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05-16-2014, 09:49 PM | #1 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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The following story is based on an old insert, coupled with references to the Marvel run. The way the insert was written, the island is the one from Issue 1, as opposed to the island Cobra "created" in the Gulf of Mexico. The insert is attached - I'm trying to keep the story following the insert like an actual map!
_____ Wet Suit grunted and pushed up out of the squat and racked the weight with a loud clang. He caught his breath and wiped away sweat with a small towel. Hawk and Duke walked into the gym and headed for the benches, quickly checking the plates on the bar. Duke glanced over at Wet Suit and jabbed a finger at him. “Hey, Stalker’s been grumbling again about you and Barbecue’s antics in town.” Wet Suit rolled his eyes and walked over. “At least you’re putting on more plates than some Marines I know,” he said to Hawk. “Before you get comfie under there, how about you warm up with a quick round of sparring?” Hawk sat up and grinned. “Not Duke?” “You know why Green Berets are called ‘snake eaters?’” asked Wet Suit. “‘Cause they can only beat up things with no arms or legs.” Hawk laughed and threw out a soft jab. Wet Suit jabbed and closed quickly to deliver an elbow, to be fended off by a straight kick. Wet Suit bounced on his toes, looking for another opening as they circled. “So what’s this talk I head about our own dedicated support troops?” “The Steel Brigade?” replied Hawk. “It’s still just a concept.” “Does someone thing we aren’t self-sufficient?” Hawk shrugged and fired a quick combination. “It never hurts to have a support team,” said Hawk. “But the field force is running low on combat vets. I’m worried it might take a firefight or two to find the ones who will engage the enemy.” “You’re still pushing that 'Men Against Fire' thesis,” said Wet Suit, attempting a foot sweep. “You know what I don’t get about the S.L.A. Marshall study? The green conscripts I saw in combat all fired all their ammo off as fast as possible. Their problem wasn’t freezing – it was lack of fire discipline.” Hawk stepped back, puzzled. “What are you saying?” Wet Suit drove his forearm into Hawk’s throat and swept his feet, driving him to the ground. “For one, I think Marshall’s study was flawed. Second, you’re too easily distracted. And third,” he pulled an electro-knife from a boot sheath and slashed it across Hawk’s belly. “When you let your guard down you get gutted like a brook trout.” Hawk jerked as the volts ran through his body. “Enough!” said Duke. “What do you really want?” Wet Suit rose and sheathed the knife. “It’s about Dial Tone.” Last edited by LowTech; 05-30-2014 at 11:47 AM.. |
05-17-2014, 08:44 PM | #2 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Dial Tone examined the freshly soldered circuit and nodded in approval. He turned to Breaker, paused, and then looked back at the circuit board.
“I’m just not sure if this is for me anymore. I really enjoy the range of tasks and all the great gear, but I hate the early morning PT, I hate the unarmed combat, and I hate reloading so many mags that I cut my hands to shreds.” “Well at some point you’ll get calluses on your hands like Stalker or Beach Head,” said Breaker. “Or like Wet Suit, who has calluses on his knuckles from punching people, and on his palms from opening so many twist-off caps,” said Dial Tone. “Or like Wet Suit.” “I don’t like calluses. They make me lose my feel for circuit boards. I just want to work with radios and computers and do the support piece.” “Listen. I thought I was going to be spending my time here doing SIGINT, and then I found myself out on op after op. It was when I got beat up by some bikers and Scarlett had to rescue me* that I started to work on my fighting. You should take advantage of Wet Suit’s help before you find yourself getting punched out by some thug.” “I don’t know,” muttered Dial Tone, fiddling with a thermos of coffee. “Well, in the meantime I can cut you in on a side project I’ve been doing at M.I.T. on crystalline fractal theory.