime security and PSDs in Angola by far. The island was a perfect place for swimming, boating, surfing and drinking, she could see why the area became a tourist trap around this time of year, hell, this job was almost a paid vacation, almost.

“Whose shot is it to cook?” Her mind momentarily shifted to her fellow contractors, her voice raspy with a dense lowland accent as she glimpsed at each of them, awaiting an answer, letting loose a short yawn. The vehicle’s radio, however, postponed any answers. The low beep becoming a blemish on the little wedge of bliss. It invariably meant that duty called, and that they had some sort of errand to run. Lesley retorted with an inaudible sigh as the voice of the commander, Webber, broke forth from the radio set.

She listened intently as the fireteam lead, Gideon, took hold of the situation, his joke quickly becoming shut down with a more serious situation, the regional director’s son, Darren Maynard. He had been a persistent thorn in the side for the contractors ever since they had arrived, and he had again bitten off more than he could chew with his egomaniac attitude. This time pissing off enough people to besiege a local nightclub. Hardly a desirable situation, but with Lesley’s team being the closest, they’d earned the privilege of bailing him out, and with that, their chance to unwind for the day had also gone up in smokes.

“You know, if I knew we’d be ending up in a nightclub at the end of the night, I would actually done myself up a bit.” Lesley joked sarcastically; frustration audible in her voice as her eyes went down to the as the M4A1 slung between her legs. Configured for long-range patrols, the weapon wouldn’t be any good in this situation. She needed it shorter, the spare upper being stored in the back of the truck. “I’m getting really tired of this muppet.” The frustration in her tone was much clearer as the jokes went to the wayside as she began to make herself ready. Lesley reached into the back and grabbed an Eberlestock F5 pack from the rear, lifting it over her head, muttering apologies as she navigated it past the others she was scrunched up with in the back seat before stashing it in the footwell.

“Tell you what though, a good kicking would do him some good.” Lesley added, quickly unzipping the olive bag, she withdrew an 11.5 inch upper, planting it on her lap as she set about clearing her rifle and popping the pins loose. Quickly swapping the structure of her rifle with a few swift and well-practiced movements, storing the 16 inch in the same bag. Her rifle fixed to go again within seconds as she punched the magazine back in and chambered a round. Lesley slid the safety back on, her attitude became more concentrated. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, navigating the menus with her free hand, searching up the man in question himself. She knew Darren Maynard well enough; the man had a social media footprint large enough that he’d have no doubt documented something relating to the event they were about to walk into. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that reconnaissance was important. At that point, the Russian, Anya, asked about gassing the crowd.

"Might want to avoid pissing them off." Lesley added her two cents, attention still fixed to the glow of her phone. She knew if they started lobbing CS gas rounds and non-lethal ordinance around like candy it could be the match that ignites the powder keg, or it could alternately not and cause them to disperse. Crowds of angry people tended to be rather fickle like that. "Although it would be funny to drag that twat through it." A short smirk lined her face as she imagined the scenario. After all, while Lesley had been sure to bring an extra helmet and vest for occasions such as this, she hadn't overlooked extra gas masks.

[Ubaria]

Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:40 local time
En-route to Suano from Site DELTA

"Anubis. Do we have any other information? We could be driving into a full blown riot here." Gideon obliged his teammates' well placed concerns about the glaring lack of vital information they had been provided on the situation. At the very least, it could have been an overreaction on the information providers part but worse case scenario, there was infact a pitchfork mob outside. There was a few moments of silence as the other contractors started gearing up.

"All i know is there was a ... disagreement between the club owner and half the town has descended on the place. They've barricaded the doors but there's probably upwards of one hundred, perhaps two hundred people and they're pissed."

Gideon grimaced. "The fuckin chop - alright Anubis. ETA is roughly seven or eight mikes. Any chance we can get the local kêrels in on this? " A hefty application of the accelerator pedal quickly doubled their current speed, carrying them over the local speed limit, though the roads were light and the chance of them running into a police officer was slim, then again, what were they going to do. Stop them?

"I'm trying to get a hold of them now. From what i can tell, the rozzers are already there but there's shit all they can do right now until they get a crowd control unit down from Icana. You're the first responders."

Gideon's concerns were mirrored by the other contractors in his vehicle, the hot-headed Russians were quick to suggest the application of 'crowd dispersal agents' into the awaiting mob.

"What is it with you and gas? Look. Right now we're outnumbered fucking ten to one and i'd rather not piss them off any more than they are. I'd also rather not end up on prime time CNN as 'Local white chops gas local festivities'." Gideon replied in the most polite way he could possible, though he had to admit the thought of perhaps a light deployment of CS gas or even a couple of flashbangs had crossed his mind, however mirroring Lesley's concerns, pissing off the locals would have longer term implications. "Les'. Anything on your phone?"