** As a side benefit, there are some research assistants there who are really easy on the eyes.” Dial Tone smiled and nodded. “Thanks.” He looked at his watch and bolted to his feet. “I’m on shift. Gotta run.” Dial Tone ran to the war room and pulled a chair up to a computer terminal beside Mainframe. Mainframe glanced at his watch, rolled his eyes, and jabbed at the log. “It’s all there. Nothing of any significance.” He stretched and quickly left the room. Dial Tone shoved a headset on, poured a cup of coffee and started flipping through the logs, chuckling at a pencilled scrap of paper shoved in the pages reading “if you count on your fingers, join the Cult of vi!” He scanned the readouts of feeds coming in from several intelligence agencies, and frowned. A couple of keystrokes later he was reading a fragmented intercept. He scratched his head, and hit “print.” As he walked over to the chattering dot matrix he called Scarlett over. “What do you make of this?” Scarlett tore the fanfold paper from the printer and read it, running her fingers through her hair. “You think someone is really missing an orbital defence satellite?” “Do we have triangulation for the point of origin?” Dial Tone ran some figures, and pulled a lat-long. He cross referenced it, and Scarlett put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been there. I thought they’d abandoned that place a couple of years ago. Let me pull up maps of that island.” Scarlett spent a few minutes in the archives, and came back with a file. She spread the contents on a table, then started pinning maps, aerial photos, and printouts of references to operation reports on a bulletin board. She stared at the board for a minute, a hand on a hip and the other rubbing her bottom lip. “We need an overflight,” she muttered to herself, and started flipping through a whirl board. “No SR71 or U2 flights available. Maybe I can get a Key Hole pass.” “Slip Stream is on the west coast running X-30 trials with the Top Gun instructors. Maybe he can fly a photo-recon mission,” said Dial Tone. Scarlett snapped her fingers. “Great idea. I’ll run it by Hawk.” She checked the clock on the wall. “It’s still going to be at least twenty four hours before we get those images here. I’ll also see if he’s up for a snatch mission to get some HumInt.” _ *-Marvel #12 *-Marvel #2 |
05-18-2014, 08:38 PM | #3 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Wet Suit examined the holographic map and rubbed his lip.
“Given our past operation on the island, the map is outdated. Most of those facilities were destroyed when we lifted Dr Burkhart,”* said Scarlett. “We should have a better idea of what’s on the island once Slip Stream’s photo recon mission gets back.” “Any thoughts?” asked Hawk. “Well, if there were any Marines in the room I’d mention that this island looks about the size of Betio in the Tarawa Atoll, so it’s a good thing they’re not planning this escapade or Doc would have to get ready for 6,000 casualties.” “Any other thoughts?” asked Duke. Wet Suit looked up and stared him in the eye. “Yeah. It’s a bit smaller than Kiska, which was undefended and still cost the Army about 200 casualties.” “Ok Popeye,” said Hawk. “Seriously, tell me what you’re thinking before I change my mind and give this one to Leatherneck.” Wet Suit smiled. “I’m actually going through insertion and extraction ideas right now. If there’s any kind of surveillance system on the island we’ll need a diversion.” “There’s a RIMPAC exercise in the Pacific right now,” said Scarlett. “Given all the fuss over using Kaho’olawe as a range, perhaps the ships can shift closer to the island.” “Carrier flights could provide sufficient background traffic to mask an aerial insertion, and the EW activity can only help,” said Wet Suit, jotting down notes. Duke glanced over his shoulder, pulled out a pen, and stroked out one of the possible options Wet Suit had started sketching out. “Remember, this isn’t about razing the island. It’s just to find the satellite and mark it for destruction by bomber,” said Duke. “You take all the fun out things,” laughed Wet Suit, writing out some more ideas. Duke raised an eyebrow as he continued to read. “You sure about him?” he asked, pointing to a name. Wet Suit shrugged. “You want me to find some piece of techno gadgetry? Then I need a techno gadgetry geek, and he has the legs and lungs to carry a heavy pack forever over broken terrain.” - *-Marvel#1 |
05-19-2014, 03:01 PM | #4 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Stalker stared at the buildings across the street, then resumed scanning through his high-powered scope.
“Their camouflage is good,” he muttered. Beside him, Sci Fi nodded and leaned away from the thermal binoculars mounted on a tripod. “I agree,” he said, picking up a parabolic microphone. Stalker waved towards a small control box and Sci Fi flipped a switch. In the building beside them, several playing cards snapped up into window frames, then snapped down after a short exposure. In three different urban hides, Spirit, Snow Job and Low Light noted the movement and continued to build their profiles of the target building. “So Low-Light,” said Snow Job through his throat mic. “Ever wonder why there are 6400 mills in a circle?” He waited a moment, before continuing. “Short Fuse told me all about it. It’s pi doubled, and times a thousand. Well, they rounded it off, and he went off on a tirade about it – says the Soviets are more accurate, but pretty neat, huh?” The others were silent. “Run series six,” Stalker muttered to Sci Fi, who flicked a switch. Cards snapped up in windows and disappeared. “How’s your skiing, Spirit?” asked Snow Job. More silence. Stalker held up three fingers and Sci Fi flipped another switch. Cards snapped up in other windows and disappeared. “I’ve actually been trying snowboarding recently. It’s a great rush. I think I’ll take Cover Girl up to Suicide Six on our next R&R. Show her some moves on the slopes, if you get my meaning,” Snow Job continued. “Enough chatter,” said Stalker into his radio. “Five rounds. First to get a flush wins.” Sci Fi hit another switch, and cards started randomly snapping in windows. Shots rang out as the snipers engaged targets. “Flush,” called Snow Job. “And that’s $100 each of you owe me.” “You think so?” said Low-Light, recording the shots in his log. “How about we check out the thermal cameras I installed in the kill house yesterday. See if anyone did some midnight cheating.” “That sounds like a very good idea,” said Spirit. “You’re bluffing,” said Snow Job. “Double or nothing says I’m not.” Snow Job grinned. Stalker answered a vibrating field phone, grunted, hung up and picked up the radio handset. “All wagers are off. Low-Light – report to the briefing room.” Low-Light shook his head slightly and packed his rifle in its bag. “Next time, Snow Job, we’ll shoot without your little Mildot Master or stadiometric scope. I’m sure you can do the math in your head,” he said, slinging his bag and heading for his brief. |
05-21-2014, 05:37 AM | #5 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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The small kitchen was strewn with pots and vials. Airtight and Barbecue examined a series of beakers, checking with a sniffer and checking detector paper, moving slowly and deliberately in the cumbersome CBR suits. In the corner, Alpine applied pressure bandages to several gunshot entry and exit wounds on an unconscious woman.
“I always thought those things were in cool vials with fancy labels and lots of dry ice,” said Alpine, his voice muffled by his gas mask. “Only in Hollywood,” replied Airtight. “In the real world these things are in unmarked chemistry sets.” “I’ve got the victim stabilised.” Alpine rolled the casualty onto a board and zipped her into a hazmat sleeve. “Best way down is out the window. I’ll descend with her.” Barbecue stepped away from the table, pulled rope and anchors from his pack, and started helping Alpine rig for descent. A hiss of static came from the corner of the room. “Alright team – exercise is over. You’re all called to the briefing room,” said Flash, pulling off a gas mask. “You gonna take care of the dummy?” “We’ll manage.” “And I’m glad to see we aced the ex,” added Airtight, pointing to Flash’s clipboard. “What makes you say that?” “You never pulled out your red pen.” “Huh. Pretty cocky, aren’t you,” said Flash, making a show of pulling a red pen. He clicked it, and swore as red ink splashed all over his clipboard. Alpine and Barbecue shook their heads as Airtight doubled over in laughter. “Time to go,” laughed Airtight, tossing a small bag at Flash. “Hey, what –“ Flash dropped his clipboard as he tried to catch the bag, which burst in his hands. He sneezed violently and started scratching his face. He opened his mouth, paused, then soaked a rag with water from his canteen and started cleaning up. “Try pulling a stunt like that with Short Fuse and see what happens,” he muttered, but Airtight was already out the door, and Alpine and Barbecue had already rappelled out the window. |
05-23-2014, 05:43 AM | #6 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Snow Job glanced around the mess hall and strode over to a table. He slid his tray beside Cover Girl’s, grabbed a chair, flipped it around backwards and straddled it.
“Hey there Gorgeous. Let me tell you about my latest great idea.” Cover Girl raised an eyebrow, and turned back to her salad. “You see, we’ve got some time off coming up, and there’s this chalet I know where we could spend a bit of time on the slopes -” “Skiing?” said Cover Girl, cutting him off. “Are you looking for lessons? You aren’t going to sulk when I show you up, and then spend the rest of the time messing around with a snowmobile are you?” “What?! No. I –“ “Because I’m not interested in spending my time with someone who smells like a two stroke engine.” “Oh Courtney,” said Lady Jaye, walking into the room, “be careful about calling Snow Job “Two Stroke.” People could really get the wrong idea.” She paused and looked at Snow Job’s confused expression. “What? You didn’t know that was how you’re known around town?” Lady Jaye tilted her head back and started singing “Just like the white winged dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing -” “Ooo, baby, ooo, oooo,” Cover Girl crooned, leaning towards Lady Jaye, laughing. “Anyway,” said Cover Girl, turning back to Snow Job, “I’m already booked for a shoot with Gung Ho’s sister.* And I have Bangles tickets! But Rock n Roll has been talking about taking up snowboarding. Why don’t you invite him?” “Er –“ “Hey, yeah,” exclaimed Rock n Roll. “That sounds like a great idea. Thanks for the offer Snow Job. We’ll have a great time in that cabin. We can arm wrestle for the bed.” “Ok boys, you have fun,” said Lady Jaye. “Now, where’s Dial Tone? I’m supposed to run him through some motorcycle drills.” - * Marvel #11 Last edited by LowTech; 05-25-2014 at 08:06 PM.. |
05-23-2014, 10:27 AM | #7 |
Hisstank.Com General
Join Date: Jun 2008
Location: virginia
Posts: 5,232
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This is great stuff, please keep it coming.