It took them little time at all to reach the outer districts of Suano where the independence day celebrations were still in full swing, somewhat detached from the unfurling carnage somewhere in the town within were people dancing in the streets, streamers and flares danced in the air and a manner of multicolored kites and wind-sails fluttered in the cool darkness of dusk. A convoy of floats soon blocked the contractor's path as one of the only roads into the center of town had been barricaded off for carnival processions, their arrival had already garnered the attention of some of the locals who were eyeing up the suspect vehicles.

"Fucking hell. Out the way!" Gideon mashed the horn as their speed was slowed to a crawl, wading through a sea of people in bright dresses and fancy costumes. People began beating on the doors and windows of the vehicles as they passed. At this rate, it would take them another fifteen minutes to reach the club.

"AJ. Follow us. We're going to pull into this side alley next to the Aura Cafe, it's going to take us until next week to get through this lot." As he pulled to the side, Gideon retrieved a olive green MICH helmet that was clipped to the driver's headrest and pushed it onto his head.

"Anubis. We're dismounting and proceeding on foot to target. What's the word on the locals?"

"En route. Will probably take them another fifteen minutes. Rayner's reported possible incendiary devices being used against the building. Be fucking careful, i don't want to risk another Banjul incident."

[Kyraina]

Joseph "Bear Who Flys" Bridges
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:40 local time
En-route to Suano from Site DELTA

"Wait, we get paid mileage. AJ, if that the case I got to take that up with Anubis."

He listened to Mike and Merge talk, and shrugged it off as they kept driving. AJ asked Hear on ETA, and was about to Answer when Gideon Came over the horn again. He kept following Gideon into the village till they was met with festivities and got on his horn about a second after Gideon.

"Van, Bear. Copy that pulling in Now."

He heard the call to follow Gideon into the Alley and pulled up behind them. He put the SUV in park, and turned it off, and put the keys in his pocket. He climbed out of the SUV and went to open the tail gate. He grabbed his fast helmet, gas mask, and put the HCAR on his back after making sure a loaded mag was I the weapon, but no round was chambered. Next he attached his gas mask to the helmet, and put in on his head, with the mask dangling to the side of his face. He grabbed the Vector SMG, put in a loaded mag, and chambered a round.

"People don't forget your gas mask if the Russians or Heaven start tossing around the CS gas or Incendiary Grenades."

He spotted Meg climbing out of the other SUV, and Keyed his mic.

"Heaven, Bear. Comm Check"

Heaven Andrei

Heaven had been riding in the trunk of the SUV with the 240L played across her lap, and had said anything as the comms came to life with the situation and fireteam members starting to spectate on what to do.

She popped the tailgate open as the SUV rolled toca stop in the alley. She picked up her fast helmet, with the gas mask attached and put it on before she climbed out of the Vic.

As she climbed out the back, Bears voice came over the Comm.

"Copy Bear, 5x5. Heaven out."

She spotted the Zimbabwean and keyed her Mic

"Mike, Heaven Comms check."

She grabbed her M240L after making sure the M4 was secured on her back and walked over to Gideon.

"Gideon, we starting comm checks."

She then looked over at Les, and saw the M4 carbine inner hands.

"Hey Les, just confirming you leaving the sniper rifle this time, and taking the M4. Do want to bring the rest of our gear if I didn't have too."

[Dayganistan]

Yuval Feldman
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:34 local time

The day had been quite uneventful on account of the local independence celebrations. The locals were too busy celebrating to cause disturbances at oil facilities. Yuval really couldn't complain about that, she was getting paid good money to stand around with a gun and look threatening. So far, the contract had felt more like a paid vacation occasionally broken up by dispersing crowds or providing security to oil executives. When signing up for private contracting she assumed there would be more action, but this still beat being stuck in a desk as a staff NCO any day. She wouldn't have to do this much longer to be able to live in a beachfront condo in Tel Aviv. Or to move to the United States and make a career as a civilian firearms instructor, using her IDF experience as a gimmick. Maybe even somewhere like this would be nice to retire to after she decided to be done with contract work. Maybe not the island of San Marlin specifically, but somewhere with a similar type of environment. Regardless, those plans would come at a later time. She wasn't quite ready to decide what the next phase of her life would be, or even how long she would stay involved with PMC work. At the age of 26, she probably still had a good few years of this ahead with most of her coworkers being in their 30s.

As the vehicle traveled down the relatively empty road and the repetitive Spanish music came from the radio, Yuval still kept up some degree of watch. She wasn't overly concerned, but any of the vehicles could still be a threat. The Spanish music was soon interrupted as the thick British accent of their commander came over the vehicle's tactical radio. Oil executive's son, a typical American frat boy idiot, got himself in trouble with the locals, again. Upon hearing this, Yuval reached for her vape pen in a pouch on her plate carrier and took a hit from it, exhaling a strong artificial strawberry smell. She was starting to get irritated with having to play baby sitter for a dumb rich kid. This time it seemed like it was something he couldn't bribe his way out of, an angry mob had surrounded a nightclub he was at. The Russian woman in their vehicle suggested using CS gas to disperse the crowd. If this was Ramallah, Yuval might have been inclined to agree. But the company had a professional image to uphold. And as their team leader said, it would look horrible on the news as journalists try to spin it as PMCs gassing a local festival for fun.