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05-24-2014, 06:41 AM | #8 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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05-24-2014, 01:28 PM | #9 |
80's Baby!
Join Date: Jan 2009
Location: Tampa
Posts: 2,050
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Great stuff! Gonna be my new bedtime reading material.
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My Feedback ME AS A RAPPER. Checkout THE VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE. http://www.youtube.com/user/monkeyjuices A.C.T. feat. J.Did "Ideology" - YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofisqnygyRs http://youtu.be/ludECBuRVrI http://youtu.be/InHPdpSCEAY |
05-24-2014, 08:47 PM | #10 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Airtight braced a hand against a bulkhead as the intelligence ship Christina,* disguised as a fishing trawler, rolled in the swell. He blinked, swallowed, and turned back to his Illustrated Guide to Carnivorous Plants.
“That’s some nice light reading,” said Alpine, glancing up from his pack full of climbing gear. “I’d rather not accidentally fall into man-eating pitcher plant, ‘cause I doubt our Marine reaction force will know how to get me out.” “You got that right,” Wet Suit snorted. “The last time Marines launched a rescue mission they invaded the wrong island, got beat up by the Khmer Rouge, and left three of their own behind.” Alpine raised an eyebrow. “It’s a little late to lose faith in our backup, don’t you think?” “Notice how when the Navy stood up a counter-terrorist force it didn’t use the Marines? We should have a SEAL reaction force on this one,” said Wet Suit. “Everyone chill,” said Low-Light, looking up from imagery of the island. “No one’s going to fall in any plants, and the Marines are going to ride this one out on their ship.” Wet Suit opened his mouth, closed it, looked around the cabin, and headed out to the deck. He spotted Barbecue leaning on a railing and headed in his direction. “Hey bro – you look distracted. What’s going on?” asked Wet Suit. Barbecue stared off into the swells. “I got a letter from my aunt. She sends them a couple of times a year. She always includes passages from Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye, and asks which body part I’m about to lose.” “What?” “Yeah. She’s done it ever since I enlisted. She considers war immoral.” “Huh.” Wet Suit stared into the distance, then turned back to Barbeque. “This isn’t the same Townie aunt who’s always fundraising for the IRA, is it?” Barbeque laughed. “One and the same. It’s immoral to invade another country, but it’s even more immoral to allow heathen Englishmen to occupy Ireland.” “We’ll have to unravel that one over a bottle of whiskey, but not until after we’re done here. Now get your game face on,” said Wet Suit, finishing the thought with a solid punch to Barbecue’s shoulder and earning a smirk. “You’d better start packing a roll of quarters if that’s the best you can manage,” said Barbecue, turning from the railing and heading to check his kit one more time. A door slammed open and Dial Tone stumbled out, a hand on his belly and another over his mouth. “Gonna be sick,” he gasped, pushing past Barbecue and leaning over the railing. Lifeline stepped through the door and pointed a finger at Barbecue and Wet Suit. “Quiet, you two. Don’t worry, Dial Tone. I’ll give you some Pedialite. It’ll sort you out better than Gatorade.” “Oh yeah,” said Wet Suit, clapping Dial Tone on the shoulder. “Don’t worry – it happens to everyone, and that stuff is great.” “Yeah,” said Barbecue, heading below. “Especially for hangovers. Hey,” he said, turning back to Wet Suit. “I brought a pizza. Want some?” - * Special Missions #1 Last edited by LowTech; 05-30-2014 at 10:19 AM.. Reason: text added |
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