As the SUV sped up, and headed towards the town of Suano, Yuval grabbed her phone to check on the rich kid's social media. Surely he would have posted something incriminating. On his Instagram, he had posted a video of the angry mob gathering outside of the club while he laughs at them, but nothing about what had caused the situation. She put her phone away, not looking for find any more intel. The kid was an idiot, that was all they really needed to know. It would make their job so much easier if his father decided to actually punish him for once and send him back to the US.

As the SUV entered the town, it slowed as celebrations were already underway. The crowds were too thick to make it through the streets at any speed, and the crowd was rightfully suspicious of the vehicle and start beating on the doors and windows. Yuval put on her helmet for protection in case a brick came through the window. Her time in the West Bank taught her that you should never take chances with crowds like this. The SUV soon pulled into an alleyway as it reached a roadblock, blocking off the road for parade floats. The South African team lead ordered a dismount to proceed on foot to the club. Yuval stepped out of the vehicle and took another vape hit, before stashing the vape pen back in its pouch.

"I'm tired of being a babysitter for this fuckboy," she said. "If I was in charge we would just leave him to deal with his consequences."

[Hastur]

Lesley Sarah Rutledge
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:40 local time
En-route to Suano from Site DELTA

---

The luminous screen in her hand revealed some insight, but not enough. Pictures of furious party goers, private security and a gathering crowd straggled through the man’s profiles, trophies uploaded to feed his own ego as the explosive cauldron brewed outside. The stream of consciousness stopped fifteen minutes ago. Maybe the consequences of his actions were setting in, or it was just more level heads telling him to stow it. Lesley knew, however, that the damage had already been done, whatever option it was. Gideon inquired for her insight, Lesley tucking the phone away as she looked back up.

“Looks like everyone’s darling bachelor's been gloating about his behaviour online.” Lesley explained, thrusting her helmet on as she looked forward, eyes locking onto Gideon. “Big crowd, can’t make out a concrete number, but it’s a lot.” She pondered the information for a second, frustration growing. “And that was fifteen minutes ago. Fuck knows how many are there now.” Her eyes broke from the fire team's lead. A flowing tide of bright and bombastic floats and party goers that barred the route seized her attention. The car slowing to a standstill as it struggled fiercely to force through them.

The frowns of caricatures and folk heroes pierced through the tinted wind shields, confusion forming as heavily armed men and women gate-crashed the commemoration. Banging resonated off the thin metal doors as it the vehicle tried to make it past them. “This isn’t good.” She expressed, voice low, eyes anxiously darting between each person in the crowd, supervising them carefully. The vehicle turned shortly after that, Gideon turning the vehicle off into a side alley. They’d need to be walking the rest of the way. Lesley really didn’t like that.

Comms checks sounded off, voices humming over the cans protecting her ears as they ran through the motions, Lesley following through herself, going along with protocol. She exited the vehicle, opening the backpack once more to put the spare vest inside, attaching the helmet to one of the straps. The VIP would need once they got inside. Heaven looked over, M240L ready to go as she asked her a question of whether she was bringing a sniper rifle.

“Aye, I can indeed confirm I will not be bringing the sniper rifle.” Lesley retorted with slight mockery and a lifted eyebrow as she got clear of the vehicle, taking up a defensive position as further information quickly transmitted over the comms. The commander revealing the local police force was fifteen minutes away, and that the rioters had perhaps used incendiary devices, no doubt Molotov cocktails, against the building, assumedly with their client still inside. The Irsaeli, Yuval, who had a habit of smoking a disgusting strawberry flavoured vape, said their piece of mind, not much different from everyone else.

“He might very well end up dealing with those consequences if we don't hurry up.” Lesley jived for a moment, turning much more serious once again. “Lads, let’s get a move on here.”

[Cylarn]

1940
13 June 2018
Suaco, San Marlín
Arthur "AJ" Irvine


Anubis chimed back in on Gideon's request. The club was going full-on Fort Apache, with two-hundred angry people trying to get a piece of Darren. Arthur let out a sigh and proceeded to spit into his bottle. The crowd will rip them to pieces if they get in. Local police units had no way of controlling a crowd that big, and the only force capable of pacifying such a mob was in a wholly different town. Arthur set his bottle in the cup holder and leaned down and unclipped his helmet from his pack, removing his baseball cap with his free hand before slapping the helmet onto his head. He fastened the strap, and looked down towards the M4 sitting by his leg. He pulled it up, draping the tactical sling around his chest as the weapon sat between his legs.

Up ahead, the two Shoguns happened upon a celebratory parade. Throngs of men and women, carrying a variety of festive objects, walked among the parade floats. Arthur snatched up his bottle, and relinquished the wad of Beechnut. His eyes studied the festival attendees, paying attention to their movements. There was a lot of stumbling and listless ambling; styrofoam cups and glass bottles sloshed and fell to the group every now and then. Fucking sloshed, the whole lot. A horn blared, and the throngs suddenly descended upon the vehicles. Hands and bodies slammed into the body and windows of the two Shoguns.

"Not the best move," Arthur said in a quiet tone, keeping his gaze trained forward as the bare chest of a woman pressed up against his windshield. He held up a thumb to the woman, taking an assessment with his peripheral vision.

The radio chimed in again; Gideon had a plan, and it involved pulling into an alley and dismounting. Additionally, incendiary devices had apparently come into play. Arthur gave a nod to Bear, and the vehicle pulled into the alley. Bear was the first out; Arthur followed after him, grabbing hold of his pack and slinging it onto his shoulder while holding his M4 by the magwell. His eyes looked out to the alley, and then up to the surrounding rooftops. I don't like the idea of leaving the vehicles unattended. All you need is a handy cinderblock to busy open the window and grab our shit.

"AJ copies," he said, keying his mic.

Arthur brought his right hand to the pistol grip of his M4, and his left went to charge the weapon before he took hold of the gas gun by the sling, throwing it over his left shoulder. The rest of his team began to dismount. He motioned to the open alley entrance.

"Mike, Merge - watch the rear. Everyone else, stand by," he ordered, before turning to pace towards Gideon's vehicle. He locked eyes with the Afrikaner. "What's your thought, man? We all go together, or does one team stay behind to watch the vehicles? Leaving them here puts a bad feeling in my stomach. Wouldn't hurt to get eyes on the club before we make our play, yeah?"

[Anowa]

Two Peas in a Pod
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:40 local time
En-route to FOB Tempest from Site DELTA unfuck some twerp's day

Anya raised a brow at Gideon's comment, as far as she was aware, this was the first time she'd actually brought tear gas up as an direct option. While she always had it on hand, or nearby thanks to the smaller canisters the KS-23 could load, she figured it was a known variable. Regardless, she set about loading buckshot in to the KS-23 and making sure the rest of her gear was loaded and chambered. In all honesty, a part of her was wondering what kind of fucked up situation the ambal had gotten himself in to. The previous altercations hadn't been this bad, granted previous altercations hadn't taken place on this type of day. Hell, this might've just been the prod that woke the bear. Her response was tort, "Fair."

In the seat beside her, Pavel just hummed the tune of "Idet Soldat Po Gorodu" as people started swamping the car. Something that got a chuckle out of Anya. He'd not been in many situations where people had mobbed their vehicle, but so long as they were moving, there wasn't much cause for concern. The people couldn't roll the vehicles so long as they were moving, physics was funny like that. Besides the crowd here seemed more collectively jovial than hostile. He was sure that would change as they got closer to the club the little shit was hiding in. Over the radio, there was a mention of incendiary devices being used, and for a moment, Pavel thought back to the crash. Fire was not a good time for anyone.

As they pulled in to an alley, and they all started filing out of the vehicles, Anya spoke up, "The crowd at the club likely isn't going to be too talkative, and most of what I'm carrying is geared around crowd control, so I might as well stay with the vehicles."

Pavel turned to her for a moment as she said this, though her only response was a light punch to the large man's shoulder as the woman replaced Gideon in the driver's seat. The man shook his head as he moved up with the others.

The large man clipped his helmet on, and for the first time in maybe a week, he elected to speak up, "If you have a drop holster or any loose pouches or unsecured crap, leave it in the vics. Last thing we want is some Gandon yoinking a grenade."

[South Americanastan]

Micheal “Mike” Smith
1930 Local Time
Sunday, June 13th, 2018
En-Route to babysit a fuckboy

---

As the car moved into the outer edge of Suano, Mike checked his phone for any updates on Darren's (Now perpetually known as "Fuckboy" to Mike) situation. It didn't reveal much, at least nothing that Mike didn't expect. Darren had, in classic fashion, been laughing at the angry mob, taking pictures of them and his private security as a form of ego-booster, as if the drugs he was probably taking weren't enough to fill that role.

As the crowd gathered outside the vehicle attempting to push through to the parade, Mike could not help but notice how drunk they were. Most of them were hammered out of their minds, and at least a quarter of them had visibly stumbled up to the car.

"Someone get me a shot of whatever they're drinking" Mike joked.

The vehicle slowed to a snail's pace as the crowd nearly completely blocked their path. Over the radio, Gideon gave the order to pull into a side alley and walk the rest of the way, which made Mike feel uneasy. Sure, if the crowd followed they could defend themselves... but they were drunk, and probably had barely any idea where they were, let alone why 10 guys with guns just pulled through their boozefest.

Nonetheless, Mike grabbed his BK-3 Combat Helmet from under his seat, and picked his FAL up from it's position near his seat. He stepped out of the car, scanning the surroundings. Luckily, the crowd hadn't followed them, and had seem to go back to their usual drunken dancing.

"Mike, Heaven comms check"

"Copy that, Heaven."

Mike loaded a magazine into his FAL and pulled the charging handle, holding it diagonally across his body.

"Mike, Merge - watch the rear. Everyone else, stand by"

Mike moved towards the rear of the group, and leaned against the wall of the alleyway, watching the festivities. In classic festival fashion, most of the entertainment came from the drunks, at least in Mike's opinion; sure, watching a float go by could be fun, but watching a drunk stumble around before falling down a flight of stairs was priceless.

"Rear looks all-clear for now."

[Kyraina]

Joseph "Bear who Flys" Bridges

"Well if the rear is all clear then stop looking at all of ours, especially Merge's rear."

Bear couldn't pass up the chance to say the age old military joke. It was perfecting timing, and a good way to make people relax if they didn't have a stick shoved to far up their ass. He then turned back to everyone else.

"Hey Van, AJ. I'll stay behind and watch the trucks. If me and someone from Blue team stay behind to watch the Trucks, y'all still have almost full teams, and this also let's us get both trucks to y'all quickly. If it's a crowded area, my prosthetic will be a hindrance here. So its better if I stay."

Heaven Andrei

"Just Making sure, My time in the USAF Security Forces taught me trust but verify."

She looked at what everyone was carrying and sighed. While she loved her 240L it was still a very heavy gun at 22 lbs unloaded compared to a M240B unloaded weight of 28lbs. She decided to put it back in the truck and leave the ammo behind with it. She grabbed the the Level 3A vest she kept near by and put it in her pack, and unslung her M4A1, and walked back over to where everyone was meeting.

"I got my spare vest, we might have to make Darren wear it to get him out of there, if we can even get in there.

[Soviet Farm]

As far as Merge was concerned grumbling about having to deal with stupid clients was part of any occupation involving said clients. It was the same in the field as it had been in the butcher's shop: just because you had to spoon feed idiots who could barely manage to tie their shoes didn't mean you weren't going to talk shit about them while they weren't around. Sometimes that was the only thing you could do to keep sane, a life raft in the sea of "Why is everyone in the world apparently deprived of brain cells?". But Mirjana knew when to knock it off. As instructed she shut her mouth about Darren's incompetence and got ready to do her job.

The remainder of the ride was spent going over all her gear, loose bits tied down and ammo secured. The last thing she wanted was for her holster to drop off and get scooped up by a local hoodlum. Her helmet was strapped on in preparation for the shitstorm they'd no doubt be walking through, mask on hand in case the gas had to start flowing. And judging by the shape of the crowd they were slowly pushing through that wasn't an unlikely outcome. Dealing with a horde of wasted partiers was going to make their little rescue operation trickier no doubt but if there were already firebombs at the party then the two problems could very well end up clearing themselves out.

As soon as the Shogun stopped rolling she was unbuckled, opening the door and sliding right on out to take up position at the mouth of the alley. Just like Mike said the situation was clear for the time being. Plenty of people with cheap beer and no sense of restraint but none of them were making any moves towards the team's position. Bear cracked a joke about her ass and she responded with a snicker, the moment of levity managing to take the edge off the situation. "If Mike does any more checking out he's gonna be buying me dinner later."

Alright, there they were. Now to wait for the inevitable introduction of shit to fan.

[Bolslania]

Tarvo Kärkkäinen
Fireteam Red, Anubis
June 13th, 2018
19:40

---

Up until this point the day had been fairly peaceful, hours of standing around in the hot Caribbean sun, bored as shit. As Element Anubis was on their way back to FOB Tempest to, at least in Tarvo's case, crack open a few cold ones and sleep for the rest of the night until it was time for them to head back out to DELTA. Tarvo had had his eyes closed in the back of the Shogun until Webber had come on the radio, telling them that Darren had gotten himself in to some deep shit with the locals, and they needed to go and help his ass out of there.

"Fucking idiot" he grumbled as Bear changed course towards the nightclub. He listened as AJ told them to go non-lethal if possible, and to keep their weapons on safe. He checked his Sako just to make sure, still on safe. He opened up the AG36 grenade launcher, sliding in a blue smoke grenade before snapping it shut again. It would be useful in scaring off the locals without fragging any of them. He was silent as some of the others discussed a plan, it looked as if they were going to stop... right next to a parade? Interesting choice. But he didn't question it, he got out of the Shogun as soon as they stopped, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and pulling out his brass knuckles, which he slid on his hands. AJ had told them to rock non-lethals if they had them after all. Some of the team members cracked a couple jokes, but Tarvo refrained from joining. While he could be quite a sociable and friendly man, especially when he was drunk, this was the time for business. While none of them liked Darren, they still had the motivation of a paycheck to go save his ass.

He stood silently, his head swiveling to make sure no drunk San Marliner came at them while AJ and Van Lingen got things organized before they moved out.

[Cylarn]

1941
13 June 2018
Suaco, San Marlín
Arthur "AJ" Irvine

Bear approached the two team leads, and made a play to volunteer and watch the Shoguns. Arthur looked over at him and gave a nod of affirmation. Good on him.

"Roger that. Just say no if the locals offer you something in a brown bottle, yeah?" the Jamaican joked, before turning his attention back to Gideon. "Best to have two here. We'll be rolling in outnumbered regardless, but our bet is to take the alleys if we can and use a side entrance if the club has one. The mob is going to be as sauced as anyone else in the city. Once they see us, they'll be on top of us."

Crowd control could not be underestimated in any urban scenario, and part of effective crowd control comes from anticipating what a crowd might do, in an objective manner. The fact that the incident took place at a club on Independence Day led Arthur to anticipate that more than a few souls among the mob were intoxicated. Inhibitions lowered, people get downright ballsy, especially when the experience of being in a mob - the yelling, the shared energy, the anger - is as intoxicating as any liquor or drug.

"Let's move to the club together, through the alleys and away from the locals, if it can be helped," Arthur decided. "Once we get close enough, we assess the situation and take to any side entrances without being spotted."

[Ubaria]

Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:43 local time
Downtown Suano

"Best to have two here. We'll be rolling in outnumbered regardless, but our bet is to take the alleys if we can and use a side entrance if the club has one. The mob is going to be as sauced as anyone else in the city. Once they see us, they'll be on top of us."

Gideon hummed in agreement. He'd seen it before at Rugby matches, all it took was one over-excitable individual and the fever of violence would spread through the crowd like a bushfire, bottles would turn into bricks would turn into anarchy, not something that they'd want to get stuck in the middle of. The South-African began removing any exterior items hanging off his person to ensure they couldn't be snatched and used against him or anyone else, last thing he needed was someone to plant two in his back with his own pistol, he tossed the items onto the passenger's seat of the car before passing the keys to Anastasiya.

"Anything goes down, give us a call on the radio. If you really have to get out of here, take the vics to the wooden archway we passed on the way in here and we'll make our way to you."

With that he turned to AJ once more. "Looks like this alley takes us up the block, then it should be just across the street or so." He gently pulled the charging handle back on his FAL and quickly peered into the chamber. "Les' is right. Let's move." Gideon turned on his heel and quickly gave the open end of the alley a check to ensure they weren't being followed before proceeding deeper into the alleyway, weapon kept pointed forward and low, his eyes darting from nook to cranny. The alleyway was thin, barely able to fit three people abreast at it's widest, the closed-in walls blocked much of the natural light filtering in that itself was diminishing due to the onset of night, a few dim electrical lamps guided their way down the unpaved alley.

The path ahead stretched up sixty meters or so, they were unassailed by the local festivities and the only individuals they passed were locals stood in their back-doorways smoking or drinking, they were spooked when they caught a glance of around a dozen heavily armed individuals passing by and many scarpered inside. As they approached the next junction, the faded sounds of shouting, hollering and thumping loud music grew ever louder until they eventually reached the far side, an opening gave an ample view of the adjacent road of which a rowdy crowd was present and through the crowd, the glow of the club's neon signage. Gideon crouched around the corner and peered cautiously forward, catching a glimpse of a vehicle aflame through the wall of the angry mob, another Molotov sailed from somewhere in the crowd and impacted the side of the building, sending a shower of burning alcohol down the wall.

"What a mess" Gideon grimaced, pulling himself back around the corner. "AJ. Side entrance is a no-go. We'd still be going through a sea of people. I thi -" He was cut off by a transmission from his radio piece.

"Gid. AJ. Do you copy."

"Go ahead Anubis."

"Rayner's reported they're i -" Gunfire cut his sentence short. A serious of consecutive shots sounded from across the road, followed by the crashing of metal against metal and the shattering of glass that sounded like more than a bottle being thrown at a wall. A mix of ecstatic shouting mixed with shrieks of fright filled the night air. [i]"What was that?"

"Confirmed gunfire. Have the police arrived?"

"Negative. Rayner's reported the shots too. VIP is in the Manager's office but they don't know how long the door will hold. You have to move."

"Roger! We're moving on the club, tell the police we're moving in and to hurry their asses up. What the fuck are they being paid for?"

Gideon turned to the rest of his group. "Les' .Fire escape twenty meters back. Get up on that roof and get me eyes on any shooters, Heaven you too. Cody, Yuval, watch our six, if shit hits the fan the alley is our only point of escape. Pavel, you're with me. Arthur. Take red and clear the crowd, see if you can force them down the street and away from the gunfire." Wasting little time, he pushed out the alley and fired three shots into the air, shouting in Dutch in the hopes that at least some of them understood.

"Gewapende beveiliging. Deze plaats is niet veilig, verspreid onmiddellijk!" - [Armed Security! This place isn't safe! Disperse immediately!]

[Kyraina]

Heaven Kimberly Andrei

Heaven nodded and sprinted back to the fire escape that Gideon had indicated. She Slung the M4A1 on her back, and started to climb up the escape. She went as quick as she could while making as little noise as she could, which wasn't much, and it wouldn't be heard over the chaos going on at the night club anyway. She poked her head up over the roof, Just enough to make it sure it was clear. She pulled herself to the top, unslung the M4A1. She Quickly scanned the rooftop to find what looked like a decent position.

She found what she was looking for, crouched and walked to the edge of the building, She set her rifle down, and took the pack off her back, and drew out her concealable 3A vest, and laid it down on the ground like it was a shooting pad. She picked up her rifle, and laid down on the pad, and sighted up through the ACOG on the rifle. She realized that it wasn't even sixty from her position to the front door of the place.

"Heaven in Position. Got the right side alley covered and the main door as well. Y'all better hurry, they trying to get through the main door and it's a crowd of them."

[Bolslania]

Tarvo Kärkkäinen
Fireteam Red, Anubis
June 13th, 2018
19:43

---

Well, that was fast Tarvo thought as he listened to the crackle of gunfire, it was close too. As Gideon was shouting orders, Tarvo slipped his brass knuckles back in to his pockets, unslinging his M95. He kept the safety applied however, he'd start with the blue smoke to try and clear people out before he went hot. He advanced in the lead position of Team Red, flicking the activator switch for his grenade launcher as he walked.

He turned his head over his shoulder, pulling down his COMTACs over his ears as he spoke.

"AJ, I'm gonna pop off a blue smoke, see if that scares off some people." He said. He turned his attention back to the crowd, joining Van Lingen in the shouting

"¡Seguridad armada! ¡Desaloje el área inmediatamente!" (Armed security, clear the area immediately!) He shouted at the crowd, some turned their attention to him, his shouting reinforced by his rifle, which he held down towards the ground but could level in a split second if need be. The San Marliners made a smart decision in backing away from the shouting Finn. He looked around at the crowd, his eyes scanning for a shooter, his eyes settled on the people bashing through a window.

"AJ, Tarvo. I've got eyes on the people entering the club, standing by to fire blue smoke. Over." He said in to his radio, raising his rifle to his shoulder and aiming with the AG36's sights, his trigger finger resting lightly on the trigger.

Tarvo goes where AJ leads Team Red, taking lead position. He readies his grenade launcher, which is loaded with blue smoke. He shouts in spanish at the san marliners, scans for shooters, and draws a bead with said grenade launcher on the San Marliners entering the club

[Hastur]

Lesley Sarah Rutledge
Sunday 13th June, 2018
19:43 local time
Downtown Suano

---

Lesley moved along with the rest of the team, pushing through the dimly lit alleyway to get to their aim, the nightclub. Gaggles of civilians sparsely littered the route, the rough thud of bass and aggressive yells persisted in the air. Lesley kept her eyes on the unknowns, weapon low as she gave a passing examination, their fearful expressions conveying their surprise towards the unforeseen interlopers, civilians scurrying back inside as Lesley and the contractors approached the junction. An opening to an adjoining road granted sight of the club’s neon sign. A stream of characters roared below it, all bathed in the radiant light.

“Fuck me! Check that out. Loads of ‘em!” Lesley expressed briefly, eyes flitting back on task. “Might want to get paramedics and fire brigade on standby. Somebody is going to get hurt here.” She suggested, coming to a halt at the corner, Gideon peaking around the corner, examining the potential side route. His expression adequate conveyed how viable of an option it was. Command’s voice followed, only to be cut off with the distinctive howl of semi-automatic gunfire, the symphony of disorder being married by the ring of clashing metal, roars of rapture and shattering glass. The radio buzzed, the voice confirming that the police had yet to arrive, and that the shots weren’t from the bodyguard team. Someone in the blend of bitter people was armed.

Orders came down the line. Lesley shifted, listening in towards Gideon, herself and Heaven had over watch from the nearby roof. “Aye on it, boss. Pav, grab the rig and helmet for the twat inside.” She took to a few seconds to remove protective material from her bag, placing it down before quickly doubling back, sprinting towards the ladders that Heaven had already begun the ascent. The climb was short, the clatter of her own steps obscured by the turmoil occurring fewer than a hundred meters away.

The high ground presented a distinct illustration, the view proving to be a sobering sight. Lesley’s eyes scanned the besieged building, hemmed in by a deluge of roughly two hundred people, disordered and destructive, burning cars amongst them.

“I count roughly two hundred civilians on the ground.” Lesley keyed over the radio, throwing her bag onto the deck next to heaven near the tip of the building, bringing herself into a prone position. “How did the silly bastard manage this?” Her head swayed in Heaven's direction, tone marked by blithe and amazement, not expecting an answer as she withdrew the 16-inch upper. Lesley cleared the weapon and drove the pins out once more, substituting the top of the rifle’s configuration back. Inching forward, Lesley placed the front of the rifle on the bag, using it as a steady platform as she rotated it around to observe the crowd. Twisting the dial on her scope, the glass flashed in, the magnification providing a window to better look at the numerous denizens.

A voice, the Finn, came hollering over the radio, the man announcing his intention to use blue smoke to scare the crowd away. “Fuck sakes.” Lesley grieved, her hand gliding over to the PTT. “Negative, Tarvo, do not use that smoke! You do that and It’s going to make it difficult for us to cover you!”

[Cylarn]

1943
13 June 2018
Suaco, San Marlín
Arthur "AJ" Irvine


Prompted by Gideon, Arthur decided to leave the gas gun behind with the vehicle. If the crowd was to get incinerated by the smoke mixing with open flame, the situation would grow even more downright fucked than it already was. Carrying his M4 in the low-ready, he motioned for the team to follow behind him as he set on behind Gideon and his squad through the alleyway. He carefully watched the onlookers as they fled inside at the sight of the armed contractors moving through the alleyway. The radio crackled again; Anubis was back on the net.

And then gunfire echoed through the area. Arthur flipped the safety off of his weapon. Gideon took the opportunity to move in on the club, sending one of his people to provide overwatch. A car was on fire, molotovs flew through the air, and people shouted in a mix of amazement and terror. Arthur felt his heart rate go up, and his hands tightened around his weapon. Gideon called for Red to chase off the crowd.

Arthur nodded to the affirmative. "Got it." He looked over to his medic, a Green Beret by the name of Quinn. "Go with Gideon and his team. They'll need you in there."

With that, Gideon and his squad started for the entrance, the Afrikaner firing his weapon into the air and shouting in Dutch for the crowd to disperse. Arthur motioned for the team to follow him, followed in behind Gideon's team, and bolted across the street until he found cover behind a vehicle.

"Take up on the street sides! ID any shooters, and call them out! Do not rush forward; move at walking pace!"

As the team moved into position, a member of the team - the Finn - called out that he was going to lob a smoke round into the crowd. Even amid the chaos on the street, he could hear the Finn calling out his action. Arthur's head snapped to his right, and his left hand keyed his mic.

"Negative! We cannot risk that kind of collateral! Red Team, move on them!"

Arthur broke cover and leveled his weapon forward, barrel trained towards the crowd as he closed in on them.

"Armed Security!" he shouted in Spanish. "Drop your weapons and fuck off, chismosos!"

A pair of men lighting another molotov caught Arthur's attention. He angled his barrel upwards, and fired two rounds in quick succession before training his weapon on the fellow holding the molotov.

"Bomb-thrower, ten yards from the door!" Arthur shouted in English, before going back to Spanish. "Drop the molotov!"

Not even offering as much as a courtesy glance, the man prepared to toss his incendiary, raising it back behind him and stepping back to throw it at a running start. Arthur stopped in his tracks, sighted the man's chest, and dropped his finger down to the trigger. If he threw it, there was the possibility that Gideon, or his team, would get torched. Arthur had a choice: risk his comrades by inaction, or endanger an incensed mob by causing the molotov to drop and ignite among them. Catch-fucking-22.

"Firing!"

Arthur squeezed the trigger twice, and let loose two rounds. Both of them slammed into the chest of the rioter and knocked him to the ground. The molotov fell at his feet and exploded in a ball of fire, shooting up flames that caught onto a handful of other people standing nearby. Even more panic filled the crowd; those who weren't hit began to flee, while others flailed about, trying to extinguish themselves. Arthur moved forward on the crowd, keeping to the side of the street.

"If they have a weapon, smoke 'em! Keep pushing and shouting!"

[Bolslania]

Tarvo Kärkkäinen
Fireteam Red, Anubis
June 13th, 2018
19:45

---

"Copy that AJ." Tarvo said as AJ told him to stand down with the grenade launcher

He let his finger off of the grenade launcher trigger as AJ told him to stand down. Interesting that AJ mentioned collateral, seeing as how it was unlikely anyone would be hurt by the smoke grenade, that is unless he hit them directly with it. No matter, he deactivated the AG36 as he advanced, he raised his rifle as AJ called out a molotov-weilding San Marliner, AJ dropped him with two well placed shots, ordering them to keep advancing and shouting.

He proceeded forward, his eyes scanning for shooters, most of the people in the crowd kept their distance from him, all except one, who was holding a brick and advancing on Tarvo. Tarvo leveled his rifle at him, shouting

"¡Paso atrás! ¡Joder ahora!" (Step back! Fucking now!) He shouted. The man kept advancing. Tarvo held his ground, giving the man one last chance.

"¡Retrocede o disparo!" He shouted (Back up or I shoot!) in truth, the Finn would probably just buttstroke him, but the threat of shooting was more intimidating. Yet, the man kept coming, coming in for a final charge and swinging the brick at Tarvo's head. Tarvo sidestepped perfectly, swinging the butt of his rifle in to the back of the man's head. The man sprawled out on the ground, knocked out cold. Tarvo spun back around, glaring at the San Marliners, who kept their space from him.

He was about 45 meters from where the San Marliner's had broken through into the club, many still clambering in to the Nightclub.

Fucking Darren He thought as he ignored the screaming of the burning San Marliners